Some Enchanting Vintage

Niobe Saldana crushed the dried mint using her marble mortar and pestle, a gift from her abuela when she had turned thirteen. It had been her initiation into the family tradition, and the kitchen, including the mysterious “cookbooks” her mother and tías had whispered over whenever they gathered there. 

She learned very quickly, and soon she was helping to prepare recipes for broken hearts, protection, and prosperity. Now, at 27, she ran the business out of the ground floor of her family’s East Village brownstone, purchased in the late 70’s when there were community block parties filled with the smell of arroz con pollo and ropa vieja, and the sounds of salsa and merengue típico.

She gathered up the powdered mint and cast it into her miniature cauldron, then she added a folded fifty dollar bill before signaling to her computer screen. 

“On three, repeat after me,” she said, and her client nodded nervously from her Zoom window. 

“In the name of my I AM presence, I hereby release the spirit of scarcity, now and in all directions of time and space.”

The bills slowly blackened at the edges before being consumed by the flames.

“I welcome abundance and good fortune into my life in all it’s forms, today and hereafter. Everything and everyone prospers me now, I prosper everything and everyone now. It is done.”

The fire consumed the mint, and the money until only blackened bits remained. 

They watched the flames dim to ash, and then Niobe said, “Thank you. You should see some changes by the end of the week. Keep me posted. In the meantime, expect a green candle in the mail. I’m anointing it with the ashes, and you should burn it every night before bed. Do the same affirmation we just did together. I’ll send you a candle snuffer in the mail. Only, I repeat, only put it out with this. Don’t blow it out yourself.”

“Got it. You’re amazing! Thank you sooo much, Niobe.”

“Anytime. Have a good night, now.”

She ended their session and then turned, hearing the tinkling of her amethyst beaded curtains as her friend Siorcha entered the room, followed by Orla, who barely made a sound on her tiny booted feet. 

“Good, you’re done. Now, get dressed so we can leave. I don’t want to miss the mead mimosas,” Siorcha remarked, toying with her shell studded braids.

“Say that three times fast,” Orla grinned. 

The Maeve Mingle, aka the May Eve Mingle, had been advertised for over an month now on Instagram and was all anyone magical 18-35 was talking about. The raucous festival lasted from dusk until dawn, and featured everything from cage dancers to fire eaters and of course, lots of mead-fueled couplings. But Niobe just wasn’t in the mood, literally or figuratively.

“I’m not going. Unlike you two, I don’t have a date.”

“So rustle one up!” Orla wiggled her fingers, bouncing in small circles, making her diaphanous mini skirt swirl around her electric blue stockings. 

“Yeah, it’s basically your job,” added Siorcha.

“Easy for you to say,” Niobe replied glumly. 

“Actually, you’re the witch, love. I’m just a selkie.”

“Yes, and you have a date. And Orla has two!”

Orla sighed with a smile. “I do, a gorgeous kitsune and a snake shifter.” 

“Can you please not rub it in? I don’t need to hear about your threesomes!”

Siorcha saw the look on Niobe’s face and tugged Orla towards the door.

“Let’s leave Bridget Jones to her own devices, shall we?”

“More like Bitchy Jones,” Orla mumbled.

“I heard that!” Niobe yelled, but they were already gone.

She poured herself some of wine, and prepared the cinnamon, rose petals, and anointed a red candle for her next spell with some trepidation. She carved her name on it, feeling silly because she had no one else’s name to accompany it.

“Ok, hit it, universe.”

——————————————————————————

Being the only human in your magical cohort and the latest of a long line of Dominican kitchen witches was challenging at the best of times, but then there were moments like this, where a botched love spell accidentally summons Dionysus himself into your bedroom. 

Niobe stared at the naked god in her bed, who made no move to cover his generous manhood, merely leaning back against her pillows and patting the empty spot next to him. He was handsome in a rugged, earthy way. His hair hung around his face in dark ringlets, and his body glowed with a radiance that had nothing to do with his bronze skin.

“Come, lie with me. We shall feast, and you may tell me how I may grant the wish of your heart.” His voice was deep and melodious and made her heart flutter.

“Um...who are you?”

“Some call me Bacchus...others, Dionysus. The Ptolemaic Egyptians knew me as Osiris. But that is neither here nor there.”

And on the bedside table, sure enough, was a platter of fruit. Dates, to be exact. Because she had asked for...Oh, so he was being funny. Cute.

“What in the seven hells are you doing here?” She demanded, when she had recovered her wits.

“According to Dante, there are nine, yet in reality, Hell is but one of many dimensions that exist within the mental construct you mortals have created to divert yourself in.”

“Listen, I’ve seen my share of paranormal entities, but this...I mean, nudity aside, you aren’t even from my ancestral lineage, so...why are you here?”

