by Foxx, Nia K.
“How is your mother?” Casey inquired.
“Good. Even with the turmoil she and dad seem to be enjoying being back in India. Although, in our last conversation she sounded like she was missing her friends here. I wouldn’t be surprised to hear her mentioning a visit soon.”
“It’s about time. Just remember I get first dibs on her,” Vicki added.
Naz rolled her eyes. “Yeah I know. If you want she can stay with you the entire visit. That way I don’t have to hear about what an old woman she’s becoming and how someone her age should have more than one grandchild.”
“Hey, you act like you’re the only one who hears that speech. We all get an earful, thank you very much,” Casey informed them.
“Which reminds me, the last time I spoke with her she wanted me to remind you all her number is still the same, and that she spends a great deal of time at home.” Naz gave each woman a stern look that was reminiscent of many they’d received from her mother over the years for their numerous indiscretions.
“Lindy and I already planned to call her this Sunday. She wants to thank Grandma Singh for the beautiful sari she sent,” Vicki said with mock superiority.
“Hey, Naz, can you finish your grazing already? Sierra looks like she’s about ready to explode over there,” Casey said.
“I don’t,” the accused protested. “You just want to get to the presents.”
Sierra shook her head at Casey’s predictability. If there was a wrapped package within ten feet of her she had to know what was inside it. Sierra, admittedly, had OCD but they all had their own quirks which made them borderline for the disorder.
Her three friends made quick work disposing of the evidence of their meal, refusing to let the birthday girl help.
“Why don’t you get the movie I brought out of my bag?” Vicki called from the kitchen.
Sierra spotted the hard-to-miss knapsack that doubled as an emergency kit and catch-all. Vicki’s quirk was being prepared for any eventuality even if it meant toting a bag around the size of Australia.
“Not Another Porn Movie,” Sierra read loud enough for the women to hear as they went about clearing their mess. “Tell me this isn’t what I think it is.” But if the title wasn’t hint enough the woman laid across the bed in mock ecstasy while her bed mate hovered between her legs said it all.
Sierra heard whispers, followed by a series of giggles, but no one answered her directly. She shook her head at the three women. They seemed to have sex permanently imprinted on their brain and thought her a complete prude for not sharing in their deviance. Well, she’d show them she wasn’t as straitlaced as they accused her of being.
“Why is it so quiet in here?” Naz re-emerged first, carrying two glasses of red wine.
“Opening credits,” Sierra explained, taking the offered glass before tucking her feet underneath her in the plush chair. “I fast forwarded through the corn-ball ads. No point in watching them when there’s enough of in the movie.”
“Oh my God, she actually put it on,” Vicki announced, her mouth agape as she came from the kitchen with Casey in tow.
“I thought we were doing presents next,” Casey pouted, plopping on the sofa.
“We will later. Now shush, I haven’t seen this one yet,” Vicki ordered.
“You know, eventually, at the rate you’re collecting them, you’re going to need a locked cabinet for these,” Sierra commented. “I don’t want you corrupting my poor little niece.”
Vicki waved away her comment. “Hey, are you guys gonna talk or watch the film,” she complained.
Sierra couldn’t believe Vicki was actually listening to the horrible dialogue. She gritted her teeth at the cheesy banter, wondering why they even bothered. Just when her thoughts began to drift, the wanna-be pretty boy on screen stripped off his T-shirt, revealing a physique that could only be honed from frequent visits to a gym.
Not bad, she thought, getting past the darker-than-natural tan that made him look almost orange. Probably one of those rub-on jobs.
His brunette companion watched him with lust-filled eyes, or the best she could muster while she reclined on the bed in her silky white panty and bra set. The camera switched back to the man as he pushed jeans over nonexistent hips. His cock flopped limply in front of him. Although flaccid, his potential was very much evident. The camera panned to a wide screen angle as the brunette eased across the bed on hands and knees, lying flat on her belly in front of her onscreen boyfriend.
The man groaned when she nearly swallowed his entire penis.
Damn, she’s good, Sierra couldn’t help but think. The woman’s blowjob proved to be just the right stimulus needed to have him at complete attention. She continued to suck him until he looked as if he were ready to explode right there. Which would have been a huge disappointment in Sierra’s eyes.
“Now that’s what I’m talking about!” Naz exclaimed. “Harry was barely pushing five inches.”
Sierra made an appreciative sound as the woman in the film took in the man’s impressive erection while he eased out of her mouth. He definitely had the package, and from his arrogant stance he knew it. He instructed his partner to lay back, which she did with the same slow sensuality. The man made quick work of sliding panties down her toned legs. She spread them wide to reveal an elongated pink clit that demanded attention. He obviously took instruction well because he dove in with relish. By the second stroke of his tongue Sierra could feel the twinge of heat stirring in her nether regions.
