Maya's Aura: The Charred Coven

by Smith, Skye

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  The next evening couldn't come fast enough. After two more interview sessions, and an apologetic Jacob because the scanning was taking longer than he expected, and a supper of greasy fish and chips, she rushed to bed hoping that Wendy would take the hint and turn in early.

  This time Wendy didn't want to just spoon. After two nights of sleeping with Maya's aura, she was now convinced that she was in love. She wanted caresses. She wanted kisses. She wanted to pleasure Maya to repay her for the pleasure of the aura.

  It wasn't the first time that Maya had to give the, "it's not love, it is the effects of the aura," talk. It was harder with women. Men just assumed, yeah, right, their cock had got in the way again. Women yearned for the feeling of love, true deep emotional love, and the aura felt like what they expected love to feel like. With women you had to be very comforting because they reacted so badly to rejection. Perched on the bed beside Wendy, she reached for her hand.

  "Wendy, what we have is special, but I don't think we should take the next step. What we have was never meant to be sexual, it is beyond sexual. Sex would cheapen it." Maya brushed Wendy's tears from her cheeks. What a crock. Wendy was a very sexual, sensual being, and there was nothing cheap about her. Luckily Wendy accepted her words, and her comfort. Eventually they fell asleep, spooning as usual.

  At least Wendy fell asleep. Maya crept down two flights of stairs and knocked on the cheapest room in the Inn. As soon as William opened the door she grabbed his hand and waited for the darkness to run up her arm. Nothing. The news reached her brain at the same time as the thought that now she could have him. She prepared herself to throw him on the bed and rip his robe off and ravish him.

  Her hands were all over him, caressing, touching, grabbing, squeezing, and slowly waltzing him back towards the bed. His lips, she wanted his lips, his tongue. She put a hand behind his neck, to lift herself up to his lips and then pulled back in total fear. Her hands on his neck. What had she done? She paused, breathless for a second, waiting for him to drop to the floor, but he didn't. Of course. No darkness, no charred odor. All was good.

  Her arms again went around his neck and she crushed her breasts against him through the thin fabric of her robe, and pulled herself up to his lips.

  He pushed her away. "No, I can't do this," he said. "Yesterday I thought I could. What a conquest you would have made. Sir Nigel's trollop. But no, not now."

  "Because now you love me. It's okay. I want you to," she whispered sweetly.

  "No, because I love another. I realized it today in class. I so love Daniel. This is wrong, so wrong. I will not betray him. Not even for you." He pushed her away. "Please go."

  Breaths came hard and hoarse to her. Tears blurred her vision. Her body was wracked by sexual tremors. She was so ready, so horny. "Oh please, oh please, just tonight, please?"

  "I can't. You are lovely and sweet, but something in your sweetness has changed me. It's as if a dark cloud has been blown away from my mind. Please understand. I suppose this is what they mean by coming out of the closet. The freedom, the joy, of finally admitting it to yourself, to everyone, to the stars and heavens. Please go. Tempting me would be cruel. Not when I have just found myself."

  Maya opened her mouth to scream in frustration, and he was quick to hold his hand over it. "Shhh," he said. "It's not you. It's me." Blah blah blah ... a version of the speech she had just given to Wendy. The irony was not lost on her, and a wry smile came to her mouth. She left him and dragged herself back to her own room. If she had met any man in the hallway she would have jumped his bones on principle, just for the release. There was no one. It was after eleven.

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  Saturday began with two very horny women staring at each other across egg on toast, and trying not to mention the elephant in the room. The two elephants. Wendy was horny and apologetic for thinking it was love. Maya was horny and cursing herself for giving Wendy 'the talk'. Talk about poor timing.

  Both inwardly had decided it would be a bad idea to spend the day in the room with each other. Too much temptation. "Do you mind if I drive your car to Cambridge?" Maya asked. "I'd like to see where my ancestors hailed from."

  Wendy didn't answer immediately. Instead she consulted her phone. Her life revolved around her phone. "Okay, I have just booked off for the weekend. We shall both go to Cambridge. Wait." She did some more magic with her phone. "We can overnight. I just booked one of the School's guest rooms there. They may complain about our being women, but we'll handle that if it happens."

