She straightened and thought, No, I want THIS, and reached for the finish, falling into the color, bringing it all back, the heat and the joy rising so that she lifted her arms above her head, stretching her body as everything spiraled down and hit low, and then she grabbed onto the table as the spasms took her, felt them like bright slashes against the stone inside her, her breath coming “oh, oh, oh” as all that heat spattered against her cold logic and she came her brains out for the first time in her life.
When her breath slowed again, she turned and saw Sam in the archway to the bedroom, naked to the waist, beautiful and strong and staring at her, and she walked over to him, grabbed the back of his head, yanked him down to her mouth, and kissed him like she’d never kissed anyone before, her brain shorting out and her body rocking as another orgasm took her and then he put his arms around her and pulled her tight against him, his body hard and hot, and she shuddered again and again, and then he said, “Sharrat,” and she froze.
“No.” She pushed him away, cold again, the color in her head dulling as the beat in her blood disappeared.
“Shar?” he said, and she said, “I have to go to bed now,” and walked away from him as he held out his hand to her, closing her eyes as she went through the dining room and the living room and the archway to the hall, thinking, He doesn’t want you; he wants Sharrat, her head aching like a hangover. She climbed the stairs to her room and walked straight into her shower and watched as the hard stab of the hot water washed the yellow and red paint in spirals over her body and onto the shower floor to arabesque down the drain, beautiful dancing color, and the water felt like needles on her skin, and the warm peppermint scent of the shampoo tickled her nose, and the music came back into her head, the beat insistent, filling her, heating her, rocking her, making everything go low and twist and …
“Oh. My. God,” Shar said, and pounded on the tile until the spasms stopped again.
Then she stood trembling under the water and thought, What’s happening to me?
She toweled herself off, and the rough scrape of the terry put her over the edge again as she held on to the towel bar, and then she put on a nightgown, this time resisting the flutter from the old flannel that was like a lover’s touch on her skin. She couldn’t keep coming, no matter how good it felt. If she kept this up, every time she saw Sam …
She shivered at the thought. He wanted Sharrat, not her, but he was there, and she’d never wanted anybody more, and he was never going to love her anyway, he was a god, so …
I could go down there, she thought. I could go down there and make love with a god.
She put on her robe and walked into the bedroom and saw Wolfie and Milton sitting on the floor by the bed. She shook her head to clear it and said, “I have to go down to talk to Sam, but you stay here—”
“Sam had to go out,” Wolfie said.
“Out,” Milton said.
“Oh,” Shar said.
“And we’re really tired,” Wolfie said, scratching at a spot of yellow paint on his fur.
“Food,” Milton said.
“Tired,” Wolfie said.
“Tired,” Milton said.
Shar drew a deep breath. That was good. It was really good. It would have been a huge mistake to go to him. He was promiscuous. And he was working with Kammani. He was the enemy. Boy, she was glad he wasn’t there anymore.
“You okay?” Wolfie said.
“Okay?” Milton said.
Dogs were better than gods, anyway. They were faithful and loving and didn’t screw up your life.
“I’m okay,” Shar said, and put the two of them on the bed, where they scrambled back as she climbed under the covers and then burrowed under the duvet.
“Don’t shove,” Wolfie growled.
“Shove,” Milton said.
“Good night,” Shar said, and snuggled down into soft, worn sheets that slid against her body, and told herself that she didn’t want a god anyway. She had enough problems without that.
Maybe he’ll show up in my dreams.
She turned her face into her pillow and fell asleep, exhausted and confused and unsatisfied.
At two o’clock in the morning, Abby couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t just the memory of Christopher’s hot mouth and cold eyes that was bothering her. It was the cookies. The hunger. The lust that she could supposedly inspire in people. Not to mention the fact that she was a freaking goddess. Maybe goddesses didn’t need sleep. Though word had it that Granny B had done more than her share of sleeping, and she must have been a demi-goddess herself.
