Book of Eros 02: Gluteus Magicus

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Bette Hicks dropped the tome she’d just bought on her bed and stared at it for a moment.

“So,” she said. “The Book of Eros.” This is the book that, according to its supporters, will give me anything I want in the sexual realm, she thought. Will it help me get rid of my asshole boyfriend, Matt-M. Pyer, as the obnoxious egotist insists on being addressed-and replace him with my Political Science prof, that erudite gentleman, Dr. Maximilian Inison? “I guess we’ll find out.”

She took several hours of that early afternoon reading page after page, taking notes, and trying to make sense of all the magic formulas in the book. The main, recurring idea was to make the magical spells work through a contemplation of an idea opposing what is wished for.

She dimmed the lights and focused, then recited several formulae, pronouncing the foreign words as accurately as she could, based on a careful study of the pronunciation guide in the introduction of the book. As she recited the words, she let her mind bounce back and forth between her two wishes for Matt and Max, and what their antitheses were.

She finished her mediation with the words of the ancient Illysian language that meant, “So may it be.”

“There,” she said after opening her eyes. “Manipulating the opposites of my wishes should be easy, given Max’s and ‘M’s’ natures. Then my actual wishes-if I haven’t been conned by the book’s promises-should come true.” She thought, I don’t normally believe in magic, but I’m so desperate to get rid of my boyfriend that I’ll try anything.


Later that afternoon, she was in her Poli Sci class at her university, a course on the history of communism. Dr. Inison had just walked in to begin his lecture. She, sitting in the front row, smiled at him as he passed by. He smiled back.

I adore him, she thought. I wear no makeup here, and my clothes are as plain as my face looks, unlike how I’ll look tonight at work. Dr. Inison respects me; he doesn’t care if I look hot or not, though he’d be amazed to see me all tarted up, as I’ll be tonight. He listens to me. He respects my opinions when I talk in class. Unlike ‘M.’, this man deserves to have me.

Dr. Inison began his lecture. “Today we’ll be discussing Mao Zedong’s writing, ‘On Contradiction’. In it, Mao writes of how all things in our world are contradictions, dialectical opposites that, so to speak, butt heads with each other, yet also define each other. Does this idea sound familiar?”

Bette raised her hand. “Yes,” she said when Max picked her. “Mao is developing an idea already discussed in the writings of Stalin, Lenin, and going right back to Marx.”

“Very good,” Max said, he and Bette grinning at each other. “This is Mao discussing dialectical materialism, Hegel’s dialectic turned upside-down to be a materialist version of Hegel’s idealism, or as Marx would have said, turning upside-down Hegel the other way, to make his ideas right-side up.”

She rested her chin on her left palm as she gazed at Max.

“Mao wrote of the universality of contradictions,” Max continued, “of how everything is made up of contradictions. Mao also wrote of the unity of contradictions, how we can never have, or conceive, of one opposite without also having the other. This was also something discussed by Lenin in his writings.”

Wow, Bette thought. This is just like what I was reading in The Book of Eros earlier today. We never think of one thing without also thinking of its opposite, and that’s how the magic works. Dr. Inison is confirming the truth of the magic. That can only encourage me in my hopes.

As Dr. Inison continued his lecture on Mao, she was whispering some of the magical formulas from the book, careful to enunciate all the words of the ancient language correctly.


That evening, Matt drove Bette to ‘Ziggy’s’, the strip joint she danced in. Before she got out of his Camaro, he scowled at her, making her frown back at him.

“Remember, Bette,” he said. “Those guys get to see you. They don’t get to touch you.”

“How many times do I have to tell you, Matt?” she said.

“M!” he shouted.

“How many times do I have to tell you, ‘M’, I never let the men touch me. When I lap-dance, it’s always hands off.”

“I saw that guy with his hands on your hips last night!” he spat back at her. “A guy in a nice suit and tie, lots of money,…”

“Oh, come on! It was just one time, and I got a lot of money off of him, more than you ever get in your drug deals!”

He slapped her hard.

“I warned you before, and I’ll warn you again. If I learn of you even as little as making your moves on a customer, I’ll kill you.”

“YOU will kill ME?” she said, then whispered an ancient formula.

“Yes,” he grunted, leaning closer to her with widened eyes and his teeth showing like a wolf’s bared fangs. “I’ll bust you up.”

“YOU will bust ME up?” she said, then repeated the formula with a defiant grin.

He slapped her again. “Yes, I will. What are you doing, studying a foreign language Büyükesat Escort in York U? Stop talking that weird shit; it makes me nervous.” He grabbed her arm. “I don’t know why you go to that university. What makes you think you’ll ever amount to anything beyond stripping? Dumb bitch.”

