The Sleeping Serpent:

by Luna Saint Claire

  He threw his head back, laughing, “Why, Luna, spirits like sugar! Didn’t you know?”

  His playful innocence erased any apprehension she still felt. Sneaking a peek at the screen, she saw photos of Nico on the beach, bronzed and revealing ripped abs in each one. She’d had no idea you could get such a well-built body from yoga. But before she had a chance to comment, Nico grabbed his phone, noticing a text. Turning, he casually dismissed her, “Come again on Monday—at noon.” He acted like there was no reason she might be unable to show up any time he commanded.

  Luna hesitated. She usually got to work early in the morning, and rarely left before 7:00 p.m. But she found herself acquiescing, reasoning that she’d tell Sam, her assistant, she had a doctor’s appointment. After noting the appointment in her calendar, she was surprised when Nico followed her out the door and walked her to her car. This time, when he gave her the double-cheek kiss, the simple ritual felt like a blessing.

  In her dark green Land Rover, she turned the ignition without closing the door, then powered down her window. Shutting the door for her, Nico leaned in, his thick black hair falling onto her shoulder as he scrutinized the contents of her car. Bags of clothes sat on her backseat, items she’d picked up for the cast at a vintage store. “Where’d you get those clothes?” he asked. “Do they have any cool leather jackets there, you think?” Luna told him about her favorite shop, which was right there on Ventura. He nodded thoughtfully, then brightened. Taking her hand and kissing it, he said, “Drive carefully, Luna bella. You need to go that way,” he pointed, “to get to Laurel Canyon.” She internally rolled her eyes; did he forget she had lived here her entire adult life and he’d just moved here? He’s so controlling, she thought, but then decided he probably was just being caring, which was kind of sweet.

  Luna quickly ran through the talent’s wardrobe, feeling especially good about the selections she’d put together. Engrossed with show preparations, she was perplexed when Sam said she’d be late for her doctor’s appointment. What doctor’s appointment? she thought, then remembered she was due at Nico’s studio. Hoping her momentary pause of confusion wasn’t apparent, she gave Sam a list of tasks to be handled while she was gone, and hurried out of the office.

  Nico greeted Luna with sexy, sleepy-looking eyes and bed head hair. Having finally remembered the order, she welcomed the cheek kisses without hesitation and deeply inhaled his lovely, warm, citrus and wood scent, wondering how someone could always look so hot and seductive.

  “Come, bella,” he said, leading her into the yoga studio.

  He got right down to business, explaining, “Kundalini Yoga raises the vibration of your body’s energy to a higher frequency, awakening your inner power and raising your awareness. You become one with the universal force.” He was so close, she could feel the heat emanating from his body. “The chakras are your energy centers. They control different parts of your life experience, so a smooth connection throughout your body is vital. To open the pathways between them, we do the energy work of Kundalini.” Placing one palm firmly on the small of her back and one finger from the other hand very low on her abdomen, he went on, “There are seven chakras.”

  The sudden contact startled her. Either Nico didn’t notice, or he pretended not to. “Kundalini is the untapped energy, called prana, coiled like a snake at the bottom of the spine in the root chakra.” He slowly dragged his finger up the front of her body and continued, “The kriyas—exercises—performed during sessions will move the prana into your heart chakra.” He stopped between her breasts just long enough for her skin to grow hot. Then, placing his finger gently on her forehead, he said, “Finally, the prana is moved into your third eye.” He paused, gazing deeply into her eyes and added, “Any blockage in your chakras will distort the flow of energy and limit the possibilities in your life.”

  Luna was mesmerized by his soothing, hypnotic voice. “Let’s begin with the Sat Nam kriya, a very potent seed mantra. In the Sat Nam kriya, the force of your breath moves the mantra—the chant—and that creates waves of the mind. They’re how you move energy through your body. By using your breath to open and balance each chakra, eventually they all open.”

  He paused to confirm she was still following him. When she nodded her understanding, he went on, “The mantra for this kriya is Sat Nam, which means ‘my true identity; my true divine nature.’”