The air mattress was deflating again. Bowser had a habit of climbing onto the foot of it while she slept, and she wasn’t sure whether he’d poked a hole in it or the old thing was just protesting the added weight. She rolled off onto the hard floor and scrambled to her feet. The windows were open to the street, and she could hear voices, music, laughter. And she’d never felt so alone in her life.
She was hungry. She hadn’t remembered feeling that way before—like there was something that would fill that emptiness inside her, but she couldn’t think what it was. If she ate one more cookie she was going to throw up, and she was out of temple tonic. Maybe it wasn’t food she was hungry for. Maybe it was answers.
The summer night was warm. She dressed quickly, draped one of Bea’s old shawls around her, and shoved her feet in her sandals. “You coming with me, pal?” she asked Bowser.
He’d already gotten to his feet, albeit with noticeable reluctance. “Can’t we just sleep?”
“You can, sweetie. I have some questions I need answered.”
“I’m going with you,” he growled.
“This is a very safe town.”
“Coming with you.”
She didn’t drive. It was a warm night, the history building wasn’t that far away, and the walk might ease her restlessness even if she couldn’t track down Kammani.
The heavy doors to the auditorium were locked. Of course. Abby considered pounding on them, but she’d probably get the campus police instead. “Okay, you’re right: this was a dumb idea,” she was saying to Bowser when suddenly the doors opened and Kammani stood there, barefoot, with her robe gathered loosely around her, leaving her shoulders and her spectacular breasts bare.
Abby blinked. She wasn’t particularly modest, but with a half-naked woman, you never could pick a good place for your eyes to go.
“Abi,” Kammani said, looking sleepy and satisfied and very glad to see her.
“Er, I just had a couple of questions,” Abby said.
Kammani nodded. “Of course. Enter.”
Abby followed Kammani into the temple, still feeling uneasy, Bowser by her side. There were torches burning, the smell of sex and sulphur in the air, and Abby shivered. “Aren’t you chilly?” she said as Kammani’s robe slipped farther. “I’ll lend you my shawl.” Please, take the shawl.
Kammani smiled at her dreamily, like a benevolent mother. A benevolent, weird, power-crazed, half-naked mother.
Maybe easing into it is a better idea, Abby thought. “Something odd is going on,” she said, trying to sound casual. “After the first night of class we started hearing our dogs talk. Really, we could hear them speak, and we could hear the other dogs talking. There’s a college professor who’s a stuck-up asshole and I can’t stand him, but I keep wanting to jump his bones, and he’s kissing me when he clearly hates me. And wherever I go, people are hungry or lustful or wanting something, and it’s very confusing. Good for business, of course, but disturbing.”
“Business?” Kammani said, frowning with her.
“We opened a coffeehouse tonight. Just a small place with cookies and coffee and live music.”
Suddenly, Kammani was a lot less warm and a lot more awake. “I have heard of your coffeehouse temple. Why are you doing this?”
“Because Daisy wanted it. And it seemed right. The point is, whenever people are around us they seem to act oddly, and I want to know why.”
Kammani pulled her r
obe up over her shoulders, all business now. “Sharrat was also with you.”
“She was helping.”
“The Three of you together is a good thing,” Kammani said, as if pronouncing a judgment, “but the coffeehouse temple is not. You must not call people there. I forbid it.”
“I wasn’t exactly asking permission here,” Abby pointed out. “I just wanted to know why these things were happening. And then Sam came by… . You know Sam, right?”
Kammani grew grimmer. “Yes.”
Abby took a breath. “He told us we were goddesses. Brought here to serve you. Which, on the face of it, is ridiculous, and I just ignored him, particularly since he was mainly focusing on Shar, but then these strange things kept happening, and I want this to stop. I don’t like it. I won’t be coming back to the dog class, and I don’t want any more of that tonic, and I really need to get my life together and get out of here… .”
