The Seventh Chakra

by J. R. Bowles

  “Thanks, Billy.” John said. He liked this young man, he made him feel younger than he had in years. He had spent so much of his life studying and working he had never quite learned how to play. Maybe Billy would help him; he was overdue.

  They arrived back at the motel and went to John' s room. It had a bath with a tub and shower and a kitchenette.

  “I'll make the first drink.” John said as he opened the refrigerator and got out ice. He handed Billy the drink and ask him to test it. “Well, what do you think?”

  “Not bad. Not bad at all.” Billy sipped. “I think I like it. I never was one for those sweet drinks. I usually just drink beer.” Billy sat down in a chair. “Mind if I turn on some music?”

  “No, go ahead. Make yourself comfortable. I'm not going anywhere else tonight,” John added as he took off his tie and shoes. He sat down in the other chair and leaned back.

  Billy followed John's lead and took off his own shoes.

  As John sat across from Billy, watching him fumble with the radio, he was able to get his first good look at him. Billy was at least six four if not taller; his sandy hair was short and bleached from the weather. His muscles were lean, with broad shoulders and chest.

  “You look like you lift weights or work pretty damn hard,” John commented.

  “Little of both,” Billy answered, feeling a little homophobic. “Growing up in the country you work pretty hard. I said I was from Blacksburg, but actually I grew up on a small farm just between Blacksburg and Christiansburg. I had to work pretty hard. You would never guess I was a fat kid though, would you. Where are you from?”

  Billy's question flashed a joke through John's head. It was the one about the Georgia girl who had said to the Boston girl, “Where you all from?” And the Boston girl had said to the Georgia girl, “We are from a place that never ends our sentences with prepositional phrases.” And the Georgia girl said to the Boston girl, “Where you all from, Bitch!” John chuckled to himself but didn't allow Billy to see him.

  He answered Billy. “I grew up in Franklin County. You know, the moonshine capital. I guess we were neighbors. Small world.”

  “I'll be dang.” Billy exclaimed. “It sure is. These city people can just be plain rude, can't they. Not like the people from Virginia. Although, you know, I think the true New Yorkers aren't too bad. It's the people from somewhere else. Most of the true New Yorkers will give you directions, stop and talk to you, but usually they're just too busy and have to keep on the go. Always moving at a fast pace.” Billy got up and said, “Ready for another one? Let me try my hand at mixing.”

  “Yeah, I'm ready.” John handed him his glass.

  Billy went over and started mixing. “What do you think of the music?” The music he had chosen was fusion jazz.

  John smiled as he listened. He had half expected to hear country or metal.

  “Nice choice of music. Very relaxing.” John complimented.

  Billy handed John his drink. “Well?”

  “Just right.”

  Billy grinned. “I surprised you with the music, huh? “

  ”A little.” John laughed. It was almost as if Billy were reading his mind.

  “You said you came up from Florida. Whereabouts?”

  “Boca Raton.”

  “I hear that's a nice place.”

  “It really is.”

  “Guess there must be a lot of bitches–I mean beaches.” Billy joked.

  John grinned. “Both. Lots of women...” he paused. The liquor was buzzing nicely inside his head. He felt strangely detached from his voice as he spoke again. “Although, to tell you the truth, I'm somewhat embarrassed to admit it, I've never been with a woman.”

  “You're kidding?” Billy said; he thought, “Uh oh, here it comes. He paused and carefully chose his words. “Uh, I don't mean to offend you, but are you gay?”

  John chuckled out loud, and Billy was surprised by the reaction. He had expected John to either admit he was, or be angry for being accused of it. It wasn't the response he had expected.

  “Don't worry about offending me.” John said. “You're not the first person to ask me or even accuse me of it. No, I'm not gay. I've just never had any interest in sex. At least not until today when I met Morgan on the plane.”

