The Spring warmed, and Girarde and I struck up an easy, if distant, friendship. The magic of Paris, with a new girl and the world at your footsteps, is intoxicating even for a tightly-wound artist-to-be such as me. Bernadette on my arm, Anju on his, we would sit on the footbridge over the Seine and watch the sun set with a bottle of wine, amid other groups of ex-pats and local French students. I was happy, dangerously happy.
Yes, of course. Bernadette and I began having sex, and she had an avidity which I had never experienced before in my few American girlfriends. Incredible as it may seem, I left her wanting more, because I couldn't release my promise to dedicate my vital energies to work, and what she wanted was a complete and total immersion into a world of sensuality. I am fairly sure that, during some of this frustration, she dallied with other men. I did not see her every night, and our liaison was a loose one. No commitments, no promises. I often wondered whether she and Anju would return, and yet they always did.
We had intrigued them, Girarde and I, we were a useful counterbalance in their life of the moment, which I sensed was an explosion and rebellion from the confines of their own, prior life.
It was this curious state of affairs, then, that led to this most unique event. The four of us were sitting at a back table, tucked away in Café de la Palette and I was listening intently to Girarde's explanation of his theory of memory and identity, which had just been published in a small academic journal. We were ignoring the girls, and Bernadette ran her hand across my lap and flopped against me, head on my shoulder.
"Hey, not now," I said, my train of though interrupted.
She pouted. "Not now. Always not now you say. Not ever! I say."
"He cannot be as cold as Girarde," said Anju, smiling at her. "What does a girl have to do to get a little satisfaction?'
"This is the problem with artists... they can hold their pen up, or their penis up, but not both," said Bernadette in a loud voice, warming to the subject. Girarde and I tried to interject, in our embarrassment, but to no avail. Though I prided my self on my restraint and discipline, it was altogether embarrassing to have these women proclaiming my frigidity amidst a café where more and more faces had become familiar over the months.
"He cannot be as cold as Max," said Bernadette, giving me a little elbow in the ribs. "Always it's: 'Not in the morning, I have to work,' and 'Not again, I need to rest.'" She waiver her hand and called to a buff, ballcap-wearing American who was walking past our table, and said, "Hello? Yes, well, do you think I am a beautiful woman? How about her? If we had sex, would you stop after the first time?"
The young guy, who was somewhat taken aback, chuckled, smiled broadly and in his most he-man voice said, "Maybe he's gay. Baby, come sit with a real man."
But this guy wasn't Bernadette's goal, I saw, she rebuffed him with, "I'll let you know when I find a real man. I don't see any here." And she turned back and hugged my arm.
"Well, you are wrong. I think I've got the bigger challenge in Girarde. The more I want, the less he gives!" said Anju.
"How can we settle this important question of which man is more frigid?" said Bernadette, eyes lighting up. She withdrew and lit a cigarette, and then blew out some smoke.
"Tonight we will each go home and make love madly to our men, and tomorrow we will see who has done it more times!" said Anju.
"Ah, but what if one of us cheats, and does not give the seduction her all?" said Bernadette.
"You are right. You are right. What shall we do?"
Bernadette drew long on her cigarette and stared up at the ceiling of the café for a moment. "Oh," she said. And she hustled round and crouched near Anju, whispering in her ear. Anju's eyes lit up. She was nodding and smiling, then whispering back. Bernadette stood up, with a satisfied, impish smile, and sat down again next to me.
"There once were two kings," said Bernadette, "who were arguing over which had the slowest racehorse. The could not figure out how to have a fair contest, until the wise magician said that each should pick his best jockey, and have that jockey ride the other king's horse. The first jockey across the finish line would win, proving the other king's horse was faster, and that his own king's was, indeed, the slowest."
I must say that, my fingers were tingling as she said it. And, all of a sudden, I felt something brushing my knees, and then a hand on my lap and I looked and Anju was not in her place. It was all so sudden and so surprising that I started to stand up, but Bernadette put a hand on my arm and very quickly my zipper came down, and I felt a warm, firm mouth around my swiftly engorging cock.
"Quietly, now. Finish your coffee," said Bernadette. Anju was clearly visible if someone looked into the shadows, protected only by the light traffic at the back of the café. I could feel the blood coursing into my cock with each heartbeat. With each beat, I could feel it expanding, pushing forward and up, forcing open Anju's mouth and hand. The pulsing continued, and I stretched further, fuller, longer, into the warmth and wetness below the table. Now I could feel the strain building and flexed my hips and pressed down to force that turgid maximum stretch, and all of a sudden Anju bumped her head on the underside of the table. Girarde, looked at the ceiling, and laughed and said "French women! Bernadette, did you drop something under the table?"
I held the small cup of coffee in my now-trembling hand, as the sensation below the table built rapidly. She had the angle right now, and she was running one strong hand up and down on it as she took it into her mouth. My cock was on fire as she increased the friction, and then increased the pace. It was a sprint from the start, and I started gasping rough deep breaths as the feeling rose and then overflowed. The feeling quickly became overwhelming and I could barely tell one lightening sensation from another.
