ONE

Cynthia walked in to the house from the darkness, thoughtlessly letting the door slam behind her. The gentle breeze it created was hardly enough to move the heavy air of the humid Atlanta summer. Two more steps and she slumped down into the nearest chair. Her dark hair laid matted against her round, cherub face wet with tears or rain, you couldn�t tell which.

>From the corner by the staircase, Nana had heard her thumping arrival and paused to watch her. As she sunk into the chair, Nana slipped back up into her bedroom. Not too much later, she came back down with something concealed in the pockets of her robe. Cynthia hadn�t moved and Nana saw no reaction from her at all as she gently slid onto the cushions of the chair beside her. She called her name and finally got her attention.

�What?!� Cynthia growled.

�I assume from that pouting look on your face, your date didn�t go so well.� Nana�s no nonsense tone raised Cynthia�s spirits s little, although she was not about to show it. �Let�s just say I don�t expect to be going out with Brian again.� Cynthia muttered. In fact, this had been her third evening with Brian. But, Brian had spied several other girls he�d rather be with, Cynthia thought, and because she knew he didn�t like her much anyway, she assumed that this was probably it. That perfunctory kiss she had allowed him sealed it. He hadn�t even attempted anything more. She knew she wasn�t pretty, she knew she was overweight. So what? No matter what, boys like Brian would never find her attractive enough for- well for anything. What did she want with a boyfriend, anyway? They�re nothing but a nuisance.

Nana eased into her seat a little and looked smartly at her granddaughter. Yes, she thought, she is pretty, even though she could stand to lose a few pounds. Her full bosom ought to make up for that! What she lacked was self confidence. It was something that Nana knew too well herself. As a young woman growing up in Atlanta in the forties, she had felt much the same way despite probably being better looking than her nearly thirty something grand daughter. It was time to make her an offer. �You know,� Nana whispered, �I didn�t have much luck with men when I was younger, either.� Cynthia sighed. �Here we go,� she thought, �another trip down memory lane.� �I know you have heard these stories a hundred times. But, there�s one part of it that I have always left out.�

Cynthia listened half hearted about her Nana and best friend�s adventures looking for a boyfriend in the rumble seat of a model A. Finally, though, she did arrive at a part of the story that she hadn�t heard before, about a �Gypsy?�

�Well, we don�t know exactly if she was a gypsy� said Nana. She did palm readings and tea leaves and such, you know. We thought she was authentic because she had moved there from New Orleans.� Cynthia wondered what that could mean, but did not want to ask for fear it would take Nana down a different long, boring path.

�We went in, Katie and I, to have our palms read. It was quite exciting. This woman put such a scare into me. Then she told me that unless I did something about it, I would never marry.� Cynthia looked up from her awkward position in her chair. �What? What could she mean, Nana?�

�Well,� Nana continued, �I wondered that too! I couldn�t imagine how she could know that, anyway, even though I had a feeling she was right. That�s when she gave me these.� Nana reached into her robe and pulled out a pair of lacy, thin white gloves.

�Gloves?� said Cynthia. �She gave you a pair of gloves?�

�That�s exactly what I thought when I saw them,� said Nana, laughing. �It was the silliest thing that she could have done. Or so I thought.�

Cynthia was intrigued by that last comment, and sat upright, then leaned forward to get a better look at them. Nana held them out for her to study. They looked quite unremarkable, dull white, perhaps a little dirty. They seemed very tiny, too, and Cynthia doubted they would fit her.

�They�re kind of ratty,� Cynthia mulled. Nana extended her hand and Cynthia took the gloves to examine more closely.

�Yes, I suppose they are� Nana said, her eyes darting. �But, these are no ordinary gloves.� Cynthia grasped the gloves between her fingers and thought she already knew what her grand mother meant. But, she asked anyway.

