Obeying her mistress, Zeta squeezed Tara’s buttocks for leverage and then drove her throbbing shaft in and out swiftly. She released one buttock and wound her hand around and down to Tara’s puffy labia, tugged on one slippery lip and then the other.
When she sank two fingers into Tara’s dewy vagina, her own female opening gripped and clenched with ravenous hunger.
Zeta was not allowed to ejaculate from her penis until Tara was satiated. Needing desperately to quench one of her sexual desires, she plunged her shaft in and out of Tara’s tight depths. Tara matched Zeta’s rhythm until she exploded.
Now it was Zeta’s turn for release. Quickly, she released and, together, she and her mistress shuddered and cried out in one shared vibration.
When Tara’s breathing returned to normal, she reached backward; her fingers stretching to locate Zeta’s hot pool of yearning. “You can’t speak of this. It is our secret,” Tara whispered.
“Thank you, mistress. You are so kind and understanding. I promise to never tell a soul,” Zeta replied as she changed position. Lying on her back with her wings spread, she waited for Tara’s touch.
Tara couldn’t resist the urge to caress the length of her attendant’s pleasure-providing maleness. Zeta’s penis quivered at Tara’s touch, but did not grow hard.
Unable to control her desire, Zeta clasped Tara’s hand, guiding her mistress’s delicate finger to her slippery softness. Spreading her muscular legs, Zeta granted Tara access to the moist place that was hot and aching with unbearable sexual need.
Sadly, the pleasure Tara had shared with Zeta had been only a temporary distraction. Alone now, and feeling tormented by Eris’s dire circumstances, Tara sobbed softly. Despite Eris’s wicked ways, Tara loved her dearly.
The day was sunny and glorious. Yet, if it weren’t for the colorful hues of the lotus and the power they imparted, Tara would have felt as if she were surrounded by dreary clouds.
Gloom hovered closely—too closely. The thorny, dark place where Eris dwelled was alive with evil; the lost inhabitants inflicted unspeakable acts of cruelty upon each other. Their violent howls and piercing screams were being transmitted to Tara.
Eris was sharing her misery and beseeching help from the one compassionate soul who loved her without condition.
Eris had a hand in every quarrel, feud, or disagreement among the inhabitants of the Goddess Realm. It was Eris’s nature to cause conflict and to delight in dissension and discord.
Inanna, the goddess of love and war, had passed on each of her dueling characteristics to her two daughters, Tara and Eris. Countless times, Inanna had intervened on Eris’s behalf—using her prominent status to veto the council’s decision to punish her wayward daughter. However, when Inanna had ascended to a higher realm, the council was no longer restricted from meting out just punishment for Eris’s incessant wrong-doing.
Many lifetimes ago, the goddess council ruled that Eris would be dispatched to the Earthly Realm, forced to roam the land in the guise of a slave. It was the hope of the council that having to assume the form a humbled human being would persuade Eris to mend her ways and return to the Goddess Realm grateful and repentant.
Unfortunately, Eris was not humble; she received wicked enjoyment from her earthly displacement. She misused her remaining goddess powers while on earth and was bent on destroying many lives.
The goddess Kali, the protector of children, was summoned to earth to protect the unborn fetus of a female earthling known as Ajali.
Kali assisted Ajali in destroying Eris with fire and returned her to the Dark Realm, a hideous holding place—a loathsome and eternal prison—for depraved, corrupt souls.
Her mighty victory over Eris completely sapped her strength. Kali returned to the Goddess Realm and collapsed. The attendants of the goddesses carried Kali to a peaceful chamber where renewal and rejuvenation could be hastened with the calming scent of lavender, which permeated the air. Soft music, with its wondrous healing power, played without cessation while Kali slumbered inside a clear, crystal tomb.
Daily, the goddesses formed a circle around Kali’s resting place and chanted the sacred prayer of healing. Mental images of brilliant white light surrounded the sleeping form of the warrior goddess. Despite this daily ritual, Kali’s recovery was taking much longer than expected.
