Liz read over her notes, made by her auto quill over the last month. She stared at them with a mix of fascination and horror.
She had enough to finish her report for the ministry, but it was the rest of it that mortified her. Merlin’s Beard, did I really go through all of that? Not all of it was her fault, of course, but some of the scenarios depicted here were of her own volition. Seeing it all laid out in front of her, whoever, made her realize just how depraved she was. I had sexual intercourse with nearly every magical creature I studied.
She took off her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose. She remembered most of them, and a few of the less pleasant encounters. The one she forgot came back as she read her notes. Some made her giddy while others filled her with dread. Reading them felt like she was writing something that belonged in the restricted section of the library, or in some erotic fiction shelf. And she was ashamed to say she had become aroused while rereading her notes. She gulped at the thought of another reading them. The ministry can never see these. Nor can anyone else.
She looked up at her quill, which sat immobile on her desk. “This is all your fault” she muttered.
She looked down at the stacks of notes again. She knew she should burn them, lest her perverted secret get out. But then another idea struck her. She had, if she was being honest, had fun with those creatures. Even with the exception of a few, she had learnt a lot from those experiences. Enough to write a separate report, maybe even a book. She shook her head before she could let the notion fester. “Who would want to read a book about a pansexual witch fucking a bunch of magical creatures?” She laughed.
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