There was only one customer at the hotel bar that afternoon, but he was more than enough to get on young Claire O’Connell’s nerves. He was an American, a drunk one who couldn’t tell the difference between a game of rugby union and their so-called Football. This was more than clear by his constant shouting of the expression

followed by a burst of beer foam and hysterical laughter she could no longer stand. At first, she had tried to correct him, by saying that the correct designation for point scoring in the sport he was watching was in fact “try”, but he ignored her remark and, in a sudden reversal of speech only people highly intoxicated can produce, said in return:

Human patience has its limits and Claire ended up crossing hers faster than expected after a dozen more ‘Touchdowns!’ and explosions of beer. Angry at the scenes she had to put up with it, she finally decided for a blunt response and reached for her purse, from where she removed a green crystal orb that was part of her family heirloom for more generations than the ones she could remember.

“Ah, that’s so pretty…” he drooled and dropped the glass onto the floor, where it inevitably broke into a million pointy shards.

“Something wonderful will happen if you do so. Go on… Touch it!”

… his head jerked, his muscles stiffened, the alcohol on his bloodstream was purged in a flash. He got up, aware that he didn’t want to drink anything else that night, and that standing in front of such a compelling woman was a shameful thing to do so when she said, loud and clear:

He thanked her, both mental and verbally, and knelt like the horny obedient toy he now was.

“Of course, Mistress,” He replied with a docile voice, and unzipped. Claire poured herself a pint of Guinness and devoted all her attention to the game whilst her new thrall did what he needed to do to please the one that owned his sorry little ass.

When he finally finished, he didn’t say a word, just remained on his fours, wanting to bask in her face, yet waiting forth rightful permission, first.

“That’s all I wanted to hear, Mistress!”

The American drone used both hands at the same time to comply. It was a strange sight to behold as if he was holding a sword and not a mass of tumescent, palpitating flesh. It was also something the hotel manager couldn’t possibly allow in his respected establishment.

“Hmmm, perhaps it’s best if this orb does the talking for me….” She said, blowing a kiss at it. The incantations inside it reacted with a more intense radiance.

“Touchdown!”