Aurora - Way of the Goddess Pt. 08

"You don't like her?"

"Macca? I love her to death, but the poor girl must be thick as two short ones. All that happy clapping and praising the lord. And the way she runs around after that god-awful boyfriend. A jolly good fucking is just what she needed. Did she dig it?"

"At the time."

"I see. And what about afterwards?"

"Well let's just say she had some buyer's remorse."

"Really?" Caddy asked with a wicked smile. "Did Macca go off the deep end?"

"Somewhat."

"Did she beat her breast?"

"Oh yes."

"And gnash her teeth? God knows she's got a set."

"Uh huh. Do you know how hard it is to find sackcloth and ashes these days?"

"Try Bunnings? Self-flagellation aisle?"

"Didn't think of that. Thanks for the tip."

"Think nothing of it. Still, more importantly. Damon? Did she cum?"

"Oh yes." the old man nodded. "A couple of times."

"Ubelievable! Were those her first?"

"Orgasms? I'd say so."

"How did you do it? And in case you're wondering, no, I have no shame asking."

"Well..." the old man hedged, "we sort of started with mouth-"

"Mouth? Victoria? No fuckin' way!"

"Yes fucking way."

"Hang on. Are we talking about the same Victoria?"

"Verily. Macca."

"The bible-thumping, happy-clapping, get down on your knees and please Jesus Victoria?"

"The very same."

"And you say you started with mouth? Then what?'

"The old horizontal tango. Missionary of course. I thought it only appropriate."

Caddy put a hand on her heart. "You actually got that old cock into her?"

"Here!" Watson glared. "It's only as old as the woman it penetrates."

"Yes, but... all of it?"

"Right to the hilt."

"Well fuck me dead." Caddy breathed. "You know, with a bit of luck, this might just wake her up out of her coma."

"Funny you should say that."

"Really? Why?"

"Well we went for a run this morning and talked it all out. In between Vicky trying to run me to death."

"And?"

"Well, let's just say she might have seen the light at the end of the pulpit."

"Seriously?"

"Fingers crossed."

Caddy winked. "See! All she needed was a jolly good fucking. And just in time."

"Actually I think it was more the chat we had on the run."

"Bullshit, Damon. I don't care what she says, her mind was made up the minute you nailed her. All the deep and meaningful later, that's just window-dressing. Some nice mouth and a damn good skewering... how could a soul-crushing, woman-hating, radical fundamentalist death-cult compete with something like that?" She punched him on the bicep. "You randy old stud-muffin you! Well bloody done!"

"Well, let's not talk too soon."

"What do you mean?"

"You didn't hear Tan?"

"Tanya?" Caddy blew a raspberry. "That bloody drama queen?"

"It's a pretty big step." he persisted. "After twenty-odd years of bible-bashing inculcation."

"No sweat." Caddy threw her arm around him and gave him a hug. "No now you've gone and given her the antidote." She snapped her fingers, "Fixed in a jiffy."

"And if it's not?"

Caddy winked. "You'll just have to work on it. What do you say? A two-week course on some desert island, with Doctor Watson and his little blonde assistant? That should do the trick."

"I'll have to start charging."

"Now then, don't go getting tickets on yourself. Tell you what. How about a nice little fuck? Just you and me? For services to humanity?"

"While you've got your... you know."

Caddy leant into him. "I won't tell if you don't. We can do it in the shower. I wouldn't normally, but this deserves a bloody celebration."

* * *

Tanya was back just after one a.m. Watson's fear of a haunting, together with the prospect spending the rest of his days in the naughty corner was enough to curtail what should have been a festive final evening. Even the Cialis, administered by a sympathetic Caddy with no ulterior motives whatsoever, did little other than keep him erect. Sensing his energy, or lack thereof, the girls pleased themselves- and each other- in a variety of ways, from double-dildoing and oral to tribbing and fingers. Yet even they had their limits and when the house fell silent, Caddy checked to find they'd put themselves to bed and were cuddled-up snoring like fairytale princesses.

Watson pulled on a baggy pair of shorts when he heard the door open downstairs, followed by the crash of Tanya's keys on the black rock bench. He had a huge Cialis soft-on, about ten kilos worth, reaching halfway to his knees, not even good for pissing out of. Shame and guilt were jostling for elbowroom along with fear of the sisterhood as he padded out of the living room into the kitchen. "Tan?"

"Still awake?"

"How's Vicky?"

Tanya planted her fists on her hips. "Listen, Damon." she growled, nodding in the direction of his groin, "Ever thought of just tying a knot in it?"

