The Miss-Laid Story Line

Chapter 5: The Miss-Laid Story Line

Snorri decided he should explore the non-wizard world since several of the characters in the story had a non-wizard background. Combining artistic impulses with necessity, he took his clothes to a non-magic Laundromat. After feeding the required coins to the strange-looking machine, he opened a book he had brought but found himself absorbed by the high-tech washer. It had a pre-wash, a wash, a rinse, a spin, another rinse, and a final spin. He watched the contraption as it rotated one way, paused, rotated the other way, rotated at low speed, paused, rotated at high speed, and then repeated itself. He was thinking he needed to get out more often.

"Where's that assistant you promised me?"

The young man who had just arrived from the States assumed the air of grandeur befitting a dispenser of largesse. "They sent me to prepare you, to make you aware of the opportunity that was being presented to you."

Biff thought cool silence might be the best ploy.

"It's one of our new programs," said the young man. "The overall strategy was well received at headquarters, and in fact, people who are willing to give this program their all, to rise to the challenge, will be well thought of at headquarters."

Cool silence still seemed viable.

"It's really an equal opportunity effort to show the rest of the wizard community that our heart is in the right place. And they do work for minimum wage," said the young man.

"They?"

"Vampires," said the young man.

"Let me speak to your supervisor," said Biff.

"Unfortunately, the vampire 'spoke' to him first," said the young man.

"Then let me speak to your new supervisor," said Biff.

"No, no, you misunderstand. The old supervisor will be back ... in about a week ... They think one more transfusion should do it," said the young man.

"And if the supervisor has turned?" asked Biff.

"That contingency was foreseen in the original presentation to headquarters," said the young man proudly. "The accounting department is going to perform a time-series analysis, and if the secretarial turn-over crosses a certain deviation, the alarms will go off."

You had to be impressed.

"Harmony's right. We're ignoring Hermione Ganger."

Biff looked up from his cup of cappuccino. "Good stuff. I'm glad you resurrected the old machine. Well, you're the right age to write Miss Granger."

"Do we have anyone smart enough for her?" asked Snorri.

"That may not be necessary," said Biff. "She's an overachiever hungry for recognition. We get in her knickers not by being smart but by pretending to appreciate her intelligence. And the fact that she's a girl."

"That might be. In one version, she married Ronald Weasley."

"The poor sod. I hope the rest of his life went well."

"I can go get the books that have arrived," said Padma.

"I'll get them," said Hermione. "Besides, I told Madam Pince that I would pick up her library books, too. And I've already sent a message to Biff that I'll be there in a little while."

"I can help carry the books back," said Padma.

"No. No, I don't need any help," said Hermione, dashing out the door and towards the village bookstore before Padma could manage any reply.

A little later, Biff looked up to see a breathless girl enter the store. He recognized her as Hermione Granger who had been perusing the shelves for information about simulacrums. He had been daydreaming about her raven-haired companion, a lady that had a calming effect on him and whose quiet conversation he enjoyed.

"I'm here to pick up the books."

"Just you," he said. Noticing the disappointed look on her face, he added, "There're quite a few books. I thought the school would send both of you."

"Padma didn't want to come," asserted Hermione. "She'd rather work in the lab."

It was Biff's turn to hide his disappointment.

"This is a really great bookstore," said Hermione. "I'm glad you're here. It's full of all kinds of things. I could spend hours here, and you make it very comfortable."

Biff, devastated by Padma not wanting to see him, decided he needed some companionship. "It will take a few minutes to gather the books. Would you care for some tea while waiting?"

"Oh, yes, thank you. You're always so considerate."

"Are you certain there's not some wizard waiting impatiently for you back at school?" he asked.

"I don't think anyone at school knows I'm a girl."

"I find that hard to believe. In fact I thought that's why you were interested in simulacrums. Other wizards trying to look like your favorite wizard. It would be worth the effort just to be close to you for a while."

"Oh," she said, blushing. "No, I'm afraid some people have replaced an instructor with one. But I shouldn't be telling you this." She paused. "You'll probably laugh at me. I haven't told anyone, and it's driving me crazy."

"You do look tense. Why don't you sit on that footstool where I can massage your neck muscles? I'll put a sign on the door that says the store is closed for delivery."

"I shouldn't put you to any trouble, sir," said Hermione, moving to the footstool.

Several minutes later, a more relaxed Hermione said, "No one has ever done this for me before."

"You are tense," he said, moving his hands to her shoulders. "You need someone to talk to so you can relieve the stress."

