The Seventh Chakra

by J. R. Bowles

  “Good evening, Mr. Fleuric. My name's Morgan, Morgan Cross, and I will be your attendant in first class this evening.” Morgan's heart was doing a triple beat. It was him. She finally stood face to face with John Fleuric. He was handsome. Handsome didn't describe him. He was beautiful. Tall, dark and handsome. The words had been created just for him. His eyes were the palest shade of blue. She stood there mesmerized for a moment and thought, “I can't believe he's the one.”

  Since her childhood, her parents had taught her of his coming. His birth had been predicted through the stars, down to the exact time and place. She had been told he would be here, and that the time for him to be presented to the world was at hand, even though he hadn't attained his own self-awareness of who he truly was. It was this trip to New York which would begin his awakening to total consciousness, and make him aware of his own destiny.

  At this time, Morgan knew more about this man, in many ways, than he knew about himself. Her parents were members of one of the oldest orders of an ancient religion still in hidden existence, and had trained her for this purpose since she had been a child. Although Morgan was only twenty-four, she knew this was the one whom she must serve.

  “Mr. Fleuric, here's your seat. Please make yourself comfortable and I will get you what ever you like to drink.” Morgan watched his lean muscular body as he sat down. His sensuality made her shudder; she admonished herself for the lustful thoughts she was having. This is he who had been predicted, she told herself, he is more than just a man.

  John looked up at her and returned her smile. “I'll have a Bud Light, please.”

  As Morgan went off to get his drink, John wondered at being the only one in first class. He thought it was rather strange, since they had said they were over booked. He sat back, noting the jet was one of the large ones which showed movies. That was odd too, to have a movie when the flight was so short.

  Morgan returned with his beer and a glass. “I will be serving you dinner shortly after we take off. It looks like you'll be the only one in first class tonight, so you will get extra-special attention.” She smiled and poured his beer for him. “So if there's anything you want, please call me.” She emphasized the word anything and stared deep into his eyes.

  Morgan knew that it was the lower chakra center which she had been trained to open; the second chakra, the sexual organs. She tingled at the thought of enticing him into a sexual liaison with her. She wasn't sure how she was going to go about it, but she had been trained for this and that was why, at the age of twenty-four, she was still a virgin.

  After a short time the “fasten your seatbelt” light blinked on and the Captain's voice came over the speaker. He told them their flight would arrive at 9:00 P.M., and the weather in New York was partly cloudy with a comfortable 72 degrees.

  Morgan walked over to John and leaned down. “Let me help you with your seatbelt, Mr. Fleuric.”

  She reached down slowly, grabbing each end of the belt with her slender fingers on the underneath side of the clasp. She let her fingers graze John's crotch. At that touch there was an almost electrical thrill that ran through her hand all the way to her head, and back down to the base of her spine, at the feel of his male softness. She had to fight against the urge to keep from trembling.

  At the feel of Morgan's hand, John felt himself begin to stir. He was shocked, not so much by her action as by his own response. Although he would be thirty next week, he was an old man by any sexual definition. He had always abstained from sex. Not because he had never had the opportunity; many women had thrown themselves at him, but he abstained because he had just never had any desire. When he had been a teenager, he had often wondered if there was something wrong with him. The conversations of the other boys, on how they chased girls and “scored,” was like a sport. That had just never appealed to him. He had made a mistake in his choice of attending Radford University in Virginia: the mistake was that at one time, it had been an all-women's teacher college, and had just gone coed. He was one of the first men to attend the school after the change. The girls were always chasing him and asking him out. Being one of the few men on campus had made him very popular, and he had passed on many opportunities by making excuses to them that he had to study. He had even taken an evening job, just to get away from the dorm. After a while some of the girls were so frustrated by his aloofness they started the rumor that he was gay--of course the term they used back then was “queer.” The unfortunate thing was, he wasn't gay; that would have been some kind of sexual desire, but he truly felt nothing. He had even tried manually to get an erection. He finally gave it up, and came to the conclusion he was one of those few people who were just asexual.

  John's eyes widened as he felt her hand against him. After all of those years of indifference he had finally felt something. He felt confused, as the strange sensation ran through his body to his brain.

  “Please call me John.” He looked deep into her warm brown eyes, flecked with amber and green.

  “Do you live in New York, or are you just going there to visit?” Morgan asked him as she stood up and surveyed him from head to foot.

  “I'm going there on business,” John said, returning the close scrutiny.

  “What company are you with--or am I being too personal?” Morgan quizzed.

  “No, no–“ John smiled and stuttered. “That is quite all right. Please be personal. I don't mind at all. I have a computer company specializing in software. We're still small, but growing.”

  “Your wife must be very proud of you.” Morgan said, knowing he wasn't married but not wanting him to realize she knew all about him, even down to the fact he, like herself, was still a virgin--although she had sexual desire and he never had.

  “I'm not married.” John responded with a grin. “Unless you consider being married to work. Some of the people who work for me accuse me of that.”

  “Will you be in New York very long?” Morgan practically purred.

  “About a week. I will be leaving on my birthday on the first.”

