Hollie & Paul
#3 – Reasons
by JMD

    Paul leaned against the doorway of his office and smiled.
   
    Hollie sat on his couch watching his television while eating a bowl of Cheerios.  She was dressed in the tight black short-shorts and clinging white t-shirt that served as her “uniform” at the bar where she worked.  She hadn’t noticed him watching her, and that was okay with Paul, as it gave him time to appreciate just how beautiful she was.
   
    How did I get so lucky?  She’s the perfect assistant.
   
    His father had warned him that it could take people a while to adjust to the fact that magic was real.  Some never did.  But Hollie wasn’t one of them.  For whatever reason, she just accepted whatever new and crazy thing he showed her.  Or did to her.  In fact, she seemed to look forward to it.
   
    Over the last couple of months, the two of them had been working on putting their act together.  The fact that he considered it their act, and not his, said a lot.  Most new assistants were content to let the magician plan out their routines.  Not Hollie.  Instead, she offered suggestions on ways to improve or enhance the illusions.  She’d even come up with a routine of her own using his grandmother’s old wringer-top washing machine that was going to be the finale of their act.
   
    No doubt about it.  He was lucky he’d found her.  And not just because of her performance abilities.  He wasn’t stupid.  He knew he was falling in love with her.  But he was reluctant to pursue those feelings.  He had lots of reasons.  What if it didn’t work out?  What would happen to the act?  What would his family think?  And the most important reason of all.  What if she didn’t feel the same way?
   
    Sure, they had dated a few times before he’d asked her to be his assistant, but that had mostly been getting to know each other.  Since then, they’d been too busy working on the act to really have much time together.  But in the few minutes that they’d found to relax, he’d seen signs that maybe she was interested in more than a working relationship.  Little things.  Like glances.  Or a little touch on the arm.  And the kiss they’d shared after the accident with his toy wand.
   
    Still, what if he was wrong?  What if he was misinterpreting everything?  SHIT!  Why did he find it easier to cut her into little pieces than he did just talking to her?
   
    His thoughts were suddenly interrupted when she turned to look at him.  She had a mouth full of Cheerios that she quickly swallowed.  “Hi,” she said with a smile.
   
    “Uh, hi,” he returned, hoping he wasn’t blushing too much at being caught staring at her.
   
    “Did you get him?” she asked.
   
    “Huh?” he answered awkwardly.
   
    “Your uncle,” she explained.
   
    “Oh, right,” he said, coming on into the room.  “He’s not really my uncle.  But he and my dad have been friends so long that my sister and I just think of him that way.”
   
    She nodded patiently.  “And?”
   
    He smiled.  “And yes, I got him.  We premiere at his club in two weeks.”
   
    “Yes!” she practically screamed.
   
    “I just hope we’re ready,” he added.
   
    “Oh, we’re ready,” she assured him.  “Get ready to be famous.”
   
    “You, too.”
   
    She shook her head.  “Not me.  I’m just the assistant.”
   
    “You’re a lot more than that,” he said softly.
   
    It just came out without him thinking about it.  And he could tell it took her by surprise.  But after an awkward moment, she smiled and said, “Thank you.”
   
    “You’re welcome,” he replied.  He knew he should take advantage of the moment.  Say something else.  But he couldn’t think of anything.  After a few more awkward moments, he finally just said, “So, ready for me to run you to work?”
   
    Hollie seemed to have been expecting more, too.  But she didn’t push it.  “Not quite,” she answered.  “I want to finish watching this first.  It’s one of my favorites.”
   
    “Okay,” he said, leaning onto the back of the couch.  He turned his attention to the television.  “What’re you watching?”
   
    “Cartoons, of course,” she told him, sitting her bowl on the coffee table.
   
    “Of course,” he repeated playfully.  She stuck her tongue out at him, before turning back to the television.  Smiling, he leaned against the back of the couch to watch with her.
   
