A Wicked Beginning (34 page)

Mrs. Primcott pulled a piece of paper out from between her enormous breasts. She shook the folded paper, causing drops of sweat to fly into the air. “Guess it’s rather wet down there,” she said to herself, looking down at her bosom. Spying a cloth handkerchief on the table next to her, she dabbed at the crease between her ta-tas. “I hope the ink hasn’t run; I worked on this spell all last night.” She pried open the paper and spread it on her lap. “No, I can still read it,” she said absentmindedly. Removing a pair of reading glasses from the stand next to her, she placed them on her nose and began to recite the spell. Clearing her throat, she began in a loud voice. “We invoke the Goddess Bast, the image of fertility and passion. We beseech you to hear our prayers and grant us our wishes.” She looked over the top of her glasses at Angela. “You might want to touch yourself or something…between your legs, you know.”

“Not in front of you,” Angela protested. A loud clunking sound boomed from the hallway, just outside the door.

Mrs. Primcott’s shrill voice reached across the room. “Joe Dallas, get away from that door.”

The two women listened as the man lumbered down the hallway.

“Now, where was I?” Jill pushed up her glasses and looked down at the damp paper. “Oh, yes, invoke, beseech, and…here we go.” She patted the paper with a pudgy finger. “Goddess Bast, hear our prayer. Bind He Who Cannot Be Named to Her Sitting Over There Across from Me.” She looked over her glasses at Angela. “Do you have one of his preferred brands of cigarettes with you?”

Angela nodded and pulled out the pack of Camels.

“Good. Put one of them into the center of the photo on top of his groin or something.” She paused while Angela did as requested. “Then, repeat after me. I, Angela Myers…”

“I, Angela Myers…”

“Do solemnly swear…”

“Do solemnly swear…”

“To have and to hold and to keep and to cherish…”

“To have and to hold and to keep and to cherish…”

“Him who shall be given unto you…”

“Him who shall be given unto you…”

Jill looked over her glasses again. “It’s unto me…unto me. You say unto me.”

“Oh, right.” Angela repeated, “Him who shall be given unto me…”

“In a docile, manageable manner…”

“In a docile, manageable manner…”

“From this day forward…”

“From this day forward…”

“Into perpetuity…”

“Into perpetuity…”

“That’s it,” Mrs. Primcott stated, wiping her palms back and forth.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it,” Jill stated again. “We’re done.”

Angela felt kind of crest-fallen. She thought the room would start whirling with wind or the candles would flicker or they’d see some kind of sign of acceptance from the spirits. “How do you know it will work?”

“I just know. Oh, wait. I forgot one last thing.”

“And that is?”

“Roll your naked form over the herbal mixture, the tobacco, and his photograph. That seals the deal.”

Angela winced, looking down at the dried nastiness, the dust bunnies, and the cigarette and felt utter repugnance. Then she thought of her goal, to be united with him forever. Okay, she could deal with all this filth. She stretched out and rolled from side to side, feeling the pricks of dried leaves, the pokes of the corners of the photograph, and the bits of dirt and litter that lined the floor. After two or three passes, she asked, “Can I be done now?”

“Yes, I think that’s sufficient.” Mrs. Primcott folded the moist paper into a small square, held it over a candle until it started sputtering, and placed it into a metal urn on the table next to her. It smoked and popped, filling the room with an unpleasant odor. “I think we did it! You’ll be with him, she’ll be distracted, and I can rid myself of her for once and for all.”

“You mean Chérie?”

“Exactamundo. That’s the one.” Jill brushed her hands together as if ridding herself of Chérie right here and now.

Angela stood up. The cigarette and photograph were stuck to her breasts and dried, blood-covered herbs were plastered onto her torso. Picking up a tissue, she brushed the debris off of her nakedness. “Can I shower when I get home?”

“Nooooo!” Jill stated emphatically. “You need to remain in the condition that you are in for 24 hours.”

“I’m not sure I can do that.” Angela looked at herself with disgust.