She was sobbing. “You bastard.”

He slapped her again. “Get out!”

She did.


In the washroom, she fixed her makeup after her tears had made her mascara run. The whole time, she was reciting that ancient formula, with images in her mind alternating between him killing her…and her causing HIS death.

When she was presentable again, she looked herself over in the mirror: her bright makeup made that plain face in Max’s class now capable of launching a thousand ships; her tight, black sleeveless shirt and tighter, black leather pants showed off the curves of her petite body as well as if she had been already naked. Her stiletto high heels pricked her ass up, accentuating it.

She walked out of the washroom, and the first man she saw in the main area, to the right of the stage, was…

Dr. Maximilian Inison!

Her ear-to-ear grin almost broke her face in half.

“Sir!” she said in a high-pitched voice, as if screaming in mid-orgasm. “Hi!”

He needed a few seconds to recognize her, for he’d never seen her dressed so provocatively before. “B-Bette Hicks? Is that you, my student?”

“Yes!” she screamed, as if coming again. She threw her arms around him. “I’m so glad to see you here!” The magic is working, she thought. Now, may it kill ‘M’. “What put you in such a horny mood?” She could feel his erection rubbing against her thigh. “Is your wife…?”

“Oh, I’ve been a widower for four years now,” he said. Imagine if she saw me here, he thought.

“Oh, no, she died? That’s too bad…” Not, Bette thought.

“Actually, I have no idea what possessed me to come here tonight. I normally never come to these kinds of places. I don’t like objectifying women. I really don’t know why I came here.”

I know why, she thought, her grin permanently on her face.

“So, you’re a…dancer here?” he asked.

“Yes, I am.” She turned around for him, her back to him now.

“Wow, that’s a totally different look for you, a side to you I never even knew existed.”

“How about this side of me?” she asked, bending over and spreading her legs out wide. Those tight black leather pants were accentuating her ass in a way that seemed as if he could see right through them to see her pussy and asshole. “Do you like it?”

“Oh, how could I not?” he panted.

“Thanks. All the guys like my ass. I’m very proud of it.”

“You…have every right to be.” I can’t believe what a pig I’m turning into, he thought. “S-so, how much for…?”

“Lap-dances? Twenty bucks a song. I’ll make it worth your while, believe me, Sir. The VIP Rooms are over there, to the right.” She pointed to where they were, then straightened up.

“Oh, uh, OK,” he said, and she led him by the hand into a VIP Room.

He sat on the couch, and she sat on his lap. She giggled at the feeling of his erection poking against her ass. Actually, her asshole was tingling as it never had before, making her close her eyes and sigh.

“So, what happens during these ‘lap-dances’?” he asked.

“You’ve never had one before?” she asked.

“No. I don’t like coming to these kinds of places. I believe in having relationships with women, not just using them to get me off. As I said before, I don’t know what compelled me to come here.”

“Well, I get naked and grind on your lap. Now, normally, I never let guys touch me, because my asshole boyfriend, who I hope to get rid of soon, doesn’t want me to let them touch me, even though I could get a whole lot more money for us that way. Still, I don’t like any of the creeps here touching me, but I’m gonna let you touch me, ’cause I like you.”

“I see,” he panted. “I find you very attractive, Bette, for your mind as well as your body, but I shouldn’t treat you like some common tramp. You deserve much better than that.”

“I know, and I appreciate that you think of me that way,” she said, resting her forehead against his and staring into his eyes. “That’s why I’m gonna let you feel me up, even my dirtiest, most secret places. You deserve to enjoy that.”

“Really?” he sighed, still resisting the temptation to touch.

“Yes,” she sighed back, and still staring into his eyes, chanted some magic words.

“Sorry? What did you say just then?” His hands were on her hips now, him not even noticing.

A new song began, ‘Nasty Girl’, by Vanity 6.

“Let’s begin,” she said with a lewd grin, and stood up with her ass pointing in his face. She moved her ass in slow figure eight swirls. “I’m a bad girl, Dr. Inison, a nasty girl. You should spank my ass.”

“Oh, uh, OK, if you want.” He, not wanting to hurt her, gave her ass a light slap.

“Oh, you can hit me harder, Elvankent Escort Sir. Make it hurt a bit. I like it.”

“Really?” Her ass’s figure eights were hypnotizing him.

“Oh, yes,” she said, still swaying her ass. “I like a little pain.” As long as I don’t get it from ‘M.’, she thought.

