Quick thinking saved the day!

"You're not really a reporter, are you, Babes?" Bethany asked me, less as a question than a statement, when we reached the corner at the end of the block. We had stopped, not really having anywhere in mind to go, but knowing we wanted to be out of Dolores' view, regardless.

I shook my head. "Sorry, I just saw you get into an argument with your boss and..." I shrugged. "I wanted to make sure you were okay."

Bethany laughed. "So your first reaction is to pose as a reporter for, what magazine did you say?"

"I don't know, I made something up. I didn't get you fired, did I?"

"Hell no!" Bethany smiled, leaning back with hands on naked hips, taking me in. "I think you saved my job!"

"What...? But, how?"

"Apparently you scared Dolores enough to where she turned a week suspension for 'dress code violations' into a day and a half suspension, and only because she already gave tomorrow's shift to Benny and I'd already cashed out my tips. What did you tell her?"

"I, uh, I forget. It all sort of just happened," I struggled to throw my mind back. Then I shook my head. "It doesn't matter, I guess, I'm just glad I didn't get you in trouble."

"Total opposite. Dolores has a bit of a stick up 'er ass, but whatever you said made her not want to look like a total bint in front of you, so, thanks for that. Hey, you wanna go get drinks or something?"

"Yes!" I said, perhaps too quickly.

Bethany laughed. "Well a'right then! Let's go." She started around the corner and down the block from the cafe. I didn't know where she was going or think to ask, I just followed. The afternoon sun was heating the cement sidewalk under my bare feet - not totally unlike the sensation of walking on hot sand at the beach. The breeze caressing my totally exposed body was something else as well, an almost entirely new sensation, subtly different from wearing a swimsuit, even a skimpy one. It made me somehow more aware of my totally uncovered body, like my skin was one single, unbroken organ sensing the world together instead as different bits, some in clothes and some not - it made me feel whole in a way that was hard to resolve into words.

"Ugh," Bethany was complaining, pausing and lifting a bare foot to rub her sole with one hand. "Dolores be damned, I'm putting my shoes back on." She stood there a minute to fish them out of her purse and put them back on.

Almost unbidden the words escape my lips: "You know she has a point, it is sort of wrong for nudists like us to wear things like that." And, honestly, I felt an emotional resonance with those words, even if part of me suspected that, as I was part of "society", the magic was subtly influencing my mind.

Bethany scoffed. "I don't care," she said as we started walking again.

As we walked, I tried to calm myself down, telling myself it was the magic in my brain talking, but for some reason, Bethany just looked... wrong. It was like being naked with shoes on, instead of fully nude (like all good nudists should be! a voice in my head - a voice that was ostensibly mine - was saying). It wasn't as hard to fight as the memory fog previously, and I was wracking my brain as to what this meant about the rules of "society" in terms of mechanics, but my mind was too distracted to think about it clearly with the glaring "wrongness" of Bethany's shod feet as we walked. Even the sound of her shoes on the pavement was grating on my nerves.

"Here we go, place I wanna go is down-town, we just need to take the 7 about twelve stops, yeah?" She sat her bare bottom down on a metal bus-stop bench. I sat beside her, gritting my teeth at the feeling of the cold metal against my naked bottom. At least it had been in the shade of the tree and wasn't scalding hot from the sun.

Bethany was trying to start up a conversation, but I was too distracted, especially because she was kicking one leg and bouncing her heel on the pavement, meaning her shoes were right there, moving in the corner of my vision.

"Hey, hello? Earth to Cutienips?"

"What...?" I said, snapping out of it and realising I was starting at Bethany's shoes. I looked her in the face. "Sorry."

"What's your real name?"

That got me. I laughed, temporarily distracted from the stupid magic colonising my brain. "My real name is Skye Porter."

"No way!" she laughed and gave me a playful punch in the shoulder. "I was sure you made that up, it sounded like a comic book character."

But I confirmed it was true. "Blame my mother," I rolled my eyes.

"So, you live around here?"

"Yeah, the um, the big house down Cottage Row," I pointed with my pencil in the direction of my house. When did I get my pencil out of my bag?

"No way! That place with the creepy gargoyles?"

"The place with the expensive to restore gargoyles, yes. I inherited the house and, unless I fully restore it up to the point where the North Pemberton Historical Society certifies it as fully restored and renovated, the rest of my inheritance is stuck in escrow."

