Hers was a cursed blessing, the sort of jinx that accompanies the power of being able to control the male half of the world with just a wink. She knew her power well and wielded it as masterfully as the blonde femme fatales of the forties.

“I bet he’ll let me. You just watch.”
Wink.
Changed lanes in mid-traffic. Illegally.
Wink.
Got favors. Bent the rules.
Wink.
The world was hers.

Yet, her hexing was hexed, for the spell not only seized men but also drew them to her with the fascination moths have towards the firelight that consumes them. Innocently she would turn her guy friends into guys like the others, bewitched by the fierce stomping of her boots and the gracious swirl of her white skirt. Guys approached and dreamt and tried and pursued—always for a wink, and always for more. She would give them all a wink, a hug, her friendliness galore—but nothing more. Then guys would desist and leave and drink and talk about her and her hex appeal.

She didn’t like that she lost friends because of her enchanting, nor did she quite understand what was wrong with her power, but at least the supply never stopped. She could always innocently turn to someone else—once that sitting on her current friend’s lap at a party had lost its innocence in the wink of an eye.