�How is that, Nana?�

�You know, that gypsy tried to explain about the gloves for fifteen minutes what I knew about the instant I wore them. The best way to understand about the gloves is to put them on.�

Cynthia glanced at the gloves again and prepared to slip her fingers through. She�d seen how small they were and gripped them carefully so to apply enough pressure to get her fingers into them. But, to her amazement, they slipped right on. They seemed to fit perfectly. More extraordinary, they felt terrific! She suddenly felt beautiful wearing them. She could hardly believe the feeling. �Young women don�t wear gloves like we used to,� said Nana, beaming. �A nice pair of gloves adds a finishing touch to your look. I think it�s just the thing that you have been missing.� She knew that this gift was more than wardrobe for Cynthia. She could see her confidence growing and she was filled with a growing sense of having done the right thing. Poor Cynthia had suffered long enough. She was going to have some fun!

Cynthia marveled at the gloves. They felt so rich, suddenly silky and powerful. She loved them! She and Nana talked about it at length. Oh, now Cynthia knew why women wore such gloves long ago. If they made you feel like this, she would wear them all the time! She would buy other gloves, too.

�No child,� Nana explained, � you don�t understand. You don�t need any other gloves.�

�Don�t need any others? Why?� Cynthia asked. Although she thought she already knew the answer.

�What you will discover is -- the gloves can be anything you want them to be, any kind of glove.�

Cynthia could hardly believe it, but she knew Nana was right. These gloves were special: they were powerful, they were alive.

�Just imagine any glove you can think of,� Nana instructed. She reached out her hands and took Cynthia�s gloved hands. �Think of a pair of gloves you might wear to a beautiful ball. Close your eyes, and imagine.�

Cynthia�s eyes slipped shut and she as thought about it, the image of a beautiful red gown with long white gloves appeared in her mind. She could see herself, dancing with a handsome Prince, who was wearing a smart looking blue uniform. Her dazzling white gloves looked so elegant contrasting against the blue of his coat. Suddenly, she felt something like a breeze on her arms. She opened her eyes but could barely believe them. She was wearing the gloves that she had just imagined!

Nana opened her eyes, too, as she felt the gloves change in Cynthia�s hands. They were beautiful again, as she had remembered them. They where long silk gloves now, perfectly tailored to Cynthia�s hands. They had a small buttoned opening at the wrist, which Nana had never really discovered the meaning of. They said it was so you could slip your hands out of the gloves occasionally. But that was something she rarely had wanted to do.

As she held Cynthia�s hands, she considered whether she should tell her the other secret about the gloves. After all, she given her the gloves not because of the wonderful feeling they gave you, but because of the special power that they had. She knew that that feeling was probably enough to get Cynthia to wear them, but maybe not with boys. After all, wearing gloves was just not in fashion as it had been.

�The first chance that you get, I want you to wear these gloves out on a date.�

Cynthia scowled. On a date? Wearing gloves? She didn�t think so. She imagined a navy blue fifties style dress and a pair of white cotton wrist length gloves and a little purse. �Hmm,� she thought �that will go over well,� she muttered. Then she had a thought: She folded her arms across her chest and closed her eyes. (Seeing this Nana closed hers, too). She felt a little breeze and when she opened her eyes, the gloves had changed into just the ones she had imagined.

�Do you see?� said Nana, opening her eyes.

�Yes, I�� Cynthia stammered.

�The gloves�� Nana hesitated. �the gloves have a�.special effect�on � on men.�

TWO

Cynthia strode purposefully into the lobby of the hotel. She had on a blue suit, jacket, short skirt, top and of course her just-over-the-wrist white gloves. She felt absolutely terrific. She walked into the bar and stepped up to the first guy that she saw.

Mark was younger than Cynthia, tall and thin, with sandy-brown hair. He wore a navy blue business suit. As he stood by the bar waiting for a drink order, he couldn�t help notice her come in. She looked great, he thought, but misplaced. The suit looked good on her, but all that she needed was a fifties hairstyle and she would have been June Cleaver. He guessed it was the gloves she wore. Mysterious, kind of European, he supposed. This woman looked so confident. And very beautiful just then. To his amazement she walked right up to him. He couldn�t help himself but say hello.

�Hello,� said Cynthia. She couldn�t wait to see what was going to happen. This guy seemed handsome enough for her plans. Clean cut, whatever: he had pants. He seemed eager and he had no ring, that was all she wanted. He replied to her greeting by holding out his hand. �Not too intimidated,� she thought. Good.

