The Sleeping Serpent:

by Luna Saint Claire

  He didn’t seem in a hurry to do her session, and she dutifully listened to him as they drank tea.

  “Ita’s getting old now. Who’s going to take care of her if my mom’s no longer…” he paused, taking another sip of tea. “No, I have to get a plane ticket today. On such short notice, I’m sure it’ll be very expensive.”

  Before Luna could reply or reassure Nico his decision to go home was the right one, he leaped up, saying, “Let’s do the session now.” Taking her hand, he led her into the studio, where he set the lights on low, then went over to the sound system to select a playlist.

  Feeling less inhibited, Luna thought she was already seeing benefits from this work with him.

  Nico sat down next to her. “Let’s begin with a small meditation to focus and call on your higher self to do your best. The mantra is Ong Namo Guru Dev Namo. OK?”

  She nodded, and they began the meditation together.

  His lulling voice guided her through the kriyas. “The Muladhara, the root chakra, is our standing in the world—it’s our security and survival chakra. But the shadow side of this chakra is our fear, resentment, and insecurity. Let’s move the prana up and out of the root chakra.” He paused, carefully watching her as she did the kriya, then continued, “The spinal flex is like the cat/cow kriya, except seated in Easy Pose.” His cadence made the words sound like poetry, yet Luna was sure he wasn’t aware of doing so. “Place your hands on your ankles. Now roll your pelvis forward as you inhale and roll back on the exhale. Then do the Breath of Fire, but not too fast. Keep your breathing even. That’s right,” he encouraged her.

  Doing the Breath of Fire while swiveling her pelvis upward and back fired up Luna’s sex organs, and she found herself uncomfortably aroused. Suddenly, the sensation was so intense and unexpected, she felt a wetness between her legs, and her face flushed. She hoped Nico hadn’t noticed what had just happened, and was relieved when he announced they would finish with a brief meditation.

  After the session, he enjoined, “Come Luna, I’m going to make my special empanadas.” It appeared she had no choice but to join him. Discovering the door off his office led to Nico’s private residence, Luna thought, This will be interesting. The small kitchen had a counter that opened onto the living room, and she could see his bedroom through another doorway. The walls were painted a deep red, like the chamber, and an assortment of tribal rugs covered the dark wood floors. Kilim pillows and a colorful horse blanket decorated the sofa. The iron and glass coffee table was stacked with large format photography books on the Q’ero and shamanism, and an illustrated book of Kundalini Yoga; a large reference book titled Native Ethnobotany lay nearby. Luna believed people’s books give silent insight into their soul, and Nico’s were no surprise. Also on the table sat an oversized, primitively carved wooden bowl containing beautiful feathers, a bundle of sage, and a few conch and nautilus shells. She was delighted at how similar his sensibility was to hers.

  As she meandered around the room taking it all in, Nico pulled out a large cast iron skillet and took some chopped meat from the fridge. Soon, the smell of onions cooking wafted through the room. While he was busy, she used the time to continue absorbing clues into Nico’s true self. Just as in his chamber, the shelves in his apartment held photos, artifacts, pottery, and wood carvings from his travels. Every table had at least one candle. Through the doorway into the bedroom, she could see a large tapestry hanging over the bed. One of several oil paintings Luna found compelling depicted a cobblestone street she assumed was in old Buenos Aires. Another was a portrait of a smiling elderly woman with dark hair and penetrating eyes. Nico walked over as she stared at the woman in the painting. “That’s my Ita,” he said. “My uncle, her oldest son, did that recently. He’s a well-known painter throughout South America and Europe. When I decided to come back to the States, he gave it to me, saying I needed to have Ita with me.”

  He reached out to take her hand. “Come, I’ll teach you to make traditional Argentine empanadas.”

  She watched as he gently kneaded the dough. His hands were firm, but gentle, his long fingers moving gracefully until the consistency was perfect. On the counter, he unfurled some parchment paper, reminding her briefly of the despacho ceremony. After rolling out the dough, he cut out circles with a round metal cookie cutter.

