The Reading

Smoke from the sandalwood incense swirled toward the ceiling like sooty, unfurling serpents. Her golden bracelets jingled subtly as she shuffled the cards. They were the only other sound in the stuffy tent aside from his anxious breath.

Outside, the occasional roar of a roller-coaster, accompanied by the delighted shrieks of the passengers, vied for the ear's attention as the barkers enticed passers by to "Win a bear for the lady, sir!" or "Let me guess your age. You! Ma'am! I bet I can guess your exact age! Right this way!"

He was a handsome young man of moderate means. His father and mother had worked in academia and brought him up well . A fine education, family vacations to all the prime resorts and getaways, and all the intelligent discussion he could ask for ever since he could remember. But he had a love for that which couldn't always be explained. Novels on the occult, horror stories that made his skin crawl, and the simple thrill of indulging in activities such as a tarot reading could bring a smile to his skeptical heart once and again.

So, when he read of the coming carnival, he and his college friends decided to blow off summer classes and get lost in the spangled spectacle of the rides and treats.

The gilded stitch-work of stars, swirls, and roses surrounding her name had caught his eye at first glance: "Lilianne, Seer of the Soul's Path." A portly gentleman had been standing outside her beautifully antique-looking tent, his broad-brimmed hat sheltering a pinkish face that looked drawn and exhausted.

The sticky fragrance of funnel cakes had filled his nostrils, combined with more subtle hints of perspiration and sheer, tacky, greasy notes as he paused. His friends still lagged behind at a corner gathering of Midway games.

"How much?" he had inquired, already digging about in his pockets for the thick bundle of crimson tickets.

"Fifteen tickets and Lilianne will consult the cards for your fate, sir." The worn barker perked up at the approach and interest of the latest mark. His well-tended linen suit glowing ethereally in the hazy August afternoon light.

"Sure," the young man nodded agreeably, rapidly flipping through the banded stack to peel off fifteen, handing them to the elderly man whose pale blue eyes sparkled with good humor.

"Thank you, sir. Right this way," he had invited, sweeping one thick arm toward the tied-back flap of the tent. The shadowy depths within were too dark to allow the young man to see who lurked just inside.

He stepped into the smoky shadows and squinted. His eyes strained to become adjusted to the dark. The muffled revelry of the carnival outside these thick canvas walls lulled him slightly as he glimpsed a battered wooden chair before him. Clutching the ladder-back for support, he sat down.

She was not what he had expected. She had been nothing like what he had presumed her to be when his mind conjured up the stereotypical carnival fortune-teller. Instead of a rotund, graying older woman of unknown origin, his eyes beheld one of the most beautiful and exotic creatures he had ever seen.

The mysterious Lilianne appeared to exist in a separate dimension from the one where the rest of the world struggled or thrived. Her complexion was a combination of golden and creamy, as of milk kissed with honey, and it gave her an unusual radiance and appeal. Her hair was deepest chocolate, and the bittersweet tresses were pulled back to glossy smoothness by a perfectly neat French braid. Delicate diamond studs pierced her succulent little earlobes. Her features were fine and aristocratic. She had great, almost tawny eyes fringed with long, sweeping, luxuriant lashes; a fine, small, straight nose; beautifully sculpted cheekbones; and small, full lips darkened with rouge. And, clinging to her like a floral aura, was the most delicious perfume of dewy tea-rose and a heady blend of mysterious spices.

"Please make yourself comfortable." She greeted him in a baby-soft voice. Her immense, jewel-like eyes met his with the briefness and intensity of a tigress before she looked down to the small round table before her. "Would you prefer I read your palm, or that I perform a reading of the cards?"

"Ummmm..." He shifted nervously, swinging himself around to deposit himself tensely in the chair before her.

Her beauty was nearly incapacitating at so short a distance. And she, as if knowing his trepidation, reached out with one delicate, petal-soft hand to touch the back of his exposed right wrist, just below the mellow glimmer of his watch, in a gentle and calming gesture.

"You'll have to relax, sir," she offered a warm smile as her fingertips lingered on the smooth flesh. He inhaled a long, tremulous breath as his eyes met hers again, her expression one of earnestness. "It will be difficult for us to get an accurate reading if your mind is clouded."

"Oh. Sorry. It's been a while since I've had my cards read."

