Priestess Ch. 02

The neighborhood gave an impression of idyllic normalcy. Small, tidy yards, some with cut grass and some with banks of flowers, fronted modest houses, each showing creative architecture and elegant wood finishings. Diverse trees lined the quiet street. Walking the weathered sidewalk, lifted and cracked by roots, Ethan let himself notice the cool edge of the evening breeze. Notice. Observe. Pay attention. It was interesting how that simple instruction could make such a difference to his experience.

The last rosy light of sunset kissed the treetops. He caught glimpses of the crimson-streaked sky in the west. Earlier, shopping for school supplies, he had seen the rugged edge of the mountains in the distance, both west and east. Warm light streamed out of expansive windows. Living rooms, some aglow with the dance of firelight, most with the hazy gold of shaded lamps. Bookshelves, cabinets, families at dinner, people reading. Every now and then, not as much as he expected, the blue tint of television.

Ethan missed his home if he thought about it. Pangs of longing for the familiar. A sudden uneasy sinking in his stomach as he felt the distance and the vast difference. But outside those stumbles, this was a world of wonder. He couldn't help but imagine that in the upper floors of each house were shrines and temples to sex goddesses; that the appearance of normalcy belied rituals both exotic and erotic. People talked about the United States as if it were all fundamentalist loonies, gun-toting cowboys, and drug-addled hippies. Nobody mentioned the sex cults!

After his morning "lesson," Amy had helped him unpack. When Emily returned home, looking both modest and wholesome, she had helped him create a list of everything he would need, which was completely unsurprising, and just what he expected. Amy had taken him out to a couple of stores, which - oddly - they called "drug stores." For a nation ostensibly waging a war on drugs, it seemed peculiar to have these vast drug stores every few blocks in the commercial areas, and selling almost everything but drugs. Including school supplies for children! She also showed him their local supermarket, more aptly named: a mind-boggling warehouse of a place, perfectly cool, and banked with beautiful produce perfect to an implausible degree. This, Ethan concluded, must be one of the benefits of living at the center of global empire.

And that, plus a long nap, was his day. He took a walk around the neighborhood before dinner to shake off the nap.

Dinner itself was salad and a stir fry that Amy and Marcus prepared together.

As they ate, Ethan found himself becoming more and more awkward with Emily across from him. First of all, she seemed to look at him. A lot. And when she did, she looked right into his eyes, in a way that was very hard to interpret. He found himself avoiding her gaze, and he became self-conscious about it. There was something fierce about her. Yet she ate slowly, with care.

"How was your day, Ethan?" Marcus asked, with a casualness that seemed completely natural and at ease.

"Ah, good, yes. Getting on me feet. Adjusting."

"Adjusting. Yes, time zones, first and foremost I would imagine. Maybe a little culture shock? What are some of the things that seem very different from home?"

Your wife! Ethan thought. "Well, aye, lots actually. Your shops are quite huge, really."

Ethan laughed. "Wait 'til someone takes you to Costco. But I take your point. I'm from New York, originally. Everything is very compact there. They have to fit a lot into a small place. Suburbs are different. West coast, different. And get yourself out into the heartland, or the south, different again. What else?"

Your wife! Ethan thought again, this time remembering some of the visuals, and blushing.

He glanced at Emily, who was observing him closely, a smile quirked on her lips, her eyes deep pools of cornflower blue.

"The, uh, architecture. And everything. Trees. Different." He could feel his words deserting him. Against his will he glanced at Emily again. Observing him carefully, the sharpness in her smile taking on a finer edge.

Seemingly oblivious Marcus nodded. "Craftsman homes, a real hallmark of Seattle. Exquisite workmanship on some of these, and the best materials in the world. The city is growing, expanding. Moving toward higher density. Each one of these houses torn down is a tragedy. It will take a while, not quite a threatened species yet, but someday."

Ethan took some deep breaths. Observe. Notice. Pay attention. He tasted his food. He sipped his juice. Cranberry and maybe ten other things, all from that perfect produce aisle, thrown in a blender.

"And Amy gave you your first lesson, yes?"

Ethan froze; he could feel Emily watching him.

"Ah, yes," he said, deeply uncomfortable.

"Conscious touch, 101, right?"

"Yes, sir."

