Pagan Pleasures

Otherworldly, ancient wisdom, the beauty of nature; all offer delightful experiences to the senses. Enjoy the diversity of each in these scintillating stories of sensual pleasure.

The King of Avalon, Jennifer Bokal
Galena searches for Arthur, to bring his glory back to Avalon. What she finds is a man who is more regal than any king.
 

Hearts Curse, Emery LaRue

Cursed by a wizard to the banshee realm, Sharie waits to be free. Drogan is a warlock on a mission. To free his heart’s curse.

Orion's Dreams, Ravyn Reccio

Princess Liadin must marry to bring peace between the Druids and  the House of Mage. However, the Wizard of the Druids wanted her for himself.

Prince of Pleasure, Mae Powers

The whims of a goddess can be delightfully wicked, especially for a wayward prince who’d love nothing more than to give her ultimate pleasure, forever.

Elemental Dances, Bridghid Parkinson

A loving destiny awaits Tyra and Wayde, but the Gods and spirits must make their voices heard in modern times—if they’re listening and understand.

Playing with Fire, Anne Leland

Will Maria turn her chance of ultimate freedom into a reality or will she run back to the shelter of her predictable life?

EXCERPTS

The King of Avalon

by

Jennifer Bokal

Avalon, 506 AD

The slight rattle of the door sounded harsh in the tiny, stone antechamber. Little more than a heart beat passed before the rustling of fabric filled the air. She knew she should not ask. As a novice it was not her job to question, but she could not keep the inquiry hidden in her heart any longer.

“How fares the King?” she boldly asked, not daring to move from the sanctuary of her stone bench.

The high priestess stopped and slowly turned to face the young woman. The usually serene countenance of the superior had disappeared. The older woman looked gaunt and her pallor gray—grayer than the fine gown she wore that signified her rank.

As if chiseled by an artisan’s hand, deep creases appeared around her mouth as she spoke, “The King's spirit soars. The confines of his body no longer ail him. It is a joyous day for Arthur and a very grave one for us.”

Anxiety, deep and cruel, drove the novice to her feet. “The King, dead? How can that be? His men brought him to us soon after he fell. His wounds were on his back and side. Surely not something fatal? Was there nothing that could be done for him? No healing, no prayer, no magic spell?”

A flash of anger shone in the eyes of the high priestess. The novice recognized how far over her station she had reached. Slowly, the younger woman lowered her eyes and sat obediently once more.

The calm clear voice of the high priestess surrounded the novice. “Every thing possible was done for the king. Sometimes our place is not to save, only to ease the passing. That is what I was called to do tonight. As much as I pray it were different.” She gave a short, humorless laugh and continued in a weary tone, “Even my prayers are not always answered.”

Careful to keep her eyes downcast, the novice asked, “What will become of us? Without Arthur on the throne, what will become of Avalon?”

Again the rustle of fabric filled the air. Had she asked too much? Did the constant, dogged questioning of the novice drive the high priestess away? The hem of a gown, the same color as a spring dove's wing, passed before her. Then she felt the bodily warmth radiate off the high priestess as she sat on the bench.

“How long have you been here?” the high priestess asked.

“Since Galahad and the others brought him.”

“You show much loyalty to your king. The sun was high in the sky when Arthur’s men arrived. Now half the night has passed. You must be weary and wish for your bed.”

“I had to know,” the novice said in a small voice.

“Know what? What had become of Arthur or what will become of Avalon?”

“Both I suppose.”

The high priestess reached out her hand. Gently placing it under the chin of the novice, she lifted her face. “Your loyalty makes you different. Your faith lifts your spirit. But, with great gifts come great responsibility. Do you understand?”

With every beat of her heart, confidence surged through the young woman. She nodded her head. “I do.”

The high priestess smiled. “I am well pleased to know that. You must learn. Learn from me how to keep the magic alive. Then you must pass your knowledge on to those who will follow us. Only if we perform our sacred rituals will Avalon be safe.”

She was less sure this time what she was agreeing to, but once again the novice nodded.

“Before you say aye, you must understand everything you will be asked to do. For Avalon to be safe, it must be hidden. Hidden from the rest of the world. Those that are of Avalon will not be able to leave, and those that are of the rest of the world cannot venture to us. This spell will protect us, keep us safe. After the magic is woven, Avalon will be lost to the outside world. It will be as though Avalon never existed.

Our magic will keep Avalon hidden, even from those that seek our skills. For time men will wonder, 'what became of Avalon?' Then they will accept that it is no more and we will be forgotten. Avalon will still exist next to the outside world—together and separate. Side by side, yet never touching. Do you understand?”

The angst she had quelled moments before flooded over her, threatening to drown her in distress. Mutely the novice agreed. She did understand. All the beauty, peace and serenity of this place would be lost to