The Spear of Flame

"I was at prayer when the Divine came unto me. I felt him press against my britch and I cried out, 'O Lord, I am thine.' Then I felt a spear of flame penetrate my depths and I cried out again, 'Oh God I surrender unto you, take me and use me all my days.' I lay, yielding myself, body, soul and spirit unto Him as flares of coloured fire consumed my being and I felt a felt a divine love beyond all words and worlds pervade me entire, and I returned that love. Then the spear of fire was gone, but the love remained."

I was reading a book I had picked up casually from the desk in Ralph's study. It announced itself as a "Complimentary Review Copy" and was entitled, "Divine Love and the Female Mystics," written by a psychiatrist. I was idly glancing through it when I came upon the above passage. The writer went on to say that what the mystic was experiencing resembled a female orgasm.

Intrigued I read on and came to a quote from someone called, "Hildegard of Bingen." The writer claimed that this was one of the earliest known descriptions of a female orgasm. It read:

"When a woman is making love with a man, a sense of heat in her brain, which brings with it sensual delight, communicates the taste of that delight during the act and summons forth the emission of the man's seed. And when the seed has fallen into its place, that vehement heat descending from her brain draws the seed to itself and holds it, and soon the woman's sexual organs contract, and all the parts that are ready to open up during the time of menstruation now close, in the same way as a strong man can hold something enclosed in his fist."

Since Hildegard was supposed to have been celibate all her life I wondered where she learned about the female orgasm.

The writer pointed out that he had treated a number of patients who were "sexually dysfunctional," but upon undergoing a deep spiritual experience they overcame their problem and became extremely active sexually. He added that many people said that at the moment of orgasmic climax they cried out, "Oh God." From this he drew the conclusion that sexual orgasm has an affinity with religious experience, and went on to cite the association between sex and religion in many cultures.

I sat at the desk somewhat bemused. I had heard of the female orgasm of course, but had never had one, and that such powerful passion was experienced by religious people seemed impossible.

I lived on campus with my husband, The Rev. Professor Ralph Witman, Professor of Theology at the United Theological Faculty. Around me lived his colleagues and their wives, all allegedly very religious people. None of them seemed to be exactly fervent or looked as if they experienced "sensual delight." On the contrary, to even mention the word sex at one of the dreary faculty social gatherings would no doubt be met with a stunned and scandalised silence.

The sole exception was my friend Stephanie, a dark complexioned and very sensual woman who reminded me of a gypsy, and who was inclined to say provocative things at the gatherings. Like me she was many years younger than her husband Boris, a lecturer in New Testament Studies. Also like me she seemed to attract the disapproval of the other faculty wives.

Stephanie believed it was the fact of our being much younger than our husbands that drew this disapproval, since most of the faculty wives were in their forties or fifties. Trying not to be too unfair and critical, I must say they were on the whole an unappealing bunch.

Their idea of a wild party was one small glass of sherry and much talk of their husband's latest paper or possible promotion, and the cleaning, polishing and flower arranging in College Church. If not that, it was the seemingly endless committees, Synods and Assemblies of the Church, the activities of which could not be drearier and to me mostly pointless.

Stephanie, not given to verbal restraint, referred to these ladies as, "Faculty cats."

I had met Ralph at a particularly vulnerable moment in my life. Both my parents were killed in an avalanche while on a skiing holiday. I was nineteen and felt utterly distraught and bereft. I had no brothers and sisters and such other relatives as I had lived far away.

I had taken as a single subject in my university course Comparative Religion, and Ralph had been giving us a series of half a dozen lectures related to Christianity when he heard of what had happened. He was very kind and considerate, letting me talk myself out with him, and I was intensely grateful to him. To cut it short, I mistook this feeling of gratitude for love.

I think he too took his feelings of compassion for me to be love. He was a bachelor and twenty years older than me and feeling protective he asked me to marry him and I agreed. That it is how I came to understand it after a few years of marriage.

I came to him as a virgin and right from the start our sex life was an unhappy one. Amazingly for a man his age he too was a virgin, and from the fumbling, and for me painful first night, I had experienced no joy in our sexual relationship thereafter.