“Okay, this dvd should be given to every guy on his eighteenth birthday,” Casey practically drooled, but who could blame her. The oral action in front of them had Sierra shifting in her seat. The man lapped at his companion with all the fervor of someone who loved the taste of pussy. As much as Sierra tried to convince herself they were just acting, she doubted the pure ecstasy on the woman’s face could be faked. His tongue seemed almost unreal as it jackhammered against her clit. The woman’s moans and demands for more filled the room as she clutched the head of her relentless partner between her wide-spread thighs. She came with a loud cry, as spasms appeared to rock her body. Sierra had never envied someone more.
For all of her outward façade of indifference, Sierra’s body hummed with sexual energy. By the end of the hour and a half movie she was certain she’d need to excuse herself to change her creamy underwear.
“Well, that was something,” Sierra began as she flicked the feature off with a remote.
“Yeah, and a reminder I don’t have anyone to unleash this pent up frustration on when I get home.” Naz poured herself another glass of wine.
“That goes ditto for all of us,” Sierra reminded her.
She didn’t quite hear the mumbled comment from Vicki but caught the evil-eyed look Casey gave their friend before bursting out with, “Can we do gifts now?”
“Sure. Let me just run to the bathroom,” Sierra added.
“I think I’m in the mood for another round of food,” Vicki chimed in.
“Well, if this is an intermission I guess I can just do a quick check of my messages. Vicki you better not touch the Kung Pao.” Naz stood.
* * *
In the bathroom Sierra freshened up, discarding her moistened underwear in the laundry hamper. She hadn’t been turned on like that in ages, had no reason to be. Unlike Vicki she wasn’t an avid watcher of porn and as far as sexual encounters went hers were lacking in quality and quantity. Thirty years old and the only orgasms she’d ever experienced were self-induced. Although she was liberated enough to feel more than comfortable with that, it still didn’t ease the desire to have a man penetrating her, instead of one of her vibrators.
She eased her tan dress over her hips, feeling a bit naughty at being bare underneath the thigh high garment she wore for lounging about the house. She’d bought it on one of her shopping trips with Vicki but felt the deep square neckline and thin straps were inappropriate attire for work. It was, in fact, the most daring outfit she owned. God, she really
was turning into a dowdy old spinster. Something had to change.
Chapter Two
When all is not lost, all can be recovered -- Scottish proverb
The Void
“There must be some way out,” the new arrival muttered, while squinting into the foggy expanse of space as if he could see into its mist.
“Trust me, all newbies think the same thing after they realize they’re not dead. I thought it myself,” a man attired in a 1930s zoot suit said to the newcomer’s back, admiring the man’s snazzy outfit. Hell, if this was how men dressed in the future he hoped his consort was in this era. When the new arrival took cautious steps into the foggy void the zoot-suited man shook his head. He’d be back. They always came back. Where else could they go?
He turned his attention to the scattered group of men. There were hundreds like him, from different time periods but all suffering the same fate for their past indiscretions while on earth. Womanizing. At least it was the crime for those in this realm of existence. Daily, one or two left while new ones arrived to take their place. Some stayed longer than others, depending on the severity of their indiscretions.
Those who’d been there a particularly long time were a brooding bunch, typically keeping to themselves deep in the murky fog. Apparently Divinity, the beautiful-voiced creature who cast them there, didn’t discriminate. There were all races, nations, creeds and economic classes represented from various stages in human existence. She called The Void part of the Existing Plane. There, none experienced the normal human desires enjoyed by those on the Living Plane. In The Void one was left to reflect on his past indiscretions. In essence it was a place to quietly atone for sins instead of doing it after the hour of final judgment when God handed out Its decree.
Apparently the Existing Plane held many chambers, each one designed for overindulgence in one form or another. He’d only encountered a handful unfortunate enough to have to spend time in multiple realms and he gave those few a wide berth. Although none of the realms’ inhabitants were truly evil people it didn’t mean they didn’t have dangerous past. The Void was supposed to act as a kill switch on all emotions, except for regret and remorse, but Zoot Suit had heard stories.
Despite its sound, the Existing Plane was not a punishment, not really. Divinity had stepped into each of their lives and plucked them off a path of destruction that would have inevitably led to an eternity of damnation at death. Once it was explained why they were brought to The Void many counted themselves lucky. Well, eventually. The zoot-suited man shuddered at the alternative. He was perfectly content with doing his time right there.
The fog separated as one very familiar resident emerged from the haze. Several of the men nodded to the imposing figure that was Giric MacDumnall. As far as Zoot Suit knew, Giric was one of The Void’s eldest members, having passed through several of the Plane’s realms. The Highlander was said to have been a tòiseach, a warrior commander who’d participated in many ancient battles. To look at him none would contest the truth of the rumor. Next to his hulking six foot four inch frame Zoot Suit felt puny. The Scotsman lorded over the plane in his tartan, sword sheathed in a leather scabbard, his bare arms decorated with tattoos that snaked around his corded muscles. He wore manacles on each of his wrist that looked large enough for one to easily encompass both of his own arms.