  Billy narrowed his eyes and looked at John, unconvinced. He sat up straight and crossed his legs. “You're putting me on. You've got everything. Money, job, looks ....” He paused and cleared his throat. “I didn't mean that the way it sounded, I just meant..., well, I'm not gay either. You know what I meant. You've apparently got money, you're young, successful. You're telling me you don't have a sex drive? That's kind of hard to believe. Sex is like food. Once the umbilical cord that your mama fed you with breaks you've got to have it. It satisfies you for awhile but then the hunger just comes back.”

  John blinked. He suddenly realized what this young man, Billy, could teach him: how to make love to a woman. He had a date tomorrow--he glanced at his watch--it was almost tomorrow. Anyway, he had a date and he felt sure the situation of sex might arise. If it did, he didn't want to appear to be a fool. If there was anything in the world he hated, it was to feel like a fool. Personal failure was John's biggest fear. Failure in others was acceptable, but he couldn't tolerate it in himself.

  John sat quietly for a moment. “Billy, I'm not joking. I'm telling you the truth.” He then told Billy about his life of celibacy. The offers he had-had, and the times when he had tried to stimulate himself but failed. It was that failure which caused him to quit trying.

  Billy sat quietly, listening tentatively. He shook his head. “Wow, that's incredible. I find it hard to believe. I mean, I believe you, it's just I never met anyone with no sex drive.”

  John looked at Billy solemnly. “Tell me what it's like. What should I do tomorrow?” He lowered his head in embarrassment. “I really don't know.”

  “Well first of all, you don't go prepared to just jump her bones. You got to let nature take its course. Sex is natural. You have to let your emotions take over. But you have to remember to be patient and let her give you signals. Little things, like if she gets close to you and smiles, turns her head back and puts her lips together. You can see them actually form a little pucker.” Billy pursed his lips as he explained. “It means she wants you to kiss her. Then you kiss her. If she wraps her arms around you, pull her close, gently.” He grinned. “Ready for another drink? I think this is going to be a long night.”

  “Sure.” John said. “Then what do you do?”

  Billy laughed as he fixed them drinks. “I don't mean to offend you but this is so bizarre. I don't mean anything personal, but I remember back when me and my buddies use to talk like this. We were about twelve or so, just reaching puberty.”

  He handed John the drink and sat back down. “Okay. If she doesn't pull away, but releases the kiss, hold her for a few moments and then kiss down her neck. That's very sensitive. Lean into her neck and just snuggle. Then kiss it ever so tenderly. Just brush your lips across it. Usually you can feel her shiver. It's almost like an electrical current runs through her. By this time, if you're lucky you can feel her nipples start to harden against your chest. That is, if her bra isn't too thick. You know, one of those sheer bras--is best or none at all is better.” He paused and John nodded. “Just talking like this gets me excited. I guess it's been too long since I had any.”

  John stared at the young man. He was fascinated by his vitality and the sexual energy that exuded from him. John felt odd and sexually excited himself.

  CHAPTER 8

  At 11:30 P.M., Jamal entered the severely neglected building on Lafayette. He went immediately to the third floor. He was followed by two of his men. Although Jamal would be thirty years old in a week his movement was graceful and vibrant, like a youth full of force and determination. He had been standing and preaching most of the day, but barely felt any fatigue. His preaching was one of the few ways they earned their money. Occasionally they dealt in stolen goods bu
t they stayed away from drugs. Jamal felt drugs was just another way the white man kept the black man down, and he refused to have them around--except those needed to do their work. Like the tranquilizer his men had used on the girl.

  “How's the woman?” he asked as he entered the sparsely furnished apartment.

  The man sitting in a worn chair looked up from the TV. “Everything's just as you ordered. She's tied up, naked and gagged. I don't see what you want with no white woman, though.”

  “Listen, Azid, I don't have to explain anything to you, but I will. If just to help justify it to myself.” Jamal sat down in the kitchen chair. “When I saw her, I saw this light around her and it was like I heard a voice, but it wasn't quite a voice. It said, she' s one! I don' t know what was meant by * she' s one but I do know she's somehow connected to the coming of the Messiah. But when I looked at her I saw this kind of purple and yellow glow around her.”