My breaths came faster and hotter, with open mouth my eyes and head cast downwards over the table, still holding my coffee cup shaking in my hand. I came with a shuddering force, pumping many hard streams of hot cum into her mouth, hidden and hungry beneath the table, and I heard a small mew of surprise from Anju as I did. A wave of warmth flushed my skin, and my face felt hot. I felt as though a series of pins and fasteners had been removed from my spine and neck, and I slumped back into the seat and let out a long breath.
The tension and excitement of the conversation passed, and I was content to sit there, as though my joints were all not loose in their sockets. I felt my cock pressed, hot, against my stomach and zipped into place. It was all over in less than a minute.
Anju sat up, wiped the corner of her mouth, took a large gulp of her wine, and smiled at Bernadette. "I think I am going to win," she said.
With that we all fell to laughing, me in somewhat of a state of disbelief.
The game was carried out that very night. 24 hours they decided on, to meet back for dinner the following night at La Palette. That night and day would prove to be the most singular erotic experience of my life.
The Power Within
The house looked as it always did, thought Jesse as she walked in front of it. Quiet, dark, and somehow it filled her with dread. "Why did I get mentioned in a will?" She wondered aloud as she stopped in front of the gate. "I never even knew anyone lived here, much less anyone that would name me in a will and leave me this house."
"Me either."
Jumping and holding back a scream, Jesse turned to the voice that had answered her thought. "Oh goodness! I didn't know anyone was around, or I wouldn't have been talking out loud." She mumbled, as she realized who was standing there. It was Mark Standish. The guy who has haunted her dreams since junior high school, the only guy in the world to turn her into a stammering idiot.
"Its okay, I talk to myself all of the time. They say that its okay as long as you don't answer yourself." Smiling down at her, Mark continued. "I didn't mean to startle you. I am Mark Standish. I was mentioned in a will too."
"I know, uh I mean, I went to school with you, uh I mean...um." Blushing, Jesse started all over again. Of course he wouldn't reme
mber her. "I am Jesse James."
"Jesse James? Like the outlaw?" Mark said with a raised brow, "Are you for real? I would remember a name like that."
"In school I used my whole name Jessica. You probably wouldn't remember me, I wasn't part of the "popular" crowd like you were." She answered. "Anyway, are you sure you don't know what's going on?"
"Nope not a clue. I just received a letter telling me to come here."
Jesse looked at Mark. She had seen him all over town. One girl after another, then it was one woman after another. Looking at his aura that flowed around him, as clear as day to her, and she took a quick breath. "Oh my..." she breathed. His aura called to her submissiveness. She could see that he had not used it. Had not yet recognized what was within himself. He probably did not know that he was a dom.
Looking at her like she was crazy, Mark asked, "What?" as he looked behind him.
"Oh nothing. Um I thought that there was a um bee, flying near you. Sorry about that."
"Okay," he answered. Looking toward the house, he motioned toward it, "You ready to see what is going on?"
"Sure. Let's get this over with."
Opening the gate and walking through, Jesse noticed instantly that there wasn't any sound. No insects buzzing, no birds chirping, no kid sounds floating over the breeze. Getting a bit freaked out, she took a deep breath and walked toward the house.
Walking behind her, Mark was thinking that maybe he did remember this chick. She was the weird one that everyone talked about. It was said that she liked pain and was into the freaky stuff. "Thank goodness she isn't with me," he thought as he followed her really nice ass toward the house. Her shoulder length copper colored hair glowed in the last rays of the sun as it set behind them. She was very pretty in her own way. Her deep, dark brown eyes showed a lot of expression. Too bad the chick was a freak. He could do her if she wasn't.
Jesse stood in front of the door and pushed the doorbell. The ringing could be heard through the thick door. Glancing back at Mark, she could see he was looking at her ass. Rolling her eyes at this, she turned back around and looked closer at the door. It was massive. It was dark, almost black. Never had she seen a door made like this. As she looked, the door opened. Expecting to see someone in the doorway, Jesse pasted a smile on and waited. And waited some more.
Mark looked at the tight ass some more until he realized that Jesse had rung the doorbell. Twice. The door opened and then nothing. Nobody answered the door. Confused, Mark asked Jesse, "Did you open the door?"
"No I didn't. It opened all by itself."
Snorting Mark answered, "Uh huh. Right. Anyway lets go see what is going on."
As soon as they both entered the house, the door slammed shut. Turning around, they both tried to open it, but it was locked up tight. Feeling panicked, Jesse turned to Mark. "What's going on here?"
"I don't know. But I don't like it." Looking determined he said "Come on, let's see what's going on and then get the hell out of here."
Jesse, after trying the doorknob again, grabbed his hand and agreed. "Come on, let's go."