    Though he’d never really watched cartoons himself, he’d seen enough to be familiar with the one Hollie was watching.  It featured a large desert canine trying to catch a fast running bird of some kind, apparently with the goal of eating it.  This wolf also seemed to have an endless credit line with some company because he was constantly getting stuff delivered from them.  Not that it did him much good, as each trap that he used this stuff to set up failed to catch the bird.  In fact, more times than not, he was the one caught in the trap, ending up mutilated in some comic fashion.  
   
    As he watched each mishap, Paul considered the results.  The dog got crushed under a large boulder and ended up as a perfectly round flat disc with his face on top.  Getting his foot trapped in a cactus while wearing a rocket pack, he was stretched out like a string of saltwater taffy.  After falling onto a conveyor belt through a dicing machine, he came out as a bunch of brown little cubes, two of which contained a single blinking eyeball each.  Running underneath a large magnifying glass meant to cook the bird, he melted into a puddle of brown goo.
   
    Paul glanced from the television back down at Hollie.  The young woman had a big smile on her face, and would actually giggle each time the canine would have something happen to him.  “How long have you been watching these cartoons?” he asked.
   
    “Forever,” she answered without taking her eyes off the television. “Why?”
   
    “Nothing,” he told her.  “But I think I just had an ‘A-HA!’ moment.”
   
    This time Hollie turned to him.  “What do you mean?”
   
    “Well,” he explained, “I’ve been trying to figure out why you took so quickly to the stuff that magic does to you.”
   
    “That’s not normal?”
   
    “It happens,” he admitted.  “But not usually, no.”
   
    “I see,” she nodded, considering it.  “And what makes me so... adaptable?”
   
    “Cartoons.”
   
    She gave him a confused expression.  “Huh?”
   
    “Think about it,” he said, coming around the couch to sit next to her.  “You just said it.  You’ve been watching cartoons ‘forever’.  Right?”
   
    “Right.  So?”
   
    “So, look at some of the stuff that happens in cartoons,” he went on.  “Characters are crushed, and stretched, and cut into little pieces.”
   
    Hollie gave it some thought.  “And magician’s do the same things to their assistants.”
   
    “Exactly.”
   
    She gave it more thought.  “I don’t know,” she finally said.  “Sounds like a stretch to me.”
   
    “Oh, come on,” he pleaded.  “You’re telling me that you never fantasized about it?  About being a cartoon?”
   
    “Not really,” she answered.  “I just like them.  They’re fun.”  At Paul’s disappointed expression, she went on.  “Okay, I might admit that it’s possible that I’m more... accepting of the results of magic than I might have been if I wasn’t so familiar with cartoons, but...”
   
    Paul grew excited again.  “I knew it!”
   
    “...BUT,” Hollie cut him off, “that doesn’t mean that I’ve got some kind of psychological need to be a cartoon or anything, if that’s what you think.”
   
    “Are you sure?” he asked playfully.
   
    “I’m sure.”
   
    “So, you don’t like to be...”  He pushed his two palms together in front of him.  
   
    “Hey!” Hollie managed to get out before she found herself smashed down into the cushion of the couch.  In less than a second, she had been reduced to a perfectly round disc of herself, her surprised face looking up at Paul.
   
    “...crushed?” he finished.
   
    In reply, Hollie just blinked up at him.
   
    He snapped his fingers, and she returned to her normal dimensions.  Before she could let him have it, he said, “How about diced?”  He again brought his hands together, this time interlacing his fingers.
   
    Instantly, Hollie collapsed back to the couch, this time as a bunch of small multicolored cubes.  He smiled at the sight of her separated eyes blinking in confusion.  With another snap of his fingers, she was again returned to normal.  “Now, look...”
   
    “Or stretched,” he said, interrupting her.  This time, instead of bringing his hands together, he pulled them apart.
   