  Jamal stood up and headed for the bathroom. He turned to the other man. “Azid, I want you to call my disciples and tell them to get here before midnight. We're going to have an awakening ceremony.”

  Azid rose from the chair, shaking his head in confusion. This just wasn't like Jamal. Azid's name had been William Thorton but when Jamal had taken him into the family they had renamed him Azid. He liked Azid better. It made him fit in. When he had been a boy growing up in the projects he had always been kidded because his mother had called him Willie. Most of his friends had exotic African names, but his had been plain. When he had the opportunity to join the family he jumped at the chance and they had given him the name of Azid. It meant he “who listens.” Although Azid was only twenty-two, he had always hated the white man, the Man, as he called them. He blamed them for the poverty and problems his poor mother had put up with. She had a pathetic job and struggled to make ends meet; although, he was proud of her for being able to endure. He also blamed his father for leaving his mother pregnant when she was only fourteen and taking off.

  “Why we going to do an awakening on a whitey, man?”

  Jamal's chiseled jaw tightened as he spoke. “Just do what I tell you. And tell them they had better be here in time.”

  Azid rose and left the room to call the rest of the family. There were thirteen in all, and five of them were already here.

  Jamal went to the room where the woman was. He opened the door and saw her tighten her eyelids. He gave a brief smile. How could he have been so wrong, he asked himself. He had come to believe the Messiah would be black, and there wouldn't be any whites involved, but somehow he knew this woman was a key. He just wasn't sure how. He knew she was afraid, and for some reason, he could tell she was oblivious to her own involvement in the coming of the Messiah. He could feel a power emanating from her. It was a power she wasn't aware of yet. If she knew about it, he doubted they would be able to hold her here. He stared at the bed and noted it was dry. He knew his men hadn't let her up to relieve herself. She was strong. She held her urine even though she had been here for hours. Although, she feigned sleep, he could sense her uncomfortable struggle to control her body, to retain her water.

  “Soon.” Jamal barely whispered as he jerked on her restrains. He smiled when she didn't move. She had a strong reserve. He ran his hand down her belly and touched her pubic hair. She remained still, with her eyes closed.

  Jamal took one more glance at her before he left the room. He just didn't know what to think. He felt confused. There should be no whites involved.

  As Jackie heard the door close, she let out her breath. She knew he was gone; even before she opened her eyes she could sense he was no longer in the room. Her eyes flew open and again she began to struggle futilely against her bonds. What had he meant by “soon,” she thought. Images of rape and slow torturous death raced through her mind. The lingering feel of his touch against her made her belly convulse. She had to fight back the nausea. She swallowed to keep the bile down.

  As she lay there she saw a movement outside the window. A fleeting shadow. At first she thought it was a distortion of light from some headlight as she tried to blink away her tears. As her vision cleared she could see the image of a white man staring in. Could he be part of these guys that kidnapped her, she thought.

  Jackie watched him as he put his index finger to his lips, indicating that he wanted her to remain quiet. She had a feeling she knew him, but the pale light through the window clouded his image with dark shadows, making his face almost sardonic. More fear rose in her. In a day where her fear had constantly ebbed and flowed, she hadn't thought she could become more frightened, but she had been wrong.

  The man kept waving his hands. She realized he was trying to convey to her to remain quiet. His gestures were vague and unreadable, yet she had a sense that his thoughts or emotions were being relayed to her.

  Bernie peered in at Jackie's naked, outstretched body. Although he knew he had precious little time, he couldn't help but absorb her raw beauty. He had followed the preacher man on the subway here to the lower West Village.

  Bernie had waited downstairs for over thirty minutes, trying to figure out how to find out if the girl was in the building they entered. Finally, he entered the vacant building next door, by passing through a half-boarded-over window. It was evident the building was often used by vagrants or crack-heads. Slowly he had managed to move through the darkness of the house, which was barely lit by the street lights.