Lilianne smiled sympathetically, and leaned back to retrieve a fraying, dusty, ebony cloth, which she reverently spread across the well-polished tabletop. Her darkly lacquered nails glimmered jewel-like in the soft warmth of the milky afternoon sky. Her eyes flitted up to meet his. She stretched one naked, slender arm over to a nearby shelf to retrieve a hinged rosewood box lined in crimson velvet.

"I'm going to shuffle the deck," Lilianne began. His eyes caught a soft gleam of pearly teeth within that succulent little mouth as she spoke. "And, when I'm done, I need you to cut the deck and think of what you'd like to ask the cards. Then, I will shuffle again and you'll need to select ten cards."

"All right," the young man nodded, his mouth suddenly feeling dry as a vague memory of this same ritual at a sorority party floated back to him. It was a beer-clouded vision where the only clear images had been those of the pretty girls gathered around in mock fascination as one of the more New Age sisters had brought out her "Tarot in a Box" that she had bought at a department store.

A defiant wind whipped at the open tent flap, fluttering it like a bird's wing as a great, gray cloud began to creep in from the western sky. The man outside the tent rose and hobbled around to secure the flap more tightly as a burst of screams and giggles erupted from a ride further down the Midway.

Lilianne's hand gently settled over his, bringing him back to the present task. Returning his attention to the table, he reached down, carefully running slightly callused fingertips up along the slightly bent edges of the traditionally illustrated Rider-Waite deck, estimating roughly half the cards, and lifting them, offering his reader a questioning lift of his brows.

"Yes. Keep them face down and place them here," she nodded. She reclined slightly so that her small, well-formed breasts strained against the scarlet of her sleeveless blouse as she indicated the area of the cloth immediately to the left of the remaining stack of cards. "Right. Now I'll shuffle them, and you need to think on what you want to know."

How soft her hands were. How sweet her smile. And those spellbinding eyes with such luxuriant, long lashes that curled up at the edges... What must it be like to have someone so luscious lying beneath you? Or on top of you, for that matter? All that silken hair kissed with exotic perfume and that golden, enticing flesh...

"Are you thinking of your question?" Her voice came just above a whisper as she fanned out the deck with one practiced flick of a couple long, elegant fingers.

"Oh, yes, Lilianne: I have a question in mind." With a knowing nod, she offered a tempting smile.

"Then let's start drawing cards."

The light within the tent grew more feeble, and he paused, hand hovering above the intricately patterned backs of the cards, to glimpse the more abundant gathering of dove gray clouds interspersed with ones of a more slate hue, the wind picking up strength. A discarded plastic bag with the mashed remnants of lilac-colored cotton-candy surfed upon the unseen gust, hurrying off toward parts unknown as people came and went, heedless of the darkening skies.

"The three of cups," Lilianne noted, lips pursed slightly in kissable contemplation as he watched her face for the slightest trace of concern regarding his future. "This represents your present state of mind. Your main occupation right now, and cups is the suit of relationships."

"Like about a relationship I have right now?"

"Not necessarily. It might be a relationship you wish you had."

The smile she gave him made his nerves tingle. As if she read his thoughts—which, he knew, must be fairly easy with the way he was all but drooling over her. But how could she expect him to act otherwise? His cock had begun to swell within his jeans from the first moment he beheld her, and it showed no sign of dwindling from her careful scrutiny of his expression.

"Draw another card, please," Lilianne invited, narrowing her eyes to cast a fleeting look out at the now uniformly gray skies. The distant rumble of thunder distracted them both as he tentatively slid a second card from the fanned-out deck for her to add to the spread.

"The Hanged Man," she observed, arching one fine brow. "This card represents surrender to gain what you desire. Acquiescence for the ability to move forward. Sacrificing control to gain it. It's..."

A rather loud burst of thunder made him jump as the light grew more diffuse. Lilianne paused, rising from her chair. Moving around from behind the table, he felt the hem of her flowing, knee-length skirt brush his leg as she moved beside him. She turned on a small accent lamp with a fringed damask shade, and then slipped behind him to peer out through the open flap as fat, weighty drops of rain began to fall from the low clouds.

"Nathaniel?" she called to the barker in the suit. "I'm already in the middle of a reading. I'm going to close the flap so the rain doesn't ruin my cards, all right?"

"Sure, darlin'!" Nathaniel called back, hurrying across the darkening concrete of the fairground to talk anxiously with a woman running a deep-fried concessions stand.

