Svippy wobbled, took a half step to the left, and stepped backward. His head drooped, his arms were halfway extended, and his hands flopped around like they were connected to his wrists with hinges. “Marie! I just had déjà vu! Once, when I was a little girl in Chicago, I got to see a marionette show. Svippy looks just like one of those string puppets. Well, except for the huge, shiny, red contusion rising up from his forehead…and that incoherent babbling, of course. Oh, wow! One of the few happy times of my childhoo—”
“Did they crack the marionette’s skulls open in that show, too?” Esmeralda interrupted me. I hadn’t even noticed that she had come over by me.
“No.” I tried to remember some details. “I don’t think so. Not that I remember anyway.”
Svippy the human puppet suddenly collapsed and became a whimpering pile on the ground. Wanda threw her hands up. “Puppet show is over, ladies, someone cut Pinocchio’s strings.” Wanda knelt down. “Wait a second. Shh! Stay quiet and listen to him. Listen to what he’s saying.”
“Ger—Gertie. What happened, Sunshine?”
“Sunshine? That could only be Brad! Yay! Brad’s back! Marie, you must have knocked Svippy back to somewhere over the bifrost. Thank you.” I knelt down and cradled Brad’s big sore head.
Randy started to sing. “Somewhere over the bifrost…”
“Don’t thank me.” Marie didn’t try to conceal the hopelessness she was about to express. “You’re in a real mess now. Svippy never told us where we have to go to find Groa. And we have no idea how long you have until that ring becomes a hungry snake, a big hungry snake inside of you.”
“Marie! Svippy was trying to tell you. He said ‘go to hell’ and I think I know what he meant by that. According to old Norse, there are nine different realms or dimensions. Some are reserved for Gods or heroes and some are for the afterlife. The Norse concept of death and the afterlife was quite complex. In fact, to this day nobody can say exactly how it worked. We do know that there were at least three places for the dead to go. Warriors slain in battle would be divided between Odin and Freya. Odin’s share went to Valhalla and Freya’s share went to Folkvangr. Ordinary people who died in any other way went to a place called Hel, or Helheim as it is also called. But it wasn’t a bad place. It’s not the place we call Hell. There was no judgment, no damnation. It has nothing to do with the popular meaning of Hell, the fiery place where the bad people go. Two totally different places. They just sound the same.”
“I hope there’s not going to be a test.” Randy muttered.
“Ah ha! Now I get it, and since I seem to have knocked Brad back into the driver’s seat, I don’t feel too bad for beating on him like he was an ugly Walmart piñata.” Marie smiled with pride at her moaning handiwork that was sprawled out in front of her.
Randy began to pace around and his restlessness was a sign that he was worried. “Wanda, can we even get to this Helheim place? And what if we do? How do we find Groa?”
“Don’t sweat it, my boy.” Wanda took a reassuring tone. “Getting to Hel will be fairly simple. I have no doubt that we’ll find Groa. If we have a good plan and work together, we’ll be fine.”
Esmeralda nodded in agreement. “There is one thing I’d like to point out. We have no idea why Svippy tied up Vasili. What did Svippy know that we don’t? Or am I the only one that wonders? Do we take Vasili to Hel with us?” She nodded towards Vasili, who was trying to communicate with the Sasquatch couple.
At that moment, I realized something about Esmeralda. Despite the fact the Esmeralda enjoyed torturing people with her prickly personality, she was a truly loyal friend. Brad wiggled around and got on his feet. I walked up to Esmeralda and looked her in the eye. “Esmeralda? I just want to say thank you. You know, for going on this trip to Hel because of me. I never even asked you to.” I had to move quickly. I caught her in a bear hug. “Randy says you have a heart made of rusty barbwire dipped in diesel fuel, but I think you have a heart of gold.”
“Randy said that about me? Well…” She shook herself free. “He’s not wrong.”
Marie was back in charge. “Listen up, witches. Tonight we leave for Hel to save Gertie from having some bloodthirsty monster snake pop out of her chest like she’s a giant cake at Satan’s bachelor party—”
“Or like that scene from Alien.” Randy pointed out.