  Lilting flutes and soft drums flowed pleasantly through the room in surround sound. Nico watched her carefully as they performed the Sat Nam kriya together, and seeing she was struggling to keep her arms in the upright position, knelt in front of her. Holding her arms over her head, he placed his hands on her shoulders to move them slightly until they were just across her ears. Finally, he slid his hand under her buttocks, ensuring her heels were in just the right spot to activate the pressure point. His familiarity both unnerved and electrified Luna, but she tried to stay focused on his instruction. He told her to start the Sat Nam kriya again, and as she said Sat, he placed his hand over her navel.

  Again, she felt the electricity of his touch, and finding his tone seductive, she was eager to please him. When she said Nam and he released the pressure of his hand, she felt a little pang of disappointment. “Don’t be shy, Luna. Repeat and use more force. Your breath is sweet.” She wondered what he meant by that, but didn’t ask. “I’m here to teach you. Breathing is essential to Kundalini, and this is a very fundamental kriya. We’ll master it together.”

  He took her arm, “Now let’s go into the chamber and get some tea.”

  Within a few minutes of sipping the warm concoction, she realized she felt more energized and surprisingly happy. She looked at him inquiringly. “What’s in this wonderful tea you make me?”

  He smiled cryptically. “It’s special. I get it from home.”

  His phone was vibrating constantly now, and she wondered what was going on, realizing he must not have had it with him during their session. Now he was distracted, and she needed to get back to the studio, so she said a quick good-bye. Without looking up from the phone, he called over his shoulder, “Be here again tomorrow at 11:00 a.m.”

  “Sorry, Nico. Tomorrow is a very busy day. The actors are coming in for wardrobe fittings. Could I come in the evening instead?”

  Baffled, he paused before replying, “Sure, that would be fine. Come at seven. You can watch me teach a class.”

  3

  Olivia’s dream intensified. Her Great Dane, Brontë, shifted her position away from her human’s twitching legs. The man in Olivia’s dream approached to take her into his arms in the kind of sweeping embrace novelists never accurately describe. Her breath paused. His touch had an electrical intensity, making her entire body tingle with desire, and fulfilling her in indescribable ways. Suddenly, she jerked into wakefulness. What was that noise? The thought bubbled into the part of her brain that was not home to her sense of self, as though her mind had a separate life apart from her consciousness. She listened intently to the blackness outside. There it was—a low nicker from Casper. Trying not to disturb Brontë, who was now snoring softly on top of the covers next to her, she crept out of the bed and padded carefully to the window, then pressed her ear against the glass.

  Casper, her Arab/Quarter Horse, had been a gift from Kathy, who employed Olivia’s mother, Emma, as manager of the estate, overseeing staff and discretely handling family affairs. Olivia and Emma lived in a guest house on the estate, just outside of L.A., where the wealthy and famous chose to live for more open space and privacy. Kathy was descended from one of California’s old money families, and with no children of her own, she had become a benefactor to Olivia.

  Casper nickered again—a very low, cautious call to Olivia. She grabbed her jeans and sweatshirt off the chair, and tugged them on. Outside, the moonlight cast a bluish glow almost more visible than the lights from the city. She loved this kind of night, when it was blissfully quiet. Nearing Casper’s paddock, she paused and listened again.

  Silence. In fa
ct, it was too silent.

  Something caught her attention at the very edge of her peripheral vision. Instinctively holding her breath, she turned her head slowly, suppressing the urge to blink until the image came into focus.

  Underneath the eaves of the barn, a coyote eyed her from his position next to the bales of hay. Blinking a few times to clear her vision, she saw the coyote remained impossibly still; flecks of gold in his eyes glittered in the reflected light. They just watched each other for what seemed to be hours.

  When Casper nickered softly again, Olivia jumped, nearly toppling over. She’d almost forgotten why she’d come outside, as if the only reason for her presence there now was to commune with the coyote—one of the few species of wildlife in this Valley-adjacent area. She realized the coyote must be why Casper had called for reinforcements. Reaching her hand out to give the horse a scratch under his chin, she cooed, “It’s OK sweetie.” Casper inhaled with a little whuff, then let out a very long sigh. Glancing back toward the barn, she noticed the coyote had grown bored with her and was now watching something—probably a mouse—among the hay bales.