With a muffling of the carnival noise, the hunter green canvas flap settled into place, parting briefly to allow Lilianne in before settling back into its previous position.

"Perfect weather for this, isn't it?" The young man grinned, observing her as she made one final stop at an ornate and tarnished brass incense-burner sculpted into the shape of a lanky and sleek dragon. She plucked the remains of one stick and replaced it with another from a plum-colored drawstring bag. She took a match from a book to light the protruding stick, and waved her hand briefly to extinguish the dancing flame.

"Does the smoke bother you?" she asked. Her shadow was projected long and feline upon the tent behind her. "I always light a new stick when we have a storm..."—she lowered her eyes as a hint of scarlet crept into her cheek—"...for luck with the weather."

"No," he began, inhaling a great breath of the herbal, woody smoke that was considerably more heavily perfumed than its predecessor. His eyes closed. "It doesn't bother me."

"All right." She spoke with a matter-of-fact tone as she returned to her seat. The sound of the rain pattered upon the tent roof now competing with his pulse as he felt his mind wandering even further.

"Another card," he mused, his pale sapphire eyes meeting with hers as he began to feel very relaxed. His hand lingering over the deck as he inhaled great lungfuls of the pungent, yet lusciously fragranced, smoke. The taste of it was mild, sweet, and somehow pleasant.

"Another card," she said almost soundlessly as her hand moved over his. "Just listen to what your heart tells you, James."

How did she know his name? The rain drummed steadily now above them, and he felt enveloped by the aura of smoke. Her hand upon his gave off some sort of torrid heat, and her eyes held his gaze in the dim, indirect light as her lips curved in a knowing smile.

"How'd you..." His hand rose, a card pinched between forefinger and thumb.

Silently, she plucked it from his fingertips and gazed at it with a slow exhalation of breath. "The High Priestess." The card dropped to the table. She held his hand in both of hers, and raised it to her velvet lips. "Waiting. A pause in activity. A lull..."

How tight his jeans felt! God, why had he decided against the slacks? The pressure of his cock against the restricting denim was distracting. And she was still holding his hand. A firm press of her lips again, and he shivered. He felt his mind begin to drift. Had she asked him to choose another card? It seemed as if she had...

Mechanically—his thoughts wrapped up with her and the ravenousness he felt for her flesh—his free hand dropped to the cards, fumbling and groping for another. A few of the cards fluttered, unheeded, like disoriented tropical birds off the small tabletop to the earth beneath their feet. Her eyes! Such beautiful eyes!

"The Fool."

Smoke permeated his thoughts, clung to his hair and clothes like an aura as Lilianne stood up, still holding the card he had just withdrawn—though she made no move to add it to the predetermined pattern that had been forming, card by card. Moving around to stand just to his left, her hip brushing against his shoulder, she gazed down at him intently as she folded the card in half .

"The Fool?" he managed, feeling feverish and restless.

"Going with the flow," Lilianne explained as, with uncanny grace, she swung her left leg over his lap, settling onto his knees, her firm behind resting upon them. He felt a tug at his breast pocket and lowered his gaze to watch as she stuffed the card into it."Moving with the current like a reed in the river."

"My God..." he breathed as she encircled his neck with her arms, pressing against him, her lips brushing his ear.

"You have a brave soul, James. What a delight it would be to have you." she breathed. One hand reached back to pull the band that held her braid in place. With a toss of her head, her dark tresses tumbled free, unwinding in a silken cascade over his arms as he dared open his eyes to behold her.

There was no rain. No hurrying revelers and splashing children. Only their breathing and the mystical smoke potion of the incense as she began to move upon his lap, her eyes closed, her warm fingertips brushing his cheek.

"Tell me you desire me, James." With a wiggle, her shirt was withdrawn, and the hot weight of her breasts pressed against his chest. He moaned softly, capturing her in a tight embrace.

"I want you, Lilianne. More than anything I've ever wanted... I want you..."

The feel of her hands cradling his face brought him round a bit, and he opened his eyes to behold her face as she stood before him. Her features were radiant with carefree desire and framed by her deep mahogany tresses. She pushed her raven skirt down over her hips, revealing a navel pierced with a golden hoop and a closely trimmed dusting of raven pubic hair. Her breasts were high, with small, rose-colored nipples. Her complexion was flawless and luscious.