�I�m Mark� he said.

She extended her hand to him and he took it and carefully clasped it in his. The feeling of the glove against his hands, sliding until his thumb met hers, was indescribable. He felt suddenly drawn to this woman, like no one else that he had ever met. He glanced down at her gloved hand in his and quickly noticed her other hand. The gloves looked beautiful, almost luminescent white. She wore a gold bracelet just above her left glove, a wrist watch above that. He squeezed her hand carefully, and took a moment to enjoy the feeling of the glove as it slid across his palms. He was in heaven! He could barely understand what was happening.

Cynthia, on the other hand, knew exactly what was happening. She watched him go glassy-eyed for a second and watched as he enjoyed her gloved fingers. She carefully pulled her hand away, letting each finger linger on his palm for a moment as she did. The power she felt was delightful! Finally, to have the upper hand-or glove-with a man!

They talked for a few minutes and she caught him starring at her hands. These gloves were really something, they were really having an effect on him. They were magic! She hardly listened to a word that was said. Oh, god, she hoped that he was staying in the hotel.

�How about if we finish these drinks in your room?� she asked, knowing exactly how he would respond.

�That�s a terrific idea,� said Mark. He didn�t know what her motivations were. He didn�t care. He had to have this woman and it was clear she had to have him as well. They found themselves in the elevator on the way to his room. Suddenly quiet, he tried to find an excuse to take her hands again and touch those exquisite gloves once more. He just could not understand the attraction for him. As the doors opened, he took a cue, stepped out and offered his hand again.

�This way� he said. She blissfully slipped her gloved hands into his. Once at his room, he reluctantly let her hand go as he fumbled with the card to open the door. He slipped it through the lock and awkwardly pushed the door opened.

�Can I,� he stammered, �Oh. I guess you don�t have a coat.� He chuckled, trying to laugh off his mistake.

�No, � Cynthia said, her eyes riveted to his. They stood at arms length, their eyes locked in a lover�s gaze. Mark reached out again and took her in his arms. As he kissed her, he felt her gloved hands drift across his cheek. �Oh god!� he thought.� This feeling is unbelievable! What is it about these gloves?� They stood by the door and kissed for a long time, then carefully moved into the room. Cynthia playfully pushed Mark on to the bed.

�I want to get more comfortable,� she said, smiling at him. �Why don�t you turn down the sheets while I get ready?�

He immediately thought that was a wonderful idea although just as suddenly wondered if she meant for him to get undressed and into bed or not. He smiled as she slipped away and into the bathroom. �Oh, wow, I wonder if she will leave those gloves on?� he thought to himself. If she didn�t, could he dare ask her to? As these thoughts raced through his mind, he leapt from the bed and straightened it all out nicely. Then, remembering her instructions, turned down the sheets just so. He looked at himself in the mirror and thought about what was happening. He�d expected to go down, meet Doug for dinner � oh, Doug! Screw Doug: he�d explain later. Better yet, he�d introduce---wait! He suddenly realised he didn�t even know her name yet! Wow! He was about to have sex with someone whose name he didn�t know. He wasn�t quite sure why, but he was a little proud of that.

Just then, the bathroom door clicked opened. There she was. The suit was gone. The white gloves where gone. Instead she had on a black, lacy bra, black panties and stockings with garters and long black silk gloves. The other stuff she could have had on already, but the gloves she had to have brought with her. He realised that but he didn�t care. He didn�t give a damn where they�d come from, he just wanted to be touched by them more than anything else in the world just then.

She slipped over to him and slid one gloved arm around him. Her ample chest pushing up against him. She was quite stunning, Mark thought.

�You forgot to get undressed� she cooed. She pressed one black glove against his white shirt and slid it down to his pants. While they kissed, he felt his zipper come down and those cool, gloved fingers slip around his briefs and onto his cock. It was as erect as it was ever going to get. They stood there, kissing, as she slowly slipped her gloved fingers up and down the shaft, only stopping momentarily to rub the tip with the palm of her silky hand.

