The melody ended with a trumpet flare and a crash of the cymbals. The four women stood motionless except for the rise and fall of each chest with the exertion of non-stop dancing.

    Chris noticed the sheen of perspiration across Jody's forehead, mostly hidden by the curly chestnut bangs. Those curls bounced when she danced and rode in riotous disarray on her bare shoulders. One strap of her silky white tank top had slipped perilously close to the curve of her shoulder, completely disregarded in the moment. She gazed fixedly at the swags of mini-lights above the bar, wiping her palms on her blue suede walking shorts.

    Meg's spangled lavender tee shirt caught the beams of dance floor lighting and she glimmered and shimmered with each panted breath. The glitter on her high cheekbones sparkled as she shook her head, trying to lose the memory. She let her ebony satin hair cover her eyes as she adjusted the waistband of her black leather pants.

    Kim stood with her dainty hands on her cocked hips, looking at the tips of her pointy-toed black boots or at the razor-sharp crease in her funky zebra jeans. The glare on her lenses hid her eyes, but her lips were pursed and her forehead wrinkled — her elfin face set in deep concentration. She plucked a stray strand of her blonde hair from the front of her black crocheted vest.

    Chris didn't want to meet their eyes either and nervously tugged at the hem of her denim mini-skirt. Her cheeks felt hot and she knew her face glowed with the color of unshed sweat. She snapped another closure on her beige top, and then, annoyed, unsnapped it. Whatever had happened wasn't completely her fault and had nothing to do with the panoramic view of her cleavage.

    The band announced a short break. Jody finally glanced at Chris and shrugged. Meg's green eyes grew brilliant with frightened tears, and Kim patted her arm but looked just as worried.

    Kev jumped off the low stage and asked if Meg wanted another Chardonnay. She shook her head and he went off in search of the waitress and a beer. His words freed their voices, however, and all uttered a single exclamation.

    'What?' 'How?' 'Shit!' 'Ohmygod!'

    'Come on. Bathroom break!' Chris grabbed Jody's shoulder and turned her toward the lounge door. Meg followed Jody and, after a long think, Kim headed off toward the ladies' room in the hotel lobby.

    Passing the end of the bar, Jody stopped suddenly. Her creamy cheeks paled further and she bolted for the bathroom. Chris glanced at the man sitting in the last chair, and nearly started running. She forced herself to look more closely.

    In his suede jacket, black collarless shirt and gray jeans he was a basic predator on the prowl. At the moment he looked anything but dangerous. His eyes were blankly focused on the water ring on the oaken surface and his finger traced the moisture on the side of his ice-filled glass. His square chin hung a second before closing. His lips formed silent words and he startled when the bartender tapped his glass. He jerked his face toward the dance floor and stared at the place where he had last remembered being.

    Chris darted out the door before the prowler caught sight of her watching his confusion.

    Meg leaned on the stall partition. Kim was cleaning her glasses with a tissue. Jody sat on the counter with her head resting on the mirror.

    'Was it him?' she asked as Chris latched the door.

    'Yeah.' She shrugged. "Looked bewitched but okay."

    Meg giggled — a pre-hysterical twitter. "Bewitched? Is that what happened?"

    Jody had opened her eyes. In them Chris could see shame. Her husband was upstairs, sleeping off some bad barbeque.

    "It wasn't real, Jo," Chris said, meaning to comfort her friend but realizing abruptly it had been real in some arcane way. No mistaking the afterglow of good sex for anything else. She had a good imagination but not that vivid.

    "It wasn't your fault," Kim said, but that too was not true. The blame could be fixed on each of them equally, and none of them completely.

    Chris remembered the electricity generated by the continuous dancing. She had enjoyed the hungry eyes of the men sitting nearby and how their appetites had fed the energy. The four women, each so different from the others, had been synergized by circumstance and Meg's favorite Chardonnay. The dancing had woven the web, the wine had supplied the magical elixir, and the music and lights created an impenetrable crystal around the square — the corners of which had been defined by Meg, Chris, Jody, and Kim.

    The Prowler — as Kim had named him — had insinuated himself into the square. He had partnered with each of them in turn, saving the gorgeous Meg for last. Meg had sent a look of entreaty to Chris, who had no idea how to oust this interloper. Had she even wanted to? He had good moves and a nice rump, but leered when he danced with a woman. He strutted his stuff to the center of the square.

    Chris caught Meg's eyes, and turned to look at Jody and then Kim. A wave of strange euphoria engulfed her and she could see all of them, including herself, at once, like having four sets of eyes. A twitch of vertigo rocked her before the sight settled in comfortably.

    Then the room went slideways. She could feel the man's lips at hers and his hands on her and his hardness in her. At the same time, she could see/sense/feel his hands/lips/manhood at/on/in Meg… And Kim… And Jody. Sex… Sex raised to the power of four.

    Assailing her senses was a kaleidoscope of colors and textures; a cacophony of sounds and emotions. She could feel — like a second skin — Meg's enthusiastic wonderment, Kim's cautious curiosity, her own analytical hedonism, and the wash of Jody's reluctant pleasure for this forbidden trespass.

    The encounter went on and on, coming to a crashing halt with the cymbals deafening interruption. One small incongruity — the man had disappeared.

    ''So what do we do?''

    Chris hated when each of the others looked to her for the answer. The resident mistress of weird and occult, they obviously thought she had some greater insight to this creepy business. Probably thought she had started the whole thing too.

    ''Well, for starters, no more Chardonnay — as a group, anyway.''

    Meg laughed. She wouldn't have to give up her favorite poison.

    ''No more non-stop dancing. If a guy joins us, we split up. We get other people to come along. That will distract us, I think.''

    Jody murmured something.

    ''Don't tell Tim anything. Do you tell him all your daydreams? In this reality, nothing happened. Like an illusion, or a movie.''

    She bought it… So did Meg. Jody wanted to believe and Meg let herself because Chris tried to appear certain.

    They heard the music start and headed back into the lounge. The Prowler was gone. None of them felt like dancing anymore.

    Meg sat at the edge of the stage and adjusted the light board settings.

    Jody yawned and dug out her room card as she waved goodbye.

    Chris and Kim reclaimed their jackets and found the SUV in the parking lot.

    Kim looked grim in the uneven glow of the dashboard lights. Chris felt the weight of a number of furtive glances and finally said, ''What?''

    ''You're wrong.''

    ''Wrong?''

    ''About how it happened. I didn't drink any wine. Jody sat out one of the songs in that set. Meg danced with Kev awhile, too.''

    ''So?'' Chris wondered where Kim was headed with this. ''We now know what not to do.''

    ''No. We now know exactly how to do it. I don't think any of us can resist the temptation to connect up again.'' Chris knew that. She could feel a longing already.

    ''We'll have to be careful, I guess.''

    Kim was quiet, and then snorted. ''The four of us had the - power to rape and transport that guy in front of a roomful of witnesses. No one noticed him disappear. That frightens me most. We did that, you know. We didn't bewitch only him.''

    Also true… And very scary.

    She slowed for a red-light and then pulled up in front of Chris's apartment. As her passenger climbed out, Kim asked, ''What are we going to do?''

    'Stop going out together' Chris almost said before realizing whatever had connected them initially would continue to draw them together.

    ''We make sure to have another person with us.''

    ''I don't know if that's a good idea,'' Kim whispered.

    ''Why?''

    ''Five women would make a pentagram.''

    Chris gripped the door for support.

    ''Isn't that something to think about?''

    Woman — raised to the power of five. Yeah, something to think about, indeed.

The End