"No sirring me, Ethan. Relax. Take some breath. Nice deep breath. Amy, did you teach Ethan anything about breathing yet?"

"Only a little, my love. Just the tiniest introduction—to breath. The big lesson was... elsewhere.

Ethan felt the blush becoming a radiant heat.

Marcus laughed kindly, "Be gentle, dear. This is a hard lesson. Overcoming our impulses, staying in conscious awareness and presence. A beautiful meditation. Did you find it useful, Ethan?"

Ethan felt Emily's intent gaze on him. He found himself paralyzed with anxiety.

Marcus gave a short, quick rap on the table with the flat of his knife, giving Ethan's overloaded circuitry a sudden shock.

"Ethan," Marcus said with a sudden force that was unlike anything in his previously casual demeanor.

"Yes, sir," Ethan replied, automatically.

"You're embarrassed. You are worried that you've done something wrong? Maybe you are experiencing shame? Maybe you think you're in over your head. You don't know what's going on, what this is about. What are we? How weird is all of this?"

He paused, and Ethan felt the heat of his body filling the empty space.

"This is the wrong house for all of that, Ethan. I chose you out of thousands, because you are ready for this. There are no secrets in this house. None. Everything that happens here is known to me. Nothing happens here that is not fully blessed by me. You cannot do anything wrong in this house, Ethan. Not even this, this embarrassment you are feeling. It's completely natural, perfectly ordinary. A little too ordinary, however. I want you to understand why you are here, and here's the deal. Maybe I was wrong? Maybe you are not the right choice? You have until dinner tomorrow to tell me that, and I will make alternate arrangements for you, that would be quite satisfactory to any merely ordinary boy. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir."

"Yes, Marcus."

"Yes, Marcus."

"Now, in order for you to make that choice, you need to completely understand why you are here. Amy, did you explain it?"

"More or less," she said. "I think I did. But you know me. Talk isn't always my preferred language."

"I know, love, it's beautiful. So, Ethan, tell me why you think you're here. If any of it embarrasses you, just observe what that feels like, breathe through it, and use your words."

"I, yeah, got it, ok. So, the Goddess on your wall. You're like a religion. And ..." he was going to mention Emily, but he looked at her and found himself shrinking back from that smile that was one part mocking and two parts sympathy. There are many conversations we haven't had with her yet, Amy had said. No secrets, Marcus had said. Confusion took him.

Marcus rapped the table again. "Breathe. Go on."

Ethan took a deep breath, as deep as he could, and let it out slowly.

"Yeah, right. Right. So, the Goddess and you need to prepare ... Emily, and you need to train me to be part of this, somehow, like, for her? And, it's, right? It's all about sex?"

He shut his eyes. He couldn't bear to see how Emily might be looking at him now.

"Adequate," Marcus said. "But bravely done. Now it's there, out in the open. How does that feel, Ethan?"

"I don't know."

"Great! That's great. Perfect. Feel into your body, and tell us what your body feels right now."

"Tense. Afraid. Kind of nauseous."

"Marcus! You ruined his dinner," Amy said.

"Good," Marcus said, but not in response to Amy. "That's good, Ethan. Tell me about the fear. What does your mind think that fear is?"

"Well, I guess it's just that you know, we don't talk about sex where I'm from. I mean the lads do, of course, but not you know—not at dinner."

"How does that answer my question? Take a breath. A good, deep one. Tell me the fear story."

"I guess I'm afraid to talk about sex. Especially in front of Emily. It's, ah, weird, and I don't want to offend her, and I'm afraid of doing the wrong thing or saying something I shouldn't, I don't know what's ok to say, I guess. Mrs... Amy... said something about there was a lot she doesn't know yet, so I don't know what you mean exactly when you say no secrets."

Ethan looked at his plate, feeling the gaze from Emily softer now.

A silence grew.

After an uncomfortable pause, Marcus spoke again. Still with force: "Is that it? That's all?"

"It's a fewkin lot, Marcus," Ethan said, the outburst surprising himself. "It's all fewkin crazy! I mean, it's super cool crazy, and fuck me, I was thinking I'm the luckiest bloke, but that was then, this conversation, it's just freaking me out, right?"