�Ah, you�d better stop that,� he stammered. He made a weak attempt to push her back towards the bed.

Cynthia felt so good! She felt beautiful, powerful, sexy; everything she�d ever wanted to feel about making love was there. His cock felt so good as she stroked it. She wanted to stop- she wanted to make sure it would last- but she was enjoying it so much! She finally found the strength to push Mark onto the bed., then slipped down onto the bed beside him.

She resisted the urge to continue her caresses, and pulled her right hand to his face. She could see the effect the gloves were having on him and wondered if he suspected anything. She had planned to continue wearing the gloves as short, white ones. But, there in the bathroom, looking at herself in the mirror, she decided she had to at least see what other gloves looked like. She tried short, black cotton gloves, then longer ones, then leather. She varied the colors, red, white, a light blue. She tried a nylon-ish fabric in black with gold specks. But, then finally settled on the black silk. The gloves themselves seemed to prefer silk. If she didn�t think about a specific fabric, the choice would invariably be silk or occasionally leather. She�d imagined hundreds of styles, lengths and fabrics since Nana had given them to her. From silk to leather, cashmere and rubber, even canvas gardening gloves. She giggled, wondering if this man would react to her the same way if she made love to him with rough, awkward, shoulder-length nylon ski gloves! The gloves would do anything, and she wore them everywhere. Even in the shower, she would imagine smooth rubber gloves and slowly caress herself as she bathed. She only took them off occasionally, often sleeping with them on as well. While her friends had mentioned her new affection for wearing gloves and how nice she looked in them, she couldn�t help but feel self conscious about them. But, she discovered she could imagine a tight, thin, see-through plastic glove that was nearly invisible which allowed her to continue to wear them at work. She�d experimented with these invisible gloves, touching men at the office and watching their reactions to her. Something about the gloves seemed to make them want her instantly. If she offered just a hint of acceptance, they would be right by her side all day long. She delighted in the torture she put them through.

She was curious enough to try some experiments with men�s reactions without her gloves. So she touched someone whom she�d touched gloved before and then later, ungloved. The difference was remarkable. She knew they felt much differently about her with the gloves, even when they couldn�t see them. She�d spent a few weeks teasing them and understanding just what the gloves could do before using their power on someone she was attracted to. She was fully undressed now; watching as he kissed her breasts. God, this felt good! She admired her gloved hands as she ran her fingers through his hair and down his back. She could feel the reaction in his body as the gloves worked their magic on him. It seemed � intense. Mark sighed has he felt her silky gloved hands work over his body. He kissed and caressed her with all the passion that he could find. He felt as if he was drowning in a ocean of silky black pleasures. After what seemed like an eternity, he groped his way on top of her. He wanted to be inside her so badly, and wanted the best position from which to penetrate as deeply as possible. He wanted this woman to feel as much pleasure in her body as he felt in his. Maybe, the thought raced though his mind, he should have a pair of gloves as well. No time for that!

With childlike aplomb, he entered her and pushed inside as much as he could. Slowly, slowly caressing her, he pushed back and forth. Wanting to bring the most pleasure and hold himself back as much as possible. He felt her gloved hands pressed across his back and imagined what those black, silky things must look like arched across his dark, lightly tanned skin, that golden bracelet dancing across her left glove. Finally, after what seemed altogether too short a time, Mark felt a smoothness of pleasure building in him. As he exploded inside her, he let out a dull moan. Cynthia responded in kind. As his pleasure mushroomed and then subsided, he slipped his head back and pressed his cheek across her breasts. Breathlessly, she pulled up her arms and caressed his face carefully with each black, silky finger�

THREE

It had been nearly five days since she had met Mark, but she hadn�t seen him again. Not that he hadn�t tried to. Mark had left her several messages. Cynthia didn�t have time to return his calls, though. Each evening, she tried a different place and she and her gloves worked their magic. It was so good! Cynthia kept insisting to herself that she was having the best time of her life. The gloves, somehow, had other ideas about who she should be spending her time with. Those long black silk gloves she�d wore with Mark just wouldn�t reappear for her again. She could get black velvet, which she liked alright. But she missed the coolness of the silk in the warm Atlanta night.

