Hi, I'm Candi, and this is the story of my fourth assignment for Intimate Illusions. For those not aware I work as an organiser and part-time magician for Intimate Illusions; a company who can be commissioned to provide magic for private situations to the specification of the client. I started off as a event planner, but after a year and a few lessons from the company's founders, I became a part-time magical agent; which means that now I get to meet the clients for more than a telephone call or two and perform magic with them.

My audition and my first assignment have been chronicled elsewhere. I helped out with the Christmas rush, but they dropped a camera crew on me, so it was less fun than my colleagues said it usually was. My third assignment was a bit of a bust, because the wife (the client) was not as prepared for having her head removed as she thought and screamed so much that her husband, who it was planned would spend an intimate night with her headless, but still alive and responsive, body and her disembodied head, demanded with violent menaces that I put his wife's head back on and leave, or he would call the police.

Back at the office, Derek, Aaron and Emma, all told me that sometimes the client has failed to realise what was truly involved and kicked up a stink, and I should not take it to heart. For a few weeks I passed on offers of assignments, because I was afraid that I would do something that would be worse. Aaron, who was my mentor in my training period, put his foot down and told me that I was not going to be allowed to turn down the next assignment, because they had confidence in me, even if I didn't. He then had a look through the events I was planning on behalf of some of other magicians and told me that I was going to do this one and handed me the file.

Marcie had told me she wanted to be floated in the air, have a sword passed through her body and be sawn in half for her 'magic-fan' boyfriend. She felt that it would impress him that she was willing to indulge his fantasies. I already had reservations that Marcie did not believe that the magic we performed was real, and she might have some other agenda, in which I might get caught up. I took my concerns to Aaron, who told me that while a magician usually gets to refuse to work with people they do not want to work with, on this occasion I needed to 'get back on the horse' and learn to deal with it.

On the day of the appointment, Valentine's day, I packed a Blaney-style levitation, the sword through neck kit, and sword box (in case the client got adventurous) and a freshly painted thin model sawing box. I had another go at asking Aaron if I could be substituted for this one. He told me that 'A booking is a booking; it's too late to cancel.' He also said that all the other magicians were also booked, except for Cedric, who had injured himself practising swallowing needles and razors, so there was no-one to substitute and a swap at this late stage was impractical.

I arrived at the hotel and called the mobile number I had been given. Marcie answered. I was given a room number and told her I'd be there in about five to ten minutes. Her tone when she replied, “Ok” suggested disappointment.

I went to reception and asked about how I might take my equipment to the room discreetly. A call to Marcie's room and check of my business card, encouraged the receptionist to give me directions to a rear entrance and a passcode for the staff elevator.

I arrived at the room with no problem, wheeling the sawing table with the trestles for the levitation stacked on top; I had left the sword box containing the rest of the equipment by the elevator. After a call of 'I'll be there in a minute,' the door was answered by Marcie, a red-head dressed in a red trouser suit. When she saw me her face fell. “Are you the magician?”

I will admit I am about as dissimilar to the magician stereotype as is possible. When someone mentions a magician you think of a serious older gentleman in a tail suit, dark hair and possibly a moustache pulling cards out of thin air and probably smoking a cigarette. I am a blonde that might be described as statuesque by anyone trying to avoid mentioning my large bust in their first sentence. Today I was wearing a scarlet evening gown (Aaron's suggestion, because Valentine's) that accentuated my cleavage and had a slit up the side to show glimpses of my stocked left leg, with matching red closed-toed heels (I had not found the time to paint my toenails, because I was busy with my day job, of event planner, later than I had expected).

“Yes, I'm your magician for the evening. I know you wanted a male magician, but my boss pulled a switcheroo, because one of the other magicians hurt himself.” Not technically the truth, but good enough, I hoped.

It was then that she recognised my voice. “You're Candi, right? I've organising this over the phone with you, haven't I? I thought you were just someone who arranged for the magician to turn up and do whatever we arranged.”