  Maya drove. Her experiences driving on the left in India needed to be refreshed. It was a wonderful drive once they got off the M25, the ring freeway around London. With the GPS to explain each intersection to them, and the road atlas to show them where the scenic roads were, they bumbled along, totally open to screeching to a halt to look at a pretty village, or a castle or a cathedral.

  "I never used to drive in England," Wendy said. "It used to be horrible to drive here. Everyone went twenty miles an hour over the speed limit, always. It made everyone irritable and impatient and rude. The intersections wouldn't work properly because the gaps in the traffic were too short. You drove in fear all the time."

  "What happened? It seems pretty calm now," Maya pointed out, as she waved for an old lady in an oil-burning vintage car to pull out in front of her.

  "Photo radar happened. Everywhere. England has the most camera controlled roads in the world. Now everyone goes the speed limit because no one can afford the endless and expensive traffic fines. With everyone going the speed that the roads were designed for, the driving has been calmed. Almost pleasant. Well, except for rush hours and some of the motorways."

  It wasn't all pleasant. Parking was still a bitch. There just wasn't any. This little island had not been designed for the American model of one car per adult. There just wasn't the space to park them all. Time and again they would spot a market, or a shop, or a cutesy village, but couldn't stop. Even the spaces on the double yellow lines were all taken.

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  MAYA'S AURA - The Charred Coven by Skye Smith

  Chapter 16 - Strawberry Faire

  Luckily, the GPS took them directly to the college where their room was booked. They sweet-talked their way into the courtyard on the excuse of unloading luggage, and then had to sweet-talk their way into their room, because it was "Most extraordinary!" to have women stay in this building.

  The crusty old bugger who kept the gate grumbled when they pleaded their sex for parking in the courtyard while they used the rooms, but allowed it for the price of some smiles. After all, it was Strawberry Faire weekend, and there would be absolutely no parking for them anywhere else.

  They took a sunny walk around Cambridge and found Midsummer Common just before 11am when the opening parade was due to begin. They immediately realized that their travel clothes were just not appropriate to the event, and ducked into a market stall that was selling Medieval-Babe style clothes. The clothes must have been overstock from a theatre or the movie business, because they were lightly used, and cheap at twice the price.

  It was Maya's treat, because she always carried some emergency large bills of local cash in her hidden travel pouch. A good thing too, as the stall did not take credit cards.

  Maya chose a light blue ankle-length skirt with a romantic cream peasant blouse with full sleeves. She topped the blouse with a dark blue bodice that laced up the front. Wendy's was a similar outfit, with a scarlet skirt and bodice. Ten minutes later, with their street clothes in plastic carry bags, they checked each other out.

  Maya had taken her blonde hair out of its pony-tail, and brushed it out over her shoulders and down to the middle of her back, and appeared, in Wendy's eyes, to be all cleavage, the way she'd laced up her bodice. She looked ravishing, and Wendy quickly followed suit, tightening up her bodice, and freeing her dark brown hair. They were lovely and knew it, and suddenly felt like the party had started. Dressed all the world like wenches f
rom Robin Hood's tavern, they joined in the procession that wound its way through town to warn the boring shoppers that a fair was about to begin.

  What a wonderful foot tour of Cambridge they had. What a wonderful town it was. Old money and time had turned this town into a picture postcard wonderland. A lot of old money, and a lot of time. They joined some women with a moving May pole and took hold of long ribbons and wound themselves and unwound them selves, all the time laughing and twirling and dancing and showing a lot of leg and cleavage.

  When they took a break, they found they were near the college where their own room was located, and that's when they saw the poster. Their own college was closed off to all but residents and guests, for a strawberry and cream party. No minors. That meant booze.

  They pushed their way through the gate, waving their room key, and went to the room for a bathroom break and to drop off their bag of travel clothes and to primp and prime the ones they were wearing. They stood side by side in the mirror and admired their fetching clothes.