�Nana?� she called. It was time to get an update on just what Nana knew about the gloves. After all, if something was wrong, she needed to get it straightened out. She didn�t want to ruin the party. �How did you meet Granddad?�

Nana explained. Yes, it was the gloves that got his attention for her. And, she had continued with many others. But, she quickly went back to him and before you know it they were married. After all, back then no one got below the waist before they had properly stood in front of a preacher.

�You haven�t�� Nana whispered, her eyes narrow.

�Of course I have. What did you think?� Cynthia replied.

�Oh, dear. I don�t know what they�ll think about that.�

�What they think?� Cynthia suddenly realized she was yelling. �Oh, no, oh no, I�m sorry, Nana. This whole thing has got me on edge.�

Nana worried about her granddaughter. She guessed that, perhaps this might happen. She had been pretty sure that Cynthia was �not that kind of girl.� Cynthia explained that every girl was that kind of girl now days and that she was sorry for raising her voice.

�It�s OK.� Nana said, patting her back in a gentle hug. She raised her head and looked Cynthia in the eye, smiling. �It�s pretty good, isn�t it?� Good was hardly the word. But, to settle things down, she would have to see Mark again.

Mark was pretty happy to finally get a call back. After five days, it was nearly time for him to go back to New York. After that, he might never see Cynthia again. He had to know if she was going to be anything more than just a one night stand.

Cynthia arrived at the restaurant and looked around for Mark and not seeing him, she ducked into the bathroom. Somehow, she just was not excited about seeing him. He was cute, yes, but there were so many cute ones out there. On top of that, she just couldn�t seem to get the gloves off. Before, she loved wearing them and left them on all the time. She�d taken them off many times before. Now, however, they seemed to be �stuck�. So, she�d done her trick to imagine a clear, tight glove. She just didn�t want to see Mark with the gloves on.

She looked at herself in the mirror. Jeans, a white blouse and jacket. She looked good, she thought. If only she could get the damn gloves off! Too much traffic in the bathroom and too many odd stares from passers by and she finally decided to get on with it.

She walked out into the main room just as Mark arrived and they were seated. She stepped in front of him as he held her chair for her.

�You really love those gloves.� he remarked. �Not that I mind. They look great on you.�

�What?� Cynthia looked at her hands. The black silk gloves were back! She slid a hand up her sleeve. The glove extended up her arm. She felt ridiculous!

�I really love that look, how they disappear up under your jacket.�

Cynthia grabbed at the gloves. To her surprise, they came off easily. She flung them on the table. �If you love him so much, you can have him!� She stood up quickly and glanced up at Mark, whose mouth was now just hanging there. �I gotta go. I�m sorry.� At that, she hurried out. Mark just stood there by the table, speechless. He shot a look to the curious couple at the next table. �All I said was I thought they looked nice.�

FOUR

Weeks went by. Mark called once from New York, but that was all. The summer had turned to fall. Without the gloves, Cynthia�s self esteem dropped to an all time low. Nana could do nothing to cheer her up. �The gloves�were just a crutch, Nana! It wasn�t real. It was a fantasy.�

But, Cynthia knew better. Her grandfather had not been a fantasy. She had taken advantage of a special gift and ruined it. Nana loved her grand daughter, but she knew that Cynthia had taken a step too far. But she also knew, with time, that Cynthia would be OK.

Finally, during one of their arguments, a letter arrived. Inside was a postcard of the Statue of Liberty and a plane ticket. On the card was written �the ticket is for you. Have a weekend in New York, on me. If you want to see me, meet me on the Island at midnight, November first.�

�November first, in New York? It�ll be freezing!� Cynthia exclaimed.

�If you like,� smiled Nana, �I�ll lend you some gloves��

The wind blew cold that night on Liberty Island. Mark arrived about eleven thirty, even though he�d convinced himself she wouldn�t show up. He was talking to a Ranger about whether they were in New York or New Jersey when he spotted her. She looked lost. He smiled and then almost turned away. But, something made him turn back. Just as he did, she saw him, too. They met and Mark took her hands in his.