The old man opened his mouth but nothing came out as he floundered for a reply. Tanya let him stew for a moment before putting him out of his misery. "Well don't."

He gave his head a tiny shake. "Say what?"

Tanya bounded over to him and swept him into a whirling embrace. "I think we did it!"

"We? Did what?"

"Dragged her out of their clutches. You and me. And Macca of course."

"What makes you say that?"

"I was there when she made the call. First one to her handicap. She had him on speaker. And about a minute after he hung up that disgusting old preacher rang. Would never have believed it if I hadn't heard it with my own ears. Should have heard her. Cool as a cucumber. I really didn't think she had it in her."

"Really? So what did the creepers say?"

"Aaron disowned her. Then the old scab put a curse on her and started talking in tongues."

Goosebumps sprang up on Watson's skin. "Why that filthy old snake oil salesman. How was Vick when you left her?"

"Umm.. exultant is probably the best word. I always keep a bottle of Veuve in the car for such emergencies. We had a glass or two to celebrate then I tucked her in."

"Do you think she'll be okay?"

"No," Tanya held him at arm's length, "I think she'll be awesome. I've given her some time off just to get her bearings. If she makes it through the next few day's I reckon she'll be fine."

"Poor kid. I hope she makes it. Out of the cult."

"Well she's off to a flying start. Where are the girls?"

"Sacked out. I think they fucked each other senseless."

"What about Cads?"

"Same with her."

"So it's just you and me?"

"I wanted to wait for the verdict."

"Really. You sure that's all?"

"Pardon?"

"Macca was a bit vague on some of the details." Tanya replied then ran her hands over her body. "So what do you say? Want to show me on this life-sized doll where you touched her?"

* * *

Airports. From the parking Nazis who made sure as many victims as possible were herded into the daylight-robbery car parks, to the self check-in consoles and the do-it-yourself bag drop, from disinterested staff and insolent security, to overpriced food and the brigands in the fashion shops, airports were one of Watson's most enduring aversions.

While first contemplating throwing sanity to the winds and disappearing over the horizon, Watson drew up a list, pros on one side, cons on the other, to inform his decision. An ostensibly simple exercise, commenced over a joint and some beers, it morphed into an epic of soul searching, culminating in a creation that was more a circuit diagram than simple old list. But one single loathing prevailed, from the first green and red scribble, to the settlement at the marina where he handed over his life savings.

Airports.

Beck, in spite of her old man's angst, was like a puppy with two tails, aided and abetted in her enthusiasm by Tanya. Dressed in a pair of light grey, knee-length denims and a striped pink T-shirt, she was dashing from pillar to post, stocking-up on lollies and teen magazines, gushing over fashions in the clothes stores. Wearing a light summer dress that showed off the comely curve of her cast, Tanya hobbled after her with infinite calm and fathomless goodwill, saying exactly the right things when called upon for fashion advice. Watson studied the gorgeous socialite with a mixture of adoration and sadness. They hadn't even left yet and he was already missing her.

Tanya's phone rang and a bare moment later, the old man turned to the sound of flying footsteps behind him. A fit young woman was pelting down the corridor, obviously late for her plane. She was wearing well-worn, contour-hugging, khaki cargo shorts and Teva sandals, with a gingerbread silk waistcoat flapping open over breast-bouncing violet singlet. Looking away at first he did a quick double-take, as the initial sight of that pretty, flustered face made a connection.

"Sorry I'm late, Boss." Vicky panted and in the same breath said, "And thanks again for the day off."

Tanya threw her arms open. "Naww, come here, Darling." Sweeping Vicky into a clinch, Tanya rocked her from side to side then held her at arm's length. "How are you travelling?"

Vicky had trussed her hair up in a haphazard bun but most of it had already escaped. "I've never been better!" she replied a little manically. Pre-empting Tanya's next question, she said, "They haven't called back."

"You cool with that?"

"It's like I've just woken up from a twenty year nightmare." she nodded feverishly. "I'm never going back! Never!"

Watson looked on, his heart pounding, as Tanya gathered Vicky into another rocking hug. "Poor baby. I'd die if anything happened to you. Think of all the work I'd have to do."

The slap of gladiator sandals on polished floor tiles heralded Beck's arrival. Treating Vicky to something resembling a rugby tackle, Beck folded the young woman into a breast-mashing hug. "Are you coming with us?"

Vicky staggered a little when Beck let her go, then straightened her clothes and brushed back her hair. Reaching out, she slid a long, blond tress of Beck's hair between fingers and thumb. "Not this time, Little Mermaid. We'll just have to wait till Tan gives me holidays."

"When will that be?"