  Olivia stood in the shower, hot water cascading down her back. Lathering her hair with a mango scented shampoo, she belted out “Angel of Music” from Phantom of the Opera, while deliberately shaving her legs, and wondered why she was focusing on this ritual.

  A small voice in her head offered up thoughts about Nico’s impressively masculine body and dark, sultry looks, but she quickly pushed them aside. Returning to her bedroom, she wondered what she should wear to a yoga studio. Rifling through her dresser drawers, she finally settled on a pair of old leggings.

  Nico’s studio was in a prime area on Ventura, so Olivia anticipated trouble finding a parking spot. Checking the clock on her dashboard, she worried about the time, but when she turned the corner, she saw the parking lot right behind Amaru Yoga.

  Stepping into Amaru, she saw a class was just ending, and students were still seated cross-legged in what she guessed was the lotus position. The room was eerily quiet, and looking to the front of the class she saw Nico’s eyes fixed on her. Feeling her face heat up, she turned away and tiptoed over to a table of literature about the studio. She picked up a brochure and pretended to read, but her mind wasn’t absorbing the words on the page. She was thinking about Nico’s penetrating stare and his beautiful hands with their long, elegant fingers. Thankfully, it wasn’t long before she heard Nico say “Namaste,” and the class replied. She turned and watched the students gather their bags and mats and head out the door.

  Looking where Nico had been standing, she saw he was no longer at the front of the room, but she hadn’t seen him move. When someone brushed the small of her back, she flinched. Nico had managed to sneak up behind her. Alarmed, she turned to face him, and saw he was staring at her warmly, his eyes dancing with a hint of amusement. “I’m sorry, princesa, I didn’t mean to startle you. Did you not hear me?”

  She replied quickly, “Do you always sneak up on people? I think maybe you do.”

  He laughed, a rich, deep, and surprisingly sexy laugh. “Oh, Olivia, you’ll be a wonderful student,” he replied, without answering her question. “Come, let’s begin your training with learning to breathe.”

  Trailing him to the mats, where they sat cross-legged facing each other, she was exasperated. “Nico, I’m an opera singer! I know how to breathe already!”

  A Cheshire-cat grin crossed his face, “Excellent, Olivia! You said you are an opera singer. See, I’ve already helped you.”

  She realized she had, indeed, made a positive statement of her talent. Gratified, she returned his grin, and her resistance to his charm melted away.

  He began, “I know you’ve been trained how to breathe for singing, of course, querida. But I will teach you how to harness the fire of your sexual energy to give great power to your voice.”

  Sexual energy? she thought, shocked. “What do you mean…exactly…I mean, by harnessing sexual energy?” She felt herself beginning to blush.

  “Your sexual energy is held here, in your sacral chakra.” His fingers pressed firmly into her flesh at the very top of her buttocks. “Certainly you must know that sexual energy is creative energy too, no?”

  He paused, and she realized he actually expected an answer. She nodded her head. “I’d never really thought about it, but I guess that makes sense.”

  Nico eyed her closely, his face giving no hint of what he was thinking, though it was clear he was pondering something about her. The corners of his mouth twitched up as if he knew some secret thing about her that he wasn’t going to share. Instead, he continued, “Well, yes, Olivia, sex itself is creative energy. Some artists abstain from sex in order to create.” As he was speaking, a lock of hair had fallen over one eye. Now he peered at Olivia from underneath the errant curl, the golden sparks in his eyes shimmered. “For me, sex stimulates creativity.”

  Her heart quivered wildly, and she was certain he knew secrets about her she didn’t even dare to consider. Intensely drawn to him, she remained silent as he continued the lesson.

  “Through our kriyas, we harness the powers of the chakras to direct our energy. Because you’re an opera singer, we’ll focus on harnessing your sexual energy to bring forth your most powerful creative voice. Now let’s chant the Sat Nam mantra while breathing deeply, from your solar plexus. I’m sure you know how to do that, right?”