In most other things Ralph continued kind, gentle and generous, but in bed he was inept and gave the impression he did not like what he was doing, which apart from ejaculating into me, or rather, into a condom, was very little, and even that very little was not often. I think it might have been a relief to both of us if one of us had the courage to say, "Let's stop doing this because neither of us is getting any satisfaction from of it."

I wanted to talk to someone about the situation but was too inhibited to do so even with the free spirited Stephanie, but now, reading this book that associated sex with religion, I felt as if I could open the subject up as it were, at one place removed from me.

Although she lived no more than a hundred metres away from me I telephoned her before going to see her. She had asked me to do this early in our relationship, and although puzzled I did not ask why and always made a point of complying with her request.

"Yes, come over Verity," she said, and taking the book with me I walked to her place.

In her lounge I handed her the book and said, "Take a look at the passages I've book marked, Stephanie."

She gave me a puzzled glance and commenced reading. After a few moments she smiled and then gave a gentle laugh, and said,"Yes, that's not a bad description of what it's like, then looking up asked, "What about it?"

I didn't really understand her question but said, "Don't you think it's weird, this sex and religion business, and is an orgasm really like that woman Hildegard describes it?"

It was Stephanie's turn to look puzzled. "Don't you know?"

"Know what?"

"What an orgasm is like?"

"No, I've never had one and I think it's all a bit exaggerated."

Stephanie looked at me sadly for a few moments then said quietly, "Oh darling, you're another of the faculty nuns aren't you?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"You're not getting much in bed, are you?"

"Well, it's not really...it's not..."

"It's all right Verity, I know what it's like because it's the same with Boris."

"You mean it's like I said, exaggerated?"

She looked at me for a while saying nothing, as if making up her mind how to go on. Finally she spoke in a low voice, "No darling, it's not necessarily exaggerated, it's...it's finding the right person."

"And Boris isn't the right person?"

She gave a little laugh and said, "No, Verity, he's not the right person, just as I suspect Ralph isn't the right person for you."

"The how do you know...I mean, if Boris isn't the right person and you don't have an orgasm with him, how can you know what its like?"

"Darling, Boris isn't the only male in the world."

I didn't comprehend for a moment and began to ask, "What do you..." then it hit me. "You mean before you married Boris you..."

She cocked her head on one side, an amused look on her face. "As a matter of fact I didn't before Boris, unfortunately."

I was completely at a loss. Stephanie seemed to know about orgasm, but if she had not experienced it with Boris as she implied, and she hadn't had sex with someone before she married, "Then how...?" I began to ask, then it finally dawned on me; "Stephanie, you don't mean there's someone now, you couldn't."

She looked straight at me and said, "I could and I do."

"But Stephanie, that's adultery, it's a ...a sin, a terrible sin."

"Well tell me what I'm supposed to do," she burst out. "Am I supposed to do without sexual gratification for the rest of my life? Or am I supposed to divorce Boris? You know what that might do to him. On this campus they look askance at staff members who are divorced. He's not a bad man...in fact he's very kind, like your Ralph, it's just that they're hopeless in bed and I'm convinced that Boris at least isn't really interested in sex, so what do I do?"

"But sex isn't the only thing..."

"In life? Yes, I know, but my God Verity, it's bloody important when you're constantly aching for someone to...when you're constantly wet between the legs. I'm a passionate woman, Verity, and I need someone to want me...to enjoy my body...and me to enjoy theirs, and masturbation isn't like the real thing."

"Have you masturbated Stephanie?"

"Of course I have, Verity; at least, I did until..."

"But that's wicked."

Stephanie became angry, and rolling her eyes to heaven almost yelled at me, "For God's sake Verity, live up to your name; it means "Truth" and "Reality" so get real and face the truth. All right, if you want to go on as you are, frustrated and miserable, but that's not for me. Sex is supposed to be pleasurable...wonderful and gratifying, so why the hell should I go on never experiencing that pleasure? You tell me."

"I don't know what to say."