“OK.” He swatted her right butt-cheek hard.

“Ow!” she squealed, then giggled. “Time to show you what I got.”

She turned around with swaying hips, and with lewdly squinted eyes and an open mouth, she unzipped and unbuttoned her leather pants. She pursed her lips and pulled her pants down to her ankles, revealing a black lace thong. She removed the pants while keeping her black high heels on, then turned around with her ass swaying and bent over with her legs spread out wide. The thong was just barely hiding her pussy and asshole. She looked back at him upside-down from between her legs, fingering herself where the thong was covering her cunt, grinning and giggling. You deserve to enjoy this, Sir, she thought, not ‘M.’

His eyes as agape as his mouth, he moved his hypnotized head to the figure-eight movements of her ass.

She straightened up and turned around to face him. Her smile almost disappeared as she removed her black shirt. Bra-less, she revealed two tiny tits.

“Sorry, Sir,” she said. “I’m not endowed in the tit department; but I more than make up for it with my ass. You’ll see.”

“I don’t care whether or not your body’s perfect,” he said. “You’re perfectly beautiful just the way you are.”

“You’re so sweet to me.” She fought back a sob. M. never says things like that to me, she thought. He even finds fault with my ass.

She smirked as she pulled down her thong to reveal landing-strip pubic hair as blonde as the straight, shoulder-length hair on her head. She tossed the thong aside, turned around and bent over for him in the exact same revealing way she had the last time.

Only now, no thong was hiding her holes.

Her pussy, which she was tickling as she had the last time, was a pretty, liquorice pink. But her asshole was a delicious beige swirl of caramel, puckered lips begging to be kissed!

Now, that swirl of anus wrinkles seemed to be turning in a clockwise spiral, hypnotizing him even more intensely than her figure-eight ass movements from before. He was enthralled, imagining his cock penetrating that tiny, virgin hole.

As before, she was looking back at him upside-down from between her legs with a grin. Still masturbating, she asked, “Well? Do you like it?”

“I think I’m in love with it,” he sighed, his eyes never looking away from her pretty little asshole.

“I’m very proud of my ass.” I want it to be yours, she thought.

“You should be proud of it,” he panted. “It’s flawless.”

She giggled her thanks. “Wanna touch?”

“If it’s OK with you, yes.”

“It’s always OK with me, if it’s you doing the touching,” she said.

He handled her buttocks, opening them wider to cause her anus to gape like the lips of a girl saying ‘Wow’. “Oh, my God, that is so beautiful.”

She giggled again. “Thank you. I’m glad you like it.”

As he held her buttocks open, the stretching of her anal muscles gave her tingles, making her sighs louder. This, with her finger tickling her hard clit, made her orgasm.

He saw her vaginal ooze. “Good God,” he whispered.

The song ended, and she sat on his pointy lap.

“Thank you,” she sighed, her nose touching his as she stared into his eyes and grinned. “You made me come, can you believe that?”

“Wow,” he said, then thought, What would my wife think if she, looking down from a heaven I don’t even believe in, saw what I am doing with this girl, a girl young enough to be my daughter? I’m turning into such a pig!

This magic seems to be working like a charm, she thought. I’ll bet ‘M.’ Pyre is going to meet a violent end soon; still, I should wait for confirmation of that first before I offer my body to Dr. Inison. I’ll wait till tomorrow for any news of M’s fate.

I’d better stop here, for shame, Max thought, then said, “So, that’s $20?” He took out his wallet.

“Well, I’d say it’s for free, since you made me come.”

“Oh, no. I should still pay you.” He handed her a twenty dollar bill. “All workers should be remunerated; it’s what I believe in as a Marxist. Good night, and thank you for a…charming evening.”

“You’re so sweet, Sir,” she said, then kissed him on the cheek. He left.


The next morning, Bette got a call from a friend.

“Hello, Barb?” she said into her cellphone.

“Hey, Bette!” Barb said. “You must know what happened to M. late last night, don’t you?”

“No, what happened?” Bette’s voice was fired up with hope.

“Oh, my God, you don’t know. Look, Bette, sit down and take a deep breath.”

Grinning Bette was shaking with anticipation. “Look, Barb, just give it to me straight. Don’t make me wait, OK? The suspense is killing me.”

“OK, Beşevler Escort here it comes. M…got killed in a car crash around 2 AM. They think he’d been driving while stoned.”

“Oh, dear. What a shock.” She giggled as silently as she could.

“I’m so sorry,” Barb said, sneering a bit at Bette’s not-so-heartbroken reaction. “What are you gonna do now?”

