I have an imp that I keep in a Grand Marnier liquor bottle. The bottle is stopped with a cork and sealed with red wax. I keep the bottle on the dresser in my bedroom. Sometimes, when I’m having sex, I hear the little imp jumping up and down in the bottle. I hear muffled shouts when I orgasm and I hope the imp enjoyed it as much as me. My partners have never commented on the bottle or on any sounds so I don’t think any of them have paid much attention to my bottled imp.
A Grand Marnier bottle was once given to me by Professor E. J. Herbert, professor of literature and ancient religion. Professor EJ (we all called him EJ) taught a course called Magic and Myth in European Literature. As a witch who has lived for centuries, I decided to take EJ’s course to find out how much people know, whether it’s true or based upon some fanciful idea of what might have been.
On the first day of class, EJ placed a Grand Marnier liquor bottle, a paper bag with the top scrunched shut, and a rectangular box on a table in the front of the room. He said that at the end of class he wanted us to tell him what was inside each of the containers. Whoever got it right could take one of the containers home.
Then EJ proceeded to lecture on Tolstoy’s The Imp and the Crust for over an hour. I had no idea that anyone could talk about a short story for over an hour and I stopped paying attention after the first ten minutes.
At the end of class, EJ went around the room asking each student what was in the containers on the table. No one got it right.
EJ came to me and I said, “orange liquor, some recently picked ears of corn, and a loaf of just baked sourdough bread.”
EJ congratulated me and because no one had gotten even one thing right, he gave all three items to me. The other students bolted from the room as I stayed behind to collect my prizes.
“How did you know?” EJ asked.
“I could smell the corn and the bread,” I said. “And the liquor was just a good guess. You know, liquor bottle, filled with liquor.” It was a lie, of course. I knew what was in the containers because I could see through them.
“Well, how about I pick up a couple of steaks and we take all this stuff back to my apartment for dinner?” EJ asked.
That was transparent, I thought. The items didn’t have anything to do with the lecture. I wondered how often he had used this ploy to hit on a college girl.
I looked him over. He was over forty, but I’d never been one to worry about age differences. Looks and the spark of sexual excitement were far more important to me. His brown hair fell in soft curls over his ears. I liked that. These days so many men were shaving their heads and going macho bald. It was refreshing to see a man commit to having unruly hair. He smiled, showing his perfect white teeth. His eyes were blue. I went to his apartment for dinner.
We opened the Grand Marnier after dinner and sipped it in front of his big screen TV. It was tuned to a classical music channel and colored lights waved and flashed to the rhythm of Vivaldi. We had sex on a Persian rug on the floor.
We saw each other frequently after that, always at his apartment. Dinner was always a piece of red meat, grilled just enough to heat it through but still leave it bloody and two fresh vegetables, steamed, whatever was in season. Snifters of Grand Marnier followed dinner. Sex followed snifters.
EJ fell in love with me. I didn’t want a husband and broke up with him. He was jealous when I dated other men. He became a pest. He followed me on dates. It became tiresome. I thought briefly about leaving school, about going to another country or another century. But I discarded the idea. I liked it here. I liked being a college student at an American university. I liked the freedom to drink and smoke pot and have sex with random people. I wasn’t ready to give it up.
I bought a bottle of Grand Marnier and invited EJ over. It was during the Christmas break and neither of us had anywhere to be. We ate blood rare steaks and drank Grand Marnier and fucked like bunnies, uninterrupted. When the Grand Marnier ran out, I cast a shrinking spell on EJ and stuffed him into the empty bottle. I cursed him with immortality and then sealed the bottle.
All that racket he makes when I’m having sex thrills me. I see him jumping up and down in the bottle screaming, “Stop it! Stop it! Stop it! You should only have sex with me!” Maybe I’ll let him out one day and do it with him again. But for now, I’m enjoying the parade of casual lovers coming through my bedroom and the frenzy of the imp inside the Grand Marnier bottle.