�Still no gloves?� he said, holding her.

�I left them with you, remember?� Cynthia was chilled and she sniffed back a running nose. She suddenly became aware of an odd sensation. Mark, just now, seemed to be the most attractive man she�d ever seen. He seemed to shimmer, almost glow, there in the darkness. He had power. It filled her with desire. It was all she could do to keep from throwing her arms around him and start kissing him passionately. They walked around the island for a while.

�I thought this would be romantic. � Mark said. �But, it�s freezing. Let�s go home, OK?� Cynthia felt warmed by love, desire, passion � everything. She would have walked all night with him. But, she�d rather get him to a bedroom. �Sure� she said. Soon, Cynthia found herself back in Mark�s apartment. It was dark, cool, colored in blues and decorated in sports memorabilia. A typical single guy�s apartment that normally would have sent a superior smirk across Cynthia�s face now somehow seemed endearing and elegant. They didn�t make it too far inside the door before they grabbed each other, and pushed up against the wall. Cynthia suddenly felt so happy! She felt like she was home.

As they kissed, Mark slipped his gloved leather hands across her back, kissing her gently but passionately. He could feel her giddiness and he felt the same sense of fun and passion she was. But, he knew that it might be those gloves that Cynthia had tossed on the table. Mark had picked them up and instantly had felt their power. Despite the fact they weren�t his size (and women�s gloves as well), he had decided to slip them on and found to his amazement they fit perfectly. Then, something amazing happened to the gloves: as Mark pondered, laughing to himself about how fabulous he felt wearing long back silk gloves, the gloves changed into a pair of short leather driving gloves! Then, while he watched, a pair of ski gloves. Mark soon understood the game, and imagined all sorts of different gloves. Magically, the gloves changed to instantly match his imagination. He laughed out loud now, realising what had happened to him. Cynthia had used these gloves and their built-in seductive power to take advantage of him. Well, that was something Mark could enjoy doing himself.

So he did. He found that just a simple touch of a woman�s body, anywhere, would make her wild with desire for him. He�d left the gloves on often making love to different women. Despite the oddness of the idea, these women seemed thrilled with the thought of being caressed by his soft gloves. But, nearly every time, his thoughts would turn to Cynthia. He�d imagine dragging his black gloves across her breasts, her thighs and kissing her all over. Finally, he had to get in touch and try and see her one more time. Now, at last, she was here and the gloves were working their magic on her. In fact, it seemed double the effect he�d ever seen. Cynthia was simply melting in his hands.

�Oh!� she said, �Let me catch my breath!� Cynthia pushed Mark back against the wall. �Who�s that?� she said, pointing at a picture over Mark�s shoulder.

�David Cone,� said Mark. �He�s a pitcher. For the Yankees.�

�Oh�baseball!� Cynthia laughed.

�Yeah,� Mark replied, stealing another kiss. �You know, bats, balls� gloves.�

Cynthia knew exactly what he was talking about. �Do you still have my gloves?� she asked playfully. �Oh, yes,� said Mark. He took her by the hand, leading her to his sofa. He slipped off her coat. �Can I get you a drink, anything?� He stepped towards the kitchen. �I�ve got some brandy, that should warm us up?�

�Were are they?�

�They? What �they?�� said Mark.

�My gloves,� said Cynthia, separating each word carefully.

�Oh,� said Mark, turning back over the counter. He sat down on a stool to face Cynthia who had crept over and sat by the counter. �Do you mean these?� He reached down and slipped his gloves off and tossed them on the counter top. Cynthia was startled. �I left you a pair of long black gloves on the table that day.�

�Yes, you did.� Mark whispered. �And then you left, rather rudely.� he added.

�Then you know�� Cynthia muttered.