Marcus chuckled. "Good, perfect, Ethan. That's what I wanted to hear. Congratulations, that was well said. You are the luckiest bloke, indeed. You don't even know the beginning of it yet. And you're right, there's a ton that Emily doesn't know yet. Why? Because she doesn't start her training yet! And you don't know it either. Why? Because you haven't started the training either! You are preparing for the training. What that looks like is a bit different for you than it does for her, for various reasons. So: no secrets means no secrets. That doesn't mean no privacy, though! Although, there's not a lot of that either, sometimes, but you can have as much privacy as you want. But there's nothing you can't say. Nothing you are not allowed to feel or to think. You can be angry! You can be afraid. You can be ashamed, if you are ashamed. We will free you from that, of course. There's nothing you can do, or say, or think, or feel that's wrong. We will talk about this and everything else at dinner, and any other time we want. There is no such thing as a topic that is taboo."

For the first time, Emily spoke. "But only in this house, Ethan. Outside, it's different. Outside, we play the game."

"The game?"

"The game," Marcus picked it up. "The appearance of normalcy. Society has it's norms. Those don't exist in this house. Out there, though, it's by the book. You see, you didn't know you were playing a game. You more or less know the rules, but you think it's real. It's not real. What's real is touch, color, light, shape, taste, scent, sound. Although, truth be told, that's not entirely true either, but don't worry about that yet. It's a lot more real than the labels we put on things, the boxes we put things in. The boxes we put people in. What's real is love. Connection. Authentic interaction. Giving voice to the deep truths of your experience. That's what's real. You might call it a sex religion. That would be completely fair. But it's so much more than that, Ethan. You may or may not end up following the Goddess as we do. But for reasons that will become clear in time, you are selected to accompany Emily in the first part of her journey. Which begins on the first festival day after her birthday. Until then, Amy will teach you the basics a young man should know."

"That I will," Amy said, with a kind of smug primness.

"If you want to," Marcus finished. "Let us know tomorrow night."

A sudden conviction rose within him. "I can tell you now. I'm in. I don't even understand it. No... that's not right... I do understand it. The game. I have always felt that, Marcus. That it was bullshit. That things could be different. That the way people behave is not real. The hypocrisy, in church, in school. Even my parents."

He took a deep breath. "Especially my parents."

He went on: "I do understand it. It's... exciting. To see it. So clearly all of an instant! Yes, I'm in."

Marcus raised his hands, letting the knife clatter to the table.

"Perfect, you see?"

"I never doubted you, my love," Amy said.

Emily leaned back, folding her arms across her belly in a way that lifted her breasts beneath a loose, blue blouse that was just a shade darker than her eyes. Her smirk suggested she wasn't convinced. Her gaze remained on him. Studying him.

But dinner, at least, was over.

* * *

"Come to the living room," Emily directed him.

Irritated, he shrugged off her command, and went to his room. He sat on the edge of his bed, and practiced his deep breathing.

I am being an idiot. I am reacting. I don't know what I am doing. These people are crazy. What did I just get myself into? What is this?

He had a sudden image of being sacrificed on an altar at midnight in a few weeks. His blood running in rivulets down some marble slab like a bad supernatural horror film on late night cable.

Before long, curiosity overcame irritation. He had to know what she had in mind.

Emily was curled catlike in a soft chair. Amy and Marcus were nowhere to be seen. (Ethan immediately imagined what they were up to. Celebrating their victory of acquiring him.)

He sat across from her. The living room was a sofa, a couple of easy chairs, and a lot of books. A cloth with a rich multi-colored mandala draped one corner.

"Ok," he said. "I give in. What is next?"

"Never give in, Ethan. You'll learn that. If you don't want to be here, don't be here."

He gave it due consideration. "I want to know what you want to say to me."

She curled her body a little, now more like some kind of snake. "Ethan, first of all, you still have until tomorrow. When my father makes an offer like that, it is extremely literal. So you have an out if you change your mind. Secondly, I know what you are experiencing in a way that the parents don't. They don't really have to play the game anymore, so they don't know. You and I go to school, and that's a game within the game. An incredibly stupid game. All of my friends are just like you. They sort of know that it's a game, and some reject it - because they are idiots. And some play it without knowing that they are playing it - because they are gullible idiots.

"So, I get it. I want you to know that I get it. And if you decide this is too fucked up for you... I get it. You don't need to do anything for me."