“Yes, or like that. In any case, this will be a dangerous journey into the supernatural world of the dead. There will probably be monsters, corpses, bizarre landscapes, and really spooky shit in general. This is exactly the stuff I live for, but I know it’s not everyone’s cup of tea. If you want to stay behind, I understand. So, who are the big fat chickens? Anyone?” She looked the silent group over. “No? Good. We meet again at midnight, here at Gertie’s plantation. As far as the satyr goes, leave him to me. I’ll have a little talk with him.”
Brad put his arms around me and looked me in the eye. “Gertie, let’s go back to the house. I want nothing more than to make love with you and to get some ice on my head.”
“Hey, you two! I heard that.” Randy fidgeted and his hands were shaky. Marie’s words must have had a chilling effect on him. “You guys are going to go screw around at a time like this? Aren’t you the least bit nervous?”
“Randy, please don’t worry so much. You know how Marie is all dramatic.” I waved my arms around to imitate a ghost. “Wooo, it’s going to be spooky. Wooo…”
“Yeah, well, I tend to think she knows what she’s talking about.” He was nearly whispering.
“Once we get there and meet Groa, I’ll just explain everything. It’s not like we meant to summon her spirit. And now that Svippy disappeared, she’ll realize her son has no intention of getting married and settling down. She’ll have no choice but to remove the curse.”
“Well, I’m going to catch up with Marie and the others. I want to learn everything I can about this place we’re heading off to visit. See you guys back here later.” Randy jogged in Marie’s direction.
“He does have a point, Gertie. But if you’re not worried, then neither am I.” Brad took my hand and we headed back into the house.
Chapter Sixteen
Sexy Time
Brad ripped the flashy carnival outfit off and tossed it straight into the trash. I made it perfectly clear that I had no problem with having him only in his boxers in my kitchen. I led him over to what Randy calls “My granny chair”. It’s an old but comfortable large chair that I keep near a sunny window. “Brad? What’s the last thing you remember?” I was hoping that the best part of our disastrous dinner date wasn’t simply the result of my wayward magic spell. Brad sat in the chair and watched me pace back and forth as I talked. He seemed to enjoy it. “Actually, what I’m really wondering is…if everything you told me that night…did those ideas suddenly pop into your head that day? Or have you been thinking about it for some time?” The icepack I had prepared hovered only inches from the nasty lump on his head. Brad must have thought that I worried about how it might hurt to lay the ice on his injury, but I think I hesitated for another reason. I wanted to know, and I didn’t want to know. He took my hand and placed the ice pack on his wound. “And I know I must have said something about Vasili trying to kiss me.” I lifted my chin up. “But I don’t feel bad about that. I’m completely innocent on all counts.”
“Hmm…you sure have a lot of questions for a guy who was just possessed by a Viking’s spirit and then took one of Marie’s magical haymakers to the head.” Brad winked. “Of course I remember everything that evening, going out to dinner, you scarfing down the ring, the trip to the ER and of course, coming back here to your room. It was beautiful and really hot. Then out of the blue, you told me you had to take some pills that you got from a shrink! I don’t know what she gave you, but they hit you hard…Marie Laveau hard.” Brad removed the ice pack. “Do you remember what you were trying to do?” Brad’s mischievous smile and his twinkling eyes awaited my answer.
“Oh, I know what I was attem
pting to do. But…those pills. They just—”
“Turned you into a jellyfish? I know, I tucked you in. After that I heard this strange sound coming from outside. Music. I think it was from some sort of flute. I went downstairs and out onto the back porch. That was the last thing I remember.” Brad winced when he adjusted the ice. “I wish I could tell you more. I only know what everyone has been telling me.”
I was getting a little frustrated that Brad had not even mentioned his romantic proposal and it brought the sassiness out of me. “Modern medicine! All I wanted was some birth control pills and I end up at a psychiatrist’s office. And to top it off, she drugs me! How does witchcraft get to be the one with the bad reputation? I’ll stick to a witch doctor any day, thank you very much. It’s no wonder people are talking about health care problems in this country. Doctors aren’t called doctors anymore. Shrinks and gynos and God knows what else.”