“Abi,” Kammani said, putting a firm, warm hand on her arm. “You are still learning your path. You will see your way clear when you return on Tuesday. You will return on Tuesday.” Then she added in a more down-to-earth voice, “And stay away from the math professor. You are undefiled, as you should be.”
Frustration boiled over, and Abby shook her arm free of Kammani’s hand. “I don’t understand a word you’re saying. What kind of path do you think I have? And I am definitely not coming back on Tues—”
Kammani stared into her eyes. “YOU WILL RETURN ON TUESDAY.”
The hell I will, Abby thought. “Yes, my goddess,” her voice said, and she wanted to slap her hands over her mouth. She sounded like some addled Renfield in a very bad production of Dracula.
Kammani nodded, stern. “You will go back to your coffeehouse temple, and you will tell Daisy and Shar that you will never open it again, and you will all return on Tuesday.”
I don’t think so. “Yes, my goddess.”
Abby could feel her free will leaching away. Maybe Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein was more like it. Except that it wasn’t impeding her ability to think. Just the words coming out her mouth, like Kammani was some kind of cosmic ventriloquilist.
“Things have gone very wrong in this world, Abi,” Kammani said, taking her arm again and turning her toward the doors. “We have much work to do.”
Abby wasn’t going to say Yes, my goddess one more time. She’d rather eat spiders. “I …”
“GO HOME,” Kammani said, and Abby walked out the doors.
Before she realized it, she was back out on the front step of the old building and Bowser was looking up at her.
“Didn’t I warn you? Don’t trust her.”
“You could have said something to her in there,” Abby said. “Instead of leaving me there twisting in the wind.” She looked back at the temple in the moonlight. “I need to talk with Daisy and Shar, but they’re probably too busy having sex. Unlike me,” she added, disgruntled and thoroughly creeped out by Kammani.
“Home,” Bowser said wearily. “And lay off on the tonic.”
Abby looked down and saw that she had a new ceramic bottle under her arm, probably filled with Kammani-hooch. She thought about just tossing it away, but if some unsuspecting student found it, there’d be hell to pay. She put it in her bag. “You’re right; I’m not touching the stuff.” She squatted down so that her head was level with Bowser’s. “Except then I might not hear you talk, sweetie.”
“You’d hear me,” Bowser said, his deep voice wise and ancient. “Let’s go home.”
The next morning, Daisy sat curled up in her window seat, luxuriating in her silk camisole pajamas, in love with the world. She had a cup of coffee in her hand, a full day ahead to do with as she pleased, and a beautiful man who had worshiped her well last night sleeping it off in her bed. A bus went by with a movie poster on it, starring the two morons with the new baby, but even Camisole didn’t seem like that bad a name now. Kind of cute.
Life was good.
“Daisy happy!”
Daisy looked down to see Bailey standing next to her, his tail wagging furiously. She smiled and patted his head as his wiry little body vibrated with the force of his intense energy.
“Daisy happy,” she said, and thought, because Daisy had a lot of orgasms last night. But she figured Bailey didn’t need to hear that part.
She sipped her coffee and turned her head to look out over Temple Street below. In the middle of the street, a flower vendor was setting up her cart full of roses and lilies and daisies. Down at the corner, Mr. Casey hosed down the sidewalk in front of his store, washing the Friday night bar urchin detritus away from his little corner of the world. And across the street, on the corner in front of the psychology building, a timid student was trying to hand out brochures to people passing by, but she was so quiet no one noticed her. Daisy watched her and thought, If you want attention, demand it, sweetie.
“Morning.”
She turned to see Noah standing in her bedroom doorway, wearing just his jeans, his hair shooting off in a million different directions. Damn, he was beautiful.
“Morning,” she said, motioning toward the kitchenette off the living room. “I made coffee.”
“Mmmm,” he said, but instead of heading for the kitchenette, he walked over to her, knelt in front of her, and kissed her on the shoulder. “In a minute.” He leaned in and kissed her gently, his mouth cool and minty. “I hope you don’t mind. I stole one of your toothbrushes. You had a lot, so I figured …”
“Not a lot. Just twelve.”
