The night began with Kelsey arriving in a sexy bumblebee costume, blue eyes bright underneath her glasses I would soon drunkenly rip off. She was magnificent, wings bouncing with each careful step in her four-inch heels. We both admitted our nervousness, and soon broke out the Patron and hastily drank, following each shot with awkward bites of lime that became stained and grotesque with red imprints. We didnt plan on this, we just wanted to go dancing like all insecure, underage girls. But the boys were calling, and her keys entered the ignition. The party was in yet another mansion-type of house, with marble floors and expensive cars in the driveway. Stumbling up the stone-set path we could hear the beer pong and drunk girls losing. Clockwork, we lit our cigarettes and daintily stepped into the backyard. DAMN. Whats your name? Hey this is my house, who are you…? Im Desiree, sir, and this is Kelsey. Im sure youve heard of her, my dear, dont play dumb. Do you have a lighter? She knew. She dreamed of the little old lady who huddled in one corner, smoking and chattering to herself, who had roughly taken her money with a dry and withered hand and then turned away. She dreamed of the small black bag she had purchased, filled with roots and magic and black cat essence; the mojo which she hoped would help her find the passion she desired and craved. She ran the fingers of one hand through her blonde curls and muttered in her sleep. She threw back the white sheet from her naked body revealing her golden skin and gorgeous slim curves. She twisted her upper body back so that her shoulder blades were against the mattress and her large firm breasts were thrust upward invitingly. Above her on the iron bedpost the little black bag hung, swinging gently as she moved. She dreamed of the little shop and her visit in the midday heat. She dreamed of the Hoodoo Palace. The little black bag had been sealed in clear polythene and stapled to a small square of cardboard. The board was.
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