  They had chosen flattering shades for their particular coloring, and somewhere along the way had acquired circlets of flowing ribbons for their hair. They were flushed and laughing, their eyes bright, when they both noticed the bed reflected in the background. The bed was a danger, however, for though their carnal lust had been dulled by the drive, it had been replaced by the romance of ancient costumes and the rollicking energy of the fair. Their eyes met, and Wendy lifted a brow, but they managed to diffuse the moment with a laugh and a hug and a quick grope. Better to go back to the party.

  Instead of going back into the streets, and trying to catch up to the procession, they turned the other way into the grounds and garden between the college and the meandering Cam river. It was party time in the gardens. Almost everyone was in romantic costumes, though from many different periods. There were punts, those low-slung flat-bottomed boats that you pushed with a pole. Some punts contained amorous couples, while others had students dishing out strawberries and cream, and others had students pouring champagne.

  They hit the champagne punt first. There was some kind of plastic-wrist-band system in play, but the two young college men pouring the champagne instinctively ignored their lack of wrist bands, to the greater good of getting two such stunning wenches tipsy, as soon as possible. After having three free refills pushed upon them by the gallant blades, they wandered aimlessly towards the strawberries and cream.

  The strawberries were huge and sweet and ripe, but the cream was odd, not being whipped. "It's clotted cream," explained Wendy, offering Maya some on her finger. Since the young blades who were serving them had been kind enough to ignore their lack of wrist bands, Maya bent forward, displaying cleavage and teased them with a naughty show of licking the cream from Wendy's finger. This seemed to start a slightly lewd game, for suddenly all the couples began licking the cream from each other's fingers, and making sport about who could be the most provocative.

  With their bowls of straw-bobs and cream, and glasses of champers in hand, they waltzed along the tow path beside the river. This was turning into a stunning day, warm and sunny, though muggy. People were already shedding the more formal parts of their costumes. Some of the young women with daisy chains woven into their hair were now topless , and dancing some folkdance barefoot on the lush green grass to the music of a string quartet.

  A boat swept up beside Wendy and two young men invited them for the punt tour. Again their lack of wrist bands did not seem to matter. It didn't matter when they were passed a fat English joint either. Maya sniffed it with the expertise of a girl brought up in Northern California, and warned Wendy away. "They've mixed it with tobacco. What a waste."

  Instead of the joint, the pole man maneuvered them alongside a champagne punt for refills, and then alongside the flower punt, where their hair was threaded with fresh flowers by two young milk maids, who had shed their waistcoats for the coolness of the sheer cotton blouses they wore underneath. Thus properly crowned, they asked their punters to drop them where the women were dancing to the string quartet.

  After skipping over the grass to join the dancing, Wendy asked, "Which one do you want?" She looked behind her to make sure that the two young men had tied off the boat and were following them. She stuck a saucy pose, skirt gathered in one hand on her hip, showing miles of tanned, toned leg.

  "Which what?" Maya asked, wondering if there was something she wasn't understanding about the dancing. Was it actually a couples' dance?.

  "Of the guys. The boatmen. Oh, come on. They were undressing us with their eyes. Which one do you want? The red head or the brunette?"

  "Oh Wendy, it's not going to happen."

  "Even if we just eat, drink a whole lot more, dance, and cavort together, you still need to choose."

  "Oh, okay, the uh," she looked back. The brunette looked a bit like William. "The brunette."

  "Good choice. Mmmm, see the very long grass at the end of this meadow? Let's take them over there."

  "Wendy, let's stay here and dance. What is this music? It's wonderful!"

  "Vivaldi," replied Wendy, and swung herself on the arm of the redhead. "Before your time."

  "So like, before Wings. I once heard that Paul McCartney was in a band before Wings." Maya was suddenly very busy being twirled by her brunette. What fun. A man who could dance. Surrounded by young people decked out in colorful and romantic costumes. And the setting. The lushness of the gardens, the beauty of the ancient buildings. How joyous.