His hands massaging her shoulders had her both relaxed and aroused. The massage had her shirt and bra moving almost imperceptibly across her nipples; both of them knew it; and this made her tingle. She wished he would massage her breasts, but his hands made their way down her back instead. Fifteen minutes later, she was limp, euphoric, and moist. He announced that she could drink her tea as he packaged the books, but she declared she wanted to help and followed him to the storeroom.

"That was wonderful," she said.

"We can do it again. It's good for your health."

"Really? You don't mind?" she asked, putting her hand on his arm.

"It was my pleasure," he said, putting his arm around her shoulder and giving her a squeeze.

He loaded the books onto a floating platform, and they headed toward the castle. She reached over and touched his hand. He took hers in his.

"Do you really think someone at school is a simulacrum?" he asked. "A long term disguise is unusual. The typical shape-changing is for one night, to fool someone else's wife, husband, or lover."

"That doesn't sound very satisfactory," she said. "Don't people want someone else to like them for themselves?"

"That would be better," he said, "but I can imagine someone finding you so attractive that just being with you for one night would tempt them."

"I almost wish that were true," she said.

"I'm sure it is," he said. "Maybe you study so hard that you don't notice."

"What about you?" she asked. "Didn't you leave someone behind?"

"No, I was too scholarly and not interested in athletics, and then I started this business, and I've been busy. Besides, I've always liked intelligent girls, and it's hard to get their attention."

"Smart girls aren't used to boys liking them," she said.

"I've always admired their independent spirit," he said.

After they delivered the books, Hermione asked, "Do you have to hurry back, or can I show you some of the school?"

Ron and Harry were gazing from an upper story window when they saw a pair come out of the castle. One was Hermione, and the other was Biff. The couple sat on a nearby bench. As Biff talked, Hermione pointed her knees at him, and as their conversation continued, she leaned toward him. She occasionally touched his shoulder. She suggested something.

The two boys watched them take the gravel path to the Herbology section with Hermione talking animatedly. Her hip and breast kept brushing against Biff, and she seemed to both dance and float as she accompanied him. Biff put a possessive hand on an entranced Hermione and guided her into the concealing bushes.

The two boys were thinking they would miss the rest of the show when their high vantage point let them see two figures despite the bushes.

The wizard was pressing the witch against a wall. She was shaking her head no. There was a small tussle followed by the girl wrapping her arms around a wizard she could no longer resist. His tongue played her like a flute; his hands on her breasts had her heart drumming; and the once bossy witch weaved like a charmed cobra.

She was shaking her head no and trying to push him away when his hands disappeared under her skirt, but she arched her hips away from the wall so he could pull the white-cotton garment down to her knees, and she moved her legs to let it slide to the ground. One hand gripped her lush, flowing hair and tilted her head to look into her liquid eyes while the other hand remained under her skirt to seek her dark center. Her legs spread as the hand under her skirt moved like a cobra. She was gasping and twisting as its fangs sank into her and the fiery venom turned her eyes dark and her center liquid. Biff calmly gazed into the eyes of the bossy witch weaving at his command, eyes that said she would let him have what he wanted, eyes that knew she could not resist. Panting and shaking her head no, she raised her hands above her head and crossed her wrists. She was still shaking her head no when she parted for him.

The two boys saw Hermione tilt her head back with the primal cry and open-mouthed shock of intimacy as her body jerked in time with a wizard's entry. They saw her face contort with the intensity of it.

They watched the wizard pause to enjoy being the first to experience her hot essence, to savor being the first to possess the little witch. Harry and Ron watched the witch they had known for a long time as her face became soft with the sweet melancholy of surrender, a surrender they had never seen before. They watched their friend caress the wizard with her fingers, her lips, her body as the powerful male captured her spirit.

For quite some time, Harry and Ron would remember Hermione pressed against the wall and moving up and down as she let Biff have what he wanted.

The couple became still with Hermione holding Biff and looking pensively into the distance.

"Do you think he came in her pussy?" asked Ron.

"Yeah," said Harry, a bit shocked by what he had witnessed. "He fucked her."

"Cool."

"Wow," said the two boys. It wasn't every day you saw someone steal a witch's virginity.

Biff handed Hermione her knickers, waited till she put them on, took her hand, and began walking out of the bushes.

After a few steps, she stopped and asked, "Do you really like me?"

"Yes," he said. "Can you have lunch with me?"

She nodded yes and flung herself into his arms. He held her until she recovered, and they walked back to his flat hand in hand.

"You've ruined everything."

"No, we haven't," said Snorri and Biff, looking up from their cappuccino. Experience had taught them a valuable lesson. "We saved a cup for you."

"I'm talking about the story, Dumkopfs," said Harmony. "Hermione Ganger is supposed to get seduced last, not first."

