Under A Velvet Cloak by Piers Anthony

a physical rather than a knowledge limitation. I could never perform as you
do.”
    “Yet if you could-”
    Ona smiled with her habitual sadness. “If I could, I would. But I can’t.”
    “I-when I was new, I feared something similar. That I would hurt, or be wrongly responsive, so as to alienate my lover. But he gave me a remedy, and perhaps it would work for you also.”
    “Fear is one thing. Confirmation is another. You had the former, I the latter.”
    Kerena brought out the love figurine. “If you will, sleep with this in your channel, then see what happens. It worked for me.”
    “I am long past superstition, dear.”
    “So am I. But this is genuine magic, used by women for countless generations. Please.”
    Ona sighed. “I will try it one night, then return it to you. Does that seem fair?”
    “Yes. One night should be enough to verify or refute its power.”
    Ona took the figurine, and Kerena returned to her study of the letters and words. She was laboring to make her writing quite clear, so no literate person could misunderstand it. She was adding words to her vocabulary every day. And the realities remained aligned.
    In the morning, early, she went to Hirsh’s bedroom, as often he liked sex first thing. He nighted alone, as Ona was too much of a temptation when present in dishabille. She did not like to refuse him, and he did not like to hurt her, so they slept apart, with mutual regret. Once Kerena finished with him, it was safe for husband and wife to be together as they dressed. They liked being together, when it was feasible. They were after all in love.
    Kerena entered quietly, intending to join him in the bed as usual, to be there as he awakened. She paused, looking at the bed. There was already activity there. Hirsh was having at a woman with gusto, and she was clasping him and moaning with delight. What was going on? Had he brought in another mistress, without telling her?
    They rolled over, and the woman came on top, still connected. It was Ona! She was kissing him as her body struggled to squeeze the last of his passion from him. How had this come to pass?
    Then Kerena remembered the love figurine. It had worked! Ona must have felt such strong desire that she had come to Hirsh’s bed and seduced him, following through with the kind of passion Kerena remembered experiencing with Morely.
    Ona lifted her head and spied Kerena. “There you are, on schedule,” she said. “I apologize for preempting you. I simply couldn’t wait.”
    “That’s all right,” Kerena said, half bemused.
    “What did you say to her?” Hirsh asked.
    “She gave me her magic,” Ona said. “It abolished my pain. Now my vulva matches my passion.” Then, to Kerena: “You must sell it to me, dear. I have to have it.”
    “Oh, I wouldn’t sell it,” Kerena said.
    The lines blurred. Jolie focused.
    “I will give it to you,” Kerena continued, and the lines clarified.
    “But there will be no further need for your services here. You must have substance to make your way elsewhere.”
    “I will find her another position,” Hirsh said. “A better one.”
    “See that you do,” Ona said. “She has given me what I most desired. Now let’s have at it again.”
    “But I am spent!”
    “Don’t make excuses, wretch! I demand performance, or I will bite off your tool and soak it in vinegar and pepper sauce to strengthen it.” She lifted the errant member, threatening it with her teeth.
    “Please, not that,” he begged.
    Ona huffed up in simulated anger. “Do you prefer the whip, you laggard? No more excuses!”
    They were going into the alternate mode. Ona clearly was competent, now that her pain was gone.
    In due course they joined Kerena for breakfast, glowing. The servants were agog, well aware of the change. Jolie was satisfied, as the timelines remained aligned; this change was necessary.
    “It is an irony that your kindness costs you your position,” Hirsh said. “You will of course remain here until I