*One of two winners of the 2019 Wattpad Studios Pitch Contest*

Pitch:  She's a rare neutral witch and he's a nerdy introvert she just tricked into servitude, but when he reveals he's a 30 year old virgin, his value to the supernatural world skyrockets. Now she's protecting his life—and his unwanted virginity—from the forces of good and evil at all costs.

***

*Corman

A cold spray of water on Corman's face jerked his consciousness to the surface and away from a ghoulish dream of chasing a man wearing a short, Hugh Hefner-style silk robe through a mansion. He blinked in confusion. The data entering his sluggish brain did not compute. His legs churned, taking him across the manicured lawn of a moonlit golf course, sparkling with water from the sprinkler system. The moon hung full and brilliant above his head, and the wail of police sirens whined in the distance.

His wet socks squelched in his sandals, and his lungs burned. The longer he ran, the more his nightmare of the screaming man faded, and the details blurred. He normally woke up in bed and not on a golf course. Corman didn't even play golf. He shouldn't be here. Where was here? And why was he soaking wet? Inexplicably, he was not only running, he was also carrying two heavy, lidded, plastic paint buckets. Liquid sloshed inside the buckets with every step. He slowed to set them down.

"Keep running, Corman," a woman shouted, sprinting past him. Her leather outfit molded to her curves like a rubber iPhone case—the sight of her knocked what little air he had out of his chest. A silver dust floated from her hands, but he blinked and it was gone. "You belong to me until midnight, so until then, keep going!"

"Sorry, excuse me," he called, breathless. "Is there some kind of house-painting emergency? I'm more of a tech guy. I'm a coder not a coater."

"No problem. It was more of a decorating situation, which I took care of, thanks to you." The woman jogged backwards a moment, eyeing him until he picked up his pace, an unseen force pulling him toward her.

The force pulling him might have been the blood flowing out of his brain and into his nether regions, but whatever. He ran. Was it his imagination or were the sirens getting louder? Fear spiked his muscles. Plus, a bug must have stung his left butt-cheek, because it twinged uncomfortably.

They reached a thin strip of woods at the edge of the golf course, and he followed her into the deeper shadows under the trees.

"Do you feel that?" she asked, her mouth near his ear. "The power humming in your veins?"

He shivered. "Actually, my butt is tingling. Maybe the power went there?"

"Doubtful. But I wanted to say, you're the best minion I've had in the last two months."

"Thanks?"

"Too bad it can't last." She dragged her nails across his cheeks and a sliver of fear pricked his stomach. He was no expert, but in the darkness, she seemed like the sort of person who could whack a guy over the head and leave his body to be found in a water hazard a week later by an unsuspecting caddie retrieving balls.

"Can't it?" he asked. "We could discuss things."

"But I would hate to take advantage of you."

"I'd be okay with that, depending on what kind of advantage we're talking about."

She beckoned for him to keep walking, and he wasn't sure if he was frustrated or relieved.

He stepped from the trees and into a road-side ditch. His car was parked on the shoulder of the winding street, shrouded in shadows despite a nearby lamp. The woman touched his arm, and he leaned forward. It was as if his body was waiting for her orders.

She licked her lips. Her dark hair hung in a wild tumble to her elbows and her breasts heaved. Even if she whacked him over the head, he was smitten.

"Is this a moment we're sharing?" he asked. "Should I pucker? Or would you like my phone number? I'd be happy to get yours."

She didn't answer, and he wracked his brain. What would a trespassing, leather-clad, babe want from him?

She tilted her head, eyes boring into his. "This is where our paths part, sadly."

He mumbled unintelligibly in reply, no clue as to what he even wanted to say.

She patted his cheek. "I'd love to be able to tell you that you were wonderful tonight, but honestly, it was embarrassing when you got spooked, fell on your ass, and let my catch crawl out of the tub. Plus, you fainted, leaving me with the mess. But don't worry, you won't remember a thing tomorrow."

She waved her hand in front of his face and a silvery-black smoke created a strange symbol that hovered in the air for a heartbeat before it vanished.

The woman was gone, too.

"Hey," he yelled, twisting around, searching for her. "Did you want to get together again? Text me!" But the place was deserted.

Groaning, he fished his keys from his pocket, wrenched open the car door and collapsed on the front seat. Then, he frantically scrolled his phone's history for a trace of her.

Nothing. With a sigh, he tossed the phone on the passenger seat. And noticed his shirt and shorts weren't just wet. They were sticky.

Blood?

Blood!

His or someone else's?

A strangled gurgle escaped his throat. By his car's interior light, he checked his face in the rear-view mirror.

A strange, pock-marked, heavily-jowled man stared back at him. He screamed, hands flying up.

He looked again. His own, normal face was in the small mirror. Or, normal except for the rust colored smears decorating his cheeks.

***

(The second half of this chapter was moved to chapter 3, as I did a few revisions!)

*** Hey! Thanks for reading! This will be one hell of a ride, and not for the faint of heart. Bad people get bad endings, and good people...well, there aren't that many good people. Have fun!  Please note, this 1st chapter is also posted on my alternate profile LeighWStuart   but further updates will only be posted here! ***