“That's my day job, but sometimes I also represent the company as a magician. Rest assured, you are perfectly safe in my hands; I have been fully trained by one of the best. And because we arranged this evening together, that's why I got assigned here.”

She seemed to accept this explanation, and looked at the equipment that was clogging the corridor. “Is that all the equipment? I suppose you'd better bring it in and set it up and show me what I have to do.”

“I'll need to make a second trip for the rest of the kit, but it's only round the corner by the staff elevator. The good thing is I don't need to train you in anything, because this is real magic so from your point of view it'll just work.” I assured her as I rolled the sawing table into the room and parked it in a corner, out of the way. I left for the rest of the stuff and returned with it.

“I can guess what most of that is for, but what is the box with the slots in for?”

“You remember we arranged that your magician should put a sword through your neck? I thought you might be feeling more adventurous and would be willing to participate in a sword box illusion. It might be more impressive for your boyfriend and would not hurt in the slightest any more than than the sword through the neck; I might do the sword through neck on him if you like.”

“Won't that involve some training, or instructions at least?”

“No, all you'd need to do would be get in the box and hold still until you are let back out; this one even has a hole in the top for you to stick a hand through so that your boyfriend can check you are really in the box.”

“I'll think about it, but probably not. How long will it take you to set up?”

“Oh, not long, maybe five or ten minutes, just to make sure that everything ready to go when you are.”

“And you're sure you don't need me? You know to check sizes or give me the low down on how things work?”

“No, you go and meet your boyfriend. I'll set up and then wait for you to come back when you are ready.”

“Ok, but I'm going to the bar for a dose of Dutch courage, because I'll need to feel brave to let you do any of the things we planned. Brad will be here in about half an hour or so; I told him to come straight to the room. If he gets here before I'm back, let him in and let me know he's arrived.”

“Please remember not to drink too much, because I'll be forced to abandon if you are too far gone to give valid consent when the time comes.” The last part of that was wasted breath, because she had already shut the door on her way out.

I busied myself for a while finding cloths to cover the sawing table and the sword box, arranging the rest of the equipment on top of the draped boxes. Lastly I set up the trestles and the board ready for the levitation, having figured out the chosen position was going to be ok with only minor adjustments depending on whether my audience of one decided to sit on the bed or the sofa near the balcony. After that I waited and practised rolling a coin across my knuckles; I also helped myself to a glass of water.

A knock came at the door. I went to answer it, suspecting that it was Marcie returned, but having forgotten her keycard. Outside was a smartly dressed man about my age (mid twenties). He immediately began to apologise.

“Sorry, for knocking, I thought this was the room where my girlfriend was. Sorry to have disturbed you.”

“You're Brad, right?”

“Erm, how did you know?”

“Marcie, went out for a bit and asked me to let you in if you arrived before she got back.” I stepped back yo allow him to enter the room.

“So, who are you?”

“My name's Candi. Marcie hired me for some entertainment.”

“Any idea when Marcie will be back? What kind of entertainment?”

“Marcie didn't say when she would be back, but she went to the bar for a drink to steady her nerves, so she should be back soon. By the way, I'm a magician.” I rolled the coin I had been playing with across my knuckles, as if that proved anything other than I had spent some time practising that trick.

“I don't suppose you plan to tell me what you are planning to do. But are you going to do some magic that will need an assistant? And will Marcie be your assistant?”

“Yes, the plan is I will be doing some magic with Marcie's assistance. Speaking of her, I had better let her know that you've arrived.” I took out my mobile and sent Marcie a text.

“So, you're a magician? I must say, that your the prettiest magician I ever saw.”

“Thank you for the compliment, but it's not a wide field and should you really be flirting with me when Marcie could be here any minute?”

“So, how did you get into it? Being a magician, that is.”