Unlike their mother, Tara held a much lower position in the hierarchy of goddesses; her opinion held no weight with the council. Seven times, she’d flung herself at the mercy of the council, advocating on her sister’s behalf, and seven times her request had been rejected.
Though Tara sent her sister the telepathic messages that the council had stood firmly by their decision and that there was nothing she could do, Eris persisted in sending the atrocious images and impressions; no doubt taking delight in her sister’s soul-wrenching, mournful reaction.
Ethan wouldn’t stop screaming and Jen didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t distinguish if it was a cry of agony or if he was having some sort of emotional break. When he twisted his face into a grotesque mask that seemed to express pain, Jen yanked the phone out of the base, prepared to call emergency services.
Then she thought about the consequences and hung up. If Ethan wasn’t near death, his mother would flip out. Catherine Provost didn’t want any unwelcome attention drawn to her son.
Jen covered her ears. He continued screaming. She looked at the clock. He’d been steadily screaming for a half-hour. That wasn’t normal. Now, she was scared.
She thought about the whispers between Carmen and Lizzy. Rumor had it that, moments after Ethan’s birth, right after he had taken his first breath, he had clearly shouted the word “bitch” and had never spoken another word since.
It was only a rumor but, thinking about it right now, while the kid was carrying on, was really starting to freak her out.
Carmen swore that she’d heard Catherine and the senator arguing over their child. She’d told Jen that Catherine had referred to Ethan as the senator’s demon son. And since then, Carmen had kept a silver crucifix around her neck, convinced that Ethan was possessed.
Jen was also informed that the Provost household had a revolving door of nannies; young women who couldn’t deal with Ethan’s numerous, appalling eccentricities. Murmuring suspicions that Ethan was possessed, many of those former nannies had walked off the job without giving notice.
Jen forcefully shoved those dreadful thoughts from her mind and refocused on the present: Ethan’s piercing scream. The shrieking sounded like something straight out of hell. His horrifying wail pierced her ears, threatened to puncture her eardrums.
At this moment, while she was suffering, his mother was living it up, being adored by millions of voters. Jen couldn’t take it anymore. It was time to give up this job, go home, and face her parents.
She called Catherine’s personal cell.
Catherine picked up. “Yes!”
“Hello?” Jen shouted, trying to be heard above the pandemonium. “Ms. Provost?” Jen said, frantic.
“Is that Ethan in the background?” Catherine asked calmly.
“Yes. He’s been screaming for a half-hour. I can’t make him stop.”
“What’s going on, Jen?” Her tone sounded accusatory, as if Jen was torturing her son.
“Th-there’s something wrong with Ethan.” There was a tremor in Jen’s voice.
“What’s wrong?” Catherine said, her voice rising.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with him?” It seemed to Jen that Catherine was trying to mimic the sound of a concerned mother.
“Is he hurt? What’s wrong with my son?” she demanded, bringing her voice to what seemed to be a fake, desperate pitch.
“I don’t…I don’t think he’s hurt.” Jen looked over at Ethan and he simply closed his mouth and stopped screaming. “Um… Ms. Provost, like…all of a sudden, he seems to be fine.”
“Well, what happened? Why was he screaming like that?”
“One minute, he was calm and
the next…he…he just started screaming. But he’s back to his normal self now.” She wanted to add his normal weirdo self.
“Did you call the senator’s office?”
“No.”
“Did you contact any of my staff?”
“No. I didn’t call anyone else. Just you. But, Ms. Provost, you should have seen Ethan. He looked really frightening. His face was all twisted and I thought he was in pain. I started to call Emergency Services—”
“Are you kidding me?” Catherine shrieked.
“But I didn’t,” Jen assured her. “I did exactly like you said to do, in case of an emergency.” She took a deep breath and steadied her voice.
“And you didn’t call 9-1-1?” Catherine sounded unconvinced.
“No. I only called you. If you hadn’t answered, I would have called Senator Provost’s personal cell.”
“Great,” Catherine said. Jen could hear the relief in her tone. Catherine had this obsession about people nosing into her business and she forbade Jen to leave voice messages. Jen was instructed to speak to either the senator or Catherine directly. “What’s Ethan doing now?” Catherine sounded distracted.