Tanya leant into her. "In a couple of years." she said in a low voice, "If she's lucky."

"I've just got to work on a few things first." Vicky smiled wanly.

"Well can you hurry?" Beck frowned.

"Don't pester the poor girl." Watson carped. "Vicky's had a busy few days."

Beck nodded. Not to mention the odd, rampant fuck.

"What do you say, Beck?" Tanya squeezed her hand, "Let's go and find you a new dress. It's almost Christmas. You'll be needing some party clothes."

Watson looked at the several shopping bags clutched in Beck's hot little hands. "Another one?"

"Oh, shoosh, you." Tanya said then looked at Beck and rolled her eyes. "Boys! They just don't get it, do they?" Towing Beck away, she left the chest-heaving young woman and the sheepish old man standing together under a bank of scrolling airline information screens.

"Mind if I give you a kiss?" Vicky asked, then suckered her mouth to Watson's before he could answer. Toothpaste and tea, and the sweet natural taste of female saliva.

"Congratulations," Watson smiled, wiping his mouth, "we've just been filmed pashing by half a dozen CCTVs."

"Think I care? I'd ravish you if we had a little more time."

"How about a walk instead?"

"Can we hold hands?"

Watson slipped his hand into hers by way of reply. "It's okay, they'll think you're out for a stroll with your dad."

"Granddad more like it." Vicky teased.

Watson clutched his heart. "Oh, ouch!" as some celestial entity adjusted the focus knob, reducing the bustling crowds to moving wallpaper. "So how was your first night of freedom?"

Vicky hugged his arm. "Terrible. I had nightmares all night. I dreamt they were after me, the Pastor and Aaron. The congregation too, the whole bloody gang."

"Bad luck." Watson said. "I'm sorry, Sweetheart, I really should have come over."

"Why sorry? They were just dreams. When I woke up this morning I was still in my bed, all safe and sound. I'd rather it that way than the other way around."

"Dreaming you're free and waking up back in the fold?"

"Uh huh. The same dream I've had two or three nights a month for most of my life."

"Freedom dreams?"

Vicky nodded.

"Well, guess what? They're no longer dreams."

"And all it took was one magic spell. A handsome prince, an emergency passport, a trip in the Stream with my two favourite pilots. A little Champagne, some awesome sex, a run round the lake and... voila!"

"You know," Watson frowned, "I'm pretty sure I saw that one in Harry Potter."

"Harry who?"

"Never mind. So. What did you tell them?"

"Last night? Exactly what you told me to. That I'd turned Buddhist."

"And how did that go over?"

"Well... Aaron told me to go to hell and then he hung up on me."

"The man you were going to marry? Whose kids you were going to have? The one you were about to pledge your life to?"

"Uh huh."

"He hung up on you?"

"I rang him back just to make sure."

"And?"

"He hung up again."

"I'm not sure what I should do. Offer my congratulations or condolences."

"I didn't just dodge a bullet, Damon. I dodged a blinky express train. There is not one glimmer of love in that man. Cold as a corpse. Marrying him would have been a disaster."

"What about your old mate the Pastor?"

"Well he was not a happy chappie. He started shouting and ranting, saying I was betraying him and ruining my life. Then he said he was coming around with a prayer group."

"What for?"

"To save me."

"From what?"

"From Satan."

"What did you say?"

"If he set foot on my property I'd call the cops."

Watson's face lit up. "Seriously?"

Vicky nodded. "Uh huh! I said if he so much as rang me again I'd take out an AVO."

Watson shook his head as they set off again, arm in arm. "Oh, my god! Vicky Macdonald! That's just sensational!"

"It was pretty gnarly." she grinned. "The silly old A-hole just about blew a gasket. He ended up talking in tongues."

"Really? What a cock."

"He does it all the time." she said, "It's really creepy."

"You know it's bullshit, don't you?"

"Talking in tongues?" she shuddered, "Mmm... you know, in spite of everything I still have my doubts."

"You're kidding me!"

Vicky rolled her shoulders, looking uncomfortable. "Sorry. Look, I know I'm just being superstitious, but it's just so... so unearthly!"

"You got a phone?"

"Phone?" Vicky frowned, then rummaged around in her pink leather shoulder bag. "Sure. Here."

"Can you ring Tan?"

"What for?"

"You'll see."

Vicky tapped an icon and after a moment said, "Tan? Hold on, Damon wants a word."

"Hey Tanny," Watson said, turning his back on the puzzled young woman, "do us a favour and put Beck on for a sec?"

A moment later another voice said, "Yo?"

"Remember that glossolalia you do?"

"When you're being naughty?"

