She was out of control, everything was out of order. He needed to get back into control. This silly little farm girl never let him get his balance. He...tried to convince himself that what she had just done meant nothing. Nothing. Everything. Fuck!He had to get away, get back in control. Of her and of himself. He couldn't understand why he was upset with her. All she had done was find a bug that had gone undetected for years and innocently, ignorant of what it was, told him about it. All she had. There! ... all bills paid and caught up. Christ I was almost feeling virtuous, until I saw a candy apple red, rag top, Mustang, top down, stuffed with six bikini-clad beauties, going by noisily honking their horn and waving to all they passed by ... obviously enjoying the summer weather and the car ... and likely on their way to the beach to be eye-molested by all the Romeo's of the sand.Fuck me ... running backward!Sighing, I headed to the laundry-mat on 7th Avenue, the laundry-mat at least. In this world, magic is not homogeneous. Magic takes many forms depending on someone's inner gift. You can expect traditional wands, staffs, gestures, spoken or unspoken spells. Bones, cards, hex bags, sigils, that's all on the table. And much more, familiars, for example … Also, imagine all those hidden, long-unread books and scrolls waiting to be finally cleaned of dust and read again. Another matter, did I mention that magic is not static, but behaves more like a living, evolving organism?. Eva furiously jabbed her two fingers into her sopping vagina. Her mind centered the image of Claire's perfect vagina. “Hmmmmmm,” she hummed, trying to maintain the pace. “Hmmmmmmmm mmmmm.” Her breaths grew shorter and louder. She craved something more substantial to get off. The lust-frenzied Eva sprang up to search for a tool. She maniacally squeezed her breasts, pinching and stretching the flesh as she hurriedly scanned the room. Eva snatched a wooden hairbrush and thrust her ripe backside.