by BoJenn
Should someone watch her by peeking through a window at night, she also would be labelled “mad”—crazier than a witch swimming in a pool of madness, perhaps—but delusional at the least, psychotic for certain, yet totally misunderstood by those who resided below her in the white-picket-fenced town of a fairytale place called Glory Town.
That evening, she glided with her arm out and fingers delicately extended in a gentle point. There in her large, self-titled ballroom without furniture, she would dance, sing and twirl with the imaginary spirit friends. All of her depression left when the spirits visited. She talked to them by carrying on deep intellectual conversations about politics, war, and God. As she did so, “Isolation” and “Loneliness” would temporarily disappear, standing to the side to let her have fun with her imaginings. Giving her a chance to socialize with others, they quietly waited for her return.
Every inch of childhood innocence was gone. She had discarded all purity that she had ever experienced. After all, what real goodness had ever come from such vain, Joan of Arc-complex, thinking? Cat had given it all up, knowing that it served absolutely no purpose for her anymore.
She smiled with a sexually-inviting allure to adventure that she could never experience living in the manor home all alone in Glory Town. She turned to look in the huge gothic mirror which hung in the hall, along the wall of art. She looked at herself. She saw her reflection. She was wearing a turn-of-the-century dress. The dress was crimson-red velvet with black-laced sleeves that framed her dainty, white hands. A crimson-red flower adorned her black razor-edged hair. It rested over her left ear. The red lipstick was brighter than the crimson dress, and her fingernails were long and colored red to match her lips. Her pale, ghostly skin reflected her feelings. Her feelings were those of a person who had died along time ago. She no longer cared if she lived, died or even where she would end up—heaven or hell—and, certainly, hell wasn’t far from the life she was living presently.
She smiled to invite the spirits into her room. “Welcome.” Cat raised her hand to wave them into the formal dining room. The spirits that came out of hiding were also dressed in French-designed men’s fashions, and the room turned into an elegant ballroom of happy, laughing, so-animatedly conversing people.
All would be well, good and just as time had been captured in memories of a period passed by. The ballroom, which contained no furniture, did contain artwork that belonged to her late father, and also had a wide assortment of classical music. She loved to turn the volume up as she played Mozart, Mendelssohn, Brahms, Beethoven, Chopin, and her personal favorites—the chamber music of the Baroque period.
Since the age of twenty-two, her nights consisted of music, wine and cognac. She turned up the music by remote. The room changed. The was a marked chill in the air. Then, while the music played loudly, the atmosphere in the hall transformed. It was brilliant with the charge of energies. The room was invaded with dark shadows. Cat watched the changes, unmoved or disturbed by the fluctuating temperature and lights.
One shadow stepped out from the woodwork. He, this spirit, presented himself by bowing before her. He kissed the white creamy skin of her hand. This spirit was named “Lust”, and it embodied itself as a man.
He, too, was dressed in crimson—a velvet French suit with lace sleeves and collar. His hair was deep milk-cocoa brown, and the color matched his almond-shaped amber eyes. His skin was shimmery translucent with an aura of light-yellow gold haze.
He danced with Cat every time she held her pale tender fingers toward him. He would kiss her hand and say, “May I have the honor of dancing with you? You are so lovely tonight, my dear friend. Shall we?” He, then, extended his right arm to escort her to the dance floor. Cat would put her left hand over his forearm. They would walk into the middle and take their stance, holding an erotic pose before the music began. The Viennese Waltz played. While dancing on air, his eyes magnetized hers by his colors of amber looking at her like crystals of a kaleidoscope of brilliant rich browns. He touched her crown, rubbing it slightly. Cat felt weak at his touch. He moved his hand over her ears to her neck. He stroked her nape. She closed her eyes, feeling the exhilaration with each movement.
Wanting more, she tilted her neck so slightly.
Then, from the shadows and darkness came others—“Desire”, then “Impatience”, stepped forward from the corners of the room. But, most dangerous of all, upstaging the lesser energies, entered “Control”. He, formed from the largest part of the vague murkiness of muted grey shadows. The four entities were dashing men.