She calmed down and said, "Sorry to have lost my temper, but you were sounding like those faculty cats. If sex is mentioned in their presence their faces look like stewed prunes. Some of them have had kids and I often wonder how they managed it, but perhaps they weren't always like they are now; perhaps they were once like us, young and passionate but their miserable, passionless view of religion and the spiritual life has killed the fire in them, and now they have to pretend that they don't feel passionate...have never felt passionate."

She paused for a moment and I sat trying to digest what she had said, then she went on, "That's what we were destined to become like, Verity. Another twenty years and we'd be sitting around discussing what sort of cakes we are going to bake for the next Mother's Union Meeting as if it were of world shattering importance. Well as I said, that's not for me. It may be your choice, but please, don't try and foist it on to me. Life is meant to be lived and enjoyed."

"I don't want to be like them, Stephanie," I muttered.

"Then do something about it."

"I don't know what to do."

"Well I can't tell you what to do, Verity. I've told you my way of dealing with the situation; you've got to decide what's right for you."

"But...but even if I did want...you know...to take a lover...who would want me? It's all right for you, you're beautiful; there must be scores of men who'd want to make love with you, but me, I'm..."

She burst out laughing. "You mean you don't know, you really don't know?"

"Know what?"

"That you're a very attractive woman."

"I'm not."

"My God girl, your surrounded by hundreds of horny young university students and you haven't even noticed how their eyes nearly eat you up? Every time you walk out on the campus they're mentally stripping you. If you haven't noticed I certainly have."

I felt my face flush and there was a tingling sensation in the region of my vagina. "You don't mean that, Stephanie," I protested.

"My God, you're either practising false modesty or are very naïve, Verity. Go and take a good long look at yourself in the mirror. Take off all your clothes and look. Now take your book and go because I've got a visitor coming soon and I don't want you distracting him," she laughed.

"You mean, he's the one...that you...you do it with?"

"Precisely; now go home and do what I said, take a look, and if you want to talk again give me a call. And read a bit more of that book, I'm sure you'll find it very enlightening."

I picked up the book, stood and made to leave. Stephanie came to me and putting her arms round me said, "I've let you into a very deep secret Verity, not a word to anyone, and think about what you really want."

"I won't breathe a word, Stephanie, and I will think."

She kissed my on the cheek and I left her.

As I walked home I saw a student approaching. He was fair haired and very good looking, tall and well built. "That must be him," I thought, and I watched him as he passed me. I expected him to turn into Stephanie's house, but he didn't; he walked right past it and turned at the top of the drive and disappeared from my sight.

I went into my house and flopped down on the divan feeling emotionally drained. I had always thought Stephanie to be a wild and passionate person, but the revelation that she had a lover added a whole new dimension to my view of her.

Long held beliefs about love, sex and marriage and Stephanie's words, "Life is meant to be lived and enjoyed," were at war within me. The general views of what Stephanie called, "The faculty cats," seemed to be that life was to be endured, that it is a "Vale of tears" through which we must pass unblemished to reap some nebulous reward when we finally depart this life. The reward was of course compensation for having lived such a wretched and deprived life here.

I read some more of the book and found that it accorded with much that Stephanie had said; that sex was indeed intended to be a joyful and fulfilling experience and in addition had a spiritual dimension to it. The writer spoke of it as "Completion," "Being whole," and "The highest union of man, woman and God."

Ralph came in for lunch, and as he sat eating I looked at him, wondering if he had ever felt real sexual passion. Perhaps this faculty environment had sucked the life juices out of him, yet in other ways he could be so kind and warm.

Thin, almost gaunt, with a slight stoop, I thought he would have made a good hermit; one of those people who hundreds of years ago went off on their own into the desert to conquer lust and fight with devils. People would come to him seeking his wise advice as he sat in his cave or tomb, or whatever it was he lived in.

He had no lectures that afternoon but announced that he had to attend a Synod committee meeting. Then he was gone, leaving me to wonder how I had ever agreed to marry him.

I cleared up the lunch time mess and sat to read some more of the book. I am sure it wasn't intentionally salacious but its constant dwelling on the pleasures of sex had its effect on me. I began to get uncomfortably wet between my thighs and I was sure my nipples had hardened. Little quivers of desire rippled through me and I recalled Stephanie's suggestion that I should take a look at myself in the mirror; I suppose you could call it an asset review.