  Looking at the bowl of ground beef he had seasoned with paprika, cumin, salt, and pepper, she asked, “Do you eat a lot of red meat?”

  He laughed out loud, his hair flopping in his face. “Of course, bella. I’m from Argentina! I grew up with the finest steaks in the world. Look, I’ll put these roasted peppers and cooked onions in with the meat, then fold it all up in the dough, pinching them closed, like this,” he demonstrated. “But you can put all kinds of fillings in them. Ita used a different pattern—repulgue—when she pinched the edges so she’d know what was inside. Otherwise, we kids would break all of them open till we found what we wanted.” He heated some oil in the skillet and gently placed the empanadas in the oil, then instructed her, “Watch that they don’t burn while I make more.”

  They sat at the counter, feasting on the empanadas, which were so delicious Luna wasn’t shy about eating several. Nico watched her eat while he regaled her with stories of fishing in the sea with just a snorkel and a spear, later roasting octopus on an open fire. “You have to know where the octopus hide, then hold your breath for a really long time as you scare them out of their hiding places and catch them with your spear,” he described for her, standing and moving about with an imaginary spear in hand.

  He was so animated when he spoke, Luna took pleasure in watching him talk and eat, the large veins of his forearms and biceps growing as he moved to bring a golden empanada to his lips. When they were finished, Luna took their plates to the sink and began cleaning up. As she worked, her back was to the living room, and soon she heard a lovely guitar melody. Turning to look, she saw it was Nico and not a recording. As she listened to him singing in Spanish, she felt as if she were in a dream. Who was she? Here she was in the home of an alluring, younger man she barely knew, eating a lunch he’d cooked, washing his dishes, and now he was playing guitar and singing to her in Spanish. She chuckled to herself. If she told this story to any one of her friends they wouldn’t even believe her.

  Content listening to him play and sing, she took an extra-long time putting everything away. With his neck and strong shoulders bent over the guitar, she watched his graceful hands finger the strings. She recognized the song as the traditional folk story “La Llorona.” Seemingly lost in memories, his performance wasn’t for her so much as a form of meditation for himself. Emphasizing the words with passion, his voice was deep and gravely, while at the same time the sound of the double “L” in “Llorona” had a slurry softness. When he tried hitting the high notes on “Picante pero sabroso,” his voice cracked slightly, just enough to sound sexy in a pleading sort of way. He didn’t seem aware she was even in the room, so she sat on one of the stools at the kitchen bar, just far enough away to not penetrate his space.

  When he finished the song, he put the guitar down across his lap and looked up at her from beneath the thick, dark lock of hair that always fell across his forehead. A soft curl framed one eye, and his face bore an imperceptible smile. “Ah, Luna, that was a song I learned so long ago. I was thinking of home.”

  She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. The dark brooding torment he revealed in song compelled her—reaching into her gut and grabbing hold with an invisible hand. In that moment, she felt a potent exchange pass between them. She regretted having to leave him; his distress was palpable. Yet something beyond her consciousness pulled her away. When she tried to stand, she felt rooted to her seat—her body heavy, as if she’d been drugged. It took all her effort to recover and finally say, “I should leave…and let you get on with your day.”

  On the way home, Luna stopped at the green market and texted Tyler to get a shopping list. Standing in line at the register, she fina
lly felt the fog lifting from her brain. When her phone rang, she saw it was Nico.

  “Luna, can you come tomorrow morning? My flight is Monday night. I can really use your help before I leave, and we can fit in a session. I’ll give you instructions to keep practicing while I’m gone.”

  She paused, filling the time with a long “ummm.” Knowing she’d agreed to spend the day with Tyler, she finally said, “I suppose so, but I need to check with Tyler because we made plans.”

  He was silent, and she sensed he had expected a different answer.

  She spoke quietly, “Nico? You there? Is everything OK?”

  He let out a heavy sigh and replied with tenacious desperation, “Yes, Luna. I just don’t understand why you need to check with Tyler when I need your help.”

  She hurried to reassure him. “I really don’t think it will be a problem.”