“Wash it off, and there goes the spell. It’s your choice,” Jill replied tartly.

“Okay, then, I’ll endure.”

Jill’s beady eyes glared at Angela. “Yes, you will, for both our sakes. Now, you can see yourself out, alright? Ask Joe to come in here and help me out of my chair, will you, dearie?” She leaned over to look where her feet were, as if she could see them over her bulging stomach. “And leave your offering on the table next to the front door, like always. You’ll like the results, I guarantee it.”

Angela picked up her clothes and pulled them on. “Okay, will do, Mrs. P. Let’s keep our fingers crossed.”

“No need to cross fingers. I guarantee you that something will happen. Let’s just hope I got my spell correct.” She peered over at Angela’s astonished face and chortled with laughter. “I do know how to read, girlie. And I know a thing or two about spells. We got it right, don’t you worry.”

But worrying was precisely the thing that Angela began to do. She got in her car, her mind in a fret. But as she drove home, she noticed that she did, in fact, feel a stronger bond with him. It was as if she could sense him, feel him. She swore she could even smell him, that manly aroma of musk, tobacco, and the minty gum that he liked to chew on. Yes, it seemed like the wall he had erected when he put a number block on her cellphone number…well, that wall now had a hole in it. This made her smile. By the time she got home, she was elated. The spell was already working!

Opening the door to her home, she walked in and twirled in a circle with her arms outstretched. He’d soon be living here. He’d be her willing…okay, well, maybe not willing…but he’d be her docile companion for the rest of her life. Then a thought came to her. Did she really want him to be docile? She liked him as he was, all masculine and virile. She loved his impulsive charm, the sense of unpredictability he oozed. Had she made a mistake by willing him to be delivered to her as a docile pet?
Too late now
, she supposed.

Absentmindedly, she wandered into the bedroom, picked up a cigarette from a pack she kept on the bed stand, and lit it. Walking around the room, she thought about tonight’s ritual. Could it be modified in some manner or was it a done deal? Should she call Mrs. P and ask for a modification? Pacing back and forth, she glanced at her hand and noticed the burning tobacco as if it were in someone else’s hand. “Oh, my,” she cried. She was breaking her own rules again. She had a strict policy – no smoking in the house. It was only allowed on the back deck. It made the whole house smell foul. She had broken the rule last night, and she was breaking it again. What was wrong with her? It was like she was beginning to unravel at the edges, like a tapestry that started to fray, and then, before you knew it, the whole intricate tapestry was nothing but a pile of shredded fibers.

With horrified eyes, she stared at her outstretched hand, the cigarette burning brightly, and the smoke trailing up into the air of her pristine bedroom. What was happening to her? Had she gone too far this time? Her ex-husband, Robert, had often told her that he was worried about her and her obsessive ways.
He’d sure enjoyed her obsessiveness in bed
, she thought wryly. But then he’d left her, telling her that the sex was all he had enjoyed.

Her hand started to tremble. Was it really her hand? She tried moving it, just to be sure. Yes, it was her hand. She brought the cigarette to her lips with shaky, jerky movements. Yes, her hand, indeed. What was happening to her? What was going on? She inhaled the tobacco, taking a deep drag of nicotine into her lungs. Still dressed in red, frozen in the center of her bedroom, with the crisp white linen covered bed, and the heavy white linen drapes, and the snow-white walls, she smoked. Like a statue, she allowed the ashes to flutter to the ground, watching them with hypnotized eyes, while the cigarette burned down to her fingertips. When the burning leaves touched her skin, she cried out, as if awakened from a dream. The red-hot ember dropped to the rug, melting the white acrylic fibers into an angry, black smear, filling the room with the stench of fried plastic.

Utterly aghast at what she had done, she ran down the hallway and returned with a steel wool puff, a small utility knife, and the vacuum. After rubbing the burnt carpet with the steel wool, she vacuumed up the singed fibers and ashes. Using the utility knife, she cut a circle out of the rug a couple inches beyond the burned edges. Tomorrow, she’d find her extra carpet in the garage and glue a replacement piece into the small circle. It would look as good as new.

