I hope you like it.
Prologue - First Class Witches
The three witches walked in a single file along the train platform and people turned and stared at them. The people did not know they were witches, just on their way home from their monthly sabbath. Most of them did not believe in witchcraft and magic, even if, right there and then, they might have admitted there was something sensually supernatural about the three women. They could have been family, three generations of women in black, marching purposefully and secretly enjoying the effect they were having on everybody.
Jezebel came first, her fiery red hair collected in a curly up do underneath her wide brimmed black hat, a tall black raven feather in the band. She walked putting one foot precisely in front of the other, her high-heeled Louboutin black shoes clicking on the concrete of the pavement, her hips swaying, her tits bouncing, her low-cut black dress hugging her tall body like a lover’s embrace. A long string of jet-black pearls emphasized her breasts, dangling with each step, with each bounce. She was probably in her early forties, her face all scarlet lips and black eyeliner, with a gaunt, evil look. She carried a black suitcase in one hand, and what looked like a wicker picnic hamper in the other, and a big black leather bag slung over her shoulder, and walked like she was alone in a world she owned.
Behind her, Morena was pacing swiftly, her legs trapped in the very tight skirt of her little black dress, a tulle rose on her shoulder its only ornamentation. She was smoking a cigarette in a long black holder, so that no ashes would fall into her abundant cleavage. She was around thirty, nicely curvy and with a mischievous smile on her heart-shaped face, a pillbox hat over her black hair, pulled into a fat bun and held in place by two long sharp needles. She dragged a trolley as bright red as her fingernails and her lips. On the handle of the trolley was balanced a big black and red snakeskin beauty case. She was aware of the lewd and disapproving glances, and she was fully enjoying the attention.
Ursula closed the procession, and if her two companions had caused stares and double takes as they walked among the crowd on the platform, her frilly, black off-the-shoulder dress revealing an ample expanse of tits and a hint of aureoles got some of the men, and a few of the women, completely hypnotized. Her hair was white as snow under a wide-brimmed black hat, a long fox’s tail dangling down from the band and caressing her bare back. She was somewhere in her fifties, her body tight and fit and her face as finely made up as her two companions. And yet the blue eye shadow and the maroon lips could not hide the fine lines around her mouth and eyes, or the general air of contented dissipation that lingered on her features, giving her the looks of an aged bawd. An evil-looking goat’s head was tattooed on her left biceps. She carried a round hat case and a big suitcase, and a small cage in which a black cat stared at the passer-bys with open hostility.
They pressed on and the crowd parted to let them through, lost in the trailing cloud of dead roses, tobacco and sex that surrounded them.
Jezebel stopped in front of a first class carriage, and checked her ticket. “It’s here,” she said, pointing at the carriage’s door. “Compartment 13.”
“Is this a sleeping wagon?” Morena asked, eyeing a porter, that blushed and stumbled, causing his cartload of suitcases to collapse.
Jezebel smiled. “No, it’s not a sleeper car,” she said.
Morena adjusted her hair. “Pity,” she sighed.
“We’ll find some way to have fun anyway,” the redhead replied, and grabbed the hand rail. The station held its collective breath as her wonderful satin-wrapped ass was hauled up the steps. Jezebel’s legs flashed from underneath her long black skirt, a triumph of muscular calves in black fishnets and high-heeled pumps.
“Pass me the bags,” she said, turning and leaning over, her decolletage deep enough to show the tip of her shoes.
Her companions handed her suitcases, hatboxes and the small cage holding the black cat with bright green eyes.
Then it was Morena’s turn for hauling herself up, tits rebounding happily, and Ursula followed suit, her massive boobs almost spilling out of her dress as she leant forward.
The three witches walked down the aisle, and finally disappeared inside a compartment, shutting the sliding door behind them.
The station started breathing regularly again, and in a few minutes nobody remembered seeing the three women any more, or the effects they had provoked in their hearts and their nether parts, and everybody went back to their business, because that’s the way with witches these days.
* * *
And if you've been so kind and you read up to this point, I can also tell you the book is already available for preorder.
Who knows, maybe you'd like to get it the moment it's released.
You drive me nuts honey....
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