“Find a better man, of course.”

“What the fuck, Bette?”

“Sorry, Barb. Gotta go. Bye.” She hung up. So, ‘M.’ Pyer, she thought with that grin permanently on her face, Who killed who? Who busted who up? “Time to pay Dr. Inison a little visit at his office.”


Early that afternoon, Bette arrived just outside Max’s office in a tight pink T-shirt, tighter blue jeans, and white sneakers. She knocked on the door.

“Yes?” he said. “Come in.” He smiled when he saw her.

“Hi, Sir,” she said after coming in. “Are you busy now?”

“No, not at all, Bette. What can I do for you?”

She closed the door behind her and locked it with a loud click, then she walked over to his desk with swaying hips.

“Oh, I just wanted to see you, and have you see me again.”

“Well, I saw quite a lot of you last night, didn’t I?”

“Yeah.” She giggled, then whispered another magic formula. Her pussy and asshole were tingling.

I shouldn’t be doing this, he thought, but I can’t help it. What is turning me into such a pig?

He pushed back on his chair to get clear of his desk. She now stood between his legs. His erection was a visible bulge in his pants; she looked down at it and smiled.

“What do you want to do?” he asked.

“I wanna take all my clothes off,” she purred.

“Bette, I really like you, but we shouldn’t be doing this here.”

She whispered the magic words again while unzipping her jeans.

“What if someone outside finds out what we’re doing?”

“I locked the door,” she said while pulling her jeans down, revealing frilly pink panties. “We’ll be quiet. No one will know.” She removed her shoes and socks, then turned around for him.

“I just wonder what my wife would think about this.”

“I thought she was dead.” Bette pushed her bum towards his face, just a few millimetres away from his nose.

“Yes, but…” He sniffed her immaculate fanny. “I feel guilty all the same.”

“Why?” Bette pulled off her shirt to reveal a pink bra. “You have to move on with your life.”

“Of course, but trading such a deep love as I had for Belle…,” he panted as she removed the bra and tossed it aside. “…For a, no offence, sexual relationship with one of my students…”

“Oh, we can have a lot more than just a sexual relationship,” she said as she-now standing up straight and facing him-pulled the panties down to her knees. “But the sex will be a fun way to start the relationship.” She giggled as she let the panties fall to her feet, then she kicked them aside. Now she stood fully naked before her heavily-breathing professor.

“I…suppose we…could start things…that way.” I WILL have to move on at some point after Belle’s death, he thought. “B-but we should start things in a nicer way, more respectful to you as a person. How about I take you to dinner tonight?”

“Sounds great,” she said, having turned around, spread her legs, and bent over. The swirling wrinkles of her anus, like stirred coffee with cream and lots of sugar mixed in, had him in another trance. “You can pick me up at ‘Ziggy’s’ around 7 PM, when I finish stripping tonight. I can give you a few free lap-dances before we go, to get you in the mood.”

“I s-suppose we could do that.” He licked his lips, wanting so badly to lick her anus-lips, though this was a fetish he’d never been interested in before. He sniffed her up close. “Oh, wait. You have a boyfriend, don’t you?”

“HAD a boyfriend.” She opened her buttocks to show him her anal gape as she looked back at him upside-down from between her legs. “He died in a car crash late last night. His body was totally busted up.” Her fingers widened her anal gape to about a centimetre open.

“Really?” he panted, his eyes wide open. “You’e not upset about his death?”

“I’m thrilled he’s gone. I hated him. He used to slap me around and control me. He was useless in bed, too. I couldn’t dump him, because if I’d tried to, he’d have come over and killed me. So his death actually freed me.”

“I see.” His eyes were practically moving in circles with her swirling anus-wrinkles. Her ass-lips seemed to be saying, ‘Kiss me. Fuck me.’

“Yeah, you see, all right.” She giggled as she saw his unending staring at her ass. “What do you wanna do with what you see?”

“This!” His face dove into her ass-crack. First, he gave her asshole a long, passionate kiss, making her squeal and giggle. Then he slipped his tongue inside the orifice and fluttered it.

“Ooh!” she squealed in a tremulous voice. “Wait. I’m not very clean back there, Sir.” I took a shit two hours ago, and only wiped myself…and very quickly, at that, she thought. I must taste like poo back there. How embarrassing! “Sir, it’s dirty down there. You’ll get sick.”

He pulled his tongue out. “It tastes perfectly clean,” he panted. “Really, it’s as you’ve never used it once in your life.” He dove in again and rolled his tongue all over the beige wrinkles, studying the pretty, rippled texture of her anus.

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