Loki's Kitten

Chapter 3: Mischief and Magic

You wake to find yourself alone in your own bed. Whilst this is more than slightly disappointing, it does not surprise you. This seems to be the way with Loki. What does surprise you is that you have no doubt at all in your mind that Loki was with you last night and that he was very real. You have a slight bitter taste of wine in your mouth, your jaw aches, and you find that your knees are bruised and slightly grazed. You lie naked and there is no evidence of your slip on the bed or around the room. Damn it – that was the only halfway presentable lingerie you owned.

You have no idea how late you and Loki played together last night and you allow yourself to drift back to sleep. When you wake again, sunshine is streaming through the window and you are more refreshed. You feel the buoyancy, almost giddiness, which comes with the passions of a new relationship. Well, you contemplate, not so much a relationship, more of a liaison. Or frankly, just an encounter. Twice. Whatever is going on between you and Loki right now, you admit, makes no sense.

Whatever it is however, you are now determined to be appropriately dressed for it. If you are worthy of Loki, you are worthy of anyone and you decide you need clothes that reflect your newfound confidence. At the very least, you should be able to dress yourself better than Loki can. You can't let him win that one.

You don't usually enjoy shopping but today's expedition turns out to be quite good fun. The agenda was to buy anything – dresses, nightwear, underwear - that makes you look stunning and feel unstoppable. You return home after your successful mission. There is a sense of excitement in the thought of modelling your new purchases to someone who you hope will appreciate them very much. Each time the thought comes, however, it is counter-balanced with a shot of common sense. You do believe that Loki is real. But it is a hazy real. A sort of 'magic' real that you can't quite pin down. And will he come again? You honestly have no idea. You recognise a part of your brain that is desperately tying to shield you from disappointment by tempering you hopes.

A message on your phone reminds you of a commitment this evening that you had completely forgotten about. Your heart sinks. You will barely know any of the people there and feel a strong inclination to stay at home. You analyse your thoughts. Are you really going to avoid an evening out and not leave the house just in case a magical God turns up in your room? No. This way madness lies. You determine that you will do as planned.

As you shower, you realise that at least you have a new wardrobe to choose from and sort through the options in your mind. You settle on a short emerald green dress. It fits you perfectly and you judge it to have just the right amount of leg and chest on display to achieve a sexy look that is marginally more sophisticated than slutty. A pair of black heels and a fitted jacket complete the outfit.

The evening starts out quite positively with a few drinks, chatting to several acquaintances. As the night wears on, you become more disengaged, struggling to maintain small talk with strangers and feign interest in their tedious lives. You can't stop your mind from wandering to think about where you'd rather be and who you'd rather be with. Not to mention what you'd rather be doing.

A man joins you at the bar. More drinks. You chat briefly and he talks about his job, his car, his cat. He is a perfectly pleasant man with a kind face. Not bad looking – a little taller than you with cropped dark hair. He offers you another drink and proposes that you go and find somewhere to sit together.
"I'm sorry," you hear yourself say. "I'm waiting for someone a little more...more...magical."
"Fair enough," he says, "good luck with that." Then he saunters off to speak to a redheaded woman at the far end of the bar. 

What a stupid thing to say. You realise you passed up a perfectly good opportunity to spend time with a very nice person so you could go home and wish that a magical deity appears to you in the night like a fucking genie. You drop your head onto your arms and sigh, learning on the bar in front of you. Well, you may have messed up this evening so far, but you are not going home now, just because of Loki. Bloody Loki! Still directing your thoughts and actions, even when he's not here!