Then, a female named Sophie, a succubus, manifested in front of Cat. Sophie directed the three tempters and “Control”. Sophie’s smile was wicked. Hot pink, well-defined lips that were long and turned devilishly up in the corners, exotically, sarcastically, and approvingly stuck out and lustfully frightened Cat. Sophie’s lips were not puffy like movie stars, but were long, moist, and had a painted china doll appearance. Her eyes had artistic flairs. Her green eyes were created using geometric patterns, employing swirling black thin lines that weaved around, framing each eye. Her hair was brilliant red and pulled tightly into a long ponytail. Her black shiny garment was worn as tight as skin. Sophie had no excesses of fat cells, and she had no bones protruding. Her breasts were perfect apples. Her fingers were adorned by precious gems that shimmered firelights within pink opals. Her feet were covered in satin-green covers like fairies wear, which matched her eyes.
“Good work, ‘Lust’.” Sophie spoke in a low, sultry voice. She lit up a long cigarette, and from her mouth billowed greenish vile vapors of smoke. “Nice job, Catherine.” She turned and gave her a look of acceptance and sisterhood, which Cat devoured with glee.
Sophie watched the men, and told them what do to while leaning over Cat’s shoulder. Her irresistible quality was almost impossible to ignore. “You will meet her needs,” Sophie told them. They did as Sophie said.
Cat’s deepest needs were touch, friendship, companionship, love and erotica. These were the things she could not grasp living in Glory Town, but they manifested inside the manor house that night.
Sophie pointed to the silky crevices between Cat’s breast. She singled “Lust” to begin to move his fingers ever so slightly towards her cleavage—on the side of her creamy neck, and by upward and downward movements going deeper and further with each passing stroke. His fingers moved over her chakras. Sophie’s fingers touched Cat’s crown chakra, throat, the solar plexus. Sophie pointed to her heart chakra which was between her cleavage. Cat gave it up as she felt the soft protruding skin reaching to touch her heart.
The other spirits looked onto her radiance wanting to have her flesh. They were hungry for her skin. “Lust” was smooth—charming, polished and a social genius when it came to seducing a woman like Cat. She loved every moment, and he drenched her in sultry words.
Sophie pointed to Cat’s eyes. She upped her head in a movement that signaled “Lust” to say something alluring about Cat’s eyes. “Your eyes are topaz crystals, and your lips are poison-red apples. I want to suck the sweet juice from the swells of your breasts.” “Lust” continued to follow Sophie’s specific instructions. He looked down into the cleavage as Sophie pointed toward Cat’s breasts, using her long cigarette to motion, though she never burned her white, bulging skin. The hills of bosoms of flesh were swollen between the purple satin and tightly-laced bodice. She would, she will! Cat was feeling good, feeling wonderful and alive!
“Desire” then made his move. He closed in on “Lust”. It was his turn. Sophie pointed him to move in. “Lust” stayed near her. He tickled her arm by rubbing up and down when “Desire” moved in. “Nice and easy,” Sophie whispered in “Lust’s” ear. Then she signaled “Desire”.
Desire was blond, sleek, daring and dashing with all the women so Cat imagined him. He approached from the side. “Desire” surfed the huge waves, and his tanned lean study male physic was hard to resist. He had interrupted “Lust”, to steal Cat away and take her to the n
ext room where they drank French wine and stared into each other’s eyes. “Desire” was extremely self-assured. This dominate character presence would be a turn-on to Cat. Sophie used this to woo Cat more.
He wanted the opportunity to taste her fruits before “Lust” had his way with her. His fingers moved “Lust’s” away and he began stroking with a stronger force. Shall we sit? He pointed to the couch.
She moved there and as she lowered herself, his hands spread her legs as Sophie directed him. He lifted her dress. His hands rapidly moved up her thighs. “Slow down!”, Sophie whispered in his ear. “Take your time. The night is long. No hurrying.”
“Desire” could hardly slow down. He took her hand and placed it on his bulge. He found his way inside.
“Nice work,” Sophie smiled sensuously at Catherine. She watched in intensity with her face almost touching Cat. She orchestrated the night of seduction. The time was ripe. Cat would give into their encouraged sexual offers.
