Page 10 of My Indecent Valentine

“He wants us to fuck his wife,” Sofia spits out the words. “It’s not going to happen.”

“That’s really all you want?” I turn to Magleon. That’s not what I expected, and I’m a little disappointed. Though, if I’m honest, I’m also a little titillated knowing my wife brought us here with that request on the table.

“I would like to present you as Delira’s Gift,” he corrects, and I straighten up in my chair. Now that’s a lot more interesting.

“That’s what I said, a gift for Delira, his wife.” Sofia is seething and not understanding the terms at play here.

“Delira is not his wife,” I say. She’s misunderstood this bargain.

“No,” he says. “I’m not married. Not in the traditional sense, but I have three partners I care for deeply. We recently declared before Mother Darkness our endless bond, and now I wish to present them with the most intimate gift a lover can bestow.” There’s a quiet reverence in his tone that both surprises and intrigues me. This is important to him.

“Who is Delira then?” Sofia asks. She doesn’t like being out of the loop. It’s irritating her, and if I don’t put her at ease, she’s likely to go off again.

I turn to her and explain the term Delira’s Gifts. “In the demon pantheon of gods, Delira is the goddess of erotic love and the giver of erotic dreams. Giving a gift in her name to a lover is a sacred custom, and as Magleon said, it’s an incredibly intimate act, reserved for those you trust with your innermost thoughts and desires.” Her mouth twitches, but she nods her understanding, and I keep going.

“Typically, these gifts are performed by troupes of professionals who specialize in erotic theater. The giver,” he makes a half gesture towards Magleon, “will describe in detail the fantasy he wishes to give, but not just any fantasy. It should be one that has a grip on his soul, one that tantalizes him in a way he can’t explain. Or it can be one that shames him. Either of those are worthy of gifting because they have the power to render the giver truly naked in front of his loved one, or loved ones in this case.” Sofia shifts uncomfortably in her chair, but she says nothing, so I continue.

“The performers act out the fantasy while the giver and recipients are under the influence of some mix of hallucinogenic or amplification fire magic. In that way, the fantasy becomes a shared experience.” I don’t add that this is more or less where I got the idea of adding a little fire magic to our own Valentine’s celebration. The stuff needed for it is rare and not easy to come by. I only just managed to secure our supply in time, but Magleon’s pockets are deeper than mine. I’m sure he’s had no trouble. “The true gift isn’t the sexual fantasy itself, but the bond that is forged when the giver opens himself up to those he loves and exposes a private and vulnerable part of himself. Does this all make sense?” I ask. Demon culture can be hard to understand from the outside.

“No,” she shakes her head, and crossing her arms, she turns to Magleon. “What would make sense is hiring a troupe of professionals. Why are we here?” she asks. It’s a good question, and I turn to him as well.

He looks at me for a long moment, and it should be impossible to see given his nearly purple complexion, but Magleon blushes, the color deepening all the way from his throat to his horns. His eyes dart sideways. “Alette, will you give us a few minutes, dear?”

The fairy rises from her chair and slips out the door, no questions asked.

Magleon rubs at his chin and clears his throat. “It’s a relatively simple performance, all things considered. A troupe could technically act it out, sure, but that wouldn’t capture the true spirit of the fantasy. I’ve never been shy about showing my lovers what pleases me, and I’m not ashamed of my appetites. Unfortunately, that leaves me with only one fantasy worthy of the gift, and it involves you.” He meets my eye, and I know my expression must be stunned.

“What’s the fantasy?” Sofia asks, and there’s an edge in her voice that I don’t quite know how to interpret.

Magleon’s composure slips a little further. He fidgets and runs his hands through his hair. Sofia must feel it too, the vulnerability of the moment, because she doesn’t press. We both keep quiet and wait. “Are you at least considering taking the contract?” he asks, looking at Sofia instead of me.

She hesitates, and for a moment, I’m sure her answer will be no. “No promises, but we’ll at least consider it. Right?” She turns to me.

I nod, hiding my surprise that she seems at all open to this.

“When Samite and I decided to go into business, we also moved in together. Did he ever tell you that?” Magleon asks Sofia. She shakes her head, no, but she’s not surprised. She knows me. I don’t share any private details without cause.

“We shared an apartment to save on expenses. We’d already been friends for years at that point, and even though I was a couple of years older than him, I’d come to look up to him. He had charm, a magnetic presence, a way of carrying himself that elevated him in my eyes far above anyone else I knew. I worshiped him, my best friend.” He sits quietly for a moment before he shifts in his chair and continues.

“Not long after moving in together, Samite brought someone home, and that night, I learned something about myself and my roommate. The noises they made traveled through the paper-thin walls, hardly dampened at all. It was like the walls weren’t even there, like I was in the room with them. A seed of a fantasy was planted, and each of his subsequent visitors watered it.

“I would lay awake listening to the sounds of their shared pleasure and fantasize about the wall suddenly disappearing. From there, it grew to Samite coming to my room, taking me by the hand, and leading me to a chair he’d set out just for me. I’d sit, and he’d talk me through everything, explaining every touch, showing me every detail he admired in his partner, and I’d learn his secrets of how he drew those wonderful noises from them. In my dreams, it went even further. His thoughts were open to me, and if I tried hard enough, I could influence them and watch him perform on request.”

He finally turns from Sofia back to me. “This is the fantasy, the only one that tantalizes me in a way I cannot explain, an echo from my obsessive youth. A troupe will not suffice—it has to be you.”

Silence falls again. I have no words. I glance at Sofia, and her mouth has popped open. She looks as stunned as I feel.

“If you decide to do this,” he says, clearing his throat and rising from his desk, “you can take the elevator to the twelfth floor. Otherwise, please show yourselves out.” He circles around the desk, heading to the door.

Sofia grabs my arm, and the look on her face tells me everything I need to know.

“We can’t help you, Magleon. I’m sorry. We’ll be going,” I say.

He pauses, hand on the door. “I bought your building.” He doesn’t turn around.

“What?” I ask.

“The space you’re leasing for the restaurant. When Sofia mentioned you didn’t own it, I decided to purchase it myself. I’ll cut your rent in half for one year.”

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