�These gloves, they�re like a fairy tale � like a glass slipper. Others might drag them on. But, they fit only one person just right. I�d very much like to see you wearing them again,� Mark whispered. Cynthia took the gloves carefully, smiled at Mark, the started to put them on. The leather groaned quietly as her hand slipped inside. She felt the soft, smooth cashmere lining against her hand. She took up the other glove and slipped it on as well. They retained the large, leather design Mark had chosen and looked a little big and silly perched on her hands.

They both smiled as Mark took her gloved hands in his. He felt a twinge of those same feelings he�d felt a few months ago. But, he needed no encouragement for his feelings tonight. �I think they look great.� He laughed as he said it and Cynthia joined him. �Why don�t you try something more for you.�

�These gloves have a mind of their own,� said Cynthia. She tugged at them pulling them up the sleeves of her gray sweater.

�Think of something� Mark said, squeezing her hands through the leather gloves.

�You have to close your eyes,� Cynthia commanded, �or they don�t work.�

�They worked for me, just watching them,� Mark offered.

Cynthia just smirked and raised her eyebrows. Mark drew a breath and closed his eyes. Cynthia smiled and then closed hers. But, before she could imagine a glove, she got curious and took a peek again at her hands. To her surprise, they had already changed back into those same long black silk gloves. The gloves now were pulled over gray sleeves, pushed down a bit and looking quite stunning. Mark felt the transformation too and opened his eyes.

�I said those were your favorites,� Mark smiled.

�No,� Cynthia toned, shaking her head. �I barely had time to close my eyes.� She raised her gloved hands to Mark�s face and cupped it carefully, then leaned over and kissed him slowly, then slipped back, keeping her hands against his cheeks. �It seems that these gloves think that we belong together.�

�You think?�

�Uh-huh,� said Cynthia. �Don�t you?�

�Well, I�m not really familiar with magic gloves. Magic beans, I�d know what to do with.�

Cynthia knew what to do with the gloves. She reached over and kissed him again. �But, well, I�m getting some ideas� Mark smiled again. �some of which I think you have thought of, already.�

Mark came from behind the counter and they embraced again. Cynthia threw her gloved arms around his neck, kissing him again and again. Breathlessly, Mark spoke again.

�I think, when dealing with magic gloves, what you should do is not question it.�

�I agree,� Cynthia replied. �But, I think we should be careful not rush to a conclusion. We should engage in some serious research for the rest of the weekend.�

�Oh,� frowned Mark. �The rest of the week.� He kissed her again.

�Well, this could take longer.� Cynthia said matter of factly.

�Weeks,� said Mark. He pulled Cynthia�s hands and hugged her closely, walking into the bedroom.

�Months. Maybe� Cynthia tried.

�Oh, perhaps years. I could see this taking years.� They stood by the bed. Cynthia slipped her gloved hands down to Marks waist, undid his belt and slid her silky gloved fingers around his growing cock. Mark cooed with enthusiasm for Cynthia�s stroking. �That has to be one of my favorite things about those gloves. A nice silk hand job is way under-rated.�

Suddenly, Cynthia squeezed her hand.�

�Did you wear these for any other women?� Cynthia asked.. Mark, his eyes wide, just groaned and smiled that he didn�t understand.

�You know what I mean.� Cynthia said, giving him a playful twist. �C�mon, answer.�

Mark relented with a grin. �Well, let�s just say that you might like to be caressed with those gloves just as much as I do.�

�I think I�d like to try that,� Cynthia said, relaxing her grip and slipping off one glove and offering it to Mark. Mark took it and looked up at Cynthia.

�I think you�re serious.� He said.

�You betcha.� Cynthia pushed him onto the bed. Soon they were undressed, caressing each other with their gloves.

�I have a thought,� said Cynthia. �When we get married,� she said, checking Mark�s face carefully. �I think it would only make sense to have our honeymoon-�

�In Disneyland!� Mark finished. He pouted, suddenly apologetic. �My glove is speaking to me��

Cynthia made a face. ��of romance and fairy tales.� Mark finished.

Cynthia understood. �That�s just what I was thinking, too. After all, you never see Mickey without his gloves.�

�Or Cinderella,� said Mark. �That�s right,� Cynthia smiled and thought to herself. �Or Cinderella.�

THE END