After putting the vacuum and knife away, she marched back into her bedroom, and threw open the windows to air it out. Next, she removed and folded her red attire, and eased her herb, animal semen and blood-soiled body into bed. Never mind her temporary moment of insanity. Tonight, she’d dream a thousand dreams of him, thinking of the time he would be with her…forever.

Chapter 33 – Chérie

Tick, tick, tick. Tick, tick, tick. The raps of pebbles against the window greeted me the second I stepped in the kitchen that morning. I opened the kitchen window and leaned out into the misty morning. “Hello, beautiful man-like creature.”

Kayden smiled with delight. “Good morning, sexy girl. Grab your tea and come outside. We’ve got things to discuss.”

When I met him on the front stoop, he scrutinized me. “Turn around so I can see you from every angle.”

I twirled slowly about.

“Excellent, ma chère. You are coming along nicely.”

“Coming along nicely at what?” I said, settling down on the front step. Kayden sat next to me. I took a small sip of my delicious Jasmine-scented green tea.

“These intimate encounters you, me, and the Neanderthal have been sharing…they’re increasing your ka’kriyayetic energy spectrum. I think we’re ready for more learning.”

I snorted. “Will I learn to bake a better muffin? Fuck longer and harder?”

“Ma chère!” Kayden exclaimed. “Wherever is this sour mood coming from?”

“All I seem to be able to do lately is have great sex and manifest food. Where did my super powers go?”

“Those
are
part of your ‘super powers,’ as you put it. I don’t understand where you are coming from right now, mon amour.” Kayden’s face puckered in a frown. “Do you feel a need for physical combat? I could take you hunting or something. You could take down a Grizzly bear with your bare hands as long as you release him. I prefer catch and release.”

“Kayden! What a bizarre idea! I don’t know how to do that, nor do I know why I would want to.” I gave him a baffled scowl. “I don’t know. It’s not a need or anything. I just want to be able to do the things that you can do at will. You come and go, quickly shift from ferocious to sensuous. You have command of yourself. I feel like a bumbling idiot most of the time. The best I can do is preparing a great meal.”

“That’s not the best you can do, chère, I assure you of that,” Kayden purred. “Here…I do believe I have not properly greeted you this morning.” Kayden took the tea cup from my hands and placed it on the railing. He began tracing my cheek with one smooth fingertip. The delicate touch caused my cheek to shiver and quiver with heat. He moved his finger softly over every inch of my face. Every place that he touched began to vibrate with delight. Both of his index fingers began tracing my eyes, moving in sweeping circles along my eyebrows, across my cheekbones, up the corners of my eyes, around and around in slow sensuousness. Then his warm hands cupped my trembling face, and he brought his lips close to mine.

“Kayden…” I breathed.

“Shhh, ma chère, quiet…” His lips were softly pursed, and he blew soft puffs of air towards my parted lips. “Inhale me, chère. Take me into you.”

I breathed him into my being, feeling his maleness swirl inside of me, mixing with my femininity. My head rolled backwards and began to slowly move back and forth as the energy of our connection began to build and the ka’kriyayaga began to dance.

“That’s it, sexy girl. Breathe…feel…it doesn’t take but a single breath to establish a connection. Even a mere thought will suffice.”

My body thrummed with quiet joy. Eyes closed, I reveled in our connection.

“Now, from this place, imagine yourself over there.”

I opened my eyes to see where he was pointing.

“Way over there? By that far tree?”

Kayden smiled and nodded.

“Why should I do that? I’d rather keep feeling what we are doing here.”

“Just do it, chère. Feel our connection, and imagine yourself over there.”

“Okay,” I said dubiously. Closing my eyes again, I felt the energy of Kayden and me co-mingling in one yummy blissful co-created whirl, like an eddy in the river. I imagined the far tree, imagined feeling its bark, smelling its earthy fragrance, my feet planted in the earth next to it, standing among the ferns.