"That's the one. Can you do some for me now?"

"Easy peasy." Beck replied. "Monster voice or wicked-witch voice?"

"Normal voice will do." It was for demonstration purposes, after all. He didn't want to scare the pants off Vicky, no matter how delectable the contents.

A hundred meters away in the middle of a fashion boutique, Beck launched into an incoherent yet otherwise fluent babble and Watson handed over to Vicky. She listened for a few seconds and her eyes went wide, then she dropped the phone as if it had just sprouted a rattle and fangs. She turned away, cringing, with her hands over her ears as Watson picked the phone up, chuckling. "Aaaaannd... cut!"

Vicky staggered around blinking tears out of her eyes as the phone demanded, "What was that all about?"

"Tell you later, Moosh." Watson replied. "And don't go spending all of Tanya's dough."

Slinging an arm around Vicky's shoulders, he guided her in the direction of a coffee stand. "It's a party trick, Sweetheart. Both Beck's and his."

"It always seemed so real." the young woman panted, almost hyperventilating, "His eyes would roll back and his jaw would go slack." She shivered. "It used to frighten the crap out of me."

"Exactly as it was meant to. So? Last night? What did you do?"

"Just covered my ears until he was done."

"Then what?"

"I told him if god was really mad at me he could go and tell me himself, but since he hadn't I figured he wasn't."

"Ka-pow! Good work!"

Vicky looked at him, grinning. "Then he called me a squalid little whore and told me to go fuck myself."

"In those words?"

"In those very words. Do you think he was cross?"

"You know what that means, don't you?"

Vicky shook her head with wide, innocent eyes.

"You outed him! When his pathetic little stage act didn't work, he got so frustrated he revealed his true persona. A foul-mouthed, scaly old Svengali."

"A what?"

"An illusionist. It's all smoke and mirrors, Vicky. He utterly relies on his audience suspending belief."

Watson sat her down and joined the queue to order her a drink. Returning a few minutes later he set a takeaway flat white on the table in front of her and sat down at her side with his chai latte.

"Why Buddhism?" she asked out of nowhere, stirring a serve of raw sugar into her coffee. "I mean why are they so scared of it?"

"Ah! Well! It's not a religion for starters. It's a code of ethics. And it's the only one that doesn't teach separation from god. If we're all god, we don't need some creepy old spruiker to act as a go-between. The Big Three hate it. More than atheism."

They sat in restive silence for a moment, playing with their coffees, and then both spoke at once. "You first." Watson offered.

"I was just going to ask, what happens now? I mean with you? You and Beck? You and Beck and..." she shrugged.

"Us?"

Vicky gave a little nod. "I guess. It would be nice to think there might be an 'us', even if only now and again."

Watson put a hand on hers. "There's no reason why not."

"Haven't scared you off?"

"Not even close. I'm the one who started it, in any case."

"No," Vicky sighed with a little shake of the head, "you didn't start it, you just provoked it. I was the one who started it. If I hadn't gone to Caddy's this wouldn't have happened. I would have vowed my life away to a cold, calculating, sanctimonious proselytiser and spent the rest of my days popping out his kids. In time I might have joined those female dogs in the congregation, and had the chance to make some other poor girl's life living hell. You have a lot to answer for, Captain Watson."

"How can I ever live with myself?"

"Right! I've got a jolly good mind to drag you back home and make you fuck me right now."

"Hang on..." Watson said and slurped his beverage, "...I'll just finish my chai."

Realising what she'd just said, Vicky put a hand to her mouth. "Oh my god," she exclaimed, turning beetroot red, "I'm so sorry."

Watson rolled his eyes. "What for now?"

"Using the 'F' word."

"Oh for god's sake, Vicky. Fuck fuck fuck fuck, fuckity fuck fuck There. Is that better?"

"Right. Yes. Sorry. Fuck! I guess I can say it now, can't I?"

"Say what you like, Sweetheart. Think what you like for that matter. In fact, tell you what, just go ahead and do what you like, at least to the extent you can get away with it."

Vicky looked left and right and leant into him. "Well, you know what I'd really like to do? Drink some Champagne, then lie naked on the bed in an expensive hotel while some ruggedly handsome writer puts his... thing..."

"His cock."

"Puts his co... co... cock, in my thing-"

"In your hot, wet, tight, slippery, sweet little pussy."

Vicky's eyes rolled back and she put a hand on her heart. "Oh... Damon."

"Right? Then fucks the living daylights out of you."

"Oh my goodness." Vicky breathed and her hand settled in his lap, finger's squeezing a big fat tube. "You're reading my mind."