“I’m ready now.” Cat moaned.
“No, not yet, dear, you’re prematurely ready.” Slowly. That is the way to make long passionate love. You have four lovers here. They all want some of you. You must last.”
Sophie whispered deeply in a sensuous vibration that further tickled Cat’s ears. She felt like she would burst as Sophie talked. Sophie squeezed her nipple. “Not yet,” Sophie told them.
But, then, Sophie signaled the next suitor who approached Catherine. He interrupted “Desire”.
“Hello,” “Impatience” spoke slowly, so softly, with his long, wavy red hair, clad in velvet green with the look of a regal tabby cat. He possessed magic, which was apparent when he caused the wine glasses to float across the room and hover slightly above the guests’ hands for an easy grasp. He always came quickly to Cat’s rescue, reminding her that she must do this or that.
He was quite bossy. “You must, must, must…now…take this advice. Do not fall prey to ‘Desire’.” “Impatience” seemed sincere and believable. “Understand?” His personality took over. He laughed.
“Oh, you’re naughty,” she smiled revealing her white teeth behind the red blood lips.
Just when he wooed her more than the other two, he was moved over by the boss.
The leader, “Control”, stepped in front, cutting “Impatience” off. Dashing above the three other spirits, entirely dressed in black, with hair that was black long waves, his eyes were as expansive and overtaking as a galaxy. He had wisdom that illuminated from his being. Dark and sinister, purity and light. He demanded his way, and if his plan was derailed, then he became furious with the his other spirits. They would quickly succumb to allegiance, bow and give way to “Control’s” temperance. They took a step back.
“Impatience” always retreated yet, he was “Control’s” chief advisor. “Lust” and “Desire” backed away making way for the master. “Control” rules. He was a rapist. They knew she would fight him, but the fight would make it worthwhile. Then, she would submit.
Sophie guided “Control” to touch her root chakra—the chakra that is vulnerable to the gentle message of sexual touches, of finger tips that move rhythmically—stroking the human woman with brushes that would turn her inside out.
Cat heard the old grandfather clock chime once; however, she could not move. The clock was in another room but was loud enough to get her attention. A chime that would alert the eleven o’clock hour.
“Pay no attention to the clock,” “Control” advised her. The room was active with the smells of bergamot and patchouli. It had the appearance of an exclusive tasteful brothel of demons and a saint.
Cat was lying back on the couch almost being completely overtaken by the impeccably well-dressed polite devils, while her dress was off her shoulders and exposing her right breast; her areola was standing straight up and rock hard, but not only because the room was cold from devils chilling aura. The dress had been lifted up to her panties of black lace.
While “Control” was manipulating her shoulders and breasts, “Lust” and “Impatience” were focusing on her legs. Touching them, stroking and lifting the skirt up to her vortex, “Lust” found the mound of hair and had the curls in his fingers. He was rubbing her like a cat. His fingers were on her erotica snap. The cold icy fingers went round and around in a smooth rhythmic motion, and, slowly, as the spirit picked up the pace.
“Impatience” was busy taking off his trousers. He exposed a long, thin charlie. He began to harden himself, using his own hand in up and down gyrations now ready for the plunge as he watched and grew hard in front of Catherine’s sight. “Lust” moved his finger inside her vanilla. “Oh, your so ready.”
Then, “Lust” moved his fingers away to clean her. He suckled the snap. His tongue twirled this way, then that. She would have given up her insides, but the flickering lights distracted her romantic concentration. She played her head back to let it all go, and in a scream of pure ecstasy.
“Impatience” said, “Hurry up, I’m ready. Is she ready? Oh, your going to love my charlie inside you tonight.”
She spread her legs with Sophie's help to spread her thighs wide apart. She didn’t mind.
“Impatience” moved his charlie to “Lust’s” mouth and he grabbed “Lust’s”. Cat’s hips were moving back and forth with each stroking of a hand or finger touching somewhere on her white, soft, delicate body.
Suddenly, the lights shimmered on and off, and on and off. Faster and faster, the chandelier flickered. “Lust” said, “Look at me, don’t look at the lights. He started to put his penis inside her. “Feel this?”