“He’s sitting at the computer. Calm and composed, like nothing happened. He’s looking at those bridges he stares at all the time.”
“Good…good,” Catherine muttered. “He’ll be fine.”
“But I’m not. I…I’m…” Jen stammered. “I’m scared, Ms. Provost.”
“Of what?” Catherine said indignantly.
“Of Ethan. You should have seen him. He was hardly recognizable. His face—” Jen paused and gave a small whimper. “His face was contorted…and…and—Ms. Provost. I know this sounds ridiculous. But there’s something about Ethan that isn’t right.”
“What do you mean, isn’t right?” Catherine sounded incredulous. “He’s not a serial killer, you know,” she added with harsh sarcasm. “He’s a disabled child.” Then she quickly softened her tone. “For heaven’s sake, Jen. What can poor little Ethan do to you? What’s there to be afraid of?”
“Ms. Provost. It was really awful. You should have seen him. He—”
“Jen, I need you to get a grip. Ethan was having an episode,” Catherine interrupted in a whisper.
“You didn’t mention any episodes when you interviewed me.”
“It happens so infrequently, I must have forgotten. I have a lot on my mind. I’m a busy woman, you know,” she said in a chastising tone. “Ethan is five years old. He’s a harmless little child. He can’t hurt you.”
“I know, but—”
“Honestly, Jen, I don’t know why we’re having this conversation. It’s utterly ridiculous.” Catherine spoke quickly. She paused, switching to a soft, placating tone. “Hang in there with me until the election. There’s a position opening in the senator’s office. His assistant is completely incompetent and I’ve asked him to get rid of her. Working with Senator Provost could lead to unlimited opportunities.”
“Really?” Jen asked, excited.
“Yes, but you can’t ditch poor Ethan like all those other nannies did. He needs you. To switch his nanny right before the election would not be fair to Ethan, or to me.”
“I understand,” Jen said, feeling like an idiot. She wanted to quit! But the job offer with the senator was too enticing to pass up. She wouldn’t have to tell her parents that she got kicked out of school. She could say the great offer came and she was taking some time off. Her parents would love to brag that their daughter had a prestigious job with a United States senator.
“I’ll take care of you. Do you understand?”
“Yes…I’m sorry, Ms. Provost—”
“Apology accepted.” Catherine let out an audible sigh of relief.
“Um, right before Ethan went berserk… I mean, right before he had that, uh, episode, your campaign manager called. She wanted to know if you’d checked in with me.”
“All right, Jen. I’ll get in touch with her. Have a good night. Oh, kiss Ethan for me.”
Jen had a hunch why the campaign manager didn’t know how to locate Catherine. According to Carmen and Lizzy, Catherine liked to sneak away from her handlers and gaze at the vice president’s mansion—her next home. Jen couldn’t figure out how the cook and the maid knew so much…it wasn’t as if Catherine sat down with them and chatted, bringing them up to date on every aspect of her life.
Jen glanced over at Ethan. He was clicking the mouse on the computer; looking at bridges. A few more weeks and this hell will be over; I’ll be working with the senator.
Jen gave a blissful sigh. She had a huge crush on Senator Provost; partly because he was handsome, but mainly because being joined at the hip with Ethan was ruining her chances for getting laid.
She couldn’t get out the house to meet any guys and the sex drought she was going through was really starting to get to her.
Lizzy had finished cleaning and had already left for the day. In another hour, Carmen would be finishing up cooking her specialty: beans, rice, and chicken gizzards—a Spanish meal that wasn’t allowed on the menu when Catherine was at home—and then she’d leave, too.
Jen hated this time of the day. She’d be alone with Ethan until his father arrived home and sometimes Senator Provost didn’t get in until around ten; sometimes later. It depended.
Sitting in the kitchen, Jen sipped orange juice and thumbed through a few more pages of a gossip magazine, and then closed it. She checked the time and forced herself to her feet.