    “Whoa!” Hollie shouted, as her arms were pulled above her head, reaching back into the apartment.  At the same time, her legs pulled in the opposite direction.  As they pulled apart, her body was stretched out thin between them.  Looking down her body, she saw that her legs had stretched almost all the way to the television.  She looked back up at Paul.  “Having fun?”
   
    “Yeah,” he grinned.  “You?”
   
    “Maybe a little,” she admitted.  “That said, though, I think I really should be getting to work.  So if you don’t mind...”
   
    “Right.”
   
    He brought his hands back together, and a second later, she was back to her regular proportions.  She took a second to check herself out, adjusting her t-shirt a bit.  She pointed her finger at him, but didn’t say anything.  He waited for her to let him have it, but after a bit, she just shook her head at him.  With a sigh, she got up from the couch and headed over to the chair where she’d put her purse.  “Come on, Trouble,” she called behind her.
   
    “Coming,” he said, getting up.  “Oh,” he added.  “I forgot melting.”
   
    She turned around quickly.  “What?”  
   
    In reply, he blew hot air at her.  The response was instant.  She started to sink down to the floor.  Looking down, she realized that her feet were gone, already spread out into a puddle.  As she watched, her legs quickly joined her feet.  Then, her hips.  And her waist.  As it reached her chest, she looked up at him.  “Really?” she commented, just before her head sank below the surface.
   
    Paul watched the puddle he’d created for any signs of how Hollie was taking it.  The only thing he got as a few bubbles breaking the surface of her multicolored form.  Whether they were happy bubbles or angry ones, he couldn’t tell.  Still, she was right about work.  So, with another breath of air, he returned her to herself again.
   
    As she reformed, Hollie fixed him with a narrowed eyed expression.  She seemed to be breathing hard, and he figured that maybe he’d finally gone a bit too far.  He was about to apologize when she spoke.
   
    “Do it again.”
   
    That stopped him in his tracks.  “Uh, excuse me.”
   
    “You heard me,” she said.  “Melt me again.”
   
    “Are you sure?” he asked, completely unsure of how to proceed.  But her expression made it pretty clear.  “Uh, got it.”
   
    With another breath from him, Hollie was again reduced to a puddle of goo.  This time, as she sank below the surface, she gave out a loud moan.  Slowly, Paul walked over and stare down at the puddle.  More bubbles broke the surface, but this time he was pretty sure what kind they were.
   
    “Now what?” he asked himself.  How long was he supposed to leave her this way?  And what about her job?  Sure, he had offered to pay her while they worked up their act, but she had insisted on staying on at the bar.  Finally, he decided there was only one way he was going to get his questions answered.  So, he breathed down at the puddle and returned her to normal again.
   
    He never got the chance to ask his questions.  As soon as she reformed, Hollie was on him.  Her lips found his and he was driven back to fall onto the couch.  With her on top, she continued to explore his mouth with hers.  Meanwhile, the rest of her body did things to his that made it pretty clear where this was going.
   
    Finally, she broke the kiss and pulled back.  Looking him straight in the eye, she said simply one word.  “Again.”
   
    “Um, okay,” he said nervously.  “But what about the bar?”  She looked at him in obvious confusion.  “You know,” he explained, “your job?”
   
    Realization came to her expression.  She thought for a minute, then got off him.  Going over to her purse, she pulled out her phone.  She punched in a number and waited for a response.  “Hello, Tiff?  Hollie.  Look, I need you to take my shift at the bar tonight.  Why?”  She stopped and made eye contact with Paul, who was still laid out on the couch.  “Let’s just say I have my reasons.”  And she gave Paul a playful wink.  “You can?” she said, going back to the phone.  “Great.  Thanks, Tiff.  I’ll make it up to you.  I promise.”
   
    She broke the connection and tossed the phone casually into the chair with her purse.  “There,” she said, turning back to him, “job’s taken care of.  Now...”  She reached down and grabbed the bottom of her t-shirt.  Without hesitation, she pulled it off over her head.  Again, she made eye contact with the man on the couch.  “...melt me again.”