“Oh, I got given a magic set when I was a kid and got good at it, I didn't think I had a lot of talent, but it improved my dexterity. I wanted to be a surgeon, so I studied hard and got into medical school. Unfortunately, I was in a car crash and missed several months of the course. So I got a job with Intimate Illusions as an event planner to tide me over until I could restart the third year of my course; I've been doing that since. About last year Aaron, he's one of the bosses, saw me doing a small trick and asked if I wanted to become a magician; says he spotted more than just a spark of talent and he had been impressed by my creativity when putting together events for the company. Over the summer he taught me how to harness the talent I've got and then I auditioned and got the job, part-time on top of my existing job.”

“I thought I'd seen you before. You were the lady magician on the Late Night Sexy Show that turned Mary into a sex doll, right?”

“Yes, not that I'm particularly proud of that. She didn't know what was happening to her until it was mostly over, but it had been arranged with the producers who said she would play along. She seemed to enjoy it in the end.”

“Oh,” he said. He glanced around looking for something to change the subject. “So where do you want me?”

Glad of the change, I said, “I planned that you could sit on the bed or on the sofa over there. You might get a better view from the sofa. If you decided now, I can adjust this illusion to give you the best view.”

Once he was seated I moved the trestles to point in his direction. “That looks like a Blaney levitation, but, while I can't put my finger on it, there seems to be something missing.” In attempt at misdirection, I picked up the roll of fabric that I would be covering the board with and placed it on the board. I also fetched the block that would act as the step to get Marcie on to the board and used it to sit on.

“So, how did you get into magic?”

“You're not going to like this, but it was from those Fox specials; you know, the masked magician and all that. I was lured in by the prospect of learning secrets that I wasn't supposed to know. But I found them unsatisfying; all those tricks seemed oddly impractical; reliant on some specific angles or what happened round the front while the cameraman was looking at the back; that kind of thing. So I delved deeper. I soon discovered many much better performances that weren't doing things how he said they were. Of course, I have worked out some magicians do the stuff they do, but there is a lot of other stuff that's still a mystery. So, I started out thinking it can't be that simple and got more fascinated when I discovered that it wasn't.”

This led us into a discussion of magic that lasted for the half hour before Marcie finally returned.

She did apologise-ish “I was finishing my drink when I saw Steve, he looked distressed. I found out he'd been dumped by Shirley; and on Valentine's too. So, I spend a bit of time commiserating.”

Brad murmured his good wishes for Steve.

Abruptly, Marcie said. “Shall we get this show on the road? What do I need to do? I know what's planned, but I haven't a clue how you're going to do it.”

I stepped behind Marcie and with my hands on her shoulders guided her to one end of the apparatus that was already set up so that she was facing down the board, then moved to the opposite end, pausing on the way to pick up the roll of cloth and hand it to her. I arrived at the opposite end and asked her to roll the cloth to me. Her aim was not perfect, probably because of the amount of alcohol she had consumed since she left the room, but I leaned forward and caught the roll before it toppled off the edge of the board. Once we had it straight, we unfolded the edges to cover the board with the fringed edges hanging below for an inch or so.

“And the point of that was?” Marcie asked.

“You wouldn't want to lie on the bare board would you?” I countered.

“No, but why wasn't that already laid out then?”

I was at a loss, but Brad had an answer. “It's so that I, as the audience, get to see the board before it is covered and can be sure that they are separate.” I hadn't thought of that, some of us magicians do things the way that illusionists that imitate magicians do things, but for real, which will lead to unconsidered quirks in our performances.

“Thanks, Brad,” I said. I stood behind the board and patted the middle. “Marcie, why don't you come and sit here? There's a step down there to make it easier.”

Marcie stood on the step, and pressed down on the board, to check its stability. Evidently satisfied that it would hold her weight, she turned and perched on it.

“Alright, now turn an rest your feet up at this end!”

Marcie was already lifting her feet to lay her legs pointing the way I had requested, when a thought crossed her mind. Having waded through the alcohol-induced brain fog, it came out as, “Why that way?”

Being questioned during the performance is not something I am used to, but I managed to moderate my answer to, “Because I'm the professional, who knows what they are doing, and I am telling you that is they way is should be done.”