“So, it is true?” A thickly accented black man questioned the approaching warrior without hesitation. Although not as broad-shouldered as Giric, the black man wasn’t lacking in physical prowess. He stood a few inches taller than the Highlander and Zoot Suit was certain that, should a battle ever ensue, the two men would be evenly matched.
“Aye, ’tis true. The lass need only recite the words and I shall be free of this place.”
Zoot Suit tried to remain inconspicuous as he eavesdropped on the conversation. It was obvious from the Scotsman’s slip in dialect he’d seen or heard something which affected him very deeply. Since his own arrival seventy-six years ago, he had observed the way the Highland warrior tried imitating the various current dialects of The Void’s inhabitants, most likely in preparation for his potential release in modern times. However, whenever he became emotionally charged he lapsed into an indecipherable variation of English.
“Divinity is certain she will speak them?” The darker man called Muzi asked.
“She has assured me ’tis a certainty.”
“Did she permit you a look at your consort, like the others before?” Giric didn’t answer for several seconds. “Aye.”
“You wish to keep me in suspense, warrior?” Muzi asked with an almost grim determination. There were only two ways to leave The Void: complete your sentence and be returned to the time in which you were claimed, or be called out by one in need, your consort. Most men wished to be returned to their own period, especially as they were brought up to speed on the changing earth in the Living Plane.
Zoot Suit had heard Muzi Lindani, a Zulu warrior, nearly choked the life from a newcomer once who spoke of the fate of various “African” nations. If Giric hadn’t been on hand to talk the furious African down he would have certainly strayed beyond even Divinity’s intervention. Apparently even the magic of The Void couldn’t dampen his rage at discovering the hundreds of years of murder, slavery and oppression inflicted on his kind.
“She looks to be a descendant of your nation,” the Highlander began slowly as if recalling the woman’s image. “A bonnie lass.”
Muzi nodded. “That is good, but if you do not wish to go perhaps you can appeal to the sorceress to allow you your appointed time.”
“No’, I willna seek favors from that witch. I accept my fate. Besides, ’tis certain I will reap great benefit from my consort’s womanly curves.” He frowned suddenly. “If this witch’s curse has not unmanned me completely.”
The Void shook in warning, causing several brave or very foolish men to look in Giric’s direction, as he seemed to be the only one capable of getting that type of reaction out of Divinity.
“I speak only of enjoying my consort, witch. Calm yourself,” Giric bellowed, looking up into the endless mist above them.
“’Tis with a heavy heart that I say fare the well, my friend.” Giric extended one arm to Muzi.
“Perhaps this is only a brief parting,” Muzi replied, grasping the man’s bulky forearm in parting.
Chapter Three
All that is heard must not be believed. -- Scottish proverb
“Now can we do presents?” Casey sighed as soon as Sierra re-entered the living room
“We gotta wait for Naz,” Vicki answered in a tone meant to soothe an impatient child. Sierra reclaimed her position on the overstuffed chair, glad to see the television had been turned off.
“Oh. She’ll be all damned day on that computer.”
“No, I won’t. I’m completely locked out,” Naz complained with a frown.
“What’s that?” Vicki asked.
Naz dropped the book on the coffee table as if she didn’t realize she held it. The dazed expression on her face had Sierra looking between her friend and the book “I found it on the lounger.”
“Looks mysterious,” Casey eyed it curiously.
“I picked it up today at a new place I discovered,” Sierra offered rubbing her arm absently where she’d felt the odd sensation earlier.
“What exactly is it?” Naz inquired, her expression returning to some semblance of normalcy.
“I’m not sure.” Sierra leaned closer to the table, almost afraid to touch the book again, her earlier memory coming back to her in a flash.
“Well, you won’t know until you open it.” She wasn’t sure who spoke because at the same time she could have sworn she heard another voice, a vaguely familiar female one, urging her on.
Open it, the voice whispered.
She inhaled deeply, reaching for the book almost in slow motion. Her fingers touched the cover. Nothing. She flipped open the pages, disappointed to find the first few blank. She delved further, until
her fingers stopped on a handwritten page. The language was foreign. The script looked old, ancient, in fact.
“What does it say?”
Sierra’s fingers traced the lettering. She was prepared to tell her friends she hadn’t the foggiest idea what it said when, of their own accord, words burst forth from her mouth in a language that sounded as old as time itself. The lyrical words flowed from her, swirled around her. She couldn’t stop them. She felt compelled to continue. As quickly as the impromptu recital began, it stopped.