He gestured toward the altar she had set up by her window. “As for wherefore I am, why, you summoned me, did you not? Is that not wine you spilled in my name?”

A gust of wind had whipped up the pages of her Book of Shadows, and when she reached over to return to the right page, she had tipped her glass of Merlot over, sending a splash into her cauldron. Like an offering, she realized.

“It was an accident.”

“I see. You were quite earnest in your entreaty. To what purpose?” He asked, not unkindly.

She blushed fiercely. “I...I want to manifest what I want into the physical. I’m so used to doing it for other people, but it never works for me.”

“What do you wish to manifest for your yourself?”

Should she say aloud the words she had chanted, about wanting a sexy, smart, guy who was great in bed but also honest and accepted her as she was? Probably not. She didn’t dare let the girls know she had planned this in advance and was glad they’d be out of the house. She certainly wasn’t about to admit it to Dionysus.

He chuckled, his amber eyes shimmering with mirth.

“You know that I already heard you. And as much as I am willing to oblige you, I do not believe this is your true desire. What you need and what you want are not the same thing, but tonight, I shall give them both to you. All I ask is that you trust me, and surrender to me, completely.”

Coño. His energy was so magnetic. She felt warm, languorous, drawn into his field as if tugged by some invisible force. She stepped closer to him on shaky legs.

“My magic resides in everyone, and the call of the wine releases truths that are trapped within the body. I loosen tongues and fill bellies with fire. It is up to you to harness that and use it, or let it consume you and burn itself out.”

Niobe sat next to him on the bed. He reached out for her hand and when she took it, he placed both their hands on her lower abdomen. His gaze was serious, but his face held a roguish charm. His lips were full and sensuous. She looked down at their hands.

“In order for you to truly create, you must chase your bliss, you must as we Greeks say, ’know yourself’. Your seat of creative power resides in the womb, as it has for all women for millennia. You must become one with it, and rejoice in the power to both create and experience incredible pleasure. Then you can accomplish anything.”

“So I need to have sex? But what if I—” Niobe began, but he cut her off.

“With yourself. With others. There is no wrong way, so long as you hurt none in your pursuit of pleasure. It is freely given and freely taken in the spirit of joy. The power generated from such is what you use in your work.”

“Sex magic. I know all about that, but I can barely find a guy to date...let alone...Anyway, I guess I could learn to channel it it by myself, eventually.”

“There is no need,” he said, cupping her face with his other hand. “If you let me, I can show you how.”

She nodded, because the warmth of his hand over hers made her yearn to feel him touch every part of her. He kissed her with his delicious lips, redolent of wine. She wore only a thin white gown for her rituals, so he lowered the strap easily enough, to kiss her bare shoulder with searing heat, to suckle a taut nipple, until her hot molten core shuddered with need. Abruptly, he stopped, leading her to her full length mirror.

“Get used to being assertive with what you like sexually, and it will help you be assertive in every other aspect of your life. Show me.”

“I just feel so vulnerable,” she said, staring at their reflections.

“It gets easier with time. Because if you don’t speak up for yourself, others are liable to do it for you, or think they know what you want. It’s your duty to tell them, to teach them. You can only do that by knowing yourself.”

She placed her hand between her legs and began to slowly encircle her clitoris, rubbing in slow circles until a pulsating rhythm built up.

“Look at yourself, your face, your eyes, your body. Feel every cell, every atom. Breathe in, and feel the power of the universe fill you from crown to toe. You are eternal. Repeat after me: I am eternal, I am source, I am the light and the life force.”

Niobe echoed his words, her heart thudding in her chest, her nipples hard pebbles, her vulva soft as the nectar flowed and soaked her fingers.

“You need no one but yourself, Niobe.”

“But I want...I want you now,” she moaned, reaching behind her for him.

Wordlessly, he wrapped his arms around her, sliding one down to cup her sopping slit, the other to grasp one breast, and nibbling on the soft skin of her neck, his knee parted her thighs wider and he entered her.

Stars burst behind her eyes as she felt an explosion of pleasure. Electricity coursed up her spine, making her legs tremble and goosebumps spread across her skin. Their bodies melded together, until she couldn’t tell where his ended and hers began. And they did so again and again. When they did stop, they ate fruit and drank wine.

She wasn’t sure exactly how it happened, but as the night wore on she was able to open up to him, tell him things she had never told another soul. For hours, he listened, cradling her in his arms. At times he laughed like a young man, at times his words and gestures took on a fatherly tone, or even the ageless wisdom of the sage. But then, he was a god, after all.

In the morning he was gone, all but the smell of him: musky and fruity, with an acidic tang.

She took an Urban tantra class by herself a few weeks later, and embarked on a new relationship that was challenging, yet extremely rewarding. Every day she looked at her reflection in the mirror, and smiled. Her lover smiled back in turn.