I think something in her instinctively recognised the dangerous undertone that I failed to avoid using. “Ok, do you want me to lie down now?”

“Yes, please. I'll guide your head so that you don't bump it.” I put my hand on that back of her head and gently lowered it to the board, letting her take care of the rest of her body. “From now on you don't have to worry about a thing, just relax and lie still. Arms across your chest and eyes closed will probably be more comfortable.”

I took a few moments to check that she was relaxing to some extend, then began making the levitating movements; passes of my hands close to, but not touching, her body, once I was happy that the levitation was happening and under my control. I lifted the end of the board under her head an inch or so and with my other hand toppled the trestle from the under the end of the board under her head.

“What was that?” Marcie asked, as she heard the soft thump of the trestle's top hitting the hotel carpet.

“I just knocked over the trestle from under your head; it's safer and easier than trying to drag it out sideways, or out the end for that matter. But don't worry, I'm still holding the board. And this end is being levitated.”

“Don't let go!”

“That's the entire point of the trick. Besides, I would need to let go to pick up the trestle to put it back.”

“Maybe Brad could help,” she suggested.

I let go and she did not notice. Brad did not move from his seat, either. I moved down her body, being careful to keep my hands out of her line of sight and then, when I was close enough, I kicked the other trestle out from under her feet.

Before Marcie could react to the bump as the trestle hit the floor, Brad said, “Wow! If I wasn't seeing it with my own eyes from this close, I'd think there was a trick. But you're really floating on the board with nothing holding the board up.”

Marcie looked at me accusingly. “I thought you were still holding the board up.”

“I am,” I stated. “Except I'm using magic instead of my hands. Over all, it's safer for you, because I would get tired, but the magic doesn't.”

I reached back and picked up a hoop from on top of the covered sawing box. I displayed the ring to show that it was unbroken all the way round and passed it down Marcie's length. Then I rolled it to Brad to check further.

“I can take out the board, if you'd like,” I offered.

Marcie moved her hands from being crossed on her chest to gripping the sides of the board. “No! You're not doing that!”

“But there's nothing holding it up,” I tried to reason.

“I don't care what is or isn't holding it up! It's holding me up and you're not taking it away!”

Rather than insist, I went with the companies version of 'The client is always right'; which is 'if the client wants it and we can do it without harming anyone, who are we to judge?'. I leant down and retrieved and replaced the trestle under Marcie's feet. At the other end I repeated the process of lifting the toppled trestle back into place. “Alright, everything's connected to the floor again, you can get up.”

She sat up with every sign of relief, seeming particularly glad when she was standing back on the floor.

“Ok, do you two want a moment alone, or would you rather show Brad the next thing we planned?”

“I'm not feeling great about this, so maybe get the next one over and done with.”

“Good. Here it is.” I lifted from the top of the covered sword box a sword on which was skewered a choker-like collar. I gave them both the chance to see and react to this, before I extracted the sword from the collar and laid it on the board of the levitation. I showed the collar to Marcie and Brad.

“That's not the usual design for a sword-through-the-neck collar,” Brad commented.

“What?” asked Marcie.

“The ones I've seen in magic videos are either a wooden stock or a metal collar. Which ever it is, it's hinged at the back and closes around the victim's neck, then gets locked in place.”

“So what's that?”

“My boss made it; he's good at solving some of our client's problems. In this instance, the client want the collar to not be obvious until our magician pushed a sword through it; the other designs wouldn't have worked in that scenario, hence the resemblance to a choker. I would have brought one of the more traditional designs, but everyone wants to demonstrate their love by having a sword shoved through their neck, so when I came to collect the equipment for this evening this was the only one left.”

“So how does it work?” asked Brad.

“The same as any of the others that I might have got hold of, but it's more streamlined to wear.” I undid the catch and went from being a self-supporting ring to a floppy strip. “Would you like to try it on for size, Marcie?”

“I guess so,” she said, but her tone indicated that she was doubtful that she would enjoy it.