"So then you're like, proppa loaded, aren't'cha?"

"Trying to be!" I said with a sigh as I opened the magic notebook. "But, like I said, my mom's weird inheritance rules..." I trailed off, thinking of my mother, her passion for historic buildings, her home office and the models I was never allowed to play with as a little girl.

So lost was I in my remembrances it was a real shock when Bethany put a hand on my shoulder. That warm skin on her fingers and palm touching my bare shoulder was like a jolt of electricity, making me startle under her touch. Rather than pull away, the knowledge of her touch having startled me made her grip my shoulder just a little bit firmer, as if she was bracing for me to fall over and wanted to hang onto me. I blinked.

I came to the realisation that my pencil was in my hand, eraser side down, hovering over the (-shoes, socks/stockings) marginalia next to Bethany's Able column. I frowned immediately, realising the magic was trying to make me get rid of Bethany's shoes by making them disappear. I forced the pencil away from the notebook.

"Hey," Bethany was saying, her brusque Australian accent now soft and apologetic. "I'm sorry about your mum."

"Thank you," I said with genuine appreciation in my voice. I twirled the pencil in my hand. "I really shouldn't be so mad, my mother loved old buildings. I think it would make her happy if she could see the progress I've already made with it."

"It should be lovely when its done! What are you going to do with it?"

"I don't know..." I trailed off, looking at Bethany's entry. Steeling myself, I compromised with the magic. I erased the whole line and its marginalia under Allowed that read "NO(-shoes, -socks/stockings)" and instead wrote "YES(-at work , +thinks nudists in clothes/shoes is sexual , +feels guilty wearing clothing/shoes in public)". Then I snapped the notebook shut and put it in my tote bag. After another minute talking and laughing with Bethany, waiting for the bus, the intrusive thoughts drained out of my mind like a sickly grey liquid spirally down a drain. And I just started to feel guilty again for using manipulative magic on people in the first place - so, in other words: normal.

Snapping back to reality, realising I'd been staring off into the middle distance, contemplating the morality of freaking sorcery, I realised Bethany hadn't said anything in a few minutes. Looking back over at my new nudist friend, I could see she was squirming uncomfortably, causing her ample breasts to jiggle as she fretted from side to side. Eventually, after another minute, she sighed and pulled off her shoes. "Yeah, alright, you're right, it's not right for a nudist to wear these in public. Sorry for being horny on main like that, yeah?"

"It's okay, I... uh... actually, if I'm being honest, and not a coward, I... liked it. You look good with shoes on."

"Aw, thank you!" she gave be a smile that, I thought, might have a bit of flirty mischief in it - but I didn't know Bethany well enough yet to know whether or not that was just how she smiled normally or not yet. "You know, this means you owe me, maybe after drinks we can go back to your effin mansion and you can model some high-heels for me."

"If you want," I winked at her, "I was going to go clothes shopping today, you could watch me try on pants?" I teased.

"Whoa!" Bethany burst out laughing and slapped my bare back with the flat of her palm. "Buy a girl dinner first before you offer to get dressed in front of her, yeah?"

That was, perhaps, the point where the level of insanity this situation had become broke the damn of absurdity inside me, because I laughed uproariously at that, doubled over, hands on my knees to support myself, almost missing our bus because I couldn't stop laughing long enough to work my phone to pay the fare.

Easing down onto the cold plastic bus seats, Bethany's hand caressing my bare shoulders as she put an arm around me, I finally calmed down enough to take slow breaths without laughing. I wiped the tears from my eyes.

"You looked like you needed that," Bethany giggled.

"Yeah, I guess," I said, not really sure what to say. "It's been a while since I've flirted to someone," I said honestly. What I didn't say was how, perhaps, angry or disappointed I was that it took a literal reality breaking magic intervention in my life to make me realise that being angry at my deceased mother wasn't the most important thing I could be doing with my life.

I leaned against Bethany, the side of my arm pressing against the side of her breast, my head resting against her shoulder and the side of her head, feeling her hand gripping my shoulder. I don't know when it happened, but, idly I was rubbing my breasts with my free hand and toying with my nipples. Bethany didn't seem to mind, nor did any other other passengers on the bus seem to comment on my behaviour. I sighed, and marvelled at the strange direction the day was taking.