“Okay, okay. I’ll stop teasing you.” Brad put his strong arms around me and pulled me onto his lap. “The answer to what you really want to know is, yes. I’d been planning this since Halloween. I was waiting until I had a few things lined up and was able to buy an engagement ring, which you ate. And by the way, I’m not worried about that satyr. Marie explained it all. I guess it’s really a compliment that the form he took was based on me. I love you, Gertie. I want to be with you. Every day, every night. I want to marry you. You’re all I think about. It is magic, but not the hocus-pocus kind. It’s the true love kind. I love you.”
“Brad, you are the only person I know that talks like that and means it. I love you so much.” My hands were on each side of his face. I ran my fingers through his thick black hair and kissed him. I became so lost in his kiss that I barely remember how he managed to pull my legs around to his sides. I faced him and our sweet, tender kiss rapidly grew into a passionate whirlwind. I can’t even remember how he managed to pull my dress up and over my head. My hands couldn’t seem to figure out where to go next—his hair, the sides of his face, wrapped around his neck, his shoulders. I couldn’t get enough of feeling him under me as I rocked wildly against his hardness.
“More! I need you. I need to feel you.” I raised myself up enough to free the entire length of his throbbing cock from his boxers. I pulled my panties aside and rested my weight back down. “Just…just this.” The heat of our bare bodies together was so exciting that it was nearly unbearable. Yet something reminded me that I couldn’t let him inside of me. We weren’t prepared. I slid my hips forward and back, teasing his entire length with each slow glide. He became incredibly hard and full. The thought that it was my body and my touch that spurred such a response turned me on even more. I intentionally kept most of my weight off of him so I could feel all the way from the tip and down to the base of his shaft. His breathing changed to deep slow breaths as he savored every movement I made. That was another response that drives me wild, every single time.
Brad slid into a reclining angle on the chair and I leaned my chest down on him. Our kisses were wildly roaming from neck to mouth while my breasts danced across his hard sculpted chest. Neither of us had to say a word, we both yearned for that feeling, that incredible moment when he slides the head of his cock into just the right place, poised for the erotic penetration. He always knows when I can barely take it any longer, that’s when he delivers the first thrust slowly and deeply, ensuring we savor every inch. I was beyond ready for that, I knew he was, too.
I would like to point out that this is a prime time for two voices in my head, Logic and Lust, to have a debate. I can’t be the only girl that thinks like this now and again. When you’re caught up in the moment, the mind must have a way to switch gears into a special high speed thought process designed to instantly shred your reservations. All of those hours you’ve spent carefully thinking about why you shouldn’t take a risk, they’re gone. Poof. Meaningless drivel to you now. The voice of Lust, that reckless voice in my head, urged me to just get him inside me.
Logic said, “Stop right there, Gertie. You know you’ll get pregnant if you keep this up.”
Lust replied, “Keep this up? I sure hope he keeps it up! He needs to get that puppy deep, deep inside. Besides, we took a chance last month. Brad got in there and he absolutely whitewashed the place. Heck, I was ready to put a little apron and baker’s hat on that sucker after the way he pumped so much cream in there. You get what I’m sayin’, Logic? He could have made cream filled beaver bismarcks by the dozen! And guess what, nothing happened.”
“It should be a warning. Tell him to wrap that rascal first.” Logic growled.
“Quit being a bitch. You’re trying to kill the moment, Logic. We’ll just have to be sure to get the chubby pastry chef out of there in time. He can frost that tummy like a frickin’ sheet cake. Hell, he can make those boobs into cupcakes if it makes you feel any better.”
And that was all the encouragement I needed. “Thank you, ladies.”
“What? Ba—by?” Brad huffed out.
“Uh, just talking to myself. Never mind that. Now put that little pastry chef in the bakery.”
Brad’s strong arms lifted me up and placed me directly onto his throbbing erection. The way he used his arms to lift and lower me up and down drove me nearly out of my mind. Maybe I did lose my mind because a silly, inexplicable thought briefly interrupted me. I imagined a carousel horse going up and down on a pole. The thought of a whacky calliope rendition of “It’s a Small World” nearly killed the mood. But Lust prevailed once again, this time over Idiocy. We made love on that chair for what seemed to be an hour.