I went upstairs to the bedroom and undressed, then standing before the long mirror I took a good look, starting with my hair and working downwards, mentally listing my pluses and minuses.

Hair chestnut, trimmed just above the shoulders and with a nice natural wave. Definitely a plus I thought; eyes dark brown and almond shaped, some thought they had an oriental look. A plus if you liked those sort of eyes. Nose pert, slightly upturned; might be a plus or a minus. Mouth not the wide full lipped shape apparently much admired these days, but bow shaped and upturned at the corners; maybe a minus. Overall face heart shaped; don't know if that's plus or minus. Neck long and slender, almost fragile yet I thought graceful; plus or minus? Depends on your taste but I gave it a plus.

Something of a simpleton I might be regarding sex, but I was not so simple as not to know that once the face has been surveyed, it is what is below it that can determine the attraction or otherwise.

I am five feet seven in height, and looking at myself the balance between torso and legs looked pretty good to me. I gave myself another plus. Breasts not large but very firm with nice up pointed pink nipples; again it was a matter of taste – whether one liked large breasts or small. I gave myself a sort of minus-plus for that feature. Waist about twenty seven and hips thirty four or five; no, not the alleged ideal female shape but how many women are? Another minus-plus.

As for my legs, well, I've already commented on their length, but beyond that I wasn't sure. My thighs and calves looked a bit too muscular but the ankles are slender; a decided on a near minus.

Thinking about my legs brought to my attention the now sticky rather than wet sensation between my inner thighs. It was uncomfortable and I hastened off to the bathroom to wash them. As I washed it occurred to me that I had never actually looked at my vagina. It's not an easy thing to do but I thought I'd give it a try.

I went back to the bedroom and got out a mirror – about six inches in circumference - and lying on the bed and spreading my legs, I poised the mirror as best I could. There was the swelling mound of my mons with a scattering of curly hair; beneath and curving under my groin a long tight cleft with firm lips. I had never seen other women's sex organs so I had no way of judging how mine compared so I didn't give it a plus or minus.

Having got that far I placed my fingers on the lips and opened them; there beneath them were two more lips, pink and moist and by dint of a little more pressure I saw the opening to my vaginal tunnel. Experimentally I slipped a finger in; it felt nice. I tried a second finger and it was even nicer, so I began to move them in and out.

There was no great physical exertion involved, but I felt and heard myself starting to gasp. I had enough nous to know where my clitoris was, so I stopped my finger thrusting and touched the little spot. I felt a ripple of pleasure thrill through me. I touched it again, and then began circling it with my finger.

The ripples became jolting shock waves that racked my whole body. I wanted to stop and I wanted to go on. Something was starting to happen that I had not experienced before. I cried out to myself as if to another person, "Stop Verity...stop," but Verity did not stop.

Something was coming...something like a low flying aircraft approaching that suddenly bursts upon you with a shattering roar. It came, the delicious pain, the weeping screaming pain of hot pleasure and anguish that you want to stop and not stop. I thought for a moment I was going to faint, but that passed and I seemed to be floating down on a cloud, but one that still gave me diminishing jolts until it finally came to rest.

I lay back feeling exhausted but wonderful, my face wet with tears and my lungs gasping for air. "So that was an orgasm," I thought, and drifted off to sleep.

I woke some time later and glanced at the clock. "Ralph will be home soon and I haven't even thought about a meal."

I got off the bed and put the mirror away. I felt my legs shaking a little and wondered what it would have been like if I tried to get up immediately after my orgasm. There was a slightly musky smell that seemed to be clinging to me, and realising that it was the aftermath of my masturbating and that Ralph might detect it I took a quick shower and then dressed.

I had always associated masturbating with feeling of guilt, believing that people who engaged in what I had been taught to think of as "Vile self-abuse" must feel terrible afterwards. I did not feel terrible, in fact quite the reverse. When Ralph returned he commented, you look cheerful, something nice happen?