“Tinkle time?” Carmen asked sympathetically, referring to Ethan’s hourly toileting schedule.
“We’ll see.” Jen gave a resigned smile. She was required to remind Ethan to take bathroom breaks. She dreaded it, but if she didn’t insist and physically carry him to the bathroom, he’d sit in urine-soaked undies without a care.
“Seems like the kid might benefit from having a pet. You know, with his disorder and all, I’m surprised Mayor Provost didn’t look into pet therapy,” Jen said.
“No, he’s not good with pets.” Carmen took on a worried expression and nervously wiped her hands on her apron.
“How do you know? Has Ethan ever had a cat or a dog?”
“No! God forbid.” Carmen made the sign of the cross.
Jen raised both her eyebrows, waiting for the cook to elaborate.
“The senator brought home some gold fish…he put together a small fish tank with the colorful gravel, seashells, and fake plants, and stuff like that…”
Jen nodded.
“Well, the next morning, we heard the nanny scream. Lizzy and I ran up to the bedroom…Madam Mayor didn’t budge from her room—”
“Wow,” Jen murmured.
“Every single gold fish was lying at the bottom of the tank… torn to pieces.”
Jen grimaced. “What do you mean?”
“They were mutilated. Like somebody had cut them up with a pair of scissors.”
“Eew. Ethan cut up his goldfish?”
Carmen held up her palms. “Unsolved mystery.”
“God, is the kid that warped?”
Carmen’s raised her palms higher. “Who else would have done such a vicious thing?”
“You really think Ethan’s capable of callously murdering goldfish?”
This time Carmen didn’t respond with words; she crossed her arms over her ample bosom and stared pointedly at Jen.
“If he did that, he’s got more than a couple of loose screws. He’s evil.”
“Evil is the exact word his nanny used to describe him after she discovered the cut-up fish. Then she quit.”
“That’s understandable.” Jen stared down into her glass for a few moments. Jen doubted she could stick it out much longer with this psycho kid. The mutilated fish story was helpful information. Something Jen could add to the excuse she was piecing together for the nanny agency when she asked for a transfer.
Carmen lifted the lid of a big pot, stirred vigorously, her eyes narrowed in unpleasant recollection. “Later th
at day, Madam Mayor called us together and reminded us that we could be prosecuted if we leaked anything about the goldfish to the press.” Carmen shook her head. “She didn’t even seem sorry for what her boy had done to the poor fish. I’m telling you, the apple don’t fall far from the tree. That woman is as cold as ice.”
“You’re right. She’s not a very nice person.”
“She’s wicked. That’s why she was cursed with that son.” Carmen closed her eyes and shook her head. “The poor senator. He loves them both and what does he get in return?”
“Well, in Ethan’s defense, his disorder prevents him from showing love or affection. But Catherine…what’s her excuse?”
“No excuse. Selfish and mean.” Carmen’s loyalty was with the senator alone. She detested Catherine and was leery of Ethan.
As though she were taking a swig of hard liquor to boost her courage, Jen took a big gulp of orange juice before leaving the comfort of the kitchen. Instead of moping around and feeling sorry for herself, she really should have appreciated all the free time she had. If Ethan’s mother were here, Jen’s life would be pure hell.
Catherine was very precise and specific about how her son’s care should be given. She made Jen organize the little clothes that hung in his closet by color. No beige pants mixed in with the blues. The same set of rules applied to his pajamas, T-shirts, and briefs that were folded inside his bureau drawers. Everything had to be organized by color. Catherine Provost was so anal.
His bedroom was filled with expensive toys that he never touched. Jen was assigned to play with specific toys at a precise hour of the day. Entertaining normal little kids with silly games would be bad enough, but having to engage in one-sided play with a disinterested, non-verbal computer geek was so demeaning.
Besides, Jen didn’t like his toys. She’d prefer playing with a Barbie doll with a killer wardrobe, a hot car, and a dream house.
She particularly despised having to play with Ethan’s toy cars. There were, like, a zillion of little racecars lined up on a complicated ramp. She was expected to operate a remote and give a lively narration of the car race.
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