  Speaking rapidly, he pleaded, “I’m really stressed out. My mom is sick, and I have to leave my business when it’s just taking off. I have a shitload of stuff to do. I’m asking you as a friend. I really need you to help me.”

  His seemingly desperate need stirred the flameless embers inside her. “Don’t worry, Nico. I’ll be there tomorrow.”

  Luna hastily apologized to Tyler, explaining in a rambling chatter that Nico’s mother was gravely ill, and since he was leaving the next day, he needed to instruct her in the kriyas she should practice while he was away. Tyler didn’t object, but Luna knew he was disappointed. Promising she wouldn’t be gone long and they could still go out for dinner, she brushed her lips against his and dashed out.

  When she arrived and Nico wasn’t in the studio, she called into his apartment from the office door. He called back, “Come on in, bella! I’m in here.”

  His bedroom was cozy, with a queen-sized bed covered by an Indian bedspread in a sunflower motif. Assorted pillows, some in quilted shams, were piled at the head, and a cranberry comforter was folded at the foot. Above the bed hung a woven tapestry of the Andes Mountains. A professional-looking black and white photo of Nico in a silver frame was displayed on a large, painted dresser. In the picture, he was in Warrior I pose, wearing low-slung sweatpants and no shirt, just a thin, beaded necklace. His hair was, as usual, messy and in his eyes, which glowed even in black and white photography.

  Turning her attention to Nico, she could see he was overwhelmed with packing. Piles of clothes were heaped on the bed, and shoes were strewn across the floor. His suitcase was open, but empty. Frustrated, he complained, “I don’t know what to bring. I still don’t know how long I’ll be there.”

  She walked to the bed, and resting an arm gently on his shoulder, spoke reassuringly, “Let me help. After all, I dress people for a living.”

  He brightened. “I forgot. That is what you do!”

  She started sorting through the clothes and he smiled gratefully, making her feel needed.

  When she suggested he gather together his toiletries he looked puzzled, so she rattled off a list of items, ending with, “and don’t forget that yummy fragrance you wear.”

  “Artículos de aseo…” he mumbled to himself as he stuffed full-sized bottles into one large plastic bag.

  As she worked, he continued, “This morning, my sister said my mother is feeling worse and hasn’t eaten in days. I’m very worried.” Noticing Luna transferring some of his toiletries out of the big bottles and into smaller ones, he interjected, “Wait, I have a travel size of Aqua di Parma.”

  Once everything fit neatly, Luna closed the suitcase. With that task complete, Nico’s entire body relaxed and his face softened. “I don’t want to lose any clients while I’m gone. I e-mailed everyone, and posted a note on my website and the studio’s Facebook page. Do you think they’ll understand and I won’t lose anyone?”

  Before Luna could answer, he continued, “Maybe you could line up some new clients for me while I’m away?”

  To allay his concern, she assured him, “Of course I will, Nico. I’ll ask Tyler, too.”

  He nodded, seemingly relieved. “Wonderful! Thank you, bella. Now let’s go start your session.”

  A mournful wooden flute echoed hauntingly over a low, resonating chant as they settled in the studio. “What list is this?” Luna asked. “I love your Spotify playlists. The music is really unusual.”

  Ignoring the question, Nico wasted no time beginning the session. “We’re going to practice a heart-warming kriya. Really, this is nothing more than a pelvic tilt. Stand with your feet shoulder width apart and knees softly bent.” Placing two fingers on her pelvic bone, he instructed her to inhale while tilting her hips back. Still guiding her with his fingers, he said, “This pulls the energy up toward your heart. When you exhale, tilt forward and tuck the pelvic bone between your legs. Now, repeat the move with the breath. We really want to get this movement fired up, uncoiling the kundalini and moving it through the first two chakras—the root chakra and the sacral chakra. We want our sexual energy to move!”

  She was somewhat embarrassed, but mostly enthralled. Nico clearly felt strongly about this subject, and she listened raptly.

