Accept The Drink

There wasn't a bar, as such. There was a cold pewter pitcher, dew beading the sides, and a pair of golden goblets. Lois brought them both over to find purple-haired Circe had shed her dress, basking nude in the false sunlight. She looked older...perhaps forty, with the full breasts and wide hips of a mother, and the slight sag to the belly that bespoke of childbirth. Yet there was such a confidence to her, she seemed completely at ease, even nude.

Lois bent down and poured the wine—Circe first, and then herself. The sorceress smiled and held up her goblet. They clinked cups, and drank. The wine was dark, and unexpectedly salty; Lois tasted hints of spices, and something cloying underneath...

"Lesbian wine," Circe said aloud. "Mixed with brine. An acquired taste, in the old days, but a popular one. Modern wines are better, but sometimes I get nostalgic for the old things..."

She looked at Lois, those purple eyes flashing. "An Amazon...you know I've never had one, in all my years..."

"Oh you're not that old," Lois tried a flattering tone. The purple eyes flashed, and the corners of her mouth twisted upwards.

"Old! Older than you know. A true immortal. I've seduced granddams, dams, and daughters, sometimes in the same bed. Fucked gods, titans, and men. Should I wish it, my spells would return me to the prime of youth—a teenager with budding breasts and a tight twat, ready to throw her virginity as the nearest hoplite. Or I could become the crone, with swaying tits and toothless mouth, to creep on the hot young bucks and suck out semen and soul at once, to leave them shriveled husks with empty balls." She laughed long and low, then brought the chalice to her lips once more.

"I could change you too," the purple-haired sorceress' eyes began to glow. "I am so good at that. Men to beasts, for men are beasts, make no mistake, and women...women I can perfect..." An arc of purple light sparked between her outspread fingers. "Would you like that, my pretty? No surgeon needed, oh no...so pretty already, but I could make of you such a lovely toy..."

"I'd rather serve you as I am," Lois' heart began to beat faster. "I'm told magic has a price."

The light died. "Yes. Always a price. And what is done with magic, may be undone by it."

Circe drained the cup, and tossed it away. The breeze smelled sharply of the sea, salt with that undercurrent of decay...

"Come here, little Amazon," she said. "I want you to..."