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Club Vesta: A Journey Beyond the Mountains of Madness to Find a Sea of Stars (Love-Letter to America)
Level -1: The Gateway
§ 11 We spent the rest of the evening at home. First, Lu’ wanted to call Erik and let him know she’d arrived safely. She wanted to call him collect, but I waved away her protests, telling her, “Look, how many times did you and Janie pick up the tab for me when I lived down there? Help yourself. I’ve got a good long-distance company, anyway, cheap rates, well, relatively cheap. And how often are you here, anyway? So it’s on the house.” Of course, once Lu’ got Erik, she handed the phone to me so he could tell me hello, too. After he asked me how I was doing and how the weather was – “Great” and “Lovely” – Lu’ took the phone again, and they spent several minutes discussing how the dojo was faring, how their ferrets were reacting to their mommy’s absence, and what lovely things Erik planned to do to Lu’ the moment she got home. Listening, I sighed, secretly envious – what was it like, I wondered, to live with your best friend who was also your lover? What was it like, I wondered further, to have a lover who made sex worthwhile? I caught Lu’ giving me a long, strange, thoughtful look. She smiled, then wrapped up the call with, “All right, darling, I’ll call you collect every night when we get back before I head home again, let you know I’m okay, just a couple of minutes each time so we won’t run the phone bill through the roof. – All right, sweetheart, talk to you soon. ’Night.” Putting the phone back onto the jack, she came over to me and said, “It’s still early. I’m not ready to sleep yet. Would you like to see some of the stuff I brought up here with me?” “Sure. What’d you bring?” “Well, I’ve got photos from the dojo, so you can see all the gang there, lots of new people but we still have some of our original students. And there are pictures of Janie, plus ones she took on her trips to Bangkok and Israel last year, and some photos of Erik and, of course, the houseweasels. And I brought a new acquisition with me – remember the saying, ‘When a better gun is built, Gaston Glock will build it’?” “Yes! You’ve got a new Glock?” “Something better – something brand-new, really new, a prototype that the factory that makes Glocks in this country, they’re located in Pittsburgh, California, gave to us to try out, so we could give them recommendations. It’s a semiauto with a variable-calibre action –” “What?! ‘They ain’t no sitch animule!’” “And that’s nothing! It can become fully auto in a couple of seconds – all you have to do is pull one little bolt.” “Dear God, what will the feds say about it?” “The feds don’t know about it, and they’re not going to. This is something really new, not made for the mass market. You can swap out the firing chamber and barrel as easily as changing a banana-clip on a Kalashnikov-28. The makers are – let’s just say that they’re no happier than we are on the way the
government hasn’t brought back the 2nd Amendment, shall we say, and decided to make this little baby for those who see things the way they do. As it happens, the son of one of the managers of the Pittsburgh factory is enrolled at our dojo, and his father was very impressed with what he saw us doing there when he came to visit one time.” “Lord! Okay, bring out this paragon, let’s have a look at it . . .” We spent the rest of the evening looking at photos, guns, fishing-tackle, and some classic Japanese Hentai videos Lu’ had packed in with everything else. When she brought them out, she told me, giggling a little, “Erik thought you’d enjoy these – we sure have. Actually, these are for you, to keep, a present from Erik. We have copies of our own. They’re really classics, too – they date back to the Golden Years of the World Wide Web, around 1954.” “They’re from the Web?” “No, that is, not downloaded from there. Somebody around then had this wonderful site for X-rated animation which could be uploaded to as well as downloaded from, and he decided to preserve the best on film. Good thing, too, because when the Web collapsed in 2012, as far as anyone knows, that site disappeared along with most everything else on the Web. But by then there were copies of these videos spread all over the country – the web-site was free, and he made his money selling the videos, which he advertised on the site.” “God, I guess! – Uh, why this? I mean, it’s neat, but why did Erik get me these, uh, er . . .” I was staring a little numbly at my video monitor, on the screen of which was an animè version of an orgy involving two women and three men, all thoroughly involved with one another in various activities that looked both highly pleasurable and almost physically impossible. “Esh’,” she said, growing serious, “this is something I wanted to talk with you about when I got up here, not over the phone.” Taking both my hands in hers so that I had to turn to look at her, she continued, “We’ve both missed you terribly, Erik and I. We . . . how do I say this? Erik wants to move up here, maybe not to Seattle itself but just outside the city. He’s inherited some money and we’re planning on buying a house with it after we sell the one we have now. I know I said we were thinking of Oregon, but that’s because he has some property there, too – part of his inheritance – and so that’s a possibility. What will make the difference, Esh’ – well, it’s whether you’d like to stay up here or more to Oregon.” “What?! Lu’, are you saying you and Erik want me to –” “Yes, I am. Erik’s been . . . well, you see, both of us have been kind of in love with you ever since you first came to our dojo, and – Esh’, pull your jaw up, a fly may get in if you don’t,” she told me, smiling lovingly. “Both of you have – are you saying you’re in love with – that Erik is in –” “Yes, I am, my dear. – Are you shocked?” “I – well, after hearing all about Black Masses and orgiastic Sex-Magick and God knows what else every damned day from my customers all these years, I can’t say I’m shocked at the idea. Just . . .” “What?” “Just that it’s me you two are – I’m having trouble believing it.” “Why, sweetheart?” “Whatever in the world would . . . would either of you see in me?” “You really don’t know? Esh’, you’ve been one of our top students – I’ll never forget the night you called and told us about that guy in the alley you took care of when you were on the way to appraise that guy’s books! We were both so proud of you! And –” “But my God, Lu’, I’m an old maid – look at me!” “I’m looking at you, Esh’, I have been all evening – well, except for when we’ve been watching this video, anyway,” she said, giggling again, “and I see a lovely woman with long, dark hair and a body to die for, a warrior who can take on the worst things thrown at her and come out on top, a brilliant business-woman who has managed to start her own business on a shoestring among some of the fiercest competition in the country and make it pay. Esh’, haven’t you taken a good look at yourself lately?” “Yes, I have. Hair’s starting to come in gray at the temples, my butt’s starting to sag, my boobs – Lu’, this isn’t some terrible practical joke is it? I mean –” Suddenly her body was pressed tightly against mine, and her tongue was probing between my lips, and I was falling back, stunned and overwhelmed, a tremendous hot tide rising between my legs. After an ecstatic eternity during which her hands, darting under my clothing like ferrets to nip and prod and stroke, roamed across my body, evoking the most amazing sensations from my breasts, my belly, my thighs and her tongue, sliding and darting around my mouth, came close to giving me oral orgasms, she reluctantly pulled away from me. Sitting up, she looked down at the disheveled robe she
wore over her negligee. Muttering “Damn, this thing is in the way,” impatiently she stripped off her robe and tossed it to one side. Now dressed solely in her translucent pink negligee, which did nothing to conceal her rosy aureolae and nipples or the yellow bush of hair at the join of her legs, she looked up at the monitor. “Oh, hey, this is one of our favorite scenes – here, let me show you what it’s like from the inside while you watch it, it’ll give you a better idea of how to do this sort of thing,” she said matter-of-factly as, reaching out to pull me close to her, she began undressing me, reaching around from behind me to undo my blouse and pull it off as I sat there in an ecstatic daze, letting her do whatever she wanted. Soon all my clothes were scattered on the floor nearby, and I was leaning back against Lu’, my back to her, watching one animè’ lady pleasuring another as Lu’ did much the same things to me, one of her hands caressing my breasts, the other reaching down to tease my sex, slowly working its way down into my cleft to stroke the bulb of flesh rising to meet it there. Eventually I climaxed, crying out wildly. Suddenly I found myself sobbing heart-brokenly in Lu’s arms as she consoled me, stroking my back, cradling my head against her breast. Finally the crying fit passed. Gently Lu’ got me to sit up again. Getting up to turn off the VCR, she took my hand and, urging me to my feet, got me to go with her into the bathroom. While we took a shower together, she said, “You aren’t – offended, are you, Esh’?” “No – oh, no, Lu’! It’s just – it’s been so long since anyone ever . . . you know. I never dreamed you and Erik – why me?” “Because we do, dear.” “You mean he – you – you both really want me to move in with you?” “Yes, we do. – Are you surprised I want you to, then?” “Uh – that both of you do, I guess. Either of you. I mean, Erik is – God, all he’d have to do is crook his finger at just about any woman he meets, and he could have her right there on the floor, right in front of God and everyone! And you – you’re the original Golden Girl, who could have anyone you wanted. Why me?” “You keep saying that,” she told me, helping me to rinse off and then, shutting off the shower and grabbing a towel hanging over the edge of the shower doors, beginning to work on my hair, now freshly shampooed and rinsed. “You really don’t know, do you?” “Know what?” “That you’re a beautiful woman – not to mention having personality and brains and initiative and courage to match. Lord, your adoptive parents – those foster homes you were in – they really did a number on you, didn’t they? There’re some books written last century by a man named Andrew Vachss I’m going to get for you – they’re novels, really good ones, but written out of his experiences working as a legal advocate for abused and abandoned children. He talks about something called ‘soul-murder’ – I think that’s what those . . . assholes did to you, Eshda. You are a beautiful woman, and you’re the only one who can’t see it.” “But – but if I’m so beautiful, why hasn’t anyone – I mean, why don’t I have a boyfriend now, or something?” “Because – I think you give off ‘touch-me-not’ vibes. You can see the tension in your body whenever anyone who might be attracted to you gets near you – and it isn’t sexual tension, either. It looks like some sort of combination of nausea and fear. You were even like that around Janie – I know you love her, Esh’, we all know it, including Janie. But as she said to me once, she always had that sense that you were terrified she’d make a play for you. Why, we were never sure. She’s a gorgeous woman, and sure, she’s bi, but she would never, ever in the world have tried anything unless you’d made it clear to her you wanted her to. Did – did anyone in those . . . homes you were raised in do things to you, you know, molestation or rape or anything?” “My . . . my adoptive mother.” “Oh, Lord – oh, Esh’, that’s horrible! What about – what about your adoptive father?” “You really don’t want to know,” I told her grimly. “I know you’ve said they were . . . nasty people, but it sounds like it went beyond that, didn’t it?” “Yeah, way beyond. Among other things . . . Lu’,” I told her, as I took the towel from her and began drying her off, “would you believe that I saw him gut-shoot another man as part of an occult ritual? And that he had two other people burned alive as part of the same ritual?” She was staring at me in horror. “Oh, Esh’ –” Emboldened by the fact that the horror on her face wasn’t mixed with that speculative look that would have told me that she suspected my sanity, I continued: “There were a lot of other things, too. Like the times he handed me over to some of his
friends and they . . . well, I was about two and a half, then, and supposedly children that young can’t remember anything, but I sure as hell remember that. Really ugly stuff.” “Oh, my God . . . Then . . . then weren’t you upset when I – when I, er, did what I did a little bit ago?” “I –” I thought about it as I worked on getting her hair dry, pulling a second towel off a rack to finish the job when the first got too wet. “Well,” I told her, the idea suddenly popping into my mind, apparently from nowhere, “maybe it’s because you ain’t de poison, you de antidote.” Grinning, she said, “Esh’, that’s one of the sweetest things anyone ever said to me!” “It’s true, too,” I told her thoughtfully. “I’m glad. – I know you wouldn’t have been turned off if Erik had ever made a play for you. We’ve both known you’ve been wildly in love with him ever since the first time you saw him. It was written all over your face then and that never changed.” “I – yeah, I guess I’d have to say that,” I told her slowly. “You – you aren’t angry?” “At what?” “That he wants me?” “No, of course not. I want you, too, don’t you know that – now?” she asked me mischievously, giving me a little poke in the ribs. “But –” “Sweetheart, Erik and I will never stop loving each other. And . . . well, we’ve never felt this way about anyone else before, either, but you’re kind of special. We’ve both loved you dearly ever since that first night at the dojo – you had so much determination to make it, so much spirit, you tried so hard and never gave up, even though you must have hated the training at times! Same thing with your career, too – and just about everything else you’ve gotten involved in over the years, at least as far as we’ve seen. You don’t give up – no, hear me out. You don’t give up, no matter how bad things are. I know you’ve been depressed, I know you think you’ve failed at things – so what? Like I said, you’re a beautiful woman, and it’s not just looks. It’s everything. You came from a background that sounds like absolute shit, and you rose so far above it, by your own efforts, that it’s a wonder you can still even remember any of it! “—Oh, hell, come on in here, let me give you a massage, get your to relax, you’re so tense . . .” Before I knew it, she had me moving into the bedroom, where she got me to lie face-down on one of the two queen-sized beds there. Then, stooping down by her night-case, which she’d brought in here before her nap earlier, she got something from the case. Coming back to the bed, she opened it – it was a bottle full of some fluid – and, pouring some of it into the palm of one hand, she recapped the bottle and set it with her other hand. A rich, musky odor filled the room as she placed her hands on my back and began to massage it gently. Slowly the skin of my back became charged with heat. “What is that stuff?” I asked her. Her hands, working their Magick on my back and shoulders and now, on my buttocks and thighs, began to evoke rising tides of sensation from my body, first feelings of relief, as tense muscles began to relax under her artful ministrations, then pleasure. Her touch was deft and sure, sometimes gentle, sometimes almost painful, as she worked the knots out of some muscles and stroked others into quivering delight. “Kama Sutra Oil. Haven’t you ever tried it? I know you carry it in your store . . .” “That’s Kama Sutra Oil? No, never have used it. Never had occasion to, I guess – I mean, you need somebody else to put it on you, and, well, you know . . .” “What do they use it for, the people who buy it in your store?” “Tantric Magick, I think – Sex-Magick. To get their partners in the mood . . .” My voice trailed away as I feel forward into the bliss she was calling forth from my body. “Oh, God, that feels so good . . .” A timeless interval went by while she worked on my body, kneading, caressing, probing. Then she had me turn over on my back, and began to do even more wonderful things to the front of my body than she had on the back. I hardly noticed when, gently, drawing my legs apart, she began working on the insides of my thighs. With a gasp of surprise, I did notice when, suddenly, a finger slipped into my vulva and began stroking my clit. But by now I was so overwhelmed with pleasure that I still didn’t move. Then something else touched my clitoris – it was her tongue, beginning to work its way up and down my vulva. From time to time she used more than her tongue, sucking gently on my clitoris, gradually working me into a state approaching frenzy. Now I was moaning, crying out with pleasure.
