Magical Sex Potion - Chapter 40 Voice Of The Witch In His Head

A voice in his head, one that sounded like the witch’s voice said, “Melvin, you weren’t using them. They were using YOU. They wanted YOU. You initiated nothing. The women only did to you what they wanted to do.”

Still, Melvin had a date with Courtney tomorrow night, a girl that he might actually want to have a lasting relationship with, and here he was banging every female with two legs in sight. What would Courtney think about his newfound habit of using woman as sexual objects? He didn’t want her to just like him because of the love juice, because she wanted to jump his bones; he wanted Courtney to like HIM, the real Melvin MacMuffin.

The witch’s voice replied, “The real Melvin MacMuffin is no longer that sorry sack of nerdlinger that you keep referring to. The real Melvin MacMuffin is now an official stud Mac-muffin, and you might as well accept it.”

Melvin closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose, a habit he’d picked up sometime during his younger years and which returned whenever he felt helplessly frustrated. If only there was someone he could talk to about all of this. He considered Richie Golding, but Richie’d probably just laugh at him and tell him that he had lost his mind. Richie would never believe that Melvin had scored with a woman, let alone three different woman in one day.

The thought of Bridget Briswell, the woman from the elevator, passed through his mind. What about the whole attorney-client privilege and all that? He could go up to her firm tomorrow, hire her as his lawyer, and have a nice long talk with her as they sorted through the paperwork. She’d been one of the women he’d slept with, so she would believe him for one thing, at least about the sex part. She was intelligent, being a partner in her own law firm, after all; so maybe she could give him some good advice and clear up a few things along the way.

Yeah, he’d talk to the lovely Bridget Briswell. Anyway, it’d be a smart thing to get his own lawyer because who knew how Olivia Crabapple, his boss, would handle their whole fuck session together? She might have some kind of sexual harassment suit up her sleeve or something; you couldn’t put anything past her.

His muscles still aching, Melvin drifted off into a fitful sleep.