I wrapped the grey strip of fabric around her neck and fed the tip into the buckle. “Comfortable?” I asked as I tightened it and adjusted it sat at the base of her neck.

“Does it really need to be quite as tight?”

“Sorry, but yes. If it slipped, it could cause all sorts of problems.” I went back to the levitation equipment to retrieve the sword. On the way back to where the couple were sitting I slapped the blade of the sword against the bed, by way of convincing any doubters that the blade was solid. “It's now time for you to feel cold steel through you throat.”

“Couldn't you warm it up?” Marcie asked. I resisted the urge to tell her that it was not about its current temperature, but how it was made. I lifted the sword's 26 inch (66cm) blade with one hand on the handle and the other guiding the tip towards the slot in the end of the buckle. I edged it forward a fraction of an inch until I felt it touch the back of Marcie's neck. “Hey! I felt that.”

“Please hold still for a moment, that way there's less risk of scratching you with the tip, or, worse, missing the exit hole in the front of the choker.”

Marcie froze in place, which was the best reaction I could have hoped for. I steadied myself for a second and then thrust the sword through. As the tip began to emerge from the slot it was intended to come out of, Marcie let out a piercing scream. I had to double check how things were going, before I could be certain that she was over-reacting, rather than actually hurt. Once the hilt of the sword was resting against the back of her neck, I reached round and covered her mouth and asked, “Does it really hurt? Or were you just expecting it to hurt?”

This shut her up for just long enough to notice the lack of pain or any other symptoms of a normal sword through the throat; such as bleeding, paralysis or sudden death. “But I can feel it through my neck.” I knew, from experience, that she could not feel it through her neck, but she could feel where it went in and where it came out. “Hey, Brad, why aren't you giving this witch a black eye?”

“Because she is doing what you asked, with your permission, for my entertainment and you aren't hurt. There's never a reason to beat up on people that are doing their job well.”

Marcie tried to turn towards me, but I kept a firm grip on the hilt, so that she could not. “Get this sword out of my neck, you witch!” she yelled.

I was glad to comply, I put one hand on the buckle at the back of her neck. I dragged the sword from her neck and quickly released the choker so that it came away from her neck, then stood back.

As soon as I release her she turned on me, but thought better of attacking me, because I had a sword in my hand. She, instead, turned on Brad. “What kind of boyfriend just watches while someone stabs her in the neck?”

“The kind of boyfriend that knows the difference between magic and attempted murder,” he retorted.

“In that case, consider yourself dumped! I'm going to see it Steve is still about, He'll make a better boyfriend than you'll ever be. And don't try to call me, because I'm going to block your number.” With that she turned on her heels and stormed out of the room, pausing long enough to grab the overnight bag that was on the dressing table.

As the door slammed, I slumped on to the bed. “Well, that didn't go as planned. Are you ok?”

Brad looked a little dazed. “It's going to take me a bit of time to process what just happened. Are you ok?”

“I don't think this will go down as my finest hour, but I don't feel the need to do anything stupid.”

“I think you did your best under trying circumstances; Marcie can get a bit assertive after a few drinks, but I suspect she had more than a few drinks.”

“Thank you.”

“So, now what? You've another two magical boxes with no-one to use them on. I haven't even gotten to see what I might be missing.”

“Well, the plan was that I would saw Marcie in half next. I also brought a spare sword box, in case she wanted to get adventurous, or maybe you wanted to involved as a volunteer; not really part of any prearranged plan, but an avenue to explore if the feeling went well. So, do you have any idea what you want to do?”

“So, maybe, I could saw you in half?”

“Well, no, for two reasons.” He raised an eyebrow to indicated he was interested to see if my reasons were genuinely reasons, or merely excuses. “The magical reason is that I have not been trained in being both magician and volunteer at the same time; I don't even know if that would work. And before you point out the growing trend for magicians you see on TV to perform illusions on themselves, I would remind you that nearly all of them are illusionists and not true magicians. The second, more practical, reason is that I don't fit in the box, 'Pinky' and 'Perky' would get in the way.” He looked puzzled by what I had said. I put an arm under my chest to briefly jiggle my breasts. He smiled in realisation. “I didn't name them, my gran did, when she got annoyed that some clothes she had got me for a birthday present did not fit, because I had developed; I'm told that 'Pinky and Perky' were a pair of mischievous puppet piglets from a kids' TV show in the early seventies.”