  “And I bet you'll be nineteen,” Morgan flattered, and gave him her most dazzling smile and a half wink.

  John grinned back. “Thirty, I'm afraid. Nineteen is more like your age.”

  “Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Fleuric.”

  “John, please. I insist.”

  “John,” she whispered in her most sensual voice.

  “Morgan, I'm sorry--what did you say your last name is?”

  “Cross,” she answered. “But I guarantee I'm not a burden to bare.”

  CHAPTER 3

  The Reverend Thomas Lamb turned the key to his hotel room. He looked around at the shabby excuse for living quarters and laid his suitcase on the bed. He had been in New York before, and he hated it. He could always feel the evilness and the seedy side of the city, like a layer of festering scum on milk.

  Although he was almost thirty, he looked much older. His hair had began to fade years earlier and was now thinning. He didn't take care of his body; his waistline was pudgy from too many sweets and too many junk-food meals. He was indifferent to his body's needs.

  Reverend Lamb knew something was soon going to happen. He wasn't quite sure what it was, but he had been guided by voices to come here.

  The first revelation had come to him only a month ago. At first he hadn't believed what he had seen; his own senses had rejected the thought. He had awakened from a dream in a cold sweat. He had been dreaming of hell and the coming of the Anti-Christ. He had never been a “hell fire and damnation” preacher, but had tried to practice the more gentler side of Christianity. He had always loved nature, and the beauty and love people should share with one another. But this dream had come. The first time, he had rejected it. Then it happened twice more.

  The second time he had been outside at night, looking up at the beauty of the night sky where he lived in Blacksburg, Virginia. As he had stared up at the sky, he saw a face looking down at him. A voice came down to him, telling him the Anti-C
hrist was coming, and had insisted it was his mission to stop him.

  The last time had been the most convincing. He had been in church, practicing his Sunday sermon, when the walls of the church disappeared and he was standing on the shore of a lake. The water had parted, and a voice told him he was to go to New York, for that was where the Anti-Christ was to appear. He tried to protest, but the voice said he had been chosen. He tried to argue that he wouldn't know what to do, but the voice wouldn't listen. It told him he would know what to do when the time came.

  Thomas dropped onto the well-worn bed, placing his head in his hands. He wondered where he should start.

  Quietly he prayed for guidance and strength.

  CHAPTER 4

  Jackie groaned, trying to clear some of the fog from her mind. She felt as if her head was in a vise grip and someone kept turning the handle. She gradually started to become aware of her body; it was like both her mind and her body must have fallen asleep, for she felt like someone was sticking her with thousands of needles. Even before she opened her eyes, she knew she was naked. Being a sensible woman, she lay there and listened before she opened her eyes. She wanted to make sure no one was near.

  Slowly, and without moving her body, she opened her eyes just a slit. At first the light blinded her, and she had to adjust her eyelids to compensate. Lying still, with her peripheral vision she was able to detect she was in a room, apparently alone. The last thing she remembered was the confrontation with the three men in the lobby of the USO building.

  Realizing no one was near, she slowly took inventory of her situation. Moving her stiff neck to the right and then to the left, she raised her head as much as she could and scanned the area; it appeared to be a sparsely-filled bedroom. She was lying on a four poster bed, and had been tied up naked and spread-eagled. From what she could tell, there was nothing else in the room; the light above her was a single bulb dangling from the ceiling. The paint on the walls and ceiling was old and yellow. Flaking chips threatened to fall down in her face at any moment. As a Radioman, she had been trained to listen more carefully than most people, and she held her breath.

  Straining her ears, at first she could hear only her heart pounding away; but as her thoughts stilled she thought she heard a foghorn in the distance. Was it night already? Then she heard and felt the vibration of someone walking closer. Then faint voices, but she had to strain to make out what they were saying. Jackie stayed clam; she had always disciplined herself not to panic, to assess the situation to determine what action was necessary.

  “What the hell we going to do with that white bitch?” She heard.

  “Whatever the fuck Jamal tells us.”

  “Well, shit, man. I think we might ought to tear off a little of that thing while we's waiting.”

  “Jamal told us we better not touch her, not yet anyway. So don't you be doing nothing to get him pissed.”

  “What does he want her for. He the one be talking about them white devils and shit.”

  “Shut your mouth, man! Jamal don't do nothing 'less it's for the cause.”

  “When's he going to be here?”

  “Couple hours. Now go over and get us some pizza.”

  “You go, man. I went last time.”

  “Jamal left me in charge, so you better do what I tell you or he's gonna hear about it.”

  “All right, man. Give me some money.”

  Jackie heard movement and then a door opened and closed. As she laid her head back she regretted never having had sex, because she now expected to be raped, maybe even killed. Tears welled up in her eyes and she blinked to keep them from burning. She had to think. This was no time to feel sorry for herself. If she did, she would never be able to accomplish anything.

  It was Saturday, or at least she thought it was still Saturday. She wouldn't be missed until Monday when liberty expired and they would count her AWOL. AWOL! Why was she thinking like that; she was beginning to give up. If she allowed herself self-pity, an emotion she never gave in to, she was surely doomed. That was an emotion she had never had time for and she wasn’t going to now either!