She glared at their bewildered faces and tried words of one syllable. "She's the heroine. That means she has to be a good girl. She has to be the last one seduced to show she's the one with the most virtue."

"We thought she was such a stick-in-the-mud that we better give her a running start," said Snorri.

"Yeah," said Biff. "We were getting her warmed up for Severus."

"We're doing the same for Granger that we're doing for Severus," said Snorri. "He's become the very Devil with his tongue."

"Not to mention the honeyed words," added Biff.

"He's found the g-spot. And his finger work with the clit, oo-la-la," said Snorri.

"Imagine that rich, hoarse whisper in your ear: 'I'm going to make you scream my name,'" said Biff.

"You two don't understand anything," said Harmony, storming out of the room.

"Do you think we let her cappuccino get cold?" asked Biff.

The sound of Harmony stomping to her office and the door slamming was replaced by the sound of feet running toward Biff's office.

"Do you think that's the editor looking for you?" asked Snorri.

"Naw," said Biff. "Let's get back to the story."

"Maybe I'm doing everything all wrong. Harmony was pretty upset," said Snorri.

"Yes, but she'll probably read that scene over and over," said Biff. He smiled at Snorri. "You look skeptical, but I'll bet Harmony lusts after somebody, too." He paused. "You don't believe me, do you?"

"I write girls as if they were boys and had feelings," confessed Snorri. "Otherwise, I don't think anything would happen."

"That's all we can do," said Biff.

Meanwhile, back in her office, Harmony knew she couldn't trust those two klutzes with a proper description of a girl entering into a relationship. Even for her, it was going to be a challenge.

How vexatious it is in the early part of a romance for the wizard to be overly solicitous about the female getting full satisfaction when the lady is primarily interested in exploring the social and emotional aspects which comprise by far the greater part of a relationship, especially since the concern places additional stress on the witch and even leads her to think her companion is primarily interested in his stud factor, which might incline her to think he is more concerned about his performance than about her comfort in an awkward and vulnerable phase of her life where, in contrast, she is trying hard to adapt and please her new friend who, if her hopes come to fruition, could become an important part of her life – the fullness of which she was always hoping to share – and then, once trust and compatibility are established, the more intimate aspect of their pairing can blossom in an atmosphere of communication and sharing and thereby be taken to heights undreamed of when they were but strangers unsure of each other and even of their own feelings, and certainly, this higher degree of meaning is worth not rushing, and in addition, this misplaced concern has the possibility of creating feelings of inappropriate guilt in the female, who, after all, did but succumb to the seduction of the male, and surely it is part of the social contract that he take responsibility for those urges which society has allowed him to have and not expect the lady to express those rude desires deemed inappropriate to the fairer sex but whose fulfillment is properly assigned to the direct action of a wizard acting in accordance with the established standards of manhood, and even though we of the fainter heart are often disappointed, it is the eternal hope that those we have entrusted with providing the happiness for which we all yearn will strive to do their best with desire balanced by sensitivity, and thus it was that, despite her anxiety and the lapses on the part of the male, Hermione nevertheless achieved ultimate bliss the fifth time that Biff coaxed her into that ultimately primal but devoutly sought union of male and female although her heart still rightly clung to the first episode in the bushes, which she always fondly remembered as the first time a wizard expressed such an ardent need for her total being that she was willing to disregard society's strictures and, with trembling heart, let him possess her heretofore unblemished body as she sacrificed her honor on the terrifying altar that lay under the archway to a promising new world – full of hope and peril and possibilities yet undreamed of – a world she was beginning to glimpse as, for the first time, more than just friendship relied upon the emotions of another whose inner life was as hidden to her as it was important to her and, as she was slowly coming to realize, whose feelings were not influenced by her constantly having him on her mind despite her wish that it were otherwise, but surely her prayers for a just universe would be answered and it would be sufficient if he reciprocated only a small part of the regard she had for him, which is no more than a beleaguered writer can do as she prays that her audience has not misinterpreted her attempt at a sympathetic treatment as condoning what she has described or misinterpreted the attempt at a readable presentation as implying that our seduced maiden acquiesced too quickly, and lest anyone think otherwise, it would be well to record that our proper young miss was still coming to terms with the inelegance of the mating procedure, which, on the occasion she had her first climatic moment, began with his guiding her into his bedroom, a nearly socially improper act producing a giddy feeling for the girl that she herself hardly condoned even though the male acted out of that desire which is so ardent that it sweeps away all reticence and which, as a consequence, is so eagerly anticipated by our more fragile breasts that we cannot but succumb, and once the couple achieved privacy, the wizard held and kissed his companion with an affection that might be commendable if it were not for the intent and the resulting questionable anticipation it aroused in his fair partner who found it difficult not to reply in kind, which led to gentle fondling that indicated the male found the look and feel of the female pleasing enough to warrant his attention: an attention so desired by our sex that how often it has led us astray and to which our sex naturally responds by removing concealing and restrictive garments to facilitate receiving more of the life-giving affection that is often handed out so niggardly, and which devotion, as he caressed and nibbled every curve and every inch of skin, caused her to move sinuously under his touch, and even though the writer is blushing as our fair maiden must have done, it must be told that his touch traveled up the length of her thighs causing her legs to spread wider and wider in an invitation that he accepted by letting a finger part her folds and slide to her nub where, even though she was surprised by her own slick readiness, she could not help but be betrayed by nature into an involuntary squirm that reached such intensity that the male took the liberty of sliding his fingers into her and kissing her breasts, a combination that produced an internal flutter that left her flushed and so obviously at his mercy that, painful as it is to tell, she made no protest, but merely looked at the wizard demurely as he lifted her legs into a position that had her presenting her most intimate and least attractive part, pinned her hands while looking in her eyes to let her know she was his to take, and poised on the back of her thighs, made a measured and assured entry whose crudeness had her thrilled and whose audacity had her feminine nature moaning and yearning for more of those demanding pushes into her that rocked her body and gave her wizard such evident pleasure that it stripped away all concern for modesty and she could not help but move in the ancient rhythm until it focused all her emotions on the fact that he desired her and this perception, for what redeeming value it is worth, dear reader, is the factor that sent our once prim heroine over the edge into a wanton frenzy that lasted but a short time before a blinding sensation took away all thought and all will to the point where she lay passive, and though it may cross the bounds of propriety, the author who wishes to record honestly must admit that our heroine's crossing the threshold was accompanied by such a manly pounding, warming the cockles of the witch's heart as thoroughly as it warmed her intimate self – the pounding that drives the foundation pile deeper so that the structure can reach to the heavens – that no trace of blame could be assigned to any female for her consequent actions, while the wizard – with the enthusiasm that at last revealed in its fullest glory the underlying great desire for her that overcomes all restraint and strictures and that we of the frailer disposition, it must be blushingly admitted, long to receive above all else – completed his possession of her, leaving her with a wildly beating heart and a sense of fulfillment.