  “This energy isn’t just for sex, but also for healing and vitality. In Kundalini, we connect sexual energy and heart energy. To help you feel it, place one hand on your genitals and the other on your heart. Feel yourself draw energy from your genitals to your heart as you inhale, then let it go back down while exhaling.” He placed his hands on his hips and rocked his pelvis back and forth. “Like this,” he said. Looking straight at her without blushing, he added, “It’s like when you have sex, Luna.”

  With that, Nico placed his hand on hers, guiding her to pet herself from genitals to heart while tilting her pelvis back on the inhale and tucking forward on the exhale. Luna didn’t have time to feel shocked, as he moved their hands in unison continuously up and down the front of her body. “Notice your heart gets warm, and you can feel the energy rising up from the root chakra—the Muladhara—where you hold fears and insecurities. Move the energy from there to the second chakra, Svadisthana, the sexual energy of water, where you hold your emotions and guilt.”

  He guided their hands down to her pubic mound, pressing the soft flesh there before moving back up to her heart, where his fingers slipped casually, slightly grazing her breast. As though he hadn’t noticed, he kept coaching, “Move the energy up toward the heart, through the solar plexus chakra—the Manipura. This is fire energy, where you harbor your anger and shame.”

  Her head swam. The world seemed to melt away as Nico purred more and more instructions into her ear.

  “Feel the fire, Luna. Manipura is the center of your personal power and control over yourself and others. Use this fire to expand your possibilities.”

  She felt his breath warm in her ear. “Manipura can give you the ability to manipulate situations. Feel the energy move to your heart, Luna. Feel the warmth and love move through your body, awakening your divine energy.”

  Embarrassed, she couldn’t look at him and closed her eyes to focus on the sound of his voice. Seemingly oblivious to her unease, he kept coaching, murmuring in a lower tone and volume, saturating her head and her world.

  “Move the energy to a higher vibration, Luna. The lower chakras are where we store our experiences, what we’ve chosen to manifest.” He placed his hand on her heart chakra again. “The heart chakra, Anahata, is the connection between our higher self and the physical experiences of the lower chakras.”

  His hand went down low again, making her feel dizzy and flushed all over. Her vagina pulsed and her labia swelled as she breathed heavily and tilted her pelvis back and forth. Was it the kundalini or Nico moving his hand up and down her body, she wondered.

  Without betraying any emotion, Nico kept very still, his voice low and breathy as he spoke about meditating on the third eye, the sixth chakra—Ajna—our intuition and wisdom. “The third eye is where we understand our purpose. Eliminate confusion and overintellectualizing. Allow yourself to become clairvoyant, clear seeing.”<
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  Hearing his hypnotic voice in the back of her mind, Luna let herself float, feeling warm and wet, the pulsing of her vagina taking over. Nico’s voice had become a rhythmic melody, and she moved to the music. Keenly aware of his hand stroking her body while she rocked back and forth as if having sex, she reached the edge. Abandoning herself to the pulsing, she climaxed, and wetness flowed out of her.

  She was completely overwhelmed by the throbbing of her body and certain Nico was aware of what had just happened. Suddenly, she stopped moving, prompting him to clutch her hand tightly. She stared at the floor until he lifted her chin to gaze deeply into her eyes, where she saw a gleam of knowledge.

  He asked sincerely, “Was that the first time you’ve had a touchless orgasm?”

  She nodded silently, and he murmured, “Well, Luna, see the power of kundalini?”

  Embarrassed at allowing herself to get to that point, she had trouble looking at him. She should have stopped herself, but like the good student she had always been, she kept following his instructions. Had he known that would happen? Glancing up at him, she felt tears well up in her eyes.

  He calmly reassured her, “Ah, bella Luna. No need for tears. You’re just feeling the release, and this is a good thing.” She saw amusement in his eyes, which made her feel very vulnerable. Intuitively, he quietly said, “Let’s go have some tea, bella. Tea always makes things better.”

  In his apartment, Luna sat at the counter while Nico put the kettle on. He asked if she was hungry, but she still couldn’t look directly at him. She heard herself mutter, “I guess.”