His whirling mind Reality attempted to be snagged the quickly retreating reality of his situation.by his whirling mind . Brief thoughts of Nathaniel, the man who helped Lilianne bring in the marks. His friends who were, no doubt, searching the crowd for him. But, each time these notions tried to cling to his mind, they were ferried away on the billowing clouds of smoke. Tossed aside with Lilianne's few thin, delicate garments.

The pressure upon his crotch was easing. Warm, sure fingers were probing. Pulling at his cock. He couldn't bear to open his eyes. Peering through his lashes, he saw her bent over the zipper of his pants, one hand lost between the metal-lined opening, squeezing his throbbing cock.

The chair beneath him shuddered slightly as he let out a soft groan, arching his hips. Scent of tea-rose and sandalwood. The feel of her thighs upon him again, her arms slipping about his neck again, and he knew sweet darkness as her mouth closed upon his, her kiss drawing the life and breath from him as the wind drew the water into the clouds.

Warmth and wetness pressed against the reddening head of his cock, and he moaned through their kiss as she, with a sharp thrust of her hips, impaled herself upon him, languidly coaxing his tongue into her mouth as she began to ride him with a frantic thrusting of her hips. A breathy moan escaped her as he hungrily devoured kiss after kiss. The chair shuddered beneath them as her body, so unbelievably delicious and tight, made him feel such extremes of pleasure that he thought his heart might stop.

"I knew you would come to me today," Lilianne panted in his ear, her nails ten little points of pain against the nape of his neck as his hands sought her hips, forcing her down upon him with more urgency. "In the cards... I saw it in the cards. And I dreamt of you..." A soft moan punctuated her words. "All this week and the last, I saw you in my dreams and I knew your name. Your name was James, and I knew I must have you. From the moment I first saw you, I knew I had to have you."

"Shhhh," he soothed, covering her face with steamy kisses as he stabbed into the hot, contracting depth of her. "I know, baby. I know."

"No..." she moaned painfully and arched her back as her clitoris ground against him. "In my dreams... I saw you in my dreams. I had to blend the incense just right to bring your soul to mine. Just the right herbs and flowers for you, my beautiful James."

An earth-shattering crack of thunder moved over the darkened fairground as rain fell in a steady sheet. Families took shelter in concession tents or huddled around canopies as the sky achieved an almost twilight shade. The tent of the tarot reader undisturbed.

Sweat misted his brow as she rode him hard, her passion silent save for her frantic breathing and the soft sound of her thighs slamming against his hips as he moaned aloud.

"Lilianne... I can't stand it. I'm going to come..."

Wrapped about him like the shadows in the tent, she bit at his throat as he gasped, then several seconds of silence passed between them as his cock erupted inside her. Shuddering breaths tore from his lips as he slumped forward, resting his face in the perfumed valley between her breasts. She planted soft kisses in his corn-silken hair. Her soft fingertips lightly rubbed his neck as her heart slowed to a normal rhythm against his cheek.

Seconds spun out into what had to be minutes. Eyes closed, he felt himself drowsing in her sure embrace. The steady drumming of rain lulling him. Encouraging his mind to drift as he inhaled the soft rose fragrance she wore, and the more subtle notes of her flesh commingled with the ancient and mysteriously intoxicating perfume of the dwindling incense stick. The heat of her body, of her most feminine parts, only served to entrance him more. His own breathing grew more rhythmic and relaxed. His eyelids grew heavy. Her skin was velvety and inviting.

The world shifted. A loud chorus of voices made him jump, and he sat bolt upright, his eyes snapping open. Milky afternoon light poured over the darkly beautiful woman sitting across from him at the table, reflected warmly in her golden bracelets and enigmatic eyes.

Lilianne was sweeping the completed tarot formation back into the deck, shuffling it and placing it back into the small wooden box.

"The cards say you've got a great future, sir," she beamed meekly, depositing the box on the table to her left. "Thank you for giving me the opportunity to read them for you."

Shaking his head, he got to his feet, his knees a bit weak, looking down at his clothes. All appeared neat and unrumpled. Confused, he looked again at Lilianne, who offered him a slightly puzzled expression before returning the cards to their previous location on the shelf. The tent was filled only with the heavy sweet scent of funnel cakes and the subtle floral hint of her perfume.