Thaumaturgy

Standing only inches away, gazing down from in front of me, and gesturing toward her vulva with two open palms, Aine instructed me, "Kiss the yoni."

I wasted no time in bringing my lips in contact with her vulva, first giving a chaste peck, and then endeavoring to bring my tongue in contact with the pearl I spied between her lips. Aine recoiled and stepped back a foot or so which was all the room that the narrow space afforded her. She extended an index finger in front of my face.

"You kiss the yoni to express your devotion and focus your desire, but you must do nothing to distract me from my intent."

Accepting the correction, I nodded in assent.

She stepped forward and again, gesturing with open palms, she instructed more cautiously, "To express devotion and focus desire, kiss the breast."

I kissed.

Indicating the other breast, "To express devotion and focus desire, kiss the breast."

I kissed again.

"Now," Aine said, "I shall kiss you. Though it may seem otherwise, this will pose no distraction for me. I do this thoughtfully and intentionally to inflame your desire."

Aine placed her right hand on my left shoulder. She leaned down and into me and brought her mouth in contact with mine. Her right breast pressed against my shoulder. Her tongue parted my lips in the beginning of a long, lascivious kiss. As our tongues entwined, Aine's free left hand reached purposefully toward my groin and began to caress, then massage, and finally to lewdly grope my cock and balls. At the conclusion of the minutes long kiss, I could tell without looking that my erection pointed to the zenith.

Aine disengaged from me, turned and reached for something on the high table. Turning again toward me, she asked me to give her my hands, which I promptly did. Taking each of my hands in one of her own soft hands, she informed me that it was time for me to perform my personal rite - the rite she was certain I had practiced from youth. And, she released my hands. My hands felt slick, unctuous. It was coconut oil, I later surmised.

"Take yourself in hand and begin," Aine advised.

I wrapped my fist around my engorged cock and obeyed. The droning music persisted at a low volume throughout the Mesocosm. It provided a stately rhythm. I synchronized my fist to it, watching Aine as I did so. For her part, Aine began to hum softly to the drone. She watched me touch myself for a short time and then assumed a different attitude. She tilted her head back and opened her stance - feet below her hips and slightly turned out. She raised both hands over her head, fingers spread like a jazz dancer. I could no longer see her eyes. Her delicate chin pointed at me. She continued humming.

My eyes drank in Aine's nude perfection like a thirsty horse. My gaze flitted from breast to breast, from chin to quim. Her knee. Her lower rib. Her quim again - the yoni and its delicate pearl! I gave my lust free rein. I wondered what it would be like to lie with her. Whether I imagined it or not, I cannot say, but the beat beneath the drone seemed to quicken and so did my hand. I felt my eagerness heighten and I pumped my penis with ferocity.

Did my breathing change? I do not know. As I neared the summit of my excitement, I heard Aine say aloud, "Do you desire me?"

This question and its upshot should be familiar.

Aine, humming once again, took the ceramic vessel full of ejaculate and placed it on the high table. Reaching behind her she untied her belt and closed her robe. She handed me a cloth like a napkin and told me to wipe myself. When I had done so, this was placed beside the black plate. She lit a small brass safety lamp that stood next to these items. She removed the circlet from her brow, placed it with the other objects and snuffed the candles.

Then, standing behind me, hand once again on my shoulder, Aine bid me, "Rise and lead me to the vestibule."

As we exited the Mesocosm, she touched a switch which silenced the drone and darkened the room, except for the light from the little brass lamp. She pulled the drape across the entry.

"You should dress, my friend," she told me.

Epilogue

After our recessional, Aine suggested that we walk back down to the house. We went in through the kitchen door. She asked me to take a seat while she assembled a light meal of bread, cheese, fruit and wine on the table. The wine, she said, had been pressed from grapes from her vineyard, by a wine cellar who bought much of her crop in a prior year. She poured me a glass and excused herself. When she returned, the stage makeup and sandals were gone, although she remained a vision in raw silk.

She sat across the table from me. We ate and chatted cordially. We came around to sharing a pear. After which, she stood, walked around to me, bent and whispered.

"I want you."

"I want you, too," I replied.

We repaired to a spacious bedroom with a king-sized bed. Her raw silk robe was lain on a dresser. I removed my boots, but Aine saw to the rest of my clothing being tossed to the floor. For the following 40 minutes a vigorous wrestling match ensued. At one time or another, Aine appeared to hold the advantage, and at other times, I did. In the end, we both claimed to have emerged victorious. This, Aine categorized as 'pure, simple, straight-forward fucking devoid of prayerful intent.' It had, she said, 'no ritual significance.'

Two months later, shortly before harvest time, a journalist - coincidentally an old classmate of mine - had an article published in a well-regarded New York financial daily. The article examined a perceived consumer trend toward increasing consumption of wine and a consumer tendency to purchase slightly pricier bottles of varietals from certain growing regions - the valley among them. Yields in the valley were about average that year - about 5 tons of grapes per acre. However, spurred by optimism and fueled by the journal article, wine cellars proved willing to pay growers nearly $1,000 per ton for good red wine grapes. This, Aine assured me was miraculous. She attributed this wonder to her prayer and my activity the evening I erupted on her black porcelain offering vessel.

Believe or disbelieve it, it is so.