I open my eyes and look at him, one eyebrow raised. ‘I’m a florist.’
His lips lift upwards, his hand waves down. I close my eyes.
‘Imagine that this lotus bud is very special. It can enter you…’
I squirm internally, a little, at that thought.
‘I take the lotus by the stalk and I hold it against your forehead. Instantly your forehead opens to allow the tip and slowly the entire bud into it. I pull the lotus out and place it at the base of your throat. Once again your body opens and welcomes it in. I do the same to the middle of your chest. In and out. Slowly. Next your belly button. The lotus disappears into it and out again. Now it is poised over your pussy. I gently insert it inside. First the tip and then, as your body learns to accommodate it, the whole bud, even the widest part. It feels tight, but you can take it. I pull it out and now it is hovering over your anal cavity.’
I swallow hard but I don’t allow my expression to change.
‘The tip enters your ass. Slowly, because you are not used to it, I bury it deeper and deeper, until the whole thing has been swallowed up by your body.’
I open my eyes and put on a bored expression. ‘And?’
‘You are sitting in a puddle.’
I flush horribly. It is true. His voice, the strange environment, being spoken to like that by a total stranger.
‘Sexual confidence is an allure that a man finds impossible to resist. Would you like to learn the arts of sex magick?’
I raise my head and look into his eyes. Lana and Billie have been learning to deep throat among other things. Above all else I want Jack. If Yehonala’s way will do the job then so be it. ‘Yes.’
‘Good,’ he says wolfishly. His name is very apt. Wolfe! I don’t know how I did not notice it before. He roots around his pocket and comes up with a pen.
‘I don’t normally carry one, but I was working on my best man’s speech.’ In another pocket he finds a folded piece of paper. ‘Best man’s speech,’ he says and tears a small corner off. He writes on it.
‘Twelve sessions, three times a week. Starting Monday at 7.00 p.m.,’ he says and holds it out to me.
I take it. Our fingers touch and my hand sparks and tingles with the contact from his. That jolt shocks me, sends currents into my viscera. I withdraw quickly. It must be the static electricity from the layers and layers of organza in my dress. Confused, I hurriedly bend towards the paper in my hand. An address: Bread Street in London.
‘How much will the…training cost?’ There is a pause. Head bent, I am hanging on his words.
‘My cock in that sulky little mouth of yours.’
My eyes rush up to meet his expression. He grins. Totally and utterly confident in his own skin. I feel the heat rushing into my cheeks. I feel dirty and horrified, but I am also transfixed and hooked. He and I will be having sex. But of course.
‘Get a life,’ Billie would say.
I have never done anything so outrageous in my life. Now is the time to back out. And yet I don’t. I don’t want to. I am strangely excited and turned on by the prospect of sex with this lion-man. I’m not with Jack yet. Besides I’m doing this for Jack. It is not different from Lana and Billie taking lessons on how to deep throat. Maybe he will teach me that too.
Bereft of any clever thing to say and unable to hold the strange intensity of his laughing eyes I drop my gaze to the scrap of paper and pretend to study the bold, slanting handwriting.
‘Will you allow me to paint you?’
I raise my head, startled. ‘You want to paint me?’ I splutter.
His eyes are twinkling and his laugh is warm and sensual. ‘Yes. A sulky mouth and slanting green eyes is a very unusual combination.’ He moves his attention to my mouth.
I feel his gaze like a physical touch on my lips. There is an odd fluttering in my stomach. He did not impress me as much at first glance, but there is definitely something commanding about this man.
‘My eyes are not green.’
‘They are now.’
‘Oh! Well, I guess I should be going,’ I croak, and spring up, all flustered and hot. Should I warn him about Fat Mary? Nah… Let him suffer.
‘See you Monday,’ he calls, the laughter still ringing in his voice.
‘See you Monday,’ I throw over my shoulder, as I flee from the room where I was turned down by the love of my life, and was propositioned by a wolf! It is exciting. It is definitely exciting.
Fifteen
As a fun event India Jane has hired a fortune-teller to work the tables. I watch her nod to someone and make her way to our table. She is a parody of a gypsy, with a colorful scarf tied around her head, hoop earrings dangling down to her shoulders, a ruffled white blouse, a full skirt, red stockings and black shoes. Her complexion is swarthy, her nose is hooked and her eyes are beady and sly. They alight on me.
She advances and holds out a dark hand to me. Her gaze is unwavering and intense. Strange even. I don’t want her to read my palm. I am the stealer of secrets and the hider of many. I swing my hand behind my back like a child and she smiles oddly.
Someone at the tables laughingly says, ‘Come on, Julie, it’s only a bit of fun.’
But her eyes bore steadily into mine, and there is not the least hint of fun in them as she wills me to submit. Like a hypnotized rabbit I hold my arm out to her. She captures my outstretched hand, turns it palm upwards and slowly brushes her other hand over it. Her palm is leathery. Her eyes release mine and move to my trembling hand.
‘You will get him if you don’t give up.’
I flush hard. She knows about Jack. She is about to spill my secrets. I knew I shouldn’t have let her take my hand. I try to snatch it away, but she has it in an iron grip.
‘I see you traveling with him… And children… Two girls. Very good man. Strong… Tall.’ Her eyes narrow. ‘Fatherless.’ Then she frowns. Her deeply black eyes travel upwards to mine, a startled, almost fearful expression in them. ‘Evil will try to tempt you, touch you. Don’t let it.’
This time I pull my hand away and she allows me to.
‘Now give me a coin, so you don’t owe me anything,’ she commands.
I stare at her. Her face is set in uncompromising lines. She has not asked for a coin from anyone else. I have no coins. I turn to the man sitting next to Billie. ‘Can I have a coin please?’
He laughs, takes a coin from his wallet and holds it out to the gypsy. She shakes her head. ‘It must come from her.’ He passes it to me and I give it to her. The gypsy nods and moves on to the next table.
My heart is beating hard in my chest. I am so exhilarated I can hardly sit down. I press my tingling palms together and rub them. She said, if I do not give up I will get my Jack. Everything else she said fitted too. Good. Tall. Strong. Fatherless. And she sees me traveling away with him. Does that mean I will be traveling to Africa? The prospect fills me with excitement. I do not understand her warning about evil so, as I have always done, I discount it as one unimportant inaccuracy in her prediction.
It is time for the happy couple to cut the tall, six-tiered cake—a holy smokes affair that has been patterned to look like the softly glowing painted glass shades of Tiffany lamps. It is so beautiful and unique it seems a shame to cut it. Anyway, they are cutting it, and I am not staying around to watch. Happy occasions always depress me.
I walk along the dozens of twinkling luminaria, over-sized white paper pom-poms and lanterns that flank the outdoor walkway towards the greenhouse. I just need to get away from the noise and joy of the party. I just need to think. About Jack and everything that has happened. About how I can win him back. I stand by the pond and look at the fishes glinting in the water. Do fishes sleep?