  He found the steps and worked his way upward. On the second level he went into one of the rooms which faced the building where the kidnappers were. The buildings were not far apart, and he looked up to the next floor where he could see the glare of a dangling light.

  On the third floor he located a room across from the one in which he had seen the light. The buildings were approximately four feet apart. From that window he saw the outline of the girl tied naked to an old poster bed. The space between the two buildings was close enough to jump, but the ledge wasn't wide enough for him to land on. He had searched several rooms trying to find a board to use as a bridge. He finally located a discarded cupboard and as quietly as possible, moved it to bridge the gap.

  He had started across his makeshift bridge when a man had entered her room; and he quickly backed back into the building. When the man left, he started across, and got the woman's attention in hopes she wouldn't cry out.

  Bernie felt fortunate the window was opened a crack. Most of these old buildings were not air-conditioned and eventually the tenant would open the windows--even when they had to break through several layers of paint.

  “Shh! don't talk.” Bernie barely whispered. He moved quietly untying her. Although she was naked, he had too much adrenaline fear pumping to pay it any meager attention. He scanned the room for her clothes but found no evidence of them. Cupping his hand toward him, he indicated for her to follow.

  Bernie crossed the bridge first to show her how to creep across it.

  “Here, put this on. “ Bernie handed Jackie his shirt and helped her into the room. “It won't cover much but it'll help. We've got to move fast before they discover you're gone.”

  Jackie inhaled deeply, stretching her sore limbs and rubbing her ankles and wrists.

  “Uh, go in there for a second, I need to be alone,” she said to the strange man.

  “We've got to get out of here!” Bernie protested in a whisper.

  “I've got to pee!” She groaned as she gritted her teeth.

  “Oh.” Bernie responded and left her in the room.

  After several minutes which seemed like an eternity, Jackie came into the dark hallway.

  “Okay, I'm ready.” Jackie said looking around the dark hall for the man.

  “Over here.” Bernie called and waved his arms around so she would see the motion. “We're going down some rickety steps, so hold on to my shoulder.”

  “Okay.” Jackie answered, placing her warm hand on Bernie's bare shoulder. He hadn't worn a tee shirt and the feel of his skin surprised her.

  They managed to
work their way down to the window where Bernie had entered.

  “We've got to get out of here and hide until we can figure out what to do now.” Bernie said, helping her out.

  Jackie breathed a sigh of relief as she felt the night air against her. She didn't care if she was almost totally naked; it felt great to be free. But the man was right--they had to get away.

  Bernie led the way, running down the street with Jackie following barefoot close behind. His shirt tail barely reached her thigh.

  When they were a block away Bernie quit running and turned to her. Jackie became apprehensive and came to a dead stop several feet away.

  “You can't exactly travel very far like that.” Bernie said. “There's not many people out on the street in this area, but the ones that are out we don't need to run into. Let's go a couple of blocks over and see if we can find a place to hide you. I'll see if I can find you a little more to wear.”

  The street light glare bounced brazen images as she nodded in agreement.

  They traveled a couple of blocks and then made a left. Bernie stopped and pointed at a set of stairs which led down toward someone's basement.

  “Down there.” He pointed and led the way down the concrete steps back into darkness.

  They spent several minutes catching their breath.

  “I'm going now and try to find you some clothes. Wait here.”

  “Wait,” Jackie began, “I just wanted to ...”

  “We can talk soon as we get out of this area. Soon as they find you gone they're going to be out on the street hunting you. Right now I'm going to find something else for you to wear, so we can get on a subway and get the hell out of here.”

  Jackie watched the man's silhouette as he bounded up the stairs. She couldn't figure it out, but he seemed familiar, even though she hadn't got a good look at his face yet.

  Who was this man? She didn't know who, but she felt thankful, although she quickly told herself she could be moving from one group of crazies to another. She quickly dismissed the thought. After all he had risked himself to help her and she didn't even know him--or did she? Feeling a shiver in spite of the warm night air, she thought, at this point what other alternatives did she have?