As Miss Grayson gratefully laid down her pen after describing her heroine's initial peak experience, an initial meeting peaked in an outdoor café. The stranger introduced herself as 'Odele.' Odele ordered tea, sipped it a while, and asked, "How did you happen on an old manuscript? We thought we had all of them in our possession."

"We don't have a manuscript," said the editor. "Our contract writers are turning out another serial fiction. At least, that's what we thought."

"That's hard to believe," said Odele, "It's hard to believe that they would write the true story by accident when no one else has." She sipped more tea. "But perhaps I'm revealing too much."

"Believe me, you haven't revealed anything," said the editor. "I'm completely mystified. And why would anyone care that a piece of fiction accidentally describes some real event, whatever that real event might have been. I have no idea what it might have been, and I don't care."

"There are those who do," said Odele, "and you have their interest."

"We would delete the story immediately if that would do any good," said Biff, "but a sudden deletion would create suspicion."

"Yes," said Odele. "If what you are telling me is true, then you can honestly reply that it is all a coincidence when they ask."

"Ask?" said the editor. "Who's going to ask anything?"

"Officialdom, for starters," said Odele. "They will ask politely at first, but they will not let go until they are satisfied it is a coincidence. Others will not be so polite. If you do have a manuscript, you are better off telling me now."

"We have nothing," said Biff. "And I don't see why this is so serious."

"I will tell the others your answer," said Odele, rising and leaving.

"I'm really scared now, Biff," said the editor, taking his hand.

After Odele left, another wizard rose and followed her. Biff and the editor wondered if the second person was a friend or foe of Odele.

Upon Biff's return to the magazine office building, he retired to a basement storeroom that he and Snorri had found and that seemed hidden from everyone else, especially if a few discreet concealment charms were used.

Snorri smiled and asked, "How was 'tea' with the editor?"

"It was a business meeting," said Biff.

"Yeah, right," said Snorri. "Are you still 'up' for the business of our story?"

On the floor above their heads, they heard several sets of hurried, feminine footsteps moving down the hall from office to office.

"Do you think anyone is looking for us?" asked Snorri.

"Naw," said Biff. "We're just a pair of writers. We meet the deadline. Otherwise, no one cares about us."

"That's true," said Snorri, leaning back in his chair. "I'm sure they've decided to leave us alone to create in peace."

"And we have the cappuccino machine," said Biff, firing it up as Snorri took pen in hand.