Competence aside, maybe you just want to cast this libido manifestor too badly; you can hear yourself stumbling at the third syllable of the phrase and missing the proper stress on the fifth. You spend a second hoping it won't matter, and that your intent will take precedence over the raw mechanics of magical phraseology. You realize you've been hoping that a lot lately.
"What am I not going to believe?" Laura asks, and then jumps as a glove pops into existence on the floor next to your bed. It's one of those fancy opera gloves, long enough to cover a lady's entire arm, made out of something soft and shiny, probably silk. It's an intense shade of red, and it's also twitching a little. Uh oh . . .
The sight of the thing seems to break Laura out of her submissive lie-down. She looks between you and the glove with dawning horror, grabbing it up and shrieking.
"Get your filthy eyes off of it!!" Laura snarls at you, looking like she's soon going to start throwing punches. She's got the glove pressed tight to her chest, trying to hide it. You notice the glove seems to be twitching around even more now that she's holding it.
"Whoa, hang on, what's the problem?!" you say, hands out. "Look, I just messed up a spell, that's all."
"As usual!" Laura says, sneering. She's curious, all the same. "Which spell? No, don't try to show me, you idiot, it's your spell book, not mine."
You sheepishly put the book back down and give a basic description of the spell you just flubbed. Laura's got you uptight, waiting to be tickled one minute and then ready to clobber you the next.
"Oh," she says, seeming to understand. "Right. Well, I guess I wouldn't want you looking at that, would I? It feels very personal. I suppose you wouldn't mind waving around an avatar of your sex drive, but then you're a disgusting boy."
"It's a nice color," you say, at a loss for a stronger compliment. The truth is, you don't mind looking at Laura's glove at all. It seems to put your innards on a roil, though you won't tell her that.
"It's electric crimson," Laura says, looking down at the animate glove. "A twenty-button righty. That's some quality silk, too . . . weird."
Laura makes a face, realizing what she's critiquing.
"Err, I mean, of course it's quality, what else?!" Now she's showing you the glove defiantly while still looking shy about it.
"It looks really fancy," you say to her, seeing she won't take any teasing about the glove. "Why not put it on?" You wish she would, because the thing looks like it wants to make your acquaintance.
"I'm gonna put it on you," Laura says, looking as though she expects someone to burst in and tell her how naughty she's being. Once she gets comfortable with the idea, she hits you with a smoldery smile you could have done without. "Hey, come shake hands with my glove!"
"I'll pass," you tell her, backing toward the door. You take one look at that glove, fingers wiggling with menace, and know you're not going to escape.
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