Then something long and slick with fluid slipped into my vagina. It was fairly thick, as big as a man’s erect penis, and I wasn’t used to such an intrusion, but by now I was so wet and so aroused that I cried out with the pleasure of it, my vagina contracting hard on it. “Good girl,” Lu’ said soothingly, “good girl . . .” “What – what is it? What are you doing?” I asked her weakly. “Another present from Erik – he said, since he can’t be here right now, I can be his proxy. Is . . . is that okay?” “Oh, God . . . please don’t stop!” I moaned, my hips beginning to buck as she slowly, gently thrust whatever it was in and out, in and out. I opened my eyes to see her kneeling between my legs, supporting herself by her hands on either side of me, her own eyes half-closed with concentration, her own building pleasure, or both. Her mouth was half-open, her breath rasping in and out as she herself became ever more involved in what she was doing. She had on an artificial penis, filled with gelatin covered with a skin of soft plastic textured to resemble the veined surface of an erect dick, and was fucking me with it, using it the same way a man would use his natural organ. Soon we climaxed, virtually simultaneously – she had been careful to time her movements to my own growing arousal to bring about just that result. Crying out, she almost went limp, her arms losing their rigidity as ecstasy overwhelmed her body, but managed to roll to one side, so that she didn’t fall on me. I hardly noticed – I was busy getting religion myself, crying out to the heavens in my own release and bliss and post coitus tristum. After a few moments, levering myself up on my elbows to look down at her, where she lay beside me, panting and smiling, I said, still a little out of breath, “Lu’, did you – did you manage –?” “Did I come, dear? Yes, I did. Here, look –“ Sitting up herself, then leaning back against the pillow, she slowly pulled the device from her vagina that she had used to give me that thermonuclear pleasure. It had some extras on it besides the 6” long pseudopenis. There was an extension that rose upward from the main body of the thing so that, when she was thrusting the penis part of it in and out of me, the extension rubbed up against her clitoris, stroking it with every stroke she gave me, the build-up and relaxation of the pressure of the penis-thing in my body causing the extension to rise up against, then fall away from, her clitoris. There was also an extension near the back of the penis-thing, with much the same shape and size, that she had inserted into her vagina. Finally, there was a string of small plastic balls that was attached to a short cord running from the very back of the device which she had inserted into her anus; with every thrust of her hips, in and out, against my body, the cord was pulled taut, then released, the plastic balls stimulating her anus with every motion. “Oh, Lord – that looks complicated,” I told her, smiling a little. She rolled over a little, took my right nipple into her mouth, briefly massaged it with her tongue and lips, then lay back down, grinning wickedly, hell-hot blue imps of mischief dancing in her eyes. “If you’d like to try it, I brought one for you, too. Think that’s something you’d enjoy?” “I –” What the hell, I’d already gone over the limit on into the Twilight Zone with Lu’. Why not? “Sure. Where is it?” “Let me go get it . . .” Quickly she rolled out of bed and, bending over to look into her suitcase, which she also had open there on the floor by the bed, in such a way that I could clearly see her sex and the bright yellow fur that graced it, began hunting around in it. “Ah, here you are, you tricky little devil . . .” Sitting back down on the bed, she showed me a box with a cellophane window in it: “Li’l Devil 4-Way Wonder Wand,” the label informed me. Decanting it from its box, she held it up so I could see it clearly. “This is for you . . . darling,” she told me, almost shyly. Bending over to give me a gentle kiss, sitting up again, she handed it to me. “Er – how do I –?” “No problem, I’ll help you put it on. First, though, it has to be lubricated . . . here, I’ve got that, too, same stuff I used on mine . . .” She was holding a short, round, white jar labeled “Sappho’s Love-Fire Lubricating Solution.” When she opened the jar, a subtly provocative scent was emitted. Inside the jar was mostly filled with a shocking-pink gel that glistened wetly in the room’s lights. “What it is,” Lu’ told me, “ is basically K-Y jelly mixed with pheromones, a few hormones (I added those, it didn’t come with those originally, but it sure does give it that extra something!), and something that stimulates the tissues it touches – just a little, enough to get the blood flowing and the nerves tingling but not much more. It makes everything nice and slick – and it tastes good, too, so if we decide to get down to something a little more personal later, there won’t be any bad aftertaste.” “I, uh, okay, if you say so . . . What do we do now?”
“First, get some of this gel on your fingers – that’s right, dip them in the jar – then take hold of this gadget, like so, and begin lubricating everything. “Also, one reason it felt so good is that it’s got motors in it, in all three of the wands, that make them vibrate. So before inserting it, you want to push down that little button, there . . . that’s right. “Okay, now,” she said, “you want to get up, stand next to the bed. – Yes, like that, face me. Here, I’ll help . . .” Getting off the bed, she came over and, taking, the gadget from me again, passed it between my legs so that the main extension faced forward and the vaginal extension was up. Carefully she raised it until I was pleasurably impaled on the vaginal extension, the penis-thing rising from between my legs, the clitoral stimulator pressed against my vulva, teasing it with the vibrations now rippling through the gadget. “Now this part is a little difficult when you haven’t done it before,” she said, taking the anal insert attached to the back and beginning to insert the string of beads into my anus, one at a time, with almost maddening slowness. As she helped me with the gadget, her fingers moved lingeringly over my vulva, along the cleft of my buttocks, along my clit, until I was gasping with desire. At last everything was arranged to her satisfaction. Stepping around me, she climbed back onto the bed again. Lying back on the bed, her head and shoulders supported by the pillow, which she folded over to give it enough thickness to hold her head at a comfortable height, she opened her legs and, looking sidelong at me, whispered, “Come fuck me, darling.” Feeling hideously clumsy, somehow I got into a kneeling position between her legs without losing my vaginal grip on the gadget or otherwise ruining the moment and, with an almost fearful care, began to insert the tip of the penis-thing into her vagina. It wasn’t hard to do – she was so slick with fluid that, as she said later, she wouldn’t have had much trouble with King Kong at that point, and thanks to the lubricating gel she’d had me so liberally apply to the thing, even if she’d been dry as a bone there still wouldn’t have been a problem. My only fear was that I myself now had such a wide-on that I wasn’t sure whether I could continue to hold the vaginal extension within myself. But that fear was needless. The thing was so engineered that as I began thrusting in and out of her body, I myself was driven to everhigher pitches of arousal, my vagina clamping down on the extension within it so hard that it was a wonder it didn’t tear it apart. I tried to do as she had done and time my motions to her own building erotic frenzy. Somehow I actually managed to do pretty well – just before I lost it myself in a shattering climax that had me screaming my pleasure out to the universe, Lu’ began to buck and heave and moan so wildly that I could barely stay in her. Just as her moans and cries began to die away, my own climax rolled over me, leaving me gasping on top of her, spots dancing in front of my eyes. As we lay side by side afterward, slowly regaining our breath and coming back to reality, I asked her, “Lu’, what sort of hormones did you say you put in that stuff? I felt like – oh, Lord, like I was going to explode!” “Nothing bad, sweetheart, just something to get the juices going.” “Yeah, well, it worked. – Does this make me a lesbian?” “Hmm . . . how do you feel about Erik?” I thought about it for a bit. – Nope, I was still wildly in love with him. It was just that now I was wildly in love with his wife, too. “Uh, like I’ll rape him the next time I see him.” Chuckling, she said, “Guess you aren’t a lesbian, then.” “So I’m a bisexual?” “Do you care?” “No, I don’t. – I do wish one thing, though.” “What?” “Wish I smoked, so I could have a cigarette now . . . No, I’m kidding,” I laughed, as she rolled over to stare at me. “You’d better be!” she said, only half jokingly. “All that training we invested in you, you want to smoke?” “I’m already smoking, Lu’ – though not from nicotine.” “? – Oh, yeah, it did get kind of wild down there, didn’t it?” she said, laughing again, as she lay back down. “Lu’?” “What?” “Do you want me to – to eat you, too?” “You mean cunnilingus?” “Yes.”
“Only if you really want to.” “I really want to . . .” Before she could say anything else, I was lying between her outstretched legs, working my lips and tongue over her vulva and along her clitoris. I’d never done this before, never even dreamed of it. I was going by pure instinct . . . or maybe on the –basis of some chemical blueprint contained in whatever was in that witch’s brew we were using as a lubricant. God knows something was at work on me – maybe it was whatever made her taste like honey, vanilla, and musk, or the pheromones she must have been exuding. But whatever it was sure worked, because soon she was bucking and gasping again, then crying out with the fury of a climax that left her almost limp. As we lay side by side once more, she said, “Esh’?” “What?” “I’ve got a confession to make.” “What?” “I’ve never done that before with a woman.” “Join the club. – Did you like it?” “Yes, I did. Erik suggested I try it with you, because I’d started telling him about being horny for you for years, and he caught me looking at some of his Hentai and other erotic videos. But the idea made me so hot that you could say it was my idea anyway, it just took that to bring it to my attention. – You?” “I . . . look, is the Pacific Ocean wet? Is the Bear Polish?” Both of us now laughing, holding hands, we continued to lie next to each other, looking up at the ceiling. Finally she said, “Well, maybe we’d better get some sleep. When do you want to leave for the Cascades?” “Maybe day after tomorrow. That’ll give us time to get everything organized, do any last0minute shopping we need to –” “And fuck like minks a couple of times,” she said, laughing. Taking her hand from mine, she raised it and let it drift over my right breast, caressing my nipple until it was so hard it hurt. “I liked that. – No, that’s the understatement of the millennium. That was . . . stellar. God, it felt good!” “You have no idea, darling,” I told her, grinning. “It – would you believe I’ve never had a satisfactory sexual experience before now?” “Oh, Esh’, you’re kidding! – Never?” “Not until tonight. But oh, my God, I sure have made up for lost time now!” “I’m so glad . . . okay, let’s get some sleep.” “Sure. – Here, I’ll get up, turn out the lights, turn on the air-conditioning – otherwise we’ll just lie here, tossing and turning, all night from the heat.” “Okay . . .” “Lu’?” “What? I . . . I’m just curious. Why were you so sure of me? I mean, I did want you. But you said I had that stand-offish thing – why were you confident I would want it with you, if not anyone else?” “Well . . . it was Erik.” “Erik?!” “He . . . he’s a pretty good psychologist. – No, correct that: he’s an outstanding psychologist. As far as knowing people, anyway, especially his own students. He has to be – you don’t get to be that good at combat arts unless you know how your opponents are going to act and react, and since anyone could be your opponent, that means you have to have a good, strong, handle on people in general. I thought you’d turn me down – once he suggested it, I wanted you, oh, God, how I wanted you! – but I was afraid you’d hate me for it. But he was dead-on sure you’d want me, and that you’d like sex with me.” “Oh, he was, was he? – No, I’m not mad at him, it’s just that, even though, as you know, I love him with all my heart, he can be such a cocksure so-and-so at times, can’t he?” But I was laughing, which reassured her. “Anyway,” I continued, “I’m not repelled. Far from it. My answer to your, er, proposal is ‘Yes!’, okay? To both of you. Any time, any way, wherever you want to live. I can always relocate the store, or do other things.” “Oh, thank God,” she sighed. Looking down at her, I saw that her half-closed eyes and the skin of her face below them were wet with tears. “I . . . I don’t know what I’d have done if you’d . . . turned me down. Or gotten angry.” “But . . . you’ve got Erik, you know.” “He – he’d have been so disappointed, too.” “Is that why you want me to move in with you?”
“You know,” she said thoughtfully, now looking up at the ceiling, thinking, “that might have been the case at one time. But, no, Esh’, I want you, too, want you for myself.” Relieved, I said, “That’s good – I’d have wondered what had happened to you otherwise. You’ve never taken any shit from any man before now, and I didn’t expect you to do so for Erik. Somehow I can’t see you prostituting yourself for him, not even to me – and I’m glad to see I’m right.” “You doubted?” she said, a catlike smile curling her ample mouth. “I – wondered. This is . . . all pretty new to me.” “To me, too. I’d never have believed before Erik suggested I try seducing you that I was at all bisexual.” “Well, as long as we keep it all in the family, who cares?” I said, laughing. “—One other question.” “What?” “Why’d Erik get that particular . . . gadget for me? You know, the four-way dildo.” “Oh, that.” All wide-eyed innocence, she said, “Well, a few years ago, when he started collecting Hentai videos and I began watching them with him, I told him I was curious about how it would feel to do some of that fun stuff. So he went out and bought me one just like the one he gave you and the one I used tonight, and had me use it to fuck him, to see how it felt.” “He – oy veh! Experimental fella, isn’t he?” “You don’t know,” she told me, grinning. “—But I guarantee that once you’ve moved in with us, you’ll find out.” “Er. – Okay, I’d better turn out the lights so we can get to sleep. We’ll have a hectic day tomorrow, making sure we have everything for our trip so we can leave bright and early Friday morning.” “Okay, Esh’. ’Night.” “ ’Night,” I told her as I flipped the light-switch off. Then, returning to the bed where she lay, I climbed in next to her, my back to her. Immediately she rolled over so that she was facing me, and put her arms around me. Her body was very warm, and as hot as it was, ordinarily I couldn’t have gotten to sleep. But after our frantic exertions of the evening I couldn’t keep from falling asleep at once. I drifted off with her scent in my nostrils and her warm breath cascading over my shoulder, and the next thing I knew it was the next morning, and summer morning light was spilling into the room from the window above the bed. § 12 We spent Wednesday looking over our gear, checking to see what we might need in addition, making lists, then going out to shop for what was missing. The shopping trip, which took us to Banana Republic and Warshall’s New Store at the Northgate Mall, Dave’s Tackle & Gun Store on Aurora just above Green Lake, several shops at the Broadway Mall, the Pike Place Market, and, back in my own neighborhood, Safeway and Rainbow Grocery, was much more fun than I had thought it would be. Lu had a way of driving that made it seem as if we were transported on a Magick carpet, somehow managing to avoid the numerous potholes, bumps, and other hazards that still infested all too many of Seattle’s roads, long-lasting legacy of the Big One back in the early part of the century and the devastating economic chaos that its aftermath had inflicted on the region. When we got back home to my place, it was about 4 p.m. We’d eaten lunch several hours earlier at the Pike Place Market, so we weren’t hungry. Beyond going through our purchases, packing for our trip into the mountains tomorrow, locking up those of my guns, knives, and other such goodies that I wouldn’t be taking with me in the gun-safe built in my bedroom closet, and making arrangements with the landlord to have my apartment checked from time to time by the building security people to make sure nobody got in during my absence, there wasn’t much left to do. “Tell you what, Lu’, let’s go over to the Boyleston store for awhile, see what’s going on there. We’ve got a coffee bar in there and a lot of neat stuff you might find interesting.” “Okay. – Hey, who’s going to watch the place while you’re gone?” “Ron and Kerry will manage the Boyleston store, and Bill, Nadine, and Julia will be managing the Ravenna store. Plus both stores have full security installed – it’s a Pinkerton setup, and anyone who tries to get into either store without knowing the codes is gonna have about a zillion armed guards and every cop in Seattle on his or her ass within a minute or two. I’m not worried.” “Pinkerton? How can you afford it?” “Shhh – another of my good customers manages the Pinkerton office here in Seattle.” “Ohhhhh. Gee, maybe I ought to start doing Magick – it sure seems to bring you some real luck, at least for your business!”
“Okay, when I move in with you and Erik, we’ll do Magick every night – if Erik’s in the mood, that is.” She giggled. “Isn’t there a God in charge of, er, hard-ons?” “Hey, he doesn’t actually have to get off himself – as long as he uses those big strong hands and that kissable mouth of his on all the right places on the two of us, it works just fine.” “I see I’m going to have a lot to learn . . .” Then we were both laughing so hard we had trouble drawing breath. Finally I said, “Okay, want to go over to the store?” “Sure. Let me just go use the Little Person’s Room for a sec’ . . .” A few minutes later we were driving over to the Boyleston store, a few blocks away. “You know,” Lu’ told me, “we could have walked there . . .” “Agghh . . . I just didn’t think, did I? On the other hand, my feet are beginning to hurt. Look, I’ll be glad to cover the gasoline, if you want.” “Oh, don’t worry about it. I’m sorry for not realizing you were having trouble with your feet, though – what is it?” “I guess just that it’s a hot day and my feet started to sweat and these stupid sandals just aren’t built right for my feet. – Ah, here it is . . . When we get inside, I’ll pick up some bag-balm for my feet. I can bathe my feet in that tonight, so there won’t be any problems tomorrow.” “Well, hey! Sounds as if you carry a little of everything in there!” “Yeah, that’s right, pull in here,” I told her, as we can to the parking-lot next to the store. As she parked the car, I said, “Mostly it’s just books and occult artifacts of various kinds. But we also carry essential oils, incenses, and that sort of thing, and our clientele tends to be interested in alternative medicine, nutrition, all that other good stuff. So we carry a few things of that sort they might like, as well, and they sell pretty well.” Gliding into a parking-space, she put the car in neutral and put the emergency brake on, then turned off the engine. “Well, here we are. – Gee, I remember how it was when you first moved up here, right into this store. It wasn’t nearly as built-up along here as it is now. And I don’t recognize a lot of the stores around here.” “The price of progress, Lu’. Seattle’s still rebuilding, after all these years – ‘Like a beautiful child, / Growing up, / Growing wild . . .’ and all that, you know.” “It looks better here than San Francisco, I think. San Francisco’s really gone downhill in the last twenty years or so,” she said thoughtfully, looking around at the neighborhood as we got out of the car and walked toward the store. “Maybe the place just needs a good earthquake. – No, I’m joking. At least as long as you and Erik are there, anyway. Well, come on, let’s go inside and –” I started to open the door, my spirits high. The next moment, something heavy fell at my feet. If it had been half an inch closer it’d have brained me. Startled, I cried out. Lu’, right behind me, stared wide-eyed at the thing that now lay at my feet on the rug by the door. It was the statue of Anubis that I had put up above the doorway on the inside just after I moved into this store, all those years ago. About two and a half feet tall, it was made of pottery, but had a solid lead core. Stunned by what had happened, Ron, who was working the desk at the moment, came running up to me. “Eshda – are you all right?” “I – I’m fine. But . . . what happened to old Anubis there? I thought he was up there until Judgment Day, the way I cemented him in and all.” “Has . . . that ever happened before?” Lu’ asked me, timidly. “You mean, Anubis falling off the wall like that?” “Or any of the other things like that you’ve got up on the walls,” she said, pointing at an icon of Bacchus/Dionysos perched on a little shelf next to the big window in front, and a brass statuette of Shiva, doing his eternal Dance Upon the Shining Waters on top of the bookcase behind the counter. “No, never anything like that!” Ron hastened to assure her. “Oh, Ron, I should introduce you – Lu’, this is Ron Esterhazy, my manager for this store. He trades off with Kerry during the week, and they both cover things on the weekends and when we have events here. Ron, this is Lu’ Skua, my combat-arts teacher from San Francisco.” “Hey, I’ve heard allll about you!” he said, a big grin on his face, extending one of his huge hands toward her. He was about 6’ 2” tall, and built like Paul Bunyan, a great brunette bear of a man who was, in spite of his appearance, one of the gentlest beings I’d ever met in my life. After serving as an officer in a couple of the many bullshit wars our country had been waging here, there, and everywhere over the
last several decades, he’d decided that it wasn’t the sort of career he wanted, and had come here to try to find himself a life. He’d answered an ad I’d put out in all the papers and the various job agencies in the county for a manager about five years ago, after the manager I’d had at the time decided to move back to Pennsylvania and start a farm, and I’d hired him on the spot – he’d grown up working with his dad in the family business, a Barnes & Noble franchise, and he was perfect for the job. “Glad to meet you,” Lu’ told him, taking his hand and shaking it with a firm grip that seemed to impress him. “Come on in!” he told us. “Want to have a coffee over there at the coffee bar? It’d be on the house, wouldn’t it, Eshda?” “Of course,” I told him. “That sounds good – I’ll just have herb tea, myself, though.” “Your usual. Yeah, I know,” he said, walking with us across the store to the long, low bar where coffee and pastries were served. “God, Eshda, that was freaky, the way that statue fell! That thing was up there good – I know, I’ve cleaned around it many a time, and tested it once to see how solidly it was attached up there, and I swear you couldn’t have gotten that thing – pardon me, Anubis down without using nitroglycerine to get him out of there.” A shiver went up my spine. I remembered the Moody Blues song I’d been listening to the other night, which had hit me the same way. “Er, what is Anubis, Esh’?” Lu’ asked me as we took seats at the coffee bar and Ron bustled around behind it, getting coffee for Lu’ and herb tea for me and some coffee cake for both of us. “He’s the Egyptian Lord of the Dead,” I told her. “One of the guardians of the Underworld, the place where souls go after judgment.” “Funny thing about that,” Ron said, as he laid plates filled with coffee cake in front of us and added a butter-dish. “What, Ron?” I asked him. “You know that big statue of Djehuti downstairs, in the lecture room?” “Did something happen to Him?” I asked him, another chill racing up my spine. “Sort of . . .when I locked up last night, He was in His regular place on top of the long bookcase against the northern wall. When we opened up this morning, there was no sign that anyone got in last night (I’d have known, because Pinkerton would have called), but now Djehuti was standing in the middle of the floor. No sign of any breakage or anything. He’d just . . . been . . . moved. “He’s the Psychopompos, you see,” Ron told Lu’. “Djehuti is the Egyptian version of Mercury and Hermes; he guides the souls of the dead down to the Underworld, there to await judgment. In Egypt, he was also their judge.” “So they’re both Gods of the Underworld?” Lu’ asked him. “That’s right. . . . Come to think of it, that’s another funny thing.” “What?” I asked him. “Remember all that incense and those candles and other shit we ordered for invocations of Hades and Persephone and like that from The Goth Company?” “Yes, so?” “We got them in yesterday from UPS. I had the box sitting on top of the counter last night when I locked up, ready for me to inventory the contents and arrange them on the shelves. This morning, when we opened up, the box was empty, the inventory was already written up in the ledger, and somebody’d arranged the contents on the shelves, just the way I would have.” “Ooo, we’ve got a spook!” I laughed. “Not funny,” he said seriously. “Another thing I found when I got in here this morning was that big photograph of you and your friends, taken when you first moved up here, the one that hangs up there on the wall behind the counter over there, was lying on the floor behind the counter . . . and two coins had been laid on it, one on each of your eyes. You got any enemies, Esh’?” Wide-eyed, Lu’ looked from him to me. “What does it mean, Esh’?” Before I could answer, the big gentle man said to her in a very serious tone, “Ms. Skua, there’s an old custom of putting coins on the eyes of the dead before burial. It’s to pay their fare on the ferry across the Styx to the Underworld.” “Oh, Lord. Eshda,” she said, turning to me, “do you have enemies around here?” “Not that I know of. There was that guy I trashed when he tried to break in here, way back when, but he went to Walla Walla and died there when somebody shanked him in the kidney, I heard. Guy was also a child-molester, and the cons generally don’t take kindly to such. Beyond that, there are a couple of newbie occult bookstores around here that might regard us as nasty competition, but the people who run
them seem to be okay, and I don’t think any of them would threaten murder. Me, I still favor the ghost theory. Maybe it’s just a bored poltergeist, trying to rustle up some excitement.” “Yeah, well, we’ll have to wait and see, I guess,” Ron said. “—So, what can we do for you, ladies?” suddenly he was all affable huggy-bear, ever eager to please. “We still have any of Arnold’s Bag-Balm™?” I asked him. “Lu’ and I went shopping today, and walked all over hell and creation at the malls. My feet feel like twenty miles of bad road on a hot day.” “Of course we do!” he told me, grinning. “Let me go get some – how many kits do you need?” “A couple, I think. There’s, what, about four applications per kit?” “Yeah, I think that’s right.” “Well, I need one for tonight, and then the rest we’ll take with us when we head for the Cascades tomorrow.” “That’s right, you’re going on vacation!” he exclaimed, grinning. “About time, hon’. All work and no play and like that, you know what they say.” “They say, ‘When the cat’s away, the mice will play’,” I told him, cuffing his shoulder and laughing. “Bet you and Kerry have Tantric orgies in here every night while I’m gone.” “Naw, we’ll wait for you to get back, beautiful, so you can join in the fun.” It was all I could do not to give Lu’ a Look that would have had me blushing to the hairline. “Well, okay, long as you count me in, I guess I can’t complain . . . Hey, you want to tell our fortunes? You’re still pretty good at it.” “Sure, why not? There aren’t any customers in here right now, so it shouldn’t be a problem. Tell ya what, let me go over there and get one of the good Tarot packs so I can do it right . . .” Going over to the counter on the other side of the store, he pulled out a drawer below the cashregister and fished around in it. Finding what he was looking for, he grunted in satisfaction, closed the door, and came back to our side of the store with his prize. “Here it is,” he said, as he laid a pack of cards down on the bar, “Aleister Crowley’s Book of Thoth pack. Always did have a weakness for it . . .” “Ooo, that’s pretty!” Lu’ exclaimed as he fanned the cards out for us to look at. I’d seen them before, but Lu’ was right, the cards were pretty – well a lot of them. The others, which had rather unpretty subjects, were anything but. “Ick!” said Lu’, staring at the Eight of Cups. “What’s that one mean?” The card showed eight Cups in the form of lilies, ranked three above, three below, two in the middle. Water flowed from the two central ones into the left and right cups below, but all others were empty. In the background was a dismal swamp, stagnant and dead, and the sky was filled with dark, lowering clouds which promised rain but delivered nothing. The dominant colors were various browns and reds, none of them healthy or lively. Above was the sigil for Saturn, and below, that for Pisces. “As you can see, it’s called Indolence, which means, like, ‘laziness’ or something of the sort. Another word for it is ‘stagnation.’ Generally, it means something that’s going nowhere, or which was thought to be important, but turns out to be of little consequence one way or the other. Sometimes it means recovery, as from an addiction. Astrologically, it represents the influence of Saturn in Pisces, so it can be associated with coastal and island nations and governments, or evils that come from the sea.” “And this one?” she asked him, putting one hand almost seductively on his, pointing at the Seven of Cups. “Now, this one’s pretty – sort of. But it looks a little bit like arsenic or something, too.” The card showed seven Cups in the form of lilies from which dripped poisonous green liquid. The cups, arranged two on the top layer, three in the layer below it, and two more ranked one above the other below that, had the form of beautiful pink-blue-and-red flowers. They were arranged on top of a fountain or something similar with a blue base. Around this arrangement was water through which moved ripples caused by the nasty green liquid dripping from the flowers splashing into the water. Behind it all the sky was gray and murky, a twilight sky that looked as if it were filled with a heavy smog. Above was the sigil for Venus, below, that for Scorpio. “That’s right. It’s called Debauch. It can mean anything from toxic waste on the bottom of what seems to be a beautiful clear lake to non-stop, compulsive sex. In Waite’s pack, the picture shows a man looking at seven chalices, from which emanate fantastic images of various kinds – the sort of things you might see on drugs, or if you were psychotic, say. According to Crowley, it refers to illusionary success, or external splendor combined with internal corruption. Waite says it represents imagination and vision, ideas, designs, resolve, and so forth. Astrologically, it represents Venus in Scorpio, where She has Her fall. Basically, it represents the idea of overdoing it – ‘debauch,’ as Crowley has it.” “Okay, how do we get our cards read?” “Well, first – your name is Lou?”
“It’s actually Lu’ – short for Luciferia. My mother, who’s a lapsed Catholic, has this odd sense of humor.” “Okay, Lu’, first you take this pack up and shuffle it. Keep shuffling until you feel it’s been shuffled enough. Then hand it to Esh’, here, and let her shuffle it. Then she hands it to me, and I do the reading. I’m gonna do both of you at the same time, first, because you’re going on vacation together, you see.” “Okay, here goes nothing,” Lu’ said, picking up the pack and giving it several rapid Las Vegas shuffles, flourishing the cards like a pro. “Here, Eshda, your turn,” she told me, handing me the pack. Taking the pack from her, I shuffled it three times, each time cutting it into three piles. Then I handed it to Ron. “Thanks,” he said, taking the pack from me. He began to lay the cards out on bar. “Hey, we didn’t choose a Significator,” I told him. “It’s okay, the cards know what to do,” he said, grinning as he continued to lay out the cards. “Oh, my . . .” “What’s wrong?” Lu’ asked him. “Well,” he said, as if choosing his words with infinite care, “I’d say that either the two of you had one bummer of a day today, or we’ve got some real problems here . . .” He had laid out, in a classic Celtic Cross spread, Trump XV, The Devil, covering; Trump XVIII, The Moon, crossing; Trump XVII, The Star, above; Trump XIII, the Eight of Cups behind us; Trump III, The Empress, ahead of us; Death, at the base of the Pillar; the Seven of Cups in the house of the environment, above that; the Two of Cups, Love, in the house of one’s hopes and fears, above that; and the Nine of Cups, Happiness, above that at the top of the Pillar, in the house of the outcome. Staring at that spread, I felt the chill rising up my spine again. Yet – “Hey, that’s not so bad, Ron, the outcome is the Nine of Cups, so we’ll get our hearts’ desire. . . . Won’t we?” “Uh – Esh’, remember the old saying, ‘Be careful what you pray for, because you might get it’?” “Did you have to tell me that?” I asked him glumly. “Oh, hell, it’ll probably work out fine. I was just kidding!” But his face showed no amusement. “Well, you’re probably right,” I told him soothingly. “—Hey, I’ve got to use the bathroom. I’ll be right back for the rest of the reading – stay right there . . .” I told him as I slipped off my stool and headed for the stairs to the lower level, which contained the lecture room, a small kitchenette, and a unisex bathroom. “Wait for me, Esh’, I do too!” Lu’ said, getting off her stool and following me. “Ron, could you make us a coffee while we’re gone?” “No problem, Lu’!” he called after her as she hurried down the stairs after me. The bathroom door opened on the back wall of the lecture room, a large room about 40’ square whose walls were lined with rank after rank of bookcases, save for a blackboard against the back wall, next to the bathroom door. On one wall, above the bookcases, was a poster showing a heavily stylized drawing of a man and woman engaging in Tantric sex, with the chakras in both their bodies blazing like stars from the uprush of Kundalini energy called up by their activity. “Oooo!” Lu’ laughed wickedly, looking at the poster as she crossed the lecture room to join me in the bathroom. “Erik and I like to do that a lot – Sixty-Nine is good exercise!” I was already on the commode, relieving my bladder, which had had no relief for the last few hours and had been somewhat overburdened by our stop at a Starbuck’s about two hours before toward the end of our shopping trip. Closing the door behind her, Lu’ came up to me and, taking a pose about four feet away from me, said, “Let me show you something, my dear.” While I watched, open-mouthed, deftly she reached down, grasped the hem of the skirt of the light cotton shift she was wearing, a pretty, summery thing, white printed with blue-petaled cornflowers and small, pink grass-flowers, and quickly pulled it up over her head, tossing it to one side with an elegant gesture of one hand. “Ta-daaaaaa!” she giggled. “What is that thing you’re wearing down there?” I asked her, staring at her, stunned. “It’s a vibrator, dear. It’s battery-powered, uses a lithium battery that’s good for up to a year,” she told me, grinning impishly, lightly touching the light-pink, plastic gadget covering her mons and vulva with one finger by way of emphasis. Shaped like a woman’s hand, its middle finger curling up over her vulva so that its tip just barely touched the area where her clitoris was, it was secured to her body by means of two elastic thongs around her legs. “Ahhh, that feels good,” she said, her legs widely spread, stretching her arms and then arching her back. She was still wearing her tiny little high-heeled sandals, and looked unbelievably sexy. “Does it . . . does it make you come?” I asked her, a little timidly, still staring at her.
“Unh-unh. The ratio – that is, the rate at which it vibrates – is set low, so that it’s almost impossible for it to bring you off, even if you wear it for hours and hours. That’s the beauty of it – I wear this thing during the day when I know Erik’s going to be in the mood when he gets home. Makes the sex all that much better – not that it isn’t without it, but this just adds to it.” “I – I’ll bet it does. . . . I like your bra.” “I thought you would,” she said, fingering her nipples, which stood up stiffly amid the nest of stiff tulle ruffles surrounding them. The centers of the cups had been cut out and then rimmed with the ruffles so that there was just enough clearance for her nipples to poke through, albeit with some strain to get them to do so. The holes weren’t large to start with, and the ruffles made them almost vanishingly small. “This keeps my nipples stimulated,” she said, that same wicked gleam in her eye. The brassiere was made mostly of stiff white lace trimmed here and there with tiny little scarlet bows; it looked good enough to eat – which was probably the idea. “I can imagine. – And what are those other thongs for, the ones around your waist and legs?” Snapping one of them – like the two holding up her vibrator, they were elastic – she said, “Oh, these? Why, darlin’, they hold up my other little toy – see?” Saying which, she pirouetted about elegantly on one heel, so that she now had her back to me. “Is that . . . another vibrator?” I asked her. Now finished voiding my bladder, I stood up, wiped myself, threw the used tissue into the toilet and flushed it all down. I went over to the sink next to the toilet and began washing my hands. “Yep!” she laughed. In the mirror, I could see her spin around to face me again. “Keeps me stimulated in the other nice place – I wear a much larger size now than I did at first, since I’ve gotten used to it. A few years ago, I got curious about what anal sex would be like, and Erik bought me a little vibrator like this, only much slimmer, about half an inch long. Like this one and the one I’m wearing on my crotch, it was powered by a lithium battery, so I could wear it as long as I wanted and it wouldn’t run down.” “I . . .” I said, turning around to stare at her again. She had brought her satchel with her, a huge, roomy purse that she wore over her shoulder by a strap. She had it on the floor at her feet, and was kneeling down by it, hunting in it for something. “Ah!” she said in satisfaction, bringing something out of it with one hand. It was a medium-sized paper bag. “Now, let’s see what we’ve got in here,” she said mischievously, holding the sack up with one hand and reaching into it with the other. “Ah . . . okay, let’s start with this. Eshda, why don’t you just slip out of that hot dress for a moment, okay?” “But . . .” “No ‘buts,’ now, Mama knows best!” she admonished me. “Come on, let’s get you ready for this evening’s entertainment . . .” She was holding out another pink plastic vibrator like the one she wore over her sex. “Lu’ . . . hey . . . I’ve never . . .” “Well, there’s no time like the present, is there? Come on, darling, let’s get comfy and try this on . . .” I couldn’t say no to her. In a daze, I began fumbling at the buttons at the front of my white silk dress. A moment later, setting the bag down on the floor and the vibrator on top of it, she came over to me. Clucking impatiently, she said, “Now, now, you don’t want to tear a button off that pretty dress. We don’t want to do that, do we?” as she gently pushed my hands down to my sides and began undoing my buttons herself. “No – leave your sandals on, you look good in them. Now, let’s get this dress off you . . .” She took her time doing it, every so often brushing my skin below the cloth with her fingertips in a way that sent chills rocketing up my spine and warmth spreading through my crotch. The buttons went down below my waist; by the time she undid the last one and then began drawing the dress off over my head, I was nearly panting with lust. Then she drew my bikini briefs down; directing me to step out of them, she tossed them over by the paper bag. Finally, directing me to turn around, she unhooked my brassiere and drew it off me, tossing it on top of my briefs. “All right, darling, now let’s put this little gadget on you,” she told me, going back to where she’d put the vibrator and bringing it back to me. “Here, let’s put these on . . .” She knelt down and, holding the two elastic thongs open by my feet, directed me to step into them. When I did so, she quickly pulled up the vibrator with its thongs so the vibrator was flush against my vulva and the two thongs were tight around the tops of my thighs, so tight they cut into the skin where my thighs joined my hips in a way that would leave red welts afterward. “Okay, now spread your legs, dear, so I can make sure this fits correctly . . .”
Now almost dizzy with the heat rising from my loins, dazedly I complied. Gently she pushed and pulled at the vibrator until, like hers, its upward-curling middle finger was poised just below the top of my cleft, where my clitoris was already becoming erect. Then she flicked on the little switch that protruded slightly from the bottom of the vibrator. “Oooohhh . . .” I moaned, shivering a little. But she was already going back for the other things she had in the bag. Retrieving them, she came back to me. “Here, now let’s put this on . . .” It was a brassiere just like the one she wore. Quickly she helped me get it on. It hooked in front. As she was doing up the hooks, I asked, “How . . . did you know my size? You had to have gotten that thing before you left San Francisco – we didn’t go into any place today here where they’d have that, I know.” “But I do know your size, love – or rather, Janie does, from when you lived with her, remember? She bought you all those gorgeous clothes, she had to know your size.” “But I could have gained weight, or lost weight, or – and what did Janie say when you asked her?” “She told me which brand of lubricator gel to get to make sure we had a good time,” she told me, laughing. “What?!” “I’m not kidding. She’s been Erik’s and my friend for years. She knew what we’d been thinking a long time before we knew ourselves – she knows people inside and out, and old friends have no secrets from her, you know.” “That’s true . . . Oooo, that tickles!” I complained, as she worked my nipples through the holes in the cups. “You think that tickles?” she said. “How does this feel?” she asked me, giggling, stroking the tips of my nipples, which went rock-hard at her touch. “Oh, God . . .” I moaned. “Okay, now, turn around, so I can help you get the other vibrator on . . .” Pushing on my shoulder to make me turn around, she put one hand on my belly, drawing me back toward her. “Oh!” “What’s wrong?” “It feels . . . strange. It doesn’t hurt, though.” “It shouldn’t, love, I put enough Sappho’s Secret on that thing to float a battleship. It isn’t very large, either. About the size of the first one I ever had,” she told me, quickly looping one of the three thongs that protruded from the back of the little wand around my waist and fastening the end, which had a hook on it, to a little eyelet protruding on the back of the wand next to the place where it was anchored, then pulling first one of the remaining two thongs around my left leg and fastening it down, then doing the same around my right leg with the third thong. “Ohh!” I cried in surprised pleasure as she flipped on the switch at the back of the wand, which just showed at the end of my anus. The rest of it, a slim, gel-filled rubberoid wand about three inches long and less than half an inch wide, was now inserted into my rectum, vibrating in a way sent low waves of pleasure radiating away across my pelvic basin and my buttocks, combining via constructive interference with the sensations now sweeping over my vulva, mons, and clit caused by the first vibrator in such a way that I wanted to lie down on the floor, right here, and get it on with her. But she wasn’t about to do that at this point. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” she said smugly. “There,” she said, affectionately patting the left cheek of my buttocks, “now let’s get our clothes back on and get upstairs. Otherwise Ron’ll think either we’ve died down here or we’re having an orgy or something.” “Er.” Still a little dazed, I shook my head to clear it. My pelvic basin was throbbing with pleasure – but she was right, as horny as I was becoming, it wasn’t nearly enough for me to come off without something more. Rather weakly, I struggled into my dress again while she got into her own. Then, reaching down to the floor and scooping up the paper bag along with my underwear, she popped my old bra and panties into it. “I’ll carry this in my purse until we get home, okay?” “Sure . . .” “Put a little cold water on your face before we go upstairs, or Ron’ll know something is up, Esh’.” “I – yeah, I guess I’d better.” Quickly, I ran cold water from the sink onto a paper towel from the dispenser next to it and ran it over my face. “Here, I brought some makeup of my own,” she told me as I studied the damage to what I’d been wearing in the mirror. Reaching into her purse, she brought out a smaller bag, her makeup kit. From the
latter she got out dark mascara, a subtle, light-brown eyeliner, a hot pink lipstick, some foundation liquid, and powder. The latter wasn’t as dark as I normally liked to wear, but not too light, either. Rapidly she helped me make my face up. I studied myself in the mirror again. “Lord, I look like . . . a houri, don’t I?” “What’s wrong with that, love?” she asked me as she put her makeup kit away in her purse again. “Actually, you look years younger and prettier, I think – the way you ought to, even without makeup. You’ve sort of gone without a lot of things these last few years, haven’t you?” “God, Lu’, what’s in that lubricator you put on that vibrator in my butt? I feel so . . . strange there.” “Oh, a little of this, a little of that . . . mostly a cream that has real pheromones and hormones in it. Nothing drastic, just enough to add a, shall we say, grace note to the experience. That’s what Erik did the first time I wore an anal vibrator. He said he wanted me to really relax and enjoy it, and that stuff put me in the mood to do that, all right! The walls of the lower intestine absorb it very quickly, and it all goes right to the brain.” “Will it . . . do anything weird to me?” “Like LSD or something? No. It’ll just make everything feel . . . erotic.” “God, does it ever!” “Hey, girls, you get lost down there or something?” Ron suddenly called from the head of the stairs. The door was thin, and we had no problem hearing him. “Uh-oh, we’d better get up there . . .” Running to the door, I opened it and called out, “No problem, Ron, we’re just about through. Lu’ was showing me something. Be right up.” “Sure. Coffee’s all ready, and there are some doughnuts here, too.” “Great! – Come on, Lu’, let’s get up there!” So saying, I hurried through the lecture room and up the stairs, Lu’, laughing, right behind me. Still giggling, we came out into the shop and went over to the other side, where Ron, our Tarot reading still spread out on the bar before him, was sitting at the bar, waiting for us. “So, what else was in the cards for us, Ron?” I asked him as we took seats on either side of him. “Well, nothing much I could make it – that’s a weird, weird layout, strangest I’ve ever seen. Tell you what,” he said, sweeping up the cards to make a deck again. “Let’s have you both shuffle and cut the cards, and then we’ll see what comes up, okay?” “Sure,” I said. “Lu’, you want to go first?” “Oh, why not?” she laughed, taking the pack from Ron and beginning to shuffle it. After shuffling and cutting several times, she handed it to me, to do the same. Then I handed the pack back to Ron. This time, he laid out a circle of twelve cards. “Hey, this is a lot better!” he exclaimed happily. “See?” We looked. Going from leftmost around in a counter-clockwise direction, the cards were the Seven of Cups; Trump XVIII, The Moon; Trump III, The Empress; Trump XX, The Aeon; the Three of Cups, reversed; Trump IX, The Hermit; Trump VI, The Lovers; the Ace of Disks; Trump X, Fortune; Trump I, The Magus; Trump II, The Priestess; and the Ace of Wands. “See? You’ve got a lot of good cards, here. You’ve got the Ace of Disks in your Eighth House, which is very protective – maybe it’s all that martial-arts stuff you’re both into. And Trump XX is in your 4 th House – there will be radical changes in your life, but because the 7th House – the outcome of the 4th – contains The Lovers, they will ultimately be really good ones. “You’ve also got several cups in here – if I didn’t know you better, Esh’, I’d say you had one hell of a hot date tonight, with the Seven of Cups in the 1 st House and the Three of Cups reversed in the 5 th – maybe it’s Lu’, here. Who you goin’ out with tonight, Lu’?” he teased. She shrugged demurely. It took everything I had to keep from bursting out laughing – or blushing furiously. “Now,” he continued, “with The Magus in the 10th, Hermes is watchin’ over both of you. He’s the God of thieves and tricksters, but He’s also Lord of Justice and the Psychopompos, and He does take care of His own, which the two of you certainly are, from everything I know about Esh’ and everything she’s ever said about you, Lu’. The Ace of Wands in your 12th House is like a guardian angel type of aspect, another very protective omen. All in all, I’d say that whatever happens on your trip, it’s bound to bring you both good fortune in the end. The only thing that bothers me is Trump XVIII in the 2 nd House – that’s the near future. Something weird is gonna happen to you, maybe. But it still comes out all right in the end.” “Well, that’s much better!” I laughed, taking a sip of my coffee. “I was a little worried there for a while, from that first layout you did.”
“I . . . well, to tell the truth, so was I. But this one is about twice as good as that one was bad, so it looks like you’re gonna be all right. – No, better than all right. I can’t tell exactly how, because ‘radical change’ is just that, so radical that there aren’t any details. But you two’ll be fine.” I glanced up at the clock on the wall, then gasped. “Oh, damn – Ron, it’s been lovely, but we’d better go. It’s getting awfully late, and we’ve got to make sure we’ve got everything ready for tomorrow and get to bed early, because we want to start out fairly early.” “Sure, that’s cool. – Why don’t you bring Lu’ back here when you get back, I’ll treat you to dinner and you can both tell me all about your trip?” “We’d love that!” I told him warmly. “Uh, Lu’, we’d better get going . . .” I told her, standing up. Getting to her feet as well, she said, holding her hand out to him, “Ron, I really enjoyed it! I’d like very much to take you up on that dinner when we return.” “That’s great,” he said, giving her hand a squeeze. “Well, I’d better start getting ready to close up for the night, myself. See you ladies later . . .” “Oh, my bag-balm!” I cried. “I almost forgot.” “Here it is, Esh’,” he told me, scooping up a small paper bag from the bar and handing it to me. “I got it for you while you two were downstairs.” The bag held four boxes of Arnold’s Bag-Balm. “Great! I sure need it! Okay, hon’, we’d better get going . . .” I said to Lu’, heading for the door. “Sure. Good night, Ron, really enjoyed it,” she told him as she followed me. Out in the parking-lot again, I asked her, “Shall we just go straight home?” “Hell no! Let’s go out to Neptune’s Lair out on Pier 54 and have some dinner! My treat – I know it’s expensive, but they’ve got some of the best food in town.” “Okay . . . Lu’?” “What?” she asked as she climbed into the driver’s side of the car. “How do manage to stay so – so together right now? I’m feeling like a cat in heat, and if I had to drive, I’d wreck us in a minute.” “Oh, I just use some meditation techniques Erik taught me to keep all that down there in my pelvis until it’s time to have some fun. It builds up to a much higher pitch that way. By the time we get back to your place, I may just decide to rape you,” she said, laughing, as she drove up to where the lot’s driveway met East Pike Street and turned right into it. “Now,” she said, changing the subject, “what’s the fastest way to get off this benighted one-way street onto something going toward Puget Sound? It’s been so long since I’ve been here, I’ve forgotten.” Directing her to turn right at Broadway, I said, “We go down here to Madison, turn right there, and head straight out to First Avenue. Turn right at First, go up one block, turn left at Spring, go straight on out there to the pier. That’ll be Pier 54.” “Good. Got it. Okay, darling, here we go . . .” § 13 It wasn’t long until we were heading southwest on Madison toward the Sound. Sunset was coming on now; the sky was that ethereally beautiful cobalt blue, edged tangerine, chartreuse, and peacock blue in the west, like a Maxfield Parrish painting of twilight, that only Seattle could boast. Long shadows from the downtown skyscrapers fell across the road, harbingers of nightfall; stars filled the eastern sky, and Venus blazed a brilliant pearl-white about 40 degrees above the Western horizon; the Sun, a fiery well of light, was neatly bisected by the horizon. He was still bright enough that we had to keep our sunvisors down, and Lu’ had already put on polarized glasses to cut the glare even more, but it wouldn’t be much longer until night. “God, Lu’, it really is late,” I told her, checking my watch. “It’s close to nine p.m. already. We wanted to get an early start tomorrow, didn’t we?” “Depends upon what you want to start doing, doesn’t it?” she said, that impish smile playing around her mouth. We were now coming up to Fifth Avenue, where we halted for the red light. “Well, maybe we can start later in the day, I guess,” I told her amiably. “Or just wait until morning of the following day, darlin’,” she said, suddenly reaching up with her right hand and pinching my left nipple through the material of my dress. “Oh!” I yipped. “Jesus, Lu’, if you do that again . . .” “What? You’ll rape me right here?” she said, laughing. The light changed. Putting the car in gear, she gave it the gas and we surged along Madison toward the Sound again. “I . . .” I was panting in reaction. “Oh, Lord, I feel so horny – I’ve never been this horny before!” “Good! – Okay, First is coming up, let me concentrate on my turns . . .”
Shortly we were driving up Spring Street, toward the Pier, which we could now clearly see in the streetlights. Descending darkness gave it a glamorous cast, almost a story-book aura associated with Seattle’s long, checkered past. Quickly pulling into a parking-lot just across Western from the pier, she turned the car into a spot near the entrance to the lot and, bringing it to a halt, put on the brake, put the car out of gear, and turned off the ignition. “Well, here we are, darlin’,” she told me, smiling. “What’re you in the mood for?” “You mean, dinner?” “Oh, I can imagine you’d like some of this –” Deftly she ran a hand up under my skirt and trailed the tip of one slender finger along my belly, making me gasp with pleasure. Then, reaching up with her other hand, she tweaked my nipple again, so that I almost cried out. Then, drawing back, she said, “But maybe we’d better have some calories first, what do you say? If I remember correctly, Neptune’s Lair has the best albacore steaks in the Western hemisphere, and friend cornmeal mush patties that are out of this world. Plus they’ve got a very good dessert selection.” “Uh, okay . . .” “Sweetheart, now, you’ve just got to keep your mind on dinner! We’ll be home soon, and then you can think all you want about the fun stuff,” she said, sadistically stroking my nipple again. “Okay, come on, darlin’, let’s get out and go have some dinner . . .” Somehow she managed to keep me moving in the right direction and not tearing my clothes off and begging for it right then and there long enough to traverse the long pier all the way out to the end and enter the restaurant. A waitress, a pretty little brunette, probably a college student working nights to help finance her education, came up to us as we entered. “How many in your party, ma’am?” she asked Lu’, who, at this point, was clearly the group-leader. Myself, I must have looked as if I’d just been poll-axed. The waitress, who was dressed in a sea-green bolero top and miniskirt and a little sailor’s cap, was also wearing a perfume that was probably labeled Astarte’s Pleasure, and only the fact that Lu’ had firmly planted herself between me and the waitress kept me from being busted for molesting her. “Two, dear,” Lu’ told her, smiling a deceptively gentle smile. “All right, come this way, please . . .” The girl started up a low flight of stairs that led to deck half a floor above the main one. The latter was reserved for those whose main appetite was for alcohol with a few hors d’oeuvres, while the higher deck was for patrons more interested in meal service. The girl found us a table right by one of the huge bay windows which overlooked the Sound. Bidding us take our seats there, she handed each of us a menu, then left, promising to be back as soon as we’d decided what we wanted to eat. “What do you want to eat, Esh’?” Lu’ asked me. “I – I’m not sure.” “Well, hey, look, they still have albacore steaks. You get either baked or French-fried potatoes with an order, as well as either soup or salad. I’d recommend a salad, the soup is generally something like chowder, which isn’t kosher.” “Lu’?” I asked timidly. “What?” “Is it true that oysters have an aphrodisiac effect?” “Well – have you ever eaten them?” “No, of course not.” “Then maybe you’d better forgo that one. It would be likely to have the opposite effect on you, if you aren’t used to them. I’d go for the salad.” “Okay. What sort of salads do they have?” “They’ve got fruit salad, tossed greens, just about anything.” “Okay, I’ll have an albacore steak and a baked potato and a fruit salad.” “That sounds good. They also serve garlic bread with meals, but maybe we’d better pass that up,” she said, laying her menu down. “Rolls with butter can be substituted for that.” “Okay, I’ll go for that. What are their desserts like?” “You mean to say, you’ve never been here? Shame on you! You’ve been here how many years now, you’ve never tried this place?” Laughing, now, I said, “Lu’, there are one hell of a lot of restaurants in Seattle, you know! I thought I was doing good to eat up in the Space Needle II a couple of times!” “Hmm . . . we’ll just have to do something about that when we get moved up here. – Now, if you want something alcoholic to go with dinner, they’ve got a very good bar. Would you?” “Uh, maybe a screwdriver?”
Chuckling, she said, “Okay, a screwdriver it is – oh, good, there you are!” she said as our waitress suddenly reappeared, pencil in hand, poised to take our orders. “Are you ladies ready?” the girl asked us, smiling delightfully. It really was a good thing I was seated next to the window, with Lu’ between me and the girl now. “Sure,” Lu’ told her. “Two orders of albacore steaks, with your special sauce; two baked potatoes; a fruit salad for her, a tossed green salad for me – no garlic, please. And no garlic bread, either, we’d like the rolls with butter. And she wants a screwdriver, too.” “Would you like a drink, ma’am?” the girl asked her. “Come to think of it – well, I’m driving, I’ll just have some wine. Do you have a good Madeira?” “Sure!” the girl told her cheerily. “Great! That’ll do fine.” “Okay, I’ll get your drinks, first. Dinner’ll take a little bit,” the girl told us, turning away to go place our orders and get our drinks. It wasn’t long until she came back with our drinks. Setting them on the table, she headed off again toward the kitchen. I started to pick mine up. Lu’ laid a restraining hand on my arm. “I know you haven’t had much to eat recently, so I suggest you sip that drink very slowly and carefully until the food arrives. And keep on sipping it, just as slowly and carefully, during dinner. I don’t want you passing out on me.” “You’ve . . . done this before?” “With Erik. The first time we did this, he made the mistake of mixing me a Bloody Mary. I damned near conked out on him. The only thing that saved the evening was that it was after dinner, and I already had some food in there to cushion me from the effects. He gave me some niacin and vitamin C and it wore off fairly quickly after that. But we don’t have either of those here, and you’re running on empty. – Hey, look, why don’t you eat some of these rolls she left here?” “Okay . . .” Under her watchful eye, I ate two rolls liberally spread with the real butter they provided to go with them. Only then did she let me take a sip – just a sip – of my drink. I put the glass down self-consciously, not sure I could restrict myself to a sip of it now and then. “Lu’, why the big dinner? Why don’t we just go home and –” “Hush,” she said warningly. “We’re in public.” “I know. Oh, Lord, Lu’, I feel so . .. weird.” “You don’t feel well?” “Oh, I feel fine, as far as that goes. But . . . it’s all I can do not to . . . masturbate or something.” “Or something,” she said in a near-whisper. “I saw you looking at that little waitress of ours,” she said, grinning at me wolfishly. “It’s okay, I’d love to have her myself, and if we could talk her into going back to your place with us, we’d have a lot of fun taking turns. But I don’t think she’d do it. “But that’s okay, we’ll be home soon enough, and then you can do all those things with me, okay?” “Yes . . .” Under the table she slipped her left hand under my skirt and ran her fingertips up my thigh, then grinned again as I gasped. Pulling her hand away, she took a sip of her wine, then said, “The food will make you feel less . . . buoyant. It’ll be easier to keep it together until we get home, and once we do, you’ll have a lot more energy for things, you know?” Then we waited for our food to arrive. The minutes passed, neither of us saying anything. Without conversation or much of anything else to distract me, my libido, which had reached nearly unbearable levels outside in the parking-lot, was now about to undergo erotic meltdown. I stared out the window, hoping nothing of what I was thinking showed in my face. As I sat there in an erotic stupor, I realized I’d never seen Lu’ like this. Always she had seemed to such a lady, except when she was using combat arts on someone, at which point she could turn into a ruthless killing machine. Kind, generous-spirited, lovely as Venus rising newborn from the sea, she had always seemed a little shy even of discussing sex with others. But here, tonight, she was like a – a shewolf. Why the change? What had made her so different? But then it occurred to me that, after all, she had just tendered to me an invitation to become part of an intimate threesome with herself and Erik. Maybe this was how she behaved when she was alone with Erik. – But wasn’t she always sweet, yielding, the essence of the loving wife around him? -- Or was it me? Something about being with me – then I realized what it was: she was acting as if she were a sophisticated man of the world in the company of an innocent, almost-virginal young girl with whom he was infatuated. She was still utterly female, but there was something hard-edged and masculine about the way she treated me now, something proprietary, close to possessive – hadn’t there
been an edge of warning in her words when she told me to forget about the waitress? I thought of a satyr, no, a female satyr, looking over the nymphs, rape on her mind. A lesbian satyr. -- Only she wasn’t a lesbian. I knew she was at least as much in love with Erik now as she had been, years ago, when she first married him. It dawned on me, then: while she still wanted him with a woman’s love for a man, she wanted me with a different sort of lust. I was going to be her wife, that’s what she wanted. Not just Erik’s, her wife. Her . . . concubine. I shivered. Did I want this? Heat pulsed between my legs. Yes, I did. Oh, boy, did I ever! Now, if I could just make it back to my apartment with her without going berserk and trying to rape her in the parking-lot – “Hey, here’s our dinner! Oh, that looks good – smells good!” “Uh? – Oh, hey, you’re right! Wish I’d found out about this place years ago!” I said as the smiling waitress began laying out our dinner for us. “Oh, damn – Esh’, will you excuse me a minute? I’ve got to use the ladies’ room – I didn’t when we were at the store.” “Sure! After all,” I laughed, “what’s the alternative?” “There is that . . .” Quickly Lu’ scooted out of her seat and headed for the restrooms, which were just off the foyer at the entrance to the restaurant. “Gee, I hope you like it,” our waitress said, “this is as fresh as you can get! (Well, unless you get stuff out of the Sound, but you wouldn’t want to do that – the bottom is still full of radioactive muck, not to mention all that stuff from last century they didn’t manage to clean up before the Big One hit here.)” “It looks really good,” I said, looking her over. The tag over her right breast said, “Irene.” “Irene, this fruit salad – what all’s in it?” “Oh, citrus, apple slices, all kinds of stuff! It’s pretty fresh, too – we get our fruits and vegetables from the Pike Place Market the same day we use them, and most of it is either from in-state or comes up in the morning on ice on the train from California.” I had to fight myself not to keep staring at her breast, or, indeed, any of the rest of her. Doing my best to hide the sudden surge of lust which her proximity, unshielded by Lu’, had sent radiating through me, I said, “The Pike Place Market is a great place to get groceries, isn’t it?” “Oh, you bet! When they reopened it after the big restoration project here about 15 years ago – I was just a toddler then, but my momma told me all about it – everyone wanted to go there to get fresh veggies and all! They still do – it’s got a better variety of everything than you can get anywhere else, even at Larry’s Markets.” “I know. I do a lot of my grocery shopping there.” “Oh, you aren’t a visitor, then!” “Nope, I live here – I own Trismegistus’ Treasures.” “The one up in Ravenna!” “Yes, and also one downtown at Boyleston and East Pike.” “I go there all the time to get candles and incense and stuff! I love it! It’s so . . . so Magickal . . .” Uh-oh. Were her lips just a little bit plumper, her eyes a bit more sparkling, her nipples starting to poke against the fabric of her shift? Oh, God, where was Lu’? “Wish you’d open one over in the U District – I go to school at UW, and it’s kind of a pain having to bus around the city to get everything. And I’ll bet lots of people in that area would love to have a store like that there on the Ave!” “I bet they would, too, but the rents are just a little too high right now. Maybe next year. – Oh, and this is the sauce for the fish, isn’t it?” “Yes, our special sauce, like your friend asked for. It’s really good! I – oh, hello, ma’am,” she said, as Lu’, returning from the restroom, approached the table. “It’s all ready!” “Great!” Lu’ told her, taking her seat next to me. “I’m hungry enough to eat a whale, at this point!” “The EPA wouldn’t let you! They’re protected!” the wide-eyed girl told her in horror. “Oh, I’m just kidding!” Lu’ told her. “Anyway, it all looks great.” “Okay, I’ll be back in a little while, so if you need anything more, just ask me then.” “Sure. – Esh’, don’t you want to eat that lovely fish?” she asked me. “Hunh? – Oh, sure,” I told her, finally able to wrench my eyes away from the waitress as the girl sashayed off, hips swaying. Concentrating hard on what I was doing, trying not to think of what was going on between my legs, I cut into my fish and took my first bite of it. “Mmmm! This is heavenly!”
“It sure is,” Lu’ said, taking a bite of her own fish. “They haven’t changed in all this time! I’ll have to tell friends of ours who are planning to visit here about this place. I hadn’t thought about it much since I first moved to San Francisco, but this restaurant is really one of the real treasures of Seattle. As good as anything at Fisherman’s Wharf, maybe better. “—Now isn’t that better than our little waitress?” she hissed in a much lower tone, staring at me with a smile sharp enough to cut steel. “Hey, I didn’t –” “Yes, and don’t even think of doing it, either,” she told me in that same dark tone. “—Oh, never mind, sweetheart,” she said, placing her left hand on my thigh, her whole manner suddenly changing like sunlight breaking through storm-clouds. “I know you wouldn’t. I’m just in a . . . mood.” I looked at her sidelong. This was becoming a little scary. Sensing my thoughts, she added, “Try that fruit salad, too. It looks delicious! – Esh’, I’m sorry if I jumped at you like that. Forgive me?” “Yes, of course,” I told her, forking up a piece of grapefruit from the salad, taking a bite of it. “— Mmm! They did something very nice to this fruit – some sort of sweet sauce.” “That’s another one of their specialties. They also have great desserts, too – we can have some if you’re still hungry after your fish.” “Truth to tell, I think this will be more than enough. It’s great, but I’m getting butterflies in the stomach, you know what I mean?” “Yes,” she told me, smiling at me as at a shared secret. “Okay, when we’re done with this, we can take off. Now, I’d best give this fish the attention it deserves,” she said, turning to her fish and digging in with a will. It wasn’t long until we had finished. Calling our waitress over to us as she walked by our table, Lu’ asked her for the check. Coming over to our table, she quickly totaled up our dinner, which came to about Cr 16, put the check on the table for us, then went off again. Taking a Cr 20 and a Cr 10 note out of her satchel, Lu’ laid it on top of the check, then rose to her feet. “Come on, honey, we’d best head for your place.” “Okay.” Feeling increasingly strange, I picked up my purse from the seat beside me, stood up, and followed her as she headed for the exit. Soon we were back in her car again. “Well, here we go,” she said, turning the key in the car’s ignition. Putting the car in gear, she steered it out to Western, turned left, went down Western to Spring, and headed out Spring to Broadway, which would take us north to East Thomas Street and my apartment building at Thomas and Fifteenth Avenue. In the shape I was in now, it almost seemed as if, rather than riding in a car on bumpy Seattle streets, we were being wafted through the air on a Magick carpet or the back of Pegasus. I may have fallen into a trance by the time Lu’ pulled up to the rear of my building and began to turn into the ramp down into the parking garage below it. “Uh . . . where are we, Lu’?” “Your building – darling, don’t you know your own neighborhood?” “Oh, so it is . . . this is the parking garage, isn’t it?” I asked her as she backed carefully into my parking stall, brought the car to a halt, set the parking brake, put the car in gear and turned off the motor. “Yep. We’re home. Your place.” “Oh, good . . . Lu’, I feel so odd . . .” Turning to look at me, she said, “Well, you’re home now, so no problem . . .” Looking at her, I saw her eyes seem to widen. An odd, almost feral smile crept along her mouth. Before I could say anything or pull away, she suddenly reached out her arms, drew me into them, and kissed me, hard. As her tongue darted into my mouth, her right hand reached up and pinched one of my nipples, while with her other hand she reached down, under my skirt, slipping her fingers behind the vibrator I wore over my sex, snaking her middle finger into my vagina, hard. Only her mouth on mine kept me from crying out in startlement and another, nearly overwhelming surge of lust. For a moment, she continued to rape my mouth and breast and sex, using her fingers on me with a sophisticated wisdom worthy of a Don Juan that I would never have believed possible of her. Finally, drawing back, still smiling that knowing smile, she told me, “Come on, Esh’, we’d better get inside – otherwise we’ll start fucking right here and now, and someone is sure to come down here and see us.” Laughing a little, she opened her door and, slipping the handle of her carrying bag over her shoulder, stepped out, locked her door and shut it, then came around to help me out. I needed it. I was so dizzy with unfulfilled lust that it was hard for me to get out of the car and stand on my own two feet. Making sure I had my purse, putting a steadying arm around my waist, she walked me to the elevator at the back of the garage.
Going up the elevator to the second floor, my floor, we didn’t encounter anyone along the way – a good thing, because I’m sure my neighbors would have wondered just what the hell was wrong with me. I wobbled a little as I walked, as if I were drunk. I had only had a few sips of that screwdriver, so it wasn’t that – my unsteadiness was purely hormonal in origin. No one came out into the hallway as we went from the elevator to my door and I worked at unlocking it, either, for which I was grateful. My fingers fumbled all over the door, trying to get the key into the lock, until Lu’ finally, gently, took the key from me and opened the door herself. “You know, darling,” Lu’ told me as she grabbed some of my huge floor cushions from a corner of the living-room, where I kept them when I wasn’t using them, and threw them down on the floor in front of the VCR, “let’s plan to stay in tomorrow and leave for the Cascades Friday morning. That’ll give us plenty of time for fun as well as making sure we’ve got everything we need for our trip. And you’ll be feeling on top of the world by then, too. If we leave tomorrow, I can guarantee you aren’t going to be at your best.” “I – yes, I could use that extra day.” “Well, you sit down here,” she said, urging me to sit on one of the big cushions with her hands, “and I’ll go put something on the CD. Where are your CDs?” “Over there, in that rack,” I told her, pointing. “Oh. ‘If it had been a snake . . .’ Okay, let’s see what you have,” she said, kneeling down by the CD rack to look over its contents, her legs splayed out a little, her skirt riding up almost to her crotch. I found myself staring. She looked back at me for a moment and smiled, half-closing her eyes so that her long, long eyelashes briefly swept across her cheeks. It was the most seductive smile I’d ever seen. Then, turning back to the rack, still not closing her legs, she began looking over the CDs. “Ah-hah!” she exclaimed in delight. “Carmina Burana! And Carmina Catulli! Oh, and you’ve got Rimsky-Korsikov’s Scheherazade, too!” Turning back to face me, holding her booty, she asked, “How many CDs will your player hold at a time?” “Up to fifteen. You can program it for any number up to that, and it’ll loop, too, if you don’t want it to turn off after it plays the last one.” “Oh, good.” Scooting over to the CD player next to the rack, an action which made her skirt ride up catastrophically and her legs splay even more, she looked over the controls, then said, “No problem. Erik’s and mine is like this, more or less. Okay, let’s set it for Loop-Three,” she said, opening up the CD compartment and beginning to slip the CDs into the racks for them inside. The CDs in place, she closed up the compartment and began pushing buttons. The opening bars of Scheherazade filled the room. Turning the volume up until the air seemed saturated with music, but not so high that we couldn’t talk over it, or that it would make the neighbors complain, she laid down the CD cabs on top of the player, then sat up and began slipping out of her dress. I was still staring at her. I couldn’t stop. Grinning at me as she tossed her dress aside, she got to her knees and came back over to me. Sitting next to me on the floor where I lay sprawled on the rug, my head and back resting on one of the big pillows, she put a hand on my breast and said, “It’s warm in here, don’t you think?” Dumbly, I nodded. She began unbuttoning my dress in that same maddeningly slow, teasing way she had employed in the bathroom of the store earlier today. “I’ve got some other videos with me we can watch, too, if you like,” she told me as she worked her way down the row of buttons. The last button undone, she began easing the dress off my shoulders, drawing it down past my hips and legs so that she could slip it off my feet and toss it over to where her own dress lay crumpled on the floor. “Other . . . videos . . .?” “Yes. Remember the Hentai we watched last night?” “Oh, yes.” “I’ve also got some live-action stuff. Some was professionally made, but I’ve also got a tape that was made live at a club in Honolulu where a friend of ours lives. Think you’d like that?” “Uh, yes . . .” Did I have a choice? Did I care whether I had a choice? No. “Okay, be right back . . .” Getting to her feet, she went into the bedroom for a few minutes, then emerged again holding several videocassettes. “I’d love to get these remastered as DVDs – DisneyHughes corporation has finally managed to resurrect the technology, and they’re going to be selling readwrite units for home computers soon. But they aren’t available now, so we’ll have to make do with these . . . “ Going over to the VCR monitor, she slipped one into the cassette port.
As the screen came to life, the title flashed out at us: “The Rites of Eleusis.” “A pretentious title,” she told me, “but it’s very good. This is one that was professionally made.” “Aren’t you going to turn up the volume?” “It occurs to me, love, that what we’ve got playing on the CD is better than the soundtrack to this thing. Pornography rarely has either a great soundtrack or a good story – it’s all in the action. Now, this is more erotica than pure pornography, I’d say, but the same principle applies.” She set the other cassettes down on the bottom shelf of the low table on which the monitor sat, then came back over to me, her long, slender legs flashing back and forth . . . Was I stoned? What was in that witch’s brew she’d used on that anal vibrator she’d had me put in? Lying down next to me, her head on the pillow, she slipped an arm under me and pulled me close. “Can you see the screen?” she asked me. “Sure. These pillows are pretty thick and the monitor isn’t that high off the floor.” “Cool. Okay, here we go . . .” As far as I could tell, the story-line of the video, such as it was, had to do with the kidnapping of mortals by the Olympian Gods, who then engaged with said mortals in all sorts of fascinating exercises. Five minutes into the film and we were watching things which were illegal anywhere in the United States and, probably, Tijuana, Mexico – but they were done with such artistry and elegance that I had to agree with Lu’, “pornography” wasn’t the right label for this stuff. “Erotic art” was much closer to the mark – or even “religious art,” given many of the rites that so many ancient cultures had practiced as a way of petitioning the Gods for everything from continued fertility of the soil to victory in war. At one point, when a woman who was, apparently, a priestess came out from behind heavy drapes and began speaking to the men and women waiting in there in the temple foyer to be admitted into the sanctuary, I could easily imagine that she was saying to them, “Come, I call thee in the name of the Goddess!” There was something almost stately or even majestic about the film, rather than the frantic, rather mindless sexual activity typical of many pornographic films. Just as a naked priestess was inviting a sloe-eyed, raven-haired beauty of a woman to lie down on a couch so that the priestess could begin to perform cunnilingus on her, I felt Lu’s hand on my belly. “Want to take that off?” she breathed into my ear. I turned toward her. “Take off --?” “That,” she said, smiling a slow, infinitely seductive smile, patting the vibrator at my crotch. “You won’t need it . . .” “Uh . . .” Overwhelmed with erotic tension, I could barely move. Lu’ gently began drawing the vibrator down from my thighs and over my feet. Setting it aside on the rug on the other side of her, she turned back to me. Taking one of my hands, she guided it to her own crotch. She had already taken hers off. Rolling over on her side to face me, supporting herself on her left elbow, she slipped her right hand between my legs, running her finger along my cleft until she was touching my clit. I reached out with my left hand to do the same to her, while she brought her left hand up just high enough to tease my right nipple. As the music went from Scheherazade to Carmina Burana and Carmina Catulli and back again, we watched the tapes she had brought out and gently, slowly, teased each other into a towering, incandescent lust. On the screen, the action went back and forth from man-with-woman to man-with-women to woman-with-woman to man-with-man to trios and quartets and vast orgies of people of one or both sexes engaging in the timeless rites of spring and the invocation of the Gods through one another’s bodies, all somehow in time to the music that poured forth from the CD. I felt as if I were in a mescaline or psilocybin dream, caught up in one eternal timeless moment of erotic heat, aware only of Lu’, the music, and the twisting, writhing, turning images of ecstasy on the screen. Now Lu’ and I were both panting, little whimpers and moans busting forth from us from time to time as we stroked, pinched, and caressed each other into ever-greater levels of heat. From the CD the opening chorus of Carmina Burana flowed out again: O Fortuna, velut Luna statu variabilis, semper crescis aut decrescis; vita detestabilis
nunc obdurat et tunc curat ludo mentis aciem, egestatem, potestatem dissolvit ut glaciem . . . “Well,” she said in a throaty, seductive tone that nearly drove me into a frenzy, “want to?” Maddeningly, she withdrew her hand from between my legs. I wanted to pull it back, have her continue the delicious things she’d been doing to my clit and vagina with her fingers. But I was intimidated by the knowledge that with her skill in combat arts, I could do nothing to her she didn’t want me to. Panting with lust and frustration, I looked at her, my heart and other parts of my body in my eyes. “Want to . . . what?” “I’ll bet that bed’s a lot softer than this floor . . .” she told me, smiling. Suddenly getting to her feet, she strode quickly to the monitor, turned it off, then came back to me. Extending one slim hand to me, she said, “Come on, let’s go on in the bedroom.” Weakly, propping myself up on an elbow with one hand, I reached up to take her hand with the other. She drew me to my feet. Together we went into the bedroom, me leaning on her more than moving under my own power. “Do you want to . . . take a shower?” I asked her. “Hell no – you smell good enough to me. – You have any stockings?” “You mean, like, panty hose?” “No, I mean like the sort of stockings that are held up with garters. Never mind, I’ve got some in my overnight case . . .” Going over to that incredible case which held so many wonderful things, she stooped down, looked through it for a few seconds, then, making a sound of satisfaction, rose up again. In her hand were two slim packages. “Here,” she told me, giving me one of the packages, “put these on. The garters are in the package with them. They’re from Victoria’s Secret in downtown San Francisco.” Inside the package was a pair of dark brown patterned silk stockings and black garters to go with them. As directed by her, I sat obediently on the foot of my bed and let her put the stockings on me. Then, sitting beside me, she put on a pair of her own, a lighter brown but with a similar pattern, rosegarlands interspersed with hearts. “Okay, now let me get a few more things . . .” Getting up from the bed, she went back to her case, brought out a small cerise-and-white box; a handful of long, narrow silk scarves in red, maroon, cerise, black, and gray; a package full of incense cones, labeled Kali’s Delight; an incense-burner about four inches across and five inches high in the shape of one of those Yoni-Lingam sculptures that grace numerous parks and shrines in India, supposed, as they are, to bring the blessing of the Gods; and a Bicstyle lighter. While she was looking through her case, I started to take off my sandals, which I was still somehow wearing. “Don’t you dare take those off!” she warned me. She, too, still wore her own sandals, which, like mine, comprised three-inch spike heels, a sole that barely covered the bottom of my foot, and little else. hers were black, mine white, but otherwise could have been out of the same box. Standing up once more, she came back with her booty. “Here, let’s put this on us . . .” Laying everything else on the bed beside me, she opened up the box and took out a small bottle of perfume. Labeled Garden of Earthly Delights, it looked to be one of those perfumes that was sold by the halfounce and was somewhat more expensive than gold. Gently pushing my legs apart, she sprayed it at my sex, then raised her hand to spray a bit on the hollow of my throat, then used it on herself in similar wise. Putting it back in the box and setting the box back in the case, she turned to the package of incense. Opening it up and taking out a few cones, she set the cones on the shallow concave disk on the incense burner just below its conjoined yoni and lingam and, firing up the lighter, held its flame to them. Then, as the incense began to burn, she set the burner down on the chest of drawers against the wall by the door. The bottom of the burner was cork, so the heat wouldn’t scar the wood – but at that point I couldn’t have cared less what it did to the furniture. Soon the most heavenly perfume filled the air. Part of it had to have been musk, but the rest of it was completely unknown to me, even though I’d been buying incense for the store for years. Whatever it was, it nearly quintupled the tides of lust that Lu’ had evoked from me earlier. If I hadn’t been nearly
swooning with erotic need, I’d have risen up and raped Lu’ then and there, combat arts or no combat arts. Certainly there must have been some heady pheromones in the mix. Whatever was in it, it hit me like a nuclear blast. “Okay,” Lu’ told me, coming back to me after putting away the lighter and the rest of the incense. Picking up a scarlet sash from the pile of scarves she’d set down next to me, she told me, “Now, darling, lie back on the bed. – No, scoot back up so that your head is on the pillow. . . . That’s right . . .” “What are you doing?” I asked her. My voice sounded thready, as if I were burning up with fever – which, in a way, I was. “Erik likes to do this with me – it’s an old, old bordello trick. He has one of those classic books, The Joy of Sex, which describes it. You’ll love it . . .” As she spoke, before I could react she pulled up my legs until they were nearly perpendicular to my body, then had me cross my left calf over my right. Swiftly she bound my lower legs together with the sash and tied it tightly. Then, picking up the black sash, she moved up by my head and, taking hold of my arms, soon had my wrists bound together above my head. § 14 She stepped back for a moment to survey her handiwork, looking thoughtful. Then she picked up a couple more of the sashes and, balling one of them up, she popped into my half-open mouth and then quickly pulled the other around the back of my head to tie it tight over mouth before I could react. Now the only sounds that I could make, at most, were squeaks and low moans. Wide-eyed, I stared at her in horror. Smiling that slow, wicked, bitch-wolf smile again, she told me, “Don’t worry, darling – we just don’t want to get the neighbors upset at all the noise. I’m not going to hurt you. On the contrary . . .” Coming around to the side of the bed, she sat down on it beside me. “As I said, this is an old bordello trick. Erik even has a ‘training video’ of it, you might say, a copy of a documentary made in Paris back around 1995, that shows exactly how to perform it for both men and women – on both men and women. This is how it starts . . .” she said in a near-purr as she put her right hand out and slowly, delicately, brought the tip of her index finger down on my vulva, then began to stroke it back and forth along my vulva until I was thoroughly lubricated. “First, I get you as wet as possible. (For Erik, I use my saliva. I’ll do that for you in a while, but first, we do this.) Then I start stroking your clit . . .” She began to run the tip of her finger back and forth, up and down, over my clitoris. Very quickly it became apparent that it was more responsive on the left and front than the right, so she began to concentrate on those areas, slowly running her fingertip up and down from the base of my clit to its tip, along the left side and the ridge of erect tissue that formed in front as she continued to stroke. “According to the book and what the narrator in the film said,” she told me, “the whole cycle from base to tip of the clit – or cock – should take about one second, no less, and not much more. If it’s less, the excitement builds up too fast and you come too soon. If it’s more, the excitement doesn’t build up fast enough and you never quite get off . . .” As she continued to stroke my clit at that increasingly maddeningly slow pace, she told me, “You know, love, Erik built a thing in our downstairs rec’ room, two wooden poles about a foot apart with platforms about a foot and a half off the floor for me to stand on, and soft manacles suspended from the ceiling for my wrists, just long enough so that, with my arms full length above my head, I can just put my weight on the two platforms, one foot on each. Then he eats me out . . . How would you like Erik to do that to you, while I blow him – and then I could do that to you, while he eats me? Would you like that, love? “And then,” she purred, never varying the tempo and rhythm of her strokes by so much as a second or an ounce of pressure, “some night I’ll tie you up like you are now, and sit on your face and have you eat me while Erik eats you and fucks you . . . and then you and I will trade places . . . and then Erik will lie on the floor and eat me while you blow him . . . Would you like that? “Another thing we’ll do is, I’ll lie on my back on the bed while you eat me and Erik fucks you in the ass. And then you and I will trade places . . . And Erik can lay on his back on the bed while I blow him and you eat me out . . . “Do you like this, love? Is that what those sounds you’re trying to make are all about? I’ll bet you’ll like this even more . . .” With which she suddenly withdrew her hand and stood up. Moving to the foot of the bed and kneeling on the floor there, she lifted up my bound legs so that she could get her head between them, bent her head down, and placed the tip of her tongue on my clit. Using her tongue as she
had been using her fingertip, she continued to stroke my clit in the same maddeningly slow rhythm she had before. But because she was using her tongue instead of her fingertip, the bliss she was drawing forth from me was increased tenfold; her tongue was much softer and more flexible than her finger, and could somehow play arpeggios and trills on my clit in a way that her finger could not. The pleasure of her touch grew and grew and grew, and the fire in my sex built to incandescence, then to thermonuclear heat, and still she continued to stroke me and stroke me with her tongue, never faltering in her rhythm, never putting too much or too little pressure on my clit. When I had gone far beyond the explosion-point and still had not climaxed, my hips and legs bucking and straining so that she had to hold me down hard with both hands to keep me from bucking her off, suddenly sucking hard on the tip of my clit, she inserted two fingers of her right hand into my vagina and began to fuck me hard with them. As she sucked harder and harder on my clit, my level of arousal, which had already attained and passed impossible, inconceivable limits, seemed to come to a point, a laser-strong focus. I hung suspended on the point of the Archangel Mikhail’s sharp sword like that for what seemed to be an eternity, craving release more than anything I’d ever wanted before in all my life, afraid I’d die of need if I didn’t come soon. Then she gave the tip of my clit one hard, sharp nip with her teeth, and I exploded. The force of my climax was so great that I literally saw stars. Behind my gag I was screaming my throat raw; if not for the gag everyone else in the building would have been beating the door down, trying to find out what was wrong. In the erotic convulsion that attended my climax I would have dislocated my pelvis if Lu’ hadn’t quickly untied the sash binding my legs together about then. I must have passed out, then, for the next thing I remember was Lu’ sitting beside me, carefully patting my face and breast with a cool, wet washrag, smiling at me as she asked me, “Ever experienced anything like that before, darling?” Apparently she’d removed my gag and the sash tying my hands together, too. “No, never,” I told her, a little hoarsely. “My God, what did you do? – No, never mind, I know what you did. Jesus, those vibrators, the hormone cream, the videos – I thought I’d go off like an A-bomb before we even got home, though. How in the world did you keep me from coming off in the meantime?” “Just a little judicious application of chi energy – and maybe a little Kundalini, too, my dear,” she said, letting the washcloth fall aside and reaching out to tweak my right nipple fondly. “Oh, Lord . . . that anal vibrator’s still running, too,” I told her. “Getting horny again?” Considering the question, I told her in surprise, “Yeah, I am. I can’t believe it – after what just happened, you’d think I wouldn’t need sex again for a million years! But I’m already starting to get hot again . . .” “How would you like to do me the way I just did you, love?” I looked up at her. “Seriously?” “Look, I’m so horny now I could rape the Washington Monument if it hadn’t been bombed to slag back in 2012. You’d better do me, or I’ll tie you up again and do things to you that make the last session seem like two virgins holding hands and never let you come, you bitch!” she told me, laughing. Suddenly realizing that the dancing imps of light in her eyes were those of challenge, I told her in a slow, seductive drawl, “I certainly have no objections, darlin’. – Here, help me sit up . . .” Putting a supportive hand beneath my back, she helped me get to a sitting position. “Thanks,” I told her. “—Do you still have that vibrator in your ass?” “Well, of course,” she told me, grinning that feral grin. “Okay, lie down on the bed, here,” I told her, patting the bed beside me. A moment later she was lying down and I was sitting next to her on the bed, holding the sashes she’d taken off me. “Okay, let’s see if I can get this right . . .” She cooperated whole-heartedly as I bound her legs and hands. “You and Erik must have done this before,” I told her as I worked to make sure her bonds were tight. “Well, of course!” “Tell me the truth – did Erik really know that you were going to do this with me when you came up here?” I said, stroking the tip of her left nipple. Drawing her breath in with a gasp, she said, “Oooo, that’s wicked! Wherever did you learn to do that, just that way?” when, with delicate cruelty, I pinched the tip of her nipple with my fingernails. “You think that’s something? How do you like this?” I asked her as I inserted two fingers into her vagina and began to work them back and forth, as she had done to me just before I climaxed earlier. “And this?” Now, withdrawing my fingers from her vagina, I began to run the tip of my forefinger up
and down her clit in the same agonizingly slow rhythm she’d used on me. As I did so, bending down to put my face next to hers, I began to worry at her earlobe with my teeth. “Tell me, you wicked little whore,” I told her, “did he know about this before you left?” and pinched her clit hard with my fingernails for emphasis, then went back to stroking her. “Oh!” she cried. “Yes! Yes!” she panted. “Did he show you what to do? What did you do with him the night before you came up here?” I growled softly, pinching her clit again, then resuming stroking it once more. “I – God – oh, shit, Esh’ –” “Tell me, bitch, or I’ll pinch your clit and your nipples until they’re black and blue!” I hissed, blowing into her ear, then bent down even more to take her nipple between my teeth and worry it. “He – yes, he did that to me . . .” “Tell me. In detail.” Again I pinched her clit, but more gently, before I resumed stroking it again. Now she was writhing on the bed, gasping and moaning. In bits and pieces, as I continued to worry at her with teeth and fingernails and stroke her into a frenzy of arousal, she described a session with Erik two nights before very much like the one we were having now. It ended with her on top, performing Kali’s Dance, Erik playing the part of Shiva, bringing him to a shattering climax that left him passed out for awhile. “Well, Kali, you’ve met your match,” I told her, the feral, almost cruel edge to my words startling me. What was this coming out of me now? “How would you like to see how Shiva feels when you dance with him?” The look in her eyes was one of pure terror. She started to struggle with her bonds, but I’d used some special knots on them I’d learned two years ago from a Magickian who was an expert at KnotTying, an ancient form of Magick used in many parts of Europe as well as in Africa and North America by countless peoples over the millennia. Those knots wouldn’t come undone short of the solution Alexander used on the Gordian Knot – unless, with two simple twists per knot, I undid them myself. But there was no way that Lu’ could get out of them herself, given the way I’d angle her legs and arms when I bound them. (Kris Price, the Knot-Tyer, had offered to give me a personal demonstration of how the knots could be used to enhance Tantric practice. Hmm . . . wish I’d taken him up on it. But I thought I had a boyfriend at the time, a schmuck named Billy Taylor, and turned Kris down. Then Billy wussed on me, told me he had another girl, that’s how it goes . . .) Before she could start screaming, I had one sash balled up tightly, in her mouth, the other around her head, over her mouth, so that she couldn’t make any appreciable noise. Then, continuing to stroke her as I grinned down into her huge, horror-filled eyes, I told her in that same weird, throaty growl, “Girl, I’m Maîtresse Ezeli, and I’ll make you come so hard it would make an H-bomb hang its head in shame!” And I continued to stroke her, and stroke her, at that same maddening once-a-second rhythm with a touch as light as a spider’s, telling her all the while all the lovely things I would have her do to me while Erik watched, and do to Erik while she, tied up and unable to move, watched us, and have Erik do to both of us while we went down on each other, and so on and on and on, stoking her fires higher and higher and higher, until her hips began to buck and heave. Then, getting up to kneel down at the foot of the bed, I substituted my tongue for the forefinger of my right hand while I used two fingers of my left hand on her vagina. For an interminable time I continued to stroke her clit with my tongue and then, as she had done to me before, suddenly I began sucking on her clit, harder and harder, as her hips bucked and ground harder and harder beneath me, so that I had to hold her down with my upper body and my arms. Taking a page from her book, at last I nipped her clit with my teeth, and she climaxed. I got her legs untied before, in her convulsions, she could hurt her hips and legs, then got her gag off, but still left her hands bound together above her head. Now she moaned aloud, her climax dispersing itself via a series of diminishing orgasms that seemed to go on and on. At last she fell silent, panting hard, her eyes closed, completely drained. When she finally opened her eyes again, she said, her voice even hoarser than mine had been after my spectacular climax earlier, “How – how did you do that? I never dreamed you’d be able to tie me up like that – I thought I could get out of just about any bindings anyone could put on me, except Erik’s and Soke’s.” My eyebrows went up. “I mean . . . in training. Soke, I mean.” “Oh. I wondered,” I laughed. “Well, let’s just say there’s more to Magick than meets the eye. After all, you were the one who taught me how to use my chi, right from the beginning, you know,” I told her, stroking her breasts.
“Esh’, what about . . . my hands?” she asked me. “Aw, why not leave them tied up for now?” I told her. “Otherwise I’d have to take my hands away to untie them, and I couldn’t do this,” I told her, reaching down to tease her clit with my other hand. “Oh!” “You’re horny again?” I teased. “I . . . think I put a little bit too much of that cream on my anal vibrator,” she told me. “Where did you get that stuff, anyway? From some witch?” “You’re not all that far off the mark. You ever hear of Donna Lee LaVey?” “Who – the woman who’s supposed to be the great-great-granddaughter of Anton Szandor LaVey, the guy who founded the First Church of Satan?” “That’s her. She’s got an occult head shop not too far from where Erik and I live. Sells incense and candles and Tarot packs and that sort of thing. “She’s also a student at our dojo. She’s become a good friend. I can talk to her about things that I can’t talk to anyone else about, even Erik. So, when Erik got to talking about having you move in with us and I realized I wanted it, too, I went to Donna and told her I wasn’t sure how to go about that, because I’d never had sex with a woman before and didn’t really know what all was involved. She told me, ‘It’s all in the instincts, honey – if you can get those going, you won’t have any problems.’ She made up that cream for me. I’m not sure what all is in it – hormones and things, but I’m not sure what hormones and I don’t know what other things.” “Is she pretty?” I said, continuing to tease her clit. “She – oh!” she gasped softly. “Uh, yes, she is. Very.” “Did you want to do anything with her?” I said, bending down to take her nipple between my lips. “I – uh! She . . . when I told her I still wasn’t sure of the mechanics, she had me take off my clothes and lie down on the couch and she . . . showed me.” “And what did you do for her?” I said, slipping my fingers into her vagina. “I . . . oh! God, that feels good . . . I . . . sort of did the same things for her after she did them for me . . . I guess she put something in the drinks she served me, because I wanted her so bad I was ready to rape her, and I’d never wanted a woman before . . .” “Does Erik know about that?” “Oh, dear God, no! Don’t you tell him, either!” “Why not? Think he might get a lech for her?” “Do . . . do you hate me for letting her have me first?” she asked me timidly. “If I did, would I do this to you? And this?” “I . . . oooooh, you bitch . . .” she moaned, frustration and desire making her voice tumid. “All I ask is that I get to visit you and Erik in San Francisco before you move up here . . . and you take me over to meet her, so the three of us can do this to each other . . .” Her moans became frantic, urgent. Suddenly I rose up and, kneeling with my legs astride her head and lowering my sex to her mouth, I put my mouth to her sex and began eating her out. A few minutes later, we climaxed simultaneously. With effort I rose up again, then turned around so that I was sitting beside her once more, looking down on her. Untying the bindings on her arms, I told her, “I think you’re right about staying here tomorrow and taking off for the Cascades Friday.” Like me, she was covered with a heavy sheen of sweat. The scent of sex and something more, something darker, more powerful, filled the air. Panting for breath, struggling to sit up, she said, “That’s good, because I don’t think I could even get down to the parking-garage now, let alone drive anywhere.” “You want to take a hot shower? I could use one myself, too.” “Yeah, I guess I’d better . . . Could you help me sit up?” I helped her sit up and then to her feet. Limping a little, with her leaning on me, I helped her into the bathroom, where I helped her take off her anal vibrator, then took mine off, laying them down on separate sides of the sink, mine on the right, hers on the left. Turning on the shower, I helped her into it and then began washing her down with a floral-scented bath gel and a faux loofah, followed by a shampoo and rinse. Then, somewhat restored, she returned the favor. After we dried off, we each carefully wiped down our vibrators with rubbing alcohol. She told me, “In my case, there are two silk bags – Donna gave them to me just before I left to come up here. One’s for your, uh, toys, the other is for mine.” “How do I tell them apart?”
“One is green with cerise patterning, like a coleus plant, the hem edged with sky-blue, and the other is cerise rayed with sky-blue veins, hemmed with spring-green. She told me the coleus was for you, the other for me.” “Good. Okay, I’ll go get them while you get out the liniment I keep down there and start rubbing it into your joints – if you don’t, Lu’, you know you’ll be sore as a boil tomorrow.” Going into the bedroom, looking through her case, I found the bags and brought them back to the bathroom. Taking hers, she put her little wand into it, then pulled the drawstrings tight and laid it down on the countertop, next to where I put mine. “Here,” I told her, picking up the bottle of liniment, which she’d laid on the countertop as well. “Let’s go in the bedroom and give each other a good rubdown, okay?” “That sounds very, very attractive,” she told me with an exhausted smile. Somehow she managed not to fall asleep during the massage I gave her. When I was done, she asked me, “Want me to massage you now?” “Yes.” “Okay, lie down . . .” Before long I was floating in a blissful haze of sensation as she worked at the muscles of my back, buttocks, thighs, and arms. “If you want to go to sleep, go ahead, darling,” I heard her say as I floated out on a long, aquamarine tide of fulfilled release. The last thing I heard her say as I sank down into blissful unconsciousness was, “You’re mine, bitch! You’ll never leave me!” in a low, almost grieving whisper. The thought that maybe Lu’ was afraid that I would run off with Erik, so that she was doing all this to make an unbreakable erotic bond between us, to prevent that, followed me down into the darkness, along with Oh, well, that’ll work, too. The next thing I knew, it was late morning, and bright light was pouring down on me from the window above the bed. § 15 As if to make up for our being bad little girls last night, we spent the next several hours carefully looking over all the equipment, weapons, tools, and clothing we planned to take with us on our trip, making sure it was all in good order and packed properly, conversing cheerfully on utterly innocuous topics as we worked. Before getting started, we had a breakfast of scrambled eggs, toast, marmalade, and fresh honeydew melon; each of us wolfed our food down as if we were starving – and considering the calories we’d burned last night, no wonder. Then, around four in the afternoon, when we pretty much had everything ready to go, we broke off for a dinner of soup and sandwiches. “Lu’, I know we’ve got a lot of canned goods and so forth to take with us when we take off tomorrow, but is that enough? We should have some fruit and milk and whatnot, too.” “We can buy that when we get up there. There are lots of little stores all over the place – when we get to Goldbar tomorrow, we can buy some then.” “Yeah, but I’ve got a lot of fruit here in the ’fridge – we should take that. It’ll rot by the time we get back, otherwise.” “You’ve got a point – but with no way to keep it cool, it’ll probably rot up there before we can eat it all.” “Not if we keep it double-bagged in plastic garbage bags and put it in whatever stream we’re working at the time, it won’t.” Looking at me, surprised, she said, “You’re right. Gee, I didn’t know you had much woodscraft. Where’d you learn that?” “My pagan friends and customers who come in the store. They’ve been inviting me along on their esbats and other get-togethers up there in the mountains for years. Sometimes we go up into the Olympics, sometimes the Cascades. We do a lot of fishing up there. There are rarely any places with refrigerators or stoves, so we have to make do with whatever nature provides.” “Wow! I guess you have learned a lot since you moved from the Bay Area! One thing’s for sure: you’ve come one hell of a long way from the timid, frightened girl you were when I first met you at Janie’s,” she said, smiling archly at me. “You’ve come a long way, too, darlin’,” I told her, smiling back. “Or, at any rate, before day before last, I’d never known you had such . . . versatility. I mean, I’ve always known you could tie anybody who tried to jump you into knots and then make them beg to have the cops come rescue them from you,
and no woman I’ve ever known is more of a lady, or a kinder friend. But – hoo-boy,” I joked, “you’ve got more sides to you than a Rubik’s Cube!” “Well, I . . . I didn’t, really . . . Not until Erik said what he said about becoming a threesome with you, and I went to see Donna, anyway.” “Oh, my . . . Well, I guess I just got lucky, then. – Lu’?” “What?” “I know a place up there on a turnoff not too far from Leavenworth, where there’s a cabin that belongs to Curly Jamieson – well, his name’s really Bennett, but everybody calls him ‘Curly’ because of the Jewish Afro he likes to wear his hair in. He’s a friend of mine, a guy who buys a lot of stuff through the store. He’s off in Europe for the rest of the summer, won’t be back until the end of September, if then. He gave me a key to the cabin, said if I ever needed a place to go in an emergency or anything, I could use his cabin. Even if he was staying there, he said, it would be okay for me to drop in, along with anyone who was with me. We can bunk there when we’re not out fishing or hunting.” “Hey, a real bed!” she exclaimed, laughing. “I must have rubbed the Magick lamp, hunh? How’d you know what I was thinking?” “Oh, just psychic, I guess,” I said, touching the side of my head and grinning. “Seriously, it would be a good place to stay. It’s a nice, strong little cabin, fairly small windows, anybody attempted to break in would be dead meat by the time he got a window busted and started through it. We can take all our toys up there with us if we want and continue the fun, if you want.” “Is the Bear Polish? Of course I want! Okay, that’s the next thing I’ll check – to make sure all the goodies are in my case and ready to go tomorrow.” “While you do that, I think I’ll go clean out the ’fridge. Might as well – either we take all that food with us up there or it’ll go bad here before we get back. That, and I want to make sure I’ve got the waterpurifiers we got over at PRI Sports are packed for tomorrow.” “Okay. – Is there any ice cream in the freezer?” “Yeah, there is, come to think of it. Vanilla. Want to pig out on sundaes tonight?” “What was I saying about the Bear?” she told me, grinning back. “—Hey, and don’t pack up the melon. Leave it out.” “Why?” “There’s only one left, isn’t there?” “Yep. What do you want to do with it? Eat it with the ice cream?” “No, I want to try a different sort of dessert . . . later. When we go to bed.” “?” “Ever read A. N. Roquelaure’s Beauty trilogy?” “No. What is it?” “Darlin’, you’ve missed a real classic! I read that thing back in high school! I’d lie in bed and read that and play with myself for hours!” she told me, laughing. “Anyway, in the third volume, Beauty’s Release, there’s an erotic feast – well, love, ever been fucked by a piece of melon?” “I – Lu’, I’ll tell you a secret: until night before last, my sex-life was a pedestrian as Mrs. Grundy’s – or,” I added thoughtfully, “as pedestrian as she wanted everyone to think it was, anyway. You just never can tell, can you? “Anyway, I’ve been fucked a few times – and I mean fucked, not lovemaking, it was never that good – by gentlemen who’d make a buck rabbit in rut look like Casanova by comparison. You know, whambam-thank-you-ma’am, nothing fancy, just in, out, and go use the head afterward. I’ve masturbated – a lot, if you want me to be honest – and sometimes I’ve gotten into whatever pornography was around. But odd as it may seem, considering that I study the Western Ceremonial tradition, which includes Crowley, I’ve never done anything very . . . exotic. Or read much that was, either, to tell the truth. So this is all new to me.” “Good!” she said, laughing. “I love making it with a virgin! -- Anyway, we’ll try something interesting with that melon tonight – got any rubber sheets?” “For what?” “Melon’s messy, drips all over every damn thing. Don’t want to get your mattress soaking wet.” “Hmm . . . I’ve got some rubberized canvas in the closet, was going to make an awning out of it for my balcony. A lovely shade of blue, too.” “Okay, we spread that on the bed, and you lie down, and I cut up the melon and – well, that would be telling. Just wait until this evening, you’ll see.” “Do we get to watch any more movies first?”