He laughed. "Emily. Your parents are basically making plans for us to fuck. Right? Isn't that what's going on here?"

Her eternally sneering smile just curled. "Of course, Ethan. Of course that's what they are doing. You are a strapping young buck from a distant land who can be shipped away as soon as is convenient once the job is done. Do you like being a pawn in their game?"

Ethan pursed his lips. The game again.

"Their game?"

"Everyone has a game, Ethan. School is a game. Society is a game. Religion is a game—usually a bad one! My parents have their game; they think it transcends mere game, but they, too, are gullible idiots. They seem to think their little swinger community is somehow above it all. They think they can slap a sexy woman on the wall and call it Goddess and somehow it's all 'sacred.'

"Ethan... we have more important things to discuss than all this crazy bullshit. You need to get yourself ready for school in America! You think what happens in this house is weird? Wait 'til you show up in school with your Scottish accent tomorrow. You are going to have people falling in love with you, challenging you to fights, and everything in between. By the way... can you fight?"

"Ah, well, I'm not a fighter, really. But... I'm Scottish of course. I'm not afraid of a fisticuffs, if it has to happen."

Emily stayed curled under her blanket. "Oh, good. I'm looking forward to that."

Ethan had the sinking feeling that things were suddenly even weirder than he thought they were, and not only because he had landed in a bizarre alternate reality where everything he knew was completely different, but because he was also starting in a new school, and that school was in America.

"That's all," Emily said at last, after they had both spent some time in their own thoughts.

"Did you just dismiss me?"

Emily shrugged.

"You want more? My birthday is October 29th, Ethan. The festival is Samhain, the 31st. Halloween. It's all bullshit, of course, but unless you totally fizzle, that's when you get to pop my cherry. I hope you hang in there, because I don't like the alternatives I've seen."

Ethan sat still for a while longer.

It boiled out of him eventually. "Emily," he said, "You seem to have an uncanny ability to make everything look stupid. Is there any beauty in your life?"

Her lip curled up in that distinctive smile. "Ethan; the beauty in my life is the stupidity in everyone else's. Thanks for asking. Now, you had better get to bed, because... well... just this once I'll leave you in suspense. But here's a little tip. At that moment? When you think you are some kind of King? Look up. Look up, Ethan."

* * *

Ethan listened to the silence and the darkness of the house, and (hearing nothing) slid himself into the cool, smooth, dry sheets of his bed.

The heaviness of the day settled over him, and the underlying weariness of travel and being on the far side of the world draped him more heavily than any blankets.

He drifted almost immediately, grateful that there were no intrusive thumps, bumps, or moans to keep him from a good night's sleep before the first day of class.

Ethan stirred in the night. He pulled the sheets, adjusted the blankets. It wasn't conscious; just those dim motions the body undertakes when liberated from the tyranny of consciousness.

But suddenly there was unexpected sensation.

A hand slid up his thigh, over the bone of his hip and across his belly.

He came to electrified wakefulness.

A naked woman was sliding herself into bed next to him. He felt her warm, dry skin pressed against his own. Her breasts rested into the side of his chest. A thigh slid across his. A hand moved into his hair. Another rested lightly on his low belly.

"Hello, Ethan. It's time for your next lesson."

He felt the brush of crinkly fur against his thigh as she shifted herself more closely against him.

He was wearing boxers, and her hand slipped down, just under the edge of the elastic. He felt himself swelling rapidly, hardening, straining against the fabric. Reaching for her fingers, which she shifted just out of reach.

"Ethan, this lesson is going to be a lesson in relaxation. I am going to touch you in a number of ways, and what I want you to do is stay completely relaxed. Your lingam may be hard, but everything else should be soft. Your thighs. Your belly. Your breath, nice and slow, ok?"

"Ok."

"I may give you other instructions. But this lesson is going to be entirely about experiencing your sensations to the utmost, which can only be done when you are relaxed."

"Ok."

She shifted around, moving the covers aside, and easily stripping off his boxers. He felt himself spring free.

She rolled between his thighs, and shifted down to bring his cock between her soft, ample breasts. Enveloped in soft, warm, skin, Ethan felt a surge of arousal and desire, and almost came on the spot. Had she moved at all, he might have, but she simply held her chest against his hips.