Glancing around the grand foyer, they could see that it led to a series of doors on the first floor and had a staircase leading to a second floor. Everything was dark and dusty. It was apparent that no one had been in here for a long time.
Moving toward the first doorway, they were stopped by the sound of rushing air and a fetid stench. Suddenly all of the doors slammed shut. Scared shitless, Jesse turned toward Mark, but one look at his face had her not saying a word. He was terrified. If he were as scared as she was, then he wouldn't know what was going on either. Not one for standing around doing nothing, she pulled on Mark's hand. "Come on, maybe there is something upstairs that can help us."
"Wha wha what?" Was all that came out of Mark's mouth as he blindly followed Jesse up the stairs. Nothing in his life had prepared him for this. He didn't even believe in ghosts for fucks sake! Yet here he was in a freaky house with a freaky girl. Some Friday night this turned out to be.
As soon as they reached the second floor, more doors slammed shut. All but the one doorway at the end of the hall. After trying the first couple of shut doors, Jesse knew that they were being led to a certain room. Obviously, whatever was in this house had sent for the both of them for a reason.
"Well, lets go see what it wants, shall we?" Jesse asked. "I don't know about you, but not knowing what is going on is pissing the fuck out of me."
"Not knowing what was going on?" he repeated. "What the fuck is all this?"
"I don't know. But whatever it is, it wants the two of us to go in that room."
"Then we don't go," he said with a mutter. "Why the hell should I?"
"What was that crackling?" Jesse asked, looking around. Looking up she saw the giant lighting fixture swaying above Mark.
"Move mark! Now!" she screamed.
Looking up, Mark saw the fixture and ran toward Jesse.
BAM!
The fixture fell right where Mark had been standing.
Fanning away the dust, Jesse looked at Mark and he looked back at her.
"I guess I am going into that room after all." He said quietly.
Moving quickly, they went inside the only open room left. Inside the lights were on. The warmly glowing room was at odds with the dingy darkness that so far had been the norm in this house.
"Well," said Jesse as she looked around. "This is some room."
The room was a delight to behold, if she was to be honest. A huge metal framed bed dominated the room. A long table had been set up along one wall. On it was various sex toys and devices more commonly found in a bdsm store. The nipple clamps and cat o'nine tails caught her eyes. "Wow." She thought, not aloud this time, " I love these things."
Mark had been wandering around also as she checked out the sex toys. Those didn't interest him. He didn't need sex toys to satisfy a woman. He was man enough without them.
Looking out of the window, he saw that he could see the kids playing across the street. He couldn't hear them, but he could see them. Turning to look at Jesse to let her know this, he saw that there was something glowing around her. Almost as if she was on fire.
"What the hell is with you?" He asked not too gently. "Are you a fucking witch or something? Did you have something to do with all of this?"
Looking shocked, Jesse turned toward him. "I am not a "witch" as you so eloquently put it. I do believe in Gaia and the power she has over this planet and beyond. And no to answer your question, I didn't have anything to do with this. The dark forces that did this want something from you and I. " Dropping the clamp she still held in her hand, she looked him in the eyes. "We need to know why we were brought here."
"Okay, okay. Sorry for that crack. But how do we figure out what's going on?"
"Come on sit down here with me." She motioned for him to sit next to her on the floor. "I will meditate and see if I can feel anything out."
"Oh all right. But I guess they were all right about you being a freak."
Blinking back the tears that came up with that comment, she bowed her head so that he couldn't see them.
"Okay, well, you just sit right there and hold my hands and concentrate. You don't have to do anything else."
Holding his hands in hers, Jesse let the peace of Gaia's energy flow through her. Total stillness overtook her and she knew no more.
Mark watched all this in amazement. For one moment Jesse seemed bathed in a glowing white light. He could feel the warmth coming from her. Suddenly Jesse went still. For a moment Mark was scared that she had died and almost let go of her hands. A voice whispered into his ear. "Don't let go. She needs your energy to be with me. Get to know your power and then you will be free."
Stunned, Mark just sat there holding onto Jesse's hands. "Who was that?" he wondered. Could it be this Gaia that she mentioned?"
Suddenly Jesse opened her eyes. Looking at Mark she said in a monotone, "The entity in the house
needs our power to be released. It needs for us to satisfy ourselves not as we should but just our basic needs. We are to mate. We need to achieve orgasm without you making me submit. If I submit to you, then the power between us can defeat the entity. If not then it will be free."
Falling forward in a dead faint, Jesse would have slammed into the floor had Marks reflexes had been any slower. He sat there holding her close, not knowing what was going on. Hoping that she would wake soon to explain what was going on.
Feeling as though a truck had run her over, Jesse opened her eyes to see Mark's worried face. Realizing that she was in his lap, she struggled to sit up. "Oh goodness. I'm sorry." Rubbing her eyes, she asked, "What happened?"
After telling her what she had said, Mark confessed, "I don't know what the fuck is going on."
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