“Would it be possible for me to be the sawee then, even if that isn't really my fantasy; I would really love to be able to saw a willing someone in half.”

“You're pretty broad shouldered, but we could see if you'll fit in the box, if you really want to.” I set about transferring the clutter from the top of the covered sawing box onto the sword box, wheeled it forward, and then whipped the covering off.

“Wow! You're right, I might not fit in there. But that is such a classic design; the red with the yellow trim.”

“Sorry, I didn't get to choose from a great selection, most of my colleagues got there first.”

“I'm not disappointed; if I'm going to get cut in two I would rather it be in such a classic design, or, maybe, a clearly impossible.”

“I could have brought a clearly impossible, but Marcie didn't want to be totally visible for her sawing.” I opened the lids and pulled the stocks. “Let's see if we can fit you in here.”

Brad approached the table and sat in the end I had taken the foot stock from. “Will I need to tuck my shirt up?”

“It's not totally necessary, but it might make things a bit easier.”

He pulled the tails of his shirt from the waistband of his trousers. “So, I just lie down and wait to be cut on half.”

I moved to the head of the box and observed how wide he was. “I think you'll need to thread your arm out of the side opening, but that's the general idea.” I opened the narrow door in the side towards where he had been sitting on the sofa. “If you need help, I can guide you down.”

He twisted to see what I had done and then lay back leading with the shoulder towards the open flap so that he could get his arm through. As he rested his mid-brown hair on the pad at the head end, he asked, “So, how many people have you sawn in two?”

“To be honest, one, but I did saw her in half three times over the course of my training. But I did cut another couple of women into several more sections on my first assignment, and they seemed to have had a lot of fun.” While I told him this, I was shutting the lids, so that he was enclosed in the box; it did not leave him with much room. “You can still breath in there, I hope.”

“Yes, breathing is not a problem, but I can't move more than a couple millimetres in any direction, and I guess that'll not get any better when you put the stocks in.”

“The good news is that the stocks weren't design to fit over calves like yours; more like dainty feminine shins. But given you can't move much that won't a problem. Just put your hand on top of the box, over your chest and I'll get to cutting you in half. I'll be using a sword, because I know how to make that not hurt; my boss says I need a bit more practice with a saw to make it totally painless and I don't want to put you off.”

“What kind of sword is it?”

“It's a Sword 3000 version 3.1. All the 3.5's were taken and the remaining 3.2 was too heavy for me.”

“Sorry? What? I just wanted to know if it was a katana or broadsword or something else.”

“The sword I brought is in the form of a katana.” I fetched the bamboo case from which extended the decorated leather-bound handle. I pulled off the sheath to reveal the black blade. I showed this to him. “Sword 3000 is the leading brand in swords for magicians; you seemed knowledgable so I got a bit technical; maybe too much?”

“Why is the blade black?”

“I don't really know, but the other colours that are available have reduced painlessness, because of their coatings. So, we use the black ones unless there is a particular reason for a silver blade.” While I told Brad this, I fed the sword into the narrow gap between the tables two halves, so that it was vertical on the other side of the box from where I stood. “This shouldn't hurt. Are you ready to be cut in two?”

“I don't know. Will I feel anything? You said it will be painless, but will I feel anything else perhaps?”

“Naturally, most people don't feel much more than the edge of the blade making contact, but some feel the blade pass through them. I felt the sword go through when I was sawn in half during my training, but I'm told most magicians can.”

“Thanks. Go ahead and we'll see how much I feel.”

I changed my grip on the sword's handle, so that I had more control and could keep it vertical. “I'm starting now.” I began to pull the sword towards me, trying to keep the pace through the box even, which I know to minimise the discomfort of the person in the box.