“Yes, yes…I feel you.” She no longer paid attention to the plunging. She was enthralled instead by the room’s lighting. One light blew up! She couldn’t help from sitting up.
“What’s that?” Cat looked up to see what was happening. Glancing to the right and left, watching the lights turning off then on, now, in a rapid switching. “Lust” continued, following her, rapidly moving in and out of her tightening hole.
The room became ice cold. All lights went dim. A fog formed in the center of the room. It started forming into an image. There, in the middle of the room, the young boy appeared. He watched the vile villains. Then, he looked at Cat briefly, then switched back to peering at the scene with the demons overcoming Cat. He stood there—holding the black rag doll. He was almost crying in his rage. The boy yelled, “Stop! Stop it now!” The boy ran off through the wall when Cat saw him.
Cat turned to the spirits. “Go! All of you, go! You’ve upset him. Now leave!”
The spirits were going to leave anyway, because the boy had a commanding essence about him.
In his anger, and by using his mind, he demanded the devilish host to leave.
They recognized the child was strong and meant business. In the spirit world, the boy held a higher rank, and the pigs knew they had to submit. They left.
Everything fell silent. The room was as it had been before all this escapade. Cat said, “What just happened? I’m losing my mind.” Bewildered and breathing deep, Cat looked around the still quiet empty room. The lights overhead turned on. The mist was gone. No noise in the room was generated.
The statue of an ancient relic of three men and a woman sat on the bookshelf. The three figures settled into their solid bronze form. Cat didn’t witness this, but it happened, just beyond the corner of her eye. She sensed the transformation—as sure as she had seen it with her eyes.
From upstairs, an old radio turned on by itself. A faint tune echoed down the halls to her ears. It was a 1950s French song. “Sur la plage un jour d'été Là, je vous ai vu, un mirage, une mémoire qui s’évanouit” [On the beach, one summer day, there I saw you, a mirage, a memory that faded away.] Cat heard the words coming down the hall. She recognized the tune held a mystery, a meaning for her. She had heard these words once before. The words were in her dreams; and she often saw a body of water, and a distant water-filled horizon—and a voice, a distant call—but, then, the yearning to go to it alw
ays faded. Only vagueness and doubt remained. The words had spoken to her for many years, and the waves rolled in and out so many times.
When the radio turned on, it was just another anomaly, another mystery or something else to make her crazy. Within a few moments, everything returned, as it was, as always.
“Loneliness” and “Isolation” would be back at her side, as always, too, of course. Cat hated both of them, but without them, she would only have herself. How utterly boring. She felt guilty for entertaining spirits: dead people.
Cat went down the hall calling out for the young boy. He went into hiding for awhile. Unseen by Cat, the young boy did peek out at them from behind the door. He gazed sadly at Catherine. “They’re not dead people. They’re devils,” the boy talked to her in her mind. She didn’t get the message, but she tilted her head as if she heard something.
“What?”, Cat asked. “Boy, boy! Come out! Talk to me.” She looked around boldly this time. “Don’t be frightened. Talk to me.”
Cat picked up boxes. moved chairs that were broken, and swept her hands to move the gathering dust away. That room was a junk room. The radio that had belonged to her father was sitting on a desk. It was out of its box. Tripping over the box, and moving over to the radio to pick it up, she bent forward. It was quiet. As she held it up to her eyesight, she examined the old radio station dial. The cord was dangling. It wasn’t plugged into the outlet. Looking on the wall for a plug, the only plug site was across the room, and the cord would never have reached the outlet. So, she dismissed the radio because of the illogical idea that it played the French 1950s song. She put it down and backed out of the room. The room was silent—no vibrational occurrences, and the air was normal. There were no signs of apparitions.
Cat closed the door behind her and left walking slowly down the hall. She paused to hear the sounds again coming from that room. Rapidly moving towards the door, Cat flew it open. Nothing. Absolutely hushed, without any movements or sounds. “Ok, for now, we’ll call it a night. However, you will explain yourself one day, soon. Deal?”