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Original Adult Novels of Magic, Mystery and Mayhem
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| Chapter
2 ~ A Replica with a Purpose “He doesn’t seem very happy to see us,” Gregory said to Dahlia as she stared at the golem. He looked just like the educator. ”Well, I kind of went heavy on his reactions and what I know of his responses. He wouldn’t be pleased to be naked in a room, so . . . his glaring at us is in character. But he will listen to me, do anything I tell him to do,” Dahlia said. Artimus’ dark eyes rested on her. He could hear her perfectly. So, she made him obedient, eh? All right. He could play along. ”He’s going to have to come out here,” Dahlia said, “we can’t see in the room.” She took out her wand and unlatched the door. It opened. Yes, the golem was ready. She passed the robes in to Artimus, averting her eyes. ”Put this on,” she ordered the golem. Artimus took the robes and put them on as Gregory looked at him with eyebrows raised. ”Dahlia, he looks a lot different than when he was forming,” the sorcerer said as Artimus buttoned his robes. Dahlia looked at the ‘golem’ but she couldn’t see anything because he had the robes on now. She handed him the slip on shoes. ”What do you mean?” she asked Gregory, whose brown eyes drifted over Artimus thoughtfully. ”He’s not . . . flabby,” he said in a low voice. “Actually, physically he looks pretty good. I’d be interested.” Dahlia and Artimus both gave the sorcerer a disbelieving look, although Artimus quickly recovered. He wasn’t supposed to react. But Cummings “interested?” Maybe he’d be interested in becoming a eunuch, the horny little bastard. ”What? What did he look like?” Dahlia asked Gregory curiously as Artimus stood there silently, feeling completely out of his element. A gay man describing his attributes did absolutely nothing for him but make him uncomfortable. “First off, he’s hung. He has a huge cock. And he has abs, strong thighs, cut arms and a nice chest. I bet his ass is tight too,” Gregory said. “Somehow he got definition. He doesn’t look anything like when he was forming.” Dahlia sighed and blinked at Artimus, who stood stock still, trying not to smirk. Gregory did make him sound good. To his surprise, Dahlia frowned, a crease appearing between her brows. “Damn it. I tried my best to keep his development realistic. You know how male golems generated by sorceresses always seem to have perfect bodies and big cocks. I was trying to move away from that. I wanted to make him, realistic. Ordinary. Instead he came out like the rest. A big joy doll,” she complained. “He can’t possibly look that good in real life.” Gregory shook his head slowly. ”I’d rather have him look like this than the lump of flesh he was when forming,” the sorcerer said. Dahlia blinked at the golem. Well, she hadn’t been exactly happy with the creature earlier, but she had hoped for a closer likeness. Not an Adonis. Just attractive. Mr. Rogue was already sexy to her, but now it would seem even more pretend when she indulged herself with the replica she’d made. ”Er . . . Dahlia, after you write out your report on him, you think I can borrow him for a couple of hours?” Gregory asked the sorceress, eyeing Artimus rather lustfully. ”What? No, Gregory! I’m not going to let you fuck my golem! You’re sick. Just sick,” she said to him. “If you want to do that, make your own.” Artimus fought back a snarl. He would dissolve anything Gregory made that even remotely looked like him, and with great malice. The educator shuddered a bit. “Well, after you write about him, what are you going to do with him? You might as well let me have him,” Gregory said. ”He’s not going to last more than a day, Gregory. I gave him a twenty-four hour duration. Probably about six hours are gone. It takes about three hours to write a full report,” the sorceress said. “Then I’ll feed him and let him stay in my dorm room until he fades.” Gregory eyed Dahlia, and she dropped her eyes guiltily. He pointed an accusing finger at her. “You little hypocrite! You made this golem so YOU could fuck him,” Gregory declared. “Don’t even try to lie about it, Dahlia. I know you. You little freak! And after all your lectures about me making joy golems. You should be ashamed of yourself!” Dahlia’s entire head turned red with embarrassment as Artimus stared at her. Could what Mr. Cummings said be true? ”All right. So what if I did? It’s perfectly harmless,” Dahlia retorted. ”No it’s not. I’ve never made a golem that looks like anyone I know. You’re obsessed with Mr. Rogue. Admit it!” Gregory demanded. “No I’m not. I just . . . well . . . shut up, Gregory. You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she snapped as she turned back toward the stairs. ”Come on,” she said to the golem bad-naturedly. Artimus followed, but so did Gregory. ”Dahlia Ivera Joiner . . . you’re just as much of a freak as I am,” the sorcerer teased, following her and Artimus up the stairs. “You want to fuck Mr. Rogue. Why didn’t you ever tell me you liked him?” Dahlia slowed, letting Gregory catch up to her. ”Because it’s stupid, that’s why, Gregory,” she said quietly, a little tremor in her voice. “He doesn’t even notice me.” Gregory became serious quickly when he heard how her voice sounded. Dahlia’s voice only trembled when she was feeling great emotion about a situation. This was more than wanting just a roll between the sheets. ”You actually like him, don’t you Dahlia? I mean . . . want more than just to sleep with him . . .” Dahlia didn’t answer him and that spoke louder to Gregory than if she had. Dahlia didn’t do relationships. She might have an occasional casual encounter with a sorcerer now and then, but she never ever expressed any interest beyond that. If all she wanted was a quickie with the educator, she would have said so. ”Maybe you should ask him to lunch or something, Dahlia,” Gregory suggested as they reached the main level, Dahlia walking toward the back stairwell that led to the woman’s dorms, Artimus following, silent and listening. Dahlia looked at Gregory as if he were insane. ”Ask him to lunch? Gregory, he’d look at me like I was crazy and turn me down flat,” she said to the sorcerer. ”You don’t know that,” Gregory pressed. “He might say yes.” “And he might say no,” she replied, “and I don’t want to hear him say that. It would just be horrible.” It would be. If Mr. Rogue turned her down, then, Dahlia would know for certain she didn’t stand a chance with the sorcerer and not even be able to fantasize about him. This way, she could pretend something more was possible. She’d been doing it for three years now. Gregory shook his head, stopping at the bottom of the stairs. He took hold of one of Dahlia’s hands. ”Dahlia, when are you going to see you have to open up to people? Give them a chance? Take a risk. If you like Mr. Rogue, you should let him know it. He’s not going to know if you don’t take some kind of action. I’m not crazy about him, but I’d like to see you happy and with someone. The way you’re going, you’re going to be alone for the rest of your life, with nothing but magic to keep you company,” he said to her soberly. Dahlia blinked at him, her eyes getting a little wet. “You just don’t understand, Gregory. It . . . it isn’t that easy for me,” she said softly. “I don’t do rejection well.” ”You don’t do people well, Dahlia. Not in intimate situations. That’s got to change. Fucking a golem of someone you’re attracted to isn’t going to bring you any real satisfaction,” Gregory warned her. Dahlia looked at Artimus, who remained silent and non-reactive. ”Then temporary satisfaction is going to have to do,” she replied, “I’ll see you later, Gregory. Come on, golem.” She pulled her hand out of Gregory’s grip and started up the stairs, Artimus following her, his pale ankles showing because of the shortness of the robes he wore. Gregory looked after them, shaking his head. Dahlia really needed to open up if she were ever going to find happiness. She was too young to live like she did, focused only on learning, increasing her power, identifying and solving magical mysteries. There was more to living than chasing a dream of greatness and personal accomplishment. A person had to make and catch hold of his or her own reality Dahlia wasn’t even reaching. Gregory sighed. When he made golems, it was just for a bit of dirty pleasure. Fun. In Dahlia’s case, she was substituting something false for something that could be real if she would just extend herself. It was sad really. When it came to taking physical risks, Dahlia was unstoppable. She was the first to cross over puddles when a child’s cry was heard, despite the possibility of ambush. She fought clerics hand to hand with all the ferociousness of a tiger, snatching potential victims right out of their arms. But she couldn’t do a simple thing like invite a sorcerer she was attracted to . . . to lunch. It made no sense. Gregory sighed again. Dahlia was a wonderful, caring person . . . but if she didn’t take the kinds of risks that mattered, the kinds of risks that made life so painful and so beautiful, then she’d never know what it really was to be happy. The wizard turned and headed for his own dorm. Maybe being with the golem might give her the courage to take a chance and go for the real thing. She’d have to. Gregory was going to make sure she never made another Rogue golem again, if he had to dissolve it himself. ************************************ ”Gregory just doesn’t understand,” Dahlia said as she walked up the stairs, talking to the sorcerer behind her. Golems had limited mental abilities, and she didn’t expect a response, but . . . she could still talk to it. “Mr. Rogue has no interest in me at all. But . . . now that damned