I did not stop when he said that he felt it touch his side, because by that time, I was already a blades-width deep into his side. I could have pulled the sword through his abdomen faster than I did, but I did not want to have to slow down when I hit his back bone. As I felt the resistance from his spine I increased the force I was applying to maintain the rate at which the blade was cutting him. Once I was through the vertebra that I had encountered, I told him that I was nearly done, while reducing the force that I was applying, because muscle and guts are easier to cut through than bone.

I set aside the sword and collected the separation blades. I showed him the dividers and then placed one in the lid above his legs while I slipped the other into the gap between the box halves and the narrower gap between his belly and his hips.

“I was expecting that to be cold, but that was cool instead,” he commented.

“We use dividers that don't conduct heat so well, so that they don't drain your heat. The coolness is actually room temperature, but feels cool in direct contact. Time for the second divider. Would you like the chin tug?”

“Does it make a difference?”

“It can, but only because I used a sword instead of a saw. The gap made between your divided parts is narrower with a sword, so without the chin tug it can be a little uncomfortable trying to fit both dividers in, but with the chin tug I insert the divider until it rests on your back bone and pull just enough to get it to drop.”

“Let's do the chin tug, then.”

I fed the second separator into the space between the boxes and the halves of Brad, until I felt it snag. I went to the where his head rested, put a couple of fingers under his chin and applied enough force to roll his head back and drag the rest of his upper body the millimetre, or so, it needed to move to allow the blade to drop. The blade dropped with a satisfying thud when the handle met the lid of the box.

“Time to make you twice the man you were when you arrived,” I said as I returned to the middle of the box and leaned over to release the catch on that side that held the table together, while undoing the catch on the nearside with my other hand.

“Isn't that a cheesy line?”

“It's more like the default script unless you've been give something more creative to say. It's better than 'Ta-da!'” I timed the 'Ta-da!' to coincide with me pushing the halves the table, each bearing a half of Brad, apart. It took a little more effort to arrange him so that both extreme ends, head and feet, were pointing in the same direction, so that he could see the side of his leg when I opened the side panel on the lower box. I took the chance to apply a bit of pressure to one of his shoes, so that he knew that the feet he could see were his.

He reached across the narrow gap between the two half tables to touch his trousered leg. “That feels weird; I know I'm touching my leg by it feels wrong, but not in a bad way.”

“That's proprioception for you.”

“What? I beg your pardon.”

“Most of the time you know what your body is doing and where it is relative to the rest of you; so if you weren't in a box, you could easily touch your knee without looking. The thing is that a chunk of your body is not where you sense it is, that leads to strange sensations of things not being right, especially when it comes to touching the detached parts. So, is there anything else you want to try before I put you back together?”

“Like what?”

“I don't know, but I've heard some strange requests while organising these kinds of thing. I thought that, with you being a bit knowledgable, you might have had some idea of something you wanted to do while cut in half. But you'll have to bear in mind that this particular box isn't set up for body parts to be taken out.”

“I haven't thought of anything that I'd like to do if I was ever in two pieces, especially if I have to stay in the boxes. So you might as well put me back together, then we can work out what happens next.”

Lining up and reattaching the two halves of the box was a bit of a strain, because the carpet was deeper than I am used to, but after that the removing the blades and releasing Brad from the confines of the box was easy.

“So, what's next?”

“I didn't have anything more planned. I got the impression that you were going to take Marcie to dinner after I had finished.”

“What about the sword box you mentioned?”

“I brought that in case Marcie wanted to do something more impressive, or you wanted to volunteer for something; a kind of unplanned add-on.”

“Ok. I don't I fancy that at the moment; I'm still trying to process being sawn in half by a beautiful magician. And I don't suppose you want to be inside the box; you said something about not know how to be magician and assistant at the same time.”

I blushed when he called me beautiful. “I guess I'm done here. I'll pack up and start ferrying things down to my car. If you wouldn't mind staying to open the door, because I think it'll take two trips and Marcie didn't leave the key-card for the door. What are you planning to do now?”

