Walkies

Stacy had expected to feel humiliated.

Standing on the front lawn with a leather collar around her neck and a leash trailing to the young man beside her should have been the most degrading moment of her life. The neighbours' curtains could part at any second. Someone could walk their dog past the house. A delivery driver could pull into the driveway.

Instead...

She felt strangely calm. Not happy. Certainly not comfortable. Just... calmer than she had any right to be. The sensation disturbed her far more than embarrassment would have.

The leather rested lightly against her throat. Every so often she became aware of its weight, reached instinctively to remove it, then remembered why it was there. They'd been trapped inside until Evan fastened it around her neck. That much had been undeniable. Whatever twisted rules governed this reality, they'd apparently just discovered another.

A familiar sentence surfaced from the manual before she could stop it.

Your Master cares for you, even when you do not understand his guidance.

"Oh, be quiet," she muttered.

The words didn't disappear. They simply waited. That was the frightening part. The book no longer felt like something she'd read. It felt like something her memory had decided was worth keeping. She hated that.

Beside her, Evan still held the end of the leash like it might explode.

Good.

At least one of them still looked as uncomfortable as the situation deserved. His knuckles had gone white around the leather loop. Every few seconds he seemed to consider dropping it before deciding against it. Guilt was written all over his face. Oddly enough, seeing it helped. Not because she wanted him to suffer. Because it reminded her that he wasn't enjoying this. He hadn't suddenly become the sort of man who wanted to own another person. Every new discovery seemed to horrify him just as much as it horrified her.

That didn't erase what he'd done.

Two potions. Two catastrophes. Her old life had been dismantled piece by piece because Evan couldn't stop trying to fix things. Still...

He'd stayed. He hadn't run away from the consequences. And now he was trying to work out a solution with her rather than for her. That counted for something.

"So..." Evan finally said, staring out toward the quiet street. "We're outside."

"We are."

A long silence followed. Then Stacy laughed. It surprised both of them.

"What?" Evan asked.

"I was so focussed on escaping the house..." She rubbed her forehead. "...I never actually thought about what we'd do once we managed it."

A reluctant smile crossed his face.

"That makes two of us."

The smile disappeared almost as quickly as it had arrived.

"So..."

"So..."

Neither had a plan. The freedom she'd imagined for hours turned out to be little more than standing on a patch of grass at the end of a leash, wondering what came next.

"I suppose," Stacy sighed, "we could try the magic shop again."

"I don't know." Evan frowned. "She really doesn't like you."

"I know that," Stacy said, "but it's not like we have any other ideas."

"What if we..." Evan started, only to be interrupted by the sound of a car's horn.

A green sedan rolled to the curb. The driver's window slid down.

"Babe!"

The familiar voice froze Stacy where she stood. Debbie. Her best friend leaned across the passenger seat, waving enthusiastically. Long brown hair framed a bright smile that Stacy had seen hundreds of times over coffee dates, shopping trips, and lazy Saturday afternoons. Only today that smile wasn't aimed at Stacy. It was aimed entirely at Evan.

"There you are!" Debbie beamed. "Happy anniversary, babe!"

Evan blinked.

"I... sorry?"

"You got busy with your girl and lost track of time again, didn't you?"

"I..."

"You absolutely did."

Debbie laughed, shaking her head with obvious affection.

"You are hopeless sometimes."

Stacy stared.

Debbie hadn't looked at her once. Not even accidentally. It was as though the woman standing on the sidewalk simply didn't matter. Then Debbie's eyes finally drifted toward the leash.

"Oh!" she said brightly. "I like the new collar."

Stacy's stomach dropped.

"You do?" Evan asked carefully.

"It suits her."

That was it. No surprise. No confusion. No concern. Just casual approval. There was no suspicion whatsoever about Evan leading another woman around by a leash, no jealousy. Evan was, in Debbie's eyes, being a responsible owner.

Stacy opened her mouth. Then closed it. Then opened it again. Similar to trying to leave the house unleashed, no matter how hard she tried, no sound escaped her lips.

"Hop in," Debbie said. "Our reservation is in thirty minutes, and I'm starving."

"Reservation?" Evan's voice was showing obvious confusion.

"Don't worry," Debbie answered. "You can bring your girl. When I called they told me they could accommodate. What's her name again? Tracy?"

"Stacy," Evan answered, as if in a daze. Then, quietly so as to not be heard by the driver, "What the hell is going on?"

"That's my friend, Debbie," Stacy responded, quietly, taking his question as if it were directed at her. "I guess you two are dating now."

"Debbie..." Evan said, loud enough that the woman in the car could hear him.

"Seriously, babe," Debbie said, still leaning over and staring at them, "You've been talking about tonight for ages. Let's not miss it," she paused, then got a mischievous grin on her face. "Unless you want to go back inside. We can skip dinner and go straight to unwrapping my present."

"I, uh, I mean, Stacy..."

"Come on, Evan," Debbie sounded frustrated. "You can tie her up outside if you're uncomfortable. Or aren't there any neighbourhood boys who you could pay to watch her for the night?"

"Please," Stacy whispered, imagining what some of the neighbour teenagers would do if they were given responsibility over her for the night. "Just get in the car. Please."

A tug on her lead and Stacy found herself being led to the backseat of the car, placed inside, and buckled in.

"Now you stay back there," Debbie instructed as Evan sat down. "Just because you're coming to dinner doesn't mean I want you getting involved. Tonight is special for your Master and me, and I don't want you spoiling it. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," Stacy found herself saying, her face turning bright red, arms crossed.

"Good," Debbie said, turning to Evan. "Now, on with our evening."

Before Evan could even take a breath, Debbie was on him. Fingers in his hair, tongue in his mouth, the woman was devouring him with her kiss. Was that what Stacy had been like? Before the second potion was she that passionate? That intense? Was this what her life would have been?

"Mmmmm," Debbie moaned, releasing her magically created boyfriend. "I needed that. Now let's go. I'm hungry, and I'm sure you are, too. There'll be more of that later tonight."

Stacy watched as Debbie turned the wheel and pulled out onto the road, singing along with a song on the radio, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on Evan's upper thigh. This was horrible. Not because she was jealous of Evan. No. Whatever love she'd briefly felt for him had vanished the moment he'd tried to interfere magically the second time. It was horrible because she was forced to watch, to be treated like less than a human, like a pet, like a houseplant. Who cares if the cat sees you kissing? Who cares if there's a fern in the room when you make love?

Was that what was in store for her that night? And if so, would she ever be able to get the images she would see out of her imagination?