Odessa . . . “ Odessa Divine was Dahlia’s arch-nemesis. Odessa was beautiful, showy, curvaceous, slender and delicate. She had raven black hair that curled provocatively around her face, long black lashes, vibrant green eyes and a soft, pouting mouth just made for kissing. The sorceress turned heads wherever she went, wearing high heels, tight clothes that accentuated her body, and low cut shirts that accentuated her creamy cleavage. She was a brilliant sorceress of course, otherwise she wouldn’t be at Finklenook, but she still played the “helpless beauty” role. Sorcerers would do anything for her notice. Dahlia hated her on sight. ”What a fake,” she hissed to Gregory, who watched as sorcerers bumped into each other as the beautiful sorceress passed by, her hips rolling like twin ships out to sea beneath her tight black skirt. “Look at her. She’s like a billboard for indiscriminate sex. Just Do Me.” ”You’re just jealous,” Gregory said as Odessa waited for a sorcerer to open the door for her to enter a classroom. Several battled over the knob as she smirked. “No I’m not. I just can’t stand women who look and act like that,” Dahlia snapped. “People should be noticed for their character and accomplishments, not their bodies.” Gregory chuckled as one bedraggled sorcerer gallantly opened the door for her, and she passed through it, trailing a finger across his cheek, the undergrad looking as if he’d pass out in ecstasy. ”I don’t think she shares your philosophy, Dahlia,” he replied, smiling at her cattiness. Odessa didn’t like Dahlia either. ”Oh my Sons,” she said the first time she saw Dahlia enter the class, and loud enough for the sorceress to hear her, “I think a flower child has escaped from the Valley of the Amazons.” This drew chuckles from the other undergrads and Dahlia turned completely red as she sat down in her seat, Odessa grinning at her nastily. Dahlia liked to wear clothing made of natural fibers, cotton, linen, and silk. She often wore long skirts and tunics, along with carved wooden jewelry and beads. With her long, straight brown hair that fell over her shoulders and down her back, she did look a bit like a hippie, especially when she wore vivid colors. Standing at five-seven and weighing in at one hundred and sixty-five pounds, Dahlia was nowhere near tiny, but she was proportionate. In some areas a bit more than others. She had quite a bit of junk in her trunk and wore long shirts and tunics to try and cover it. Odessa would sometimes make beeping noises when Dahlia backed up. She was a real bitch. She would often comment on Dahlia’s looks as well. Dahlia had a rather wide nose and full lips, but they fit her, her skin tone a bit dark as if she had a permanent tan. An American, she had quite a varied ancestry, and it showed. The melting pot had boiled over in her case. ”If Dahlia’s nose gets any broader, her neck’s going to break from the weight,” Odessa quipped in the cafeteria one day as Dahlia passed, her hands curling into fists. The sorcerers gathered around the young woman all laughed uproariously. Of course, Dahlia could just kick her ass, but that wouldn’t be very satisfying. She was bigger than Odessa and an accomplished Aikido student. She would be perceived as a bully and probably kicked out of Finklenook. So, she just stomached the catty sorceress. But Odessa was a true example of the adage that women always knew when other women had their sights set on someone. She immediately divined that Dahlia was sweet on Mr. Rogue, and purposely flirted with the educator every chance she got to make Dahlia jealous. She would lean over the sorcerer’s desk so he could get a good gander at her cleavage and flutter her eyes at him coquettishly as she spoke to him, usually about something trivial. Artimus wasn’t above looking either. He was a man after all. But to be honest, Odessa, as lovely as she was, wasn’t his type beyond being suitable for a quick stick. She was definitely fuckable, but there was nothing attractive about her other than her looks. She was mean-spirited first of all, and Artimus, although he was no saint . . . didn’t find that attractive in a woman. Plus, Odessa didn’t look like someone who appreciated nature at all. He could imagine what it would be like to hike with her. She’d probably wear those ever present high heels and recoil in horror at everything she saw. ”What is that? A stick? Ew.” And she looked as weak as a newborn. She’d be of no use at all without her wand. No doubt by the jewelry she wore, Odessa was high maintenance, and would spend most of her time spending a sorcerer’s money on showy trinkets. No, Odessa Divine was nothing more than pleasant eye-candy and as you know, too much candy isn’t a good thing. So, although he looked, Artimus wasn’t the least bit interested in touching. However, his friend educator Marcus Delaluci was, and Odessa was definitely on his to-do