  Some of the strawberries must have been magical, like mushrooms, because that was the feeling that Maya was having. The mushroom feeling of being joined in a oneness with all around her. Feeling this way always had side effects, one of them being that you met very interesting people. Or perhaps it was that you suddenly found ordinary people more interesting.

  On her way for a bathroom break, she walked with several of the women who had been dancing topless. As if on cue, all of them had covered up as soon as they stopped dancing. They had been dancing gracefully, waving colorful long silk scarves which they now wore as tops, tied and wound in a variety of ways. None of them had wrist bands either.

  In the line up - 'the queue', Maya reminded herself - for the women’s, (Why was there always a queue for the women’s?), they chatted away happily in that slightly tipsy way of women having fun drinking a little too much champagne and dancing barefoot in the grass. They teased Maya about the brunette. His name was Met for short and they had all taken a run at him over the past three years.

  "Butterfly boy," said one.

  "You mean he's gay?" asked Maya, cursing her luck. Second man in a row. What was it with English school boys?.

  "No, love. It means he flits from girl to girl, never resting in one place, you know, like a butterfly."

  Maya was about to argue that in California, the monarchs rested in one place for months, but before she could speak the girl said, "Hey, you're one of us. I can feel it." This had the other girls crowd around her, touching her.

  "What do you mean one of you?" asked Maya, raising her hands to block some of theirs.

  "You're a Wicca, aren't ya? You don't have to be all shy with us, love. No fear here. There's lots of covens around Cambridge. Come on, admit it."

  "I, uh, I have healing hands, but I don't belong to a coven or anything. It's not witchcraft, it's just, like, making people feel good. They feel good, so then they get well." She looked around nervously. Perhaps she should have a pee in her room. She started to walk away.

  "Oh no, you don't." She was pulled back into the group.

  "Umm, I was just giving up on this queue. I can use the bathroom in my room," Maya excused herself, trying to pull away.

  "You've got a room in this college? Bull shit. Women aren't allowed."

  "No, really." Maya slapped away another hand.

  "Right then, prove it," said a particularly dyky-looking woman with short dark hair and tats on her arms. "We can all have a pee in your room."

  Again
st her better judgment, Maya went along with them towards the entrance to the residences. The old git at the door looked the other way and waved them through when Maya explained that there was too long a queue at the women’s washroom. The women whooped at being into some of the last hallowed man spaces in Cambridge. Maya went quiet. She was trying to think if there was anything valuable left around the room. Once you looked past the joyous costumes, some of these women looked a bit rough.

  "My apologies," said the Goth sweetly. " I'm Angelica, that's Katy, Ashley, Fiona, and Beet. That’s short for Beatrice, 'cos she's always as red as a beet." Beatrice immediately flushed red. The queue for the toilet did not start with Maya, but with Beet. Her need was most urgent.

  "So if she didn't lie about the room, then maybe she didn't lie about the healing hands," said Fiona. "Show me." Fiona was small and curvy, with silky light brown hair to her shoulders, and bright blue eyes. She fixed them on Maya.

  "Well, I, err, well, it works best without clothes, so this is probably not the time." Maya looked around in horror as all of the flouncy skirts hit the floor and all of the scarves hit the bed at the same time. They started pulling at her clothing.

  "Don't be shy love," said Fiona. "We do our best spells in the nude. Do you need a sacred circle, or a pentangle? Candles perhaps?"

  There were to many to fend off, so Maya stood there docilely and allowed them to strip her. She was too busy looking around, hoping there were no valuables in sight. All of these women had tats, she observed as she stepped out of her skirt which was in a pool at her feet. Some of them had the most beautiful English peaches and cream complexion. She could not understand why they would have marred that beautiful skin with tattoos, some of which were quite ugly.

  She finished her scan. Nothing valuable in sight. "Do any of you have a health problem, like, a serious one?"

  "Beet does. Skin cancer. She's going in to have it taken off next week. I guess she's out, then."

  "Uh, no, then it is Beet that I must treat." At that moment there was a toilet flush (Why are English toilets so noisy?) and Maya beat everyone else to the opening door. "Me next, if you want me to perform. Get Beet naked and on the bed with her cancer face up."