Noah fought a smile, and Daisy flushed.
“You have to replace them every three months, and you save money buying in bulk at the warehouse store and—”
“It’s okay,” Noah said, squeezing her hand. “I like that you’re organized.” He looked around the living room, which was a total disaster. Couch pillows on the floor, plants knocked over, television armoire wide open. And yet Daisy didn’t have the slightest motivation to neaten up.
Hey. That’s growth.
“So, you had a good time last night?” she said.
He looked at her. “If you have to ask, I obviously did something wrong.” She warmed, remembering the events of the night before. “No, you didn’t.”
He leaned in and kissed her, long and sweet, his arms going around her waist, fitting so perfectly there, as though they’d been made just for her. How had she not noticed them missing all her life? She shifted closer to him, her legs around his torso as he knelt before her. The energy built at her core, her desire so strong it made her breathless. A breeze picked up in the apartment, and Noah broke off, looking out the window.
“What is that?” he said.
“What?” Daisy said, trying to sound innocent.
“That… .” He looked back at her. “Every time we get going, the wind blows. Have you noticed that?”
Daisy shrugged. “Summer winds. What are you gonna do?”
He looked at her, angling his head and smiling, his eyes narrowing in happy thought. Then he kissed her again, and her body responded; she could feel the energy building….
Control it, she thought, but his hand gripped her butt, shifting her closer as he pressed himself to her, his waist rubbing against her as he picked up a rhythm that—
Oh. God.
“See?” he said, pulling back and looking out the window as the breeze swirled around them. “I swear, it’s not even coming from the window.”
“Where else is it gonna come from?” Daisy got up and went toward the kitchen, focusing on the coffeemaker as she willed her body to take it down a notch. “Let me get you some coffee.”
She grabbed a mug and filled it while Bailey danced in her wake. She turned, facing the little island that served as her kitchen table, and slid the mug to Noah, who sat on the stool across from her.
“Treat!” Bailey barked.
“You bet, baby,” Daisy said.
“Hmmm?” Noah asked, looking up from his mug.
“Nothing.” Daisy turne
d around and kicked her kitchen stool over to the refrigerator, then stepped up and reached for the doggie treats she kept on top of the fridge.
“I like your system there,” Noah said, grinning at her as she stepped down.
“Alas, the world is not kind to the height-impaired.” Daisy looked at Bailey. “Sit.”
Bailey sat, his butt shifting from side to side on the floor with the force of his wagging tail. Good enough. Daisy leaned over and gave him the treat and he shot back to his feet, downing it in two bites.
“Nice work,” Noah said. “He’s a quick study.”
“You have no idea.” Daisy held the other treat up in the air and said, “Leap.”
Bailey leapt, and she tossed the treat into the air and he snapped and caught it, landing on all fours like a pro.
“I thought you didn’t like that,” Noah said.
Daisy smiled. “I think I’m growing.”
Noah took a sip of his coffee, then met her eye. “So … what happened here last night?”
She grinned. “You don’t remember?”
“No, I remember but…” He glanced around. “I don’t remember doing this kind of damage.” He pointed to the hallway, where a framed print was lying sideways against the wall. “When did we knock your picture down?”
I’m a goddess, and when I come, so does everything else, she thought, but then just said, “Like I said, summer winds. We left the window open and it got … windy.”
He watched her for a moment, then nodded, but she could tell something was going on behind his eyes that he wasn’t sharing. “Right.”
Daisy worked to keep her expression carefree; if this kept up, she was going to have to come up with something better than wind. But she had noticed that by the third time last night, things had calmed down considerably. So maybe it was just a matter of not letting herself get that pent up again.
Or bolting everything down first.
Maybe both.
“Yeah, the winds were pretty wild last night.” She picked up the overturned pen cup on the end of the kitchen island and set it upright, putting the pens back in. “Abby’s coffeehouse was a mess, too.”
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