list . . . after he finished with a few other delectable little appetizers that were on Finklenook’s ample menu of sorceresses. Still, Dahlia had no way of knowing this, since Artimus appeared to enjoy ogling Odessa. He was just like the other sorcerers, seeing only what was on the surface. Dahlia felt invisible next to Odessa, and to other sorcerers, she was. But not to Artimus, who had an interest in the sorceress from the first day he saw her. He liked the way she looked, strong but feminine, with lovely, expressive hazel eyes and full lips. He even liked her nose. It wasn’t pert and perky, but broad and bold. She reminded him of a few native women he had encountered in his travels. She wore her hair natural and very little make-up. And good Sons, her body was magnificent, her thighs and hips thick and her ass . . . plump. He liked to see her in pants, even though she wore long shirts to cover all that luscious behind. What really brought it together was that the young woman had courage, ideals and a mind. All in all, he found her quite appealing. But Artimus was almost twice Dahlia’s age, and unlike Marcus, he usually didn’t attempt to court young women, although he’d had a few casual encounters from time to time, mostly picking them up at bars. They were pleasant diversions, but air-headed and basically served the purpose of letting him get his wick wet. So he never made any effort to let the sorceress know he was attracted to her. Like Dahlia, he didn’t handle rejection well either. So he kept their relationship professional. Like most men, he had no clue the sorceress was interested in him. Well, he had more than a clue now, that was for certain. The sorcerer followed Dahlia up the stairs, his dark eyes resting on her ass. She was wearing a long, rather swishy skirt and sandals, her long hair falling down her back as she raged on about Odessa and how she had his interest, the cow. Artimus hardened a bit as he thought about what was waiting for him behind closed doors. His meager conscience tried to make itself heard and condemn him for his deception, but it was weak from non-use and just gave up. They stopped on the fourth landing and Dahlia turned to him, reddening a little as she looked at the replica she’d created. ”I really shouldn’t be doing this,” she said to the sorcerer softly. Artimus blinked down at her but said nothing. Dahlia stared up at him for a moment, then opened the landing door. A corridor of doors lay before them. ”Come on,” Dahlia said, leading him up the hallway, then stopping at the fifth door on the right. It was early and the weekend, so there wasn’t much activity. Dahlia pulled a card out of her skirt pocket and swiped it. The door clicked and opened. She pushed it wider. ”Go in,” she said to Artimus, who hesitated for a moment, then determinedly walked inside. Dahlia followed, stuck her head out and looked up and down the hallway to make sure no one saw her enter her room with what appeared to be Mr. Rogue, then closed the door. Artimus stood in the middle of the small sixteen by fourteen foot room. It was furnished with a computer desk, a computer, two folding chairs, several bookshelves filled with books, a recliner, coffee table, a small television and a large sofa. Blue carpet ran wall to wall and there was a closet and a door that led to a small bathroom. There was no tub, just a shower. Pictures of Gregory and Dahlia’s deceased parents rested on the coffee table. Nothing hung on the walls . . . it wasn’t allowed. The room smelled of incense. Not unpleasant at all. Dahlia walked across the room, pulled out one of the folding chairs, sat down in it, then powered up the computer. She turned and studied the sorcerer. ”You really do look like him in the face,” she said to the creature. “He’s really very handsome. I like his eyebrows.” Artimus didn’t say anything but he arched one of his thick eyebrows at her. Dahlia smiled for a moment, then her smile faded. ”If you were human, I bet you’d think this was pretty pathetic,” she said to Artimus. Actually golems were used for a number of purposes. Sex was just one of them. Acting out a fantasy with a golem was far more common than Dahlia knew. In his younger years, Artimus had done the same thing, making replicas of a number of desirable but unattainable sorceresses and fucking the shit out of them. All undergrads did it at least once. Well, all the males. He wasn’t sure about the women at Finklenook. The computer finally played the familiar welcome music and icons filled the screen. It had a backdrop of a beautiful sunset. Dahlia opened up the Word program and located the template she used when writing her observations. She opened it, then looked at the sorcerer. ”All right,” she said, reddening a little. “Undress.” ****************************** A/N: Well, we’re rolling now. Lol. |
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