  She nodded.

  Closing her eyes, she matched her breathing to his and chanted along with him. The sound of their voices commingling—soothing and hypnotic—induced a transcendental state that permeated her spirit, connecting her to him.

  When Nico spoke, Olivia’s eyes fluttered open.

  Her breathing had become shallow and rapid, and he listened, cocking his head alluringly. Without comment, he went on, “Let me teach you the Breath of Fire—Kapala Bati.” The exotic words tripped off his tongue like the primal beat of a timba drum. “This kriya for powerful breath pulls the energy from your sacral chakra, here,” he placed one hand low on her belly as he spoke.

  His touch was a sudden fire burning through her clothes, causing an intense heat to spark between her legs and deep within her belly, as if her womb had been placed under a heat lamp. While erotic, there was also something more potent about it, but she couldn’t quite grasp what that something was. Nico ran his hand slowly up her body until he reached the spot between her breasts, where he paused. As his hand moved, so did the burning she felt inside. She would have gasped were it not for the tightness within her that had begun when he touched her.

  “Here,” he purred, “is the heart chakra. We want to draw your sexual energy through the heart to add emotional power and love to your voice.”

  Olivia wondered if Nico let his hand linger between the breasts of every woman he worked with, or if he was seducing her. As if she’d spoken the thought out loud, he seemed to reply, “Querida, you are a very beautiful woman. Do not think I’m unaware of the nearness of your perfect, round breasts.”

  She felt a hot, deep, redness rush up her neck and face. His Cheshire-cat grin returned. “I’ll never be inappropriate with you, however. That is, unless you want it.”

  Olivia felt an urge to throw herself on him, and the idea frightened her. She suspected he might be toying with her. His eyes mocked playfully, and his provocative words goaded her. Thoughts raced wildly through her head. Could he really be seducing me? Unsure of herself, she panicked and froze—discovering she could not move, nor utter a sound. Her desire was pent up in a tight knot inside her stomach. Unable to contain herself, she lifted her gaze and fell into the dark, green pools of his eyes.

  “Very good. That will be all for today.”

  She tried not to look too disappointed their session was over.

  Taking her by the hand, he helped her stand, asking if she would like to have some tea and keep him company before his next session. She eagerly accepted the invitation, and they moved to a door leading into his apartm
ent.

  Putting the kettle on his little stove, he asked, “How do you feel?”

  Reticently, she put her head down and shyly uttered a simple, “OK.”

  “Just OK?” he purred, reaching out and placing one finger under her chin to tilt her face up.

  Olivia swallowed, adding in a tiny voice, “Well, yes, I feel great, actually. I liked it…” Then, feeling awkward, she added, “Is the tea ready?”

  The corners of his mouth turned up enigmatically. After placing a cup of tea in front of her, he took his cup over to the sofa and picked up his guitar. He fingered the strings quickly, the rhythm of the introductory refrain playful and contagious. Olivia immediately swayed with the melody. His eyes twinkled as he launched into the song, dramatically chanting the opening words “Hable me” to her.

  The music was a welcomed diversion, and she brightened at hearing the familiar song. “I love the Gipsy Kings!” she said, moving over to the sofa to sit next to him.

  Their eyes remained locked as he serenaded her expressively in Spanish, and his shoulders danced to the tempo.

  Her heart melted at the thought he had chosen this song deliberately, and that the words were meant for her, “Love me, like I flirt with you. Love me, like I love you.” His voice trembled in a heartrending way, giving her goose bumps. When the chorus came around again, she joined in, her wistful and slightly melancholic voice ringing out an octave higher, perfectly accompanying his anguished and pleading tone. Their voices blending in song was the closest she could think of to what it would be like making love with him. The lyrics, “It’s like a dream, and it will return,” seemed poignant.

  When they had finished the song, Nico’s eyes lingered on hers before moving to her lips, then resting on her breasts. Lavishly admiring her, his lips curled in a surreptitious smile. “I’ll get you a job singing at La Forza, my uncle’s restaurant.”