Brad pondered for a moment. “The original plan was that after your show I would take Marcie for a meal, but that seems like a bust. I had to call in a favour to get a late table at Antonio's, what with it being Valentine's and all. I think it would look odd if I turned up without someone and ate alone.” He looked a little downcast, then his expression brightened. “I'm guessing that you haven't had the chance to eat. Would you like to have dinner with me at Antonio's; Tony makes the best pizza in town.” I must seemed unsure how to take this offer, because he added, “No strings, it's just that I'm hungry and I guess, you're hungry (and on a day when eating out is difficult). I could help save you a trip down to your car, then we'd need to let the hotel know the room was empty.”

“Ok, I like the pasta at Antonio's, but I insist that I pay for my own meal; I can claim it on expenses. Don't expect me to be much of a conversationalist, because I'll be thinking about what I could have done to make this a better evening.”

“I think I've some thinking to do too. Do I want Marcie back? Or should I move on? And being sawn in two will take some thinking about too.”

With Brad's help I packed the equipment, so that we could wheel the two pieces of equipment with wheels and not have to return for anything. While stowed the gear in the back of my car, Brad went to the reception desk to tell them that the room was clear.

At Antonio's we had a pleasant meal, and we both talked a lot more than we expected. The waitress was surprised when we asked for separate bills, because, “You are the nicest couple I've seen all evening.” After the meal I dropped Brad back at his car and headed home; I planned to unload the props in the morning.

----------

In the morning, Aaron caught up with me, while I was unloading the equipment from my car at the loading dock. “How did it go last night?” he asked.

“It could have gone better, but nobody got hurt,” I replied, trying to put most positive spin on the events of the previous night that I felt I could justify.

“You don't sound like you enjoyed it,” he commented as he began helping me return the gear to storage. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

“The client, Marcie, got drunk, then acted as if her boyfriend, Brad, should be defending her from me rather enjoying the magic I was performing on her. So, she dumped him and stormed off; apparently to meet up with the person she got drunk with. I, kind of, took pity on Brad and offered to cut him in two; which he accepted and then he offered to share the table he already had booked at Antonio's, because he did not want to dine alone on Valentine's. From the chat we had, he seems like a really nice guy; it seems unfair that he lost a girlfriend on Valentine's.”

“So how are you feeling about taking more assignments for us? Because we've had another of our magicians call in with some excuse about being signed up for a cruise line and not being able to work for us any more. We are going to need your talents both organisational and magical, even more than before.”

“You know I really enjoy setting up the events, but I'm not sure that I'm really cut out for the actual performing of them.”

“How about we ask you to do at least one event of your choosing each month? It will keep you in practice at the magic, and will help us out a lot, you will get to choose the events you feel most comfortable with.”

“Ok; if you really need me to be doing magic.”

“Oh, yes! And you're a natural at it from what I've seen; it's just you've had a few sticky clients. The sooner you're back in the saddle, the sooner you'll realise that you enjoy doing magic. I'll let you finish up here and then get to your desk, 'cause I think we are going to have a busy summer; brides just love to do something special on their wedding days. I've got to interview someone to cover Bethany, when she goes on maternity leave.”

Later, at my desk the phone rang, the display told me that it was Aaron. “Candi, I hope you don't mind, but the guy I interviewed will be starting on Monday, and I've pencilled you in to train him on our systems and provide him with the knowledge he lacks about what we can and cannot do with the magic and equipment we have available.”

“Ok, he's going to have to be a quick learner if he's going to be up to speed before Bethany goes off to have her baby.”

----------

I arrived early at work on Monday, mostly to tidy my desk and check with Emma, our office manager, that the computer access and emails had been set up.

Just before ten o'clock, Emma rang me from reception to tell me that the new hire had arrived. I went down to see who Aaron had hired to cover for Bethany. I had not expect to see Brad again, but there he was ready to start work under my wing.