  When they found her Absent With Out Leave they might try to figure out what happened. Would they be able to track her? She doubted it. Even though several of the other women knew she went to the USO, they wouldn't be able to find her. No one had seen her being taken. She thought for a moment; no, she hadn't told anyone where she was going, and the only person she had met was the guy she had bumped into.

  Nevertheless, this was definitely not the time to give up, she told herself.

  CHAPTER 5

  Bernie had recovered from the shock of seeing the girl abducted, and stood there in the street beneath the USO. He was furious at his own inability to do anything to help her. He thought about going to the police, but he had-had to deal with New York's finest before, on the opposite end of the spectrum. He shrugged as he thought about the time he had been arrested after getting into a fight outside a tavern; it hadn't been his fault, he had only been defending himself, but that had been beside the point. He knew it would take forever, telling them about the kidnapping.

  After several minutes of standing around in half-shock, he decided to go into the building from which the girl had been taken. Upon entering the narrow lobby, he noticed two elevators on his right and on his left, a directory for the building.

  He walked over and stared at the directory, noticing several companies and the USO. Had that been where she had been going? he thought. Most of the other places were probably closed today, so he decided he should check it out.

  Bernie entered the elevator and got off on the floor marked “USO.” He paused after getting off and saw there was only one door on this floor, also marked USO. He opened the door and walked in.

  “May I see your ID card, please,” came a request from a pretty girl sitting behind a desk on the other side of the room.

  “Well, I don't exactly have one,” Bernie explained.

  “I'm sorry, the USO is for military personnel, their dependents and guests, only,” she stated flatly, as if she wished it were a recording so she wouldn't have to say it over and over.

  “I was supposed to meet a young lady here,” Bernie lied. “Actually she was going to meet me outside, but I thought since I arrived a little late she may have come on in, “ Bernie improvised, pretending to look around for someone.

  “It's been quiet today. Most of the ships are underway,” the girl said.

  “Oh, well maybe you know her, she's about five four, auburn hair that reaches down to here.” Bernie gestured at his shoulder. “Pale grey eyes?”

  “Do you know her name?”

  “Well,” Bernie hesitated, “not exactly.”

  “Uh huh, I see.” The girl said squinting her eyes and looking Bernie over. “Do you know what service she's in?”

  “Well ...” Bernie dragged the word out and curled his upper lip, trying to ingratiate himself to the girl, “not exactly.”

  “What do you know about her?”

  “She's very attractive and I only recently met her. She wrote her name and phone number down but I lost them. I was a little inebriated at the time,” he continued to lie. “And she has a rather sad, distant look in her eyes.”

  The girl thought for a moment. “I probably shouldn't say anything, but it sounds like it might be Jackie. I think her last name's Harris, but I'm not sure. You get to know people by their service and first names. I wouldn't normally say anything, but Jackie always comes here on Saturday, alone.” She emphasized alone. “She doesn't usually say much but I'm very perceptive, know what I mean?” She inhaled loudly and looked pensive. “You know I haven't seen her yet today, and she's usually here by now. She just comes in, doesn't socialize; just asks for only one ticket to whatever Broadway or off-Broadway show we might have, and has a soda and leaves.”

  Bernie smiled to himself. He had hit a gold mine. This girl loved to gossip. “What service is she in?” he quizzed.

  “Oh, let m
e see, I think it's the Coast Guard. I really shouldn't be talking to you about this, but, if she's finally coming out of her shell and found her a man, especially at her age,” she added cattily. “Well, who am I to stop the course of love.”

  “Her age? What do you mean? She couldn't be more than twenty-three.” Bernie asked.

  “Twenty-three, my big foot. I hope I'm that well preserved when I'm twenty-nine. You know, I think she'll be thirty soon, if I remember correctly.” She nodded her head. “As a matter of fact, I think she said her birthday is around the first of next month.”

  Bernie grinned and let his eyes twinkle. “Oh, but you must still have ten years until you're twenty-nine, “ Bernie flattered, and then added, “Do you know where she lives? Maybe I can call and see if she's just late?”

  “She's on Governors Island. On one of their ships. I'm not sure which one,” she said, shaking her head slightly. “Although I think she also has a room on the base; but she's stationed on one of the ships. I'm just not sure which one. I'm not really sure she has a room on the base as far as that goes. Besides, even if I had her phone number, which I don't, I couldn't give it to you.”

  “I understand. Thank you so much. I guess I'll just wait outside, maybe she will still show.” Bernie said as he began to turn for the door.

  “You can wait here if you like.” She gestured toward a couch across the room. “By the way, my name's Beth. What's yours?” She smiled.

  Bernie paused for a moment. “Uh, Larry, Larry Jones. Well it's been nice meeting you, Beth. I guess I should wait outside for a few minutes. If you see her, would you tell her I was here?”

  “Sure, someone else may come in that knows her. I'll ask around, if you want to check back in with me later.” She scribbled on a piece of paper. “Here's the USO's number, and there's my home number, so give me a call.”