“Sure. We only looked at one of the videos last night, and there are maybe ten altogether. – I just thought of something. Does your friend have a VCR in his cabin?” “I – come to think of it, he does. He hosts gatherings up there for Magickians like himself – they do a lot of invocations and stuff. Since he follows Crowley’s system, they even do Sex-Magick. He said he has a VCR there in the room where they do the invocations to run tapes that can act as ritual reinforcements, and a good tape library, too. That probably means there’s also a lot of X-rated stuff up there we can watch, along with the tapes you brought with you.” “Oh, my – I can’t wait to get naked with you up there on a bearskin rug! Okay, I’ll go check my case and you package up whatever extra food you want to take up there. Better leave it in the ’fridge until we leave tomorrow, though.” “Yep.” So saying, we got busy with the last of our preparations for our trip tomorrow. By seven or so everything was ready to go, only needing to be packed in the car in the morning. “Want to take a shower?” I asked her. “Sure. Then we can make some snacks and watch some videos.” “Sounds like a plan.” Before long we were both in our robes, sprawled out on the living-room floor in front of the VCR, a huge bowl of buttered popcorn and two dishes filled with vanilla ice cream covered with Hershey’s chocolate sauce between us, avidly watching the amateur video made in Hawaii by Erik’s friends. It wasn’t long before the we had finished the ice cream and most of the popcorn and, pushing the dishes to one side, were making a slow, leisurely exploration of each other’s bodies. “That feel good?” she asked me, the index finger of her left hand in my vagina and her middle finger in my anus, working them back and forth, in and out. “Ohhh . . . yeah, come to think of it. – Wow!” “What?” “I never knew a man could get an erection that big!” I exclaimed, staring at the screen wide-eyed. On the screen, a gorgeous naked man, body gleaming as if oiled in torchlight from cressets along the wall of the room he was in, was manacled, hands above head, to a tall upright. At the direction of a glowering man who looked to be a king of some sort, another man, dressed only in black trousers, a huge black codpiece, and a hood, who had been practicing all sorts of interesting sexual tortures on the prisoner, was now locking a cock-ring onto the cock of the prisoner, who groaned in fear or pain. Then the torturer, if such he was, began slipping a gigantic artificial phallos up into the prisoner’s anus. “Yeah, well, if someone tied you up and teased you like that, you would, too. – Or the female equivalent, anyway. You sure did last night, you know,” she told me, grinning that feral grin. “Hey, you were saying something about that melon --?” “You want to try that now?” “Sure, why not?” “Okay. Here, let me get up . . .” Getting to her feet, she went to the VCR and, turning the volume to zero, hit STOP and then the REWIND button. The machine began rewinding the tape with a soft purring sound. “Now, where’s that canvas you said you had?” she asked me. “It’s in the closet. Come on in and give me a hand with it . . .” Together we wrestled the roll of canvas out of the closet. About five feet wide, it was about twenty yards long, rolled up in a thick, heavy bolt. “Now, let’s lay it down by the bed so that it’s parallel to it,” I told her. “Okay. – Oof, this thing’s heavy! – Shit, it dinged my thumb.” “Well, I’ll make you feel good again,” I told her, leering at her suggestively. “Ah, non, ma chere – I will do that favor for you, first!” she told me in an atrocious French accent, leering back at me. “Now, where’s that melon?” “On the table in the kitchen.” “Okay, we want to cover the bed with this stuff – here, get on the other side of the bed and take this end of the roll when I hold it up for you, okay?” “Sure.” Pulling the canvas over the bed so that it covered most of it, leaving only a little space at the bottom of the bed exposed, I asked her, “Now what do I do?” “Well, get out of that robe and lie down on the bed and wait for me.” “What, no stockings? No garter belt? No chains and vibrators and other good stuff?” “Unh-unh. What I’m going to do next is so decadent it’ll make all that stuff look like – well, like nothing in comparison. – Be right back . . .”
Going out to the kitchen, she bustled around there for a few minutes, finally coming back bearing a tray covered with slices of melon. Setting the tray on the other bed, she tossed her own robe onto the floor. “Okay, now, lie back, raise your legs up and open wide, and I’ll do things to you that’ll make you feel like a queen . . .” I did as she directed me, then waited a little nervously to see what she was planning to do. Lu’ had a wonderful sense of mischief, too – what was she up to? “Oh!” I yipped. “That’s cold!” “That’s all right, it’ll warm up fast. And it won’t stay there long . . .” Then she was between my legs, sucking away at the piece of melon protruding from my sex until it was reduced to a desiccated sliver, then eating the sliver, then licking away all the juice running over my vulva and down my thighs, then inserting another piece of melon and doing the same thing all over again, and again, and again . . . By the time I reached a frenzied climax, about half the melon slices were gone. “How was it, love?” Lu’ asked me, grinning her bitch-wolf grin, when I coherent enough to speak again. “Oh, my God . . . Like something out of the Arabian Nights, maybe – the dirty version.” “Told you so,” she said gloatingly. “Okay,” I said, “my turn next.” “You ready for that?” she asked me as I struggled to sit up. “I will be once you lie down where I am, and I get down where you are,” I told her, shifting to one side so she could take my place. “Ick, melon juice!” she exclaimed as her buttocks encountered the sticky juice on the canvas. “Here, I’ll get a washcloth . . .” Going into the bathroom, I ran a washcloth under the tape and brought it back into the bedroom to clean up the canvas. As I did so, she cooperatively raised her buttocks up to allow me to clean under her, giving me a clear look at her own Paradisiacal Garden. “Eek!” she yipped. Withdrawing my finger from her sex, I told her, “That’s to keep you in the mood. – Okay, that’s cleaned up, you can lie down again.” Getting up, I took the cloth back into the bathroom and hung it over the towel-rack. Then, coming back in, I retrieved the tray with the melon slices from the other bed, where she’d put it after finishing with me. I started to pick up a melon slice, to insert it into her vagina. “Wait,” she said. Her voice was husky, strange. “Don’t you want to?” “Esh’ – tie me up first. Please?” Her eyes were huge, pleading. “I – if you want me to, sure.” “The sashes are back in my case, over there on the floor.” “Okay.” I got up and retrieved the sashes, then came back and sat down beside me. “Same as last night?” “No . . . tie me to the bed, okay?” “All right, if that’s what you want.” I sorted out the sashes and, selecting the red one, began to tie one end around her wrist. “You want me to tie you to the bedposts?” “Yes.” So I tied her arms and feet, one by one, to the newel posts of the bed. “Do you want me to gag you?” “Only if . . . if I get too loud.” “Sure.” I sat beside her, looking down on her. As I looked at her spread-eagled body, took in her half-lidded eyes, panting mouth, the rising flush around her groin and sex, I suddenly felt an enormous surge of lust mingled with power. I had tied those knots well – Kris had been a very good teacher. She’d be unlikely to get out of those before Judgment Day – I had angled her arms and feet just so, to make it virtually impossible for her to get the sort of leverage necessary for attempting to undo knots like those, as it was, and the knots themselves were true witch-knots, the sort even Soke would have had trouble with. I could do anything to her I wanted to, anything. And she knew it, too. Continuing to look at her, I realized she was simultaneously terrified and turned on by it.. Reaching out, I tweaked her left nipple. “Tell me what you and Donna Lee did together,” I demanded huskily.
“I . . .” Reaching farther down, I took her clit between my fingers, began to roll it roughly back and forth, giving it a sharp pinch with my nails every now and then. Groaning in mingled pain and arousal, she whispered, “I . . . things I’d never . . . never done before . . . – Oh!” she cried sharply. Relaxing my fingers a bit, I then dug my nails into her clit even harder. “Tell me!” I hissed. “Tell me or I’ll keep you tied up here like this and do this –” “Oh!” “—until you do tell me!” “I – she tied me up . . . she tied me up and ate me . . . then she fucked me with . . . with a dildo she put on . . . bigger than Erik’s cock . . .” “And what did you do to her?” “I . . . oh, God . . . – Oh!” “Tell me, you bitch . . .” “I . . . she had me get down on my knees and . . . and eat her out . . .” “Did you like it?” “Y – yes! Oh, please don’t do that any more! It hurts . . .” “Then answer my questions honestly, bitch . . . What do you want me to do to you?” “I . . . I want you to . . . to eat me . . .” “If Erik were here, what would you want him to do?” “I . . . to . . . to fuck you while you ate me . . .” “Good. Good, good girl . . .” I told her, patting her sex affectionately. “Now, because you’ve been so good, you get a treat . . .” Turning to the bowl, which I had placed on her belly, I took out a sliver of melon. Stepping around to the foot of the bed, I knelt down and inserted it into her vagina. Then, putting my mouth on it, I began to suck out its juices, hers with them. One after another, I inserted each of the melon-slices into her vagina, sucked it dry, sucked it slowly out of her and chewed it up, then inserted another slice and did it all over again, until they were dry. But I was careful not stimulate her too much, too quickly, avoiding making her come before I was through. When the last melon-slice was gone, I stood up and, coming around to the side of the bed, sat down to look at her. Her nipples were distended and hard as rocks; her sex with was swollen with blood. She was gasping, hissing with need, her eyes closed, her chest heaving. I reached down and slowly, gently began stroking her swollen clit. “Do you like that?” I asked her throatily. “Oh, don’t stop . . .” I pulled my hand away. “You do not tell me what to do, bitch! – Now, what do you want me to do?” “Oh . . . please make me come . . .” “All right . . . bitch . . . if you want me to do that for you, you have to do it for me . . .” Heat flaring in my sex, slowly I stood up. “What . . . are you going to do?” she asked me timidly. “You’re going to pleasure me while I pleasure you. The more pleasure you give me, the more I give you. You slack off, I stop giving you what you want. You make me come, I make you come. All right?” As I spoke, I swung my body around and kneeled over her face so that my clit was just above her mouth. “Now, bitch, I want you to tongue my clit . . . tongue it as if I were the Goddess and you were worshipping me . . .” I held my sex just high enough to keep her from being able to touch my clit with anything but the tip of her tongue. With a thrill I felt her tongue brush the tip of my clit, then begin to dart up and down its length. “Oh, yes . . .” I hissed. “Just like that . . .” Slowly I bent forward until my mouth was over her sex. Extending my tongue, I let it dance along her vulva, into her cleft, onto her clit, mimicking what she was doing for me. All the while I kept my ass high enough that she couldn’t do more than flick the very tip of her tongue against my swelling clit. I did not want to let her come too soon, which meant that, in order to keep the mistress-slave illusion, I must not come too soon, which meant I couldn’t let her actually start sucking me, which would bring me off like a bomb, as aroused as I was now. As she teased lightly at my clit with her tongue, I did the same to her, slowly getting in synch with her until we were simultaneously doing the same things to each other at the same tempo, using the same pressure of our tongues on each other. My excitement built and built until it was like a furnace. As it did, gradually I speeded up the temp of the strokes of my tongue on her clit, bending still lower so that I could also lave her vulva and the
opening to her vagina with my tongue, as well, lowering my ass so that she could do the same. And still we kept up with each other, stroke for stroke. Then my sex was full on her mouth, and she was sucking my clit as hard as she could, and I was doing the same to her, and simultaneously we rocketed to a climax, and when it came it was like a thermonuclear fireball, rising in the night . . . Gradually I came out of the fugue that followed. Lifting myself off her limp body, I swung my ass around and sat down beside her again. Her eyes were open, and though they were filled with tears, she was smiling. “Lu’, are you all right?” “Oh, yes . . .” “You’re crying!” “It’s . . . it’s all right,” she said, sniffing. “What’s wrong?” “I – I just realized . . . I love you.” “Well that was pretty evident, given what we’ve been doing to each other for the last couple of days . . “ “No . . . I mean, I love you like I do Erik. Only it’s . . . it’s different. I mean, I’ve never loved a woman this way before. “— I guess that sounds a little confused,” she added. “I – hey, can you untie me now?” “Sure. Here.” Turning around, I began working at the knots on the sash binding her right arm to the newel post. “So what do you mean?” “I mean . . . what I feel for you is like what I feel for Erik. Only . . . you’re a woman, and it feels . . . different. But it is love. What I was feeling earlier . . . I guess it was lust. You’re . . . you’re beautiful, you know. You must make anyone who sees you want to rut with you like a – a bull, I guess. Or a goat. And whatever it was Donna Lee put in that salve, or maybe the drinks she gave me when I went to her to get the salve, it had to have added to that. And I guess . . . I guess I’ve sort of wanted to try a woman for years, and you most of all, ever since I met you. It took Erik to make me see it, but I guess I’m really that way. You know, bisexual. “But . . . I’d do anything for you, darling. Just like I would Erik. I . . . I couldn’t bear to see you hurt, couldn’t bear to hurt you myself. It’s . . . it’s a little scary, that’s all. I never knew I could feel like this about another woman . . .” With a grunt, I got the last knot of the last sash untied and pulled it off her right leg. Then, coming back around to sit beside her, I looked down on her for awhile as she looked back up at me, smiling tremulously, as if worried that I’d reject her. All the while I looked at her, I was looking inward, into my own soul. And there I saw that I felt the same way about her. Whatever I felt for Erik, it paled in comparison to this, far more lust than love. But I found that I did love Lu’, loved her with all my being. “Did I . . . did I upset you, love?” she said, losing her smile, looking at me with worry, gently cupping my right breast with her left hand as she used her right hand to sit up. “No . . . no, not at all. Lu’, I . . . I guess I feel the same way about you, that’s all. It’s . . . new for me, too. You’ll have to . . . thank Donna Lee for me when you see her next,” I told her, reaching out to grasp her left hand with my right, bringing it up to my mouth so I could kiss it. “I will . . . if that bitch hasn’t taken my man away from me while I’m gone,” she told me, laughing a little. “—Esh’?” “What?” “Why did you keep calling me ‘bitch’?” “Same reason you called me that last night. You like me calling you that when I . . . take you, don’t you?” I whispered, kissing her hand again. “Y-yes . . .” Taking her hand from mine, she put both arms around me, drew me back down next to her, began kissing my face, my breasts, my belly. “Eshda . . . my Eshda . . .” In spite of the sticky chill of the canvas, soon we were wrapped around each other in an urgent soixante-neuf, building toward yet another soul-shattering climax. Afterward, we lay limply against each other for awhile before we could find the strength to get up and shower off the sticky melon juices. Tenderly touching each other again and again as we took our shower, we whispered endearments to each other as we washed each other down, then toweled ourselves dry. Then, going into the bedroom, we washed down the canvas, then rolled it back up and maneuvered it back into the closet. Now we were both ready for sleep. It was going on 10 p.m. Falling asleep now, we’d be up by six and on the road by eight or nine, which was just right.
Slipping into bed together, each of us gave the other a good-night kiss. “Make spoons?” Lu’ asked me. “?” “Here, like this . . . We turn on our sides, with my ass against your thighs and my back against your belly,” she said, directing me with her hands, then rolling over on her side herself to show me. “Sure,” I told her sleepily, slipping an arm around her. “’Night, Eshda,” she told me. “’Night, Lu’,” I told her as I drifted off into the darkness.