Now at that point you probably would have supposed that I’d have been howling out, “Yes, yes, yes!” in a lusty tone, like those women on the porn movies. So I want to talk a little about sex voices. My friends have said that everyone has a special voice that only comes out during sex. I guess I missed out on that gift.
When I was reaching my climax, there was no porn princess voice to be heard. Only me and my squeaky Irish brogue. “Oh, that’s it. That’s it. Oh, don’t you stop. I’m. Feeling. Every. Thick. Inch. Of. Your. Giant, Oh Jesus and his step-brother Mike! There it comes. Oh. Don’t. Don’t stop filling me up. Arghhh.” My brain was wobbling from the most intense orgasm. “I didn’t mean to sound like a pirate. Don’t stop. Don’t ever stop fuckin’ me like this.” I was talking dirty. A sure sign I was winding up for another mind splitting orgasm. I just wanted to feel Brad release himself inside of me, something about feeling him come, I wanted to feel it, consequences be damned. I hit another climax. “Fill me up. I want to feel it.” Logic must have clawed its way back from some shadowy corner because I suddenly changed my mind. “Wait! Don’t fill me up! Don’t fill me up! Pull the chef out! Put the frosting on top of the cake!”
“Wha—what?” Brad grunted.
Oh God, what was I saying? What else do guys call it? The next word that popped into my mouth was one I heard used during Leigh’s Operation Fast and Furriest at the Chicago Fur-con.
“Pull out your yogurt slinger!” Nice one, Gertie. What the hell?
Brad’s grunts and moans of passion were replaced by a fit of laughter. “Oh, I, it’s too much! Stop it, Gertie! You, you’re killing me here.”
In the nick of time I lifted my hips up and slid my body down. I was perfectly positioned on my knees and between his thighs. His hard cock was right in front of me. Poor Brad, his cock had been thrown from the heights of ecstasy and abandoned, exiled. I really wanted him to reach his own climax. This was the perfect time to attempt what I had started the other night.
“Ladies and gentlemen, meet the world’s sexiest pastry chef.” I chuckled as I wiped him off. From that point on it was a learning experience. In fact, I learned some valuable lessons. Oral sex is best left as a foreplay activity for a couple of reasons. It has a very personal taste, if you know what I mean. The other reason is, if you wait until after you’ve enjoyed a solid hour of crazy, wild sex, your man is very likely to be within minutes of erupting with
a fortnight’s worth of love potion all at once. Without any warning. During your first ever attempt at a blowjob. Oh, it wasn’t a cute scene, like they lead you to believe in romance novels or Kelly’s sex education classes, when the chubby pastry chef decided it would be great fun to pretend it was at a carnival shooting gallery. You know the ones with the little tin ducks used as targets.
However, the only duck on that range was my dangling uvula. “Ping” direct hit. And the hits just kept coming. “Ping, ping, ping, ping.” Apparently, the chef also thought it would be a good idea to deliver a sequence of five rapid fire shots for good measure. My hand throttled his cock with a kung-fu grip and I pulled it from my mouth. I hung onto Brad by his disco stick and it was the only thing that kept me from falling to the floor. I must have looked like I was one of those fighter pilots steering through a furious dogfight by violently jerking the joystick in all directions. My esophagus joined in the party by providing a fierce and quite graceless performance when I hocked up Brad’s salty gift of slimy goop. All over his stomach. No apology would be forthcoming.
Brad placed the tips of his index fingers under either side of my jaw. He gingerly lifted my head up. I think he did it out of repulsion more than compassion with the way he used his giant set of human barbeque tongs. “Gertie? Are you okay?”
How do you even begin to answer a question like that? Unable to answer, I chose to punt. Seriously, I had just hurled the nastiest concoction imaginable onto his stomach. Brad helped me up and we switched places. He grabbed a nearby towel so I could at least clean the orifices of my face. “Brad? I only have one request for next time, and please note that next time is a very vague notion of a remote possibility, far in the future.”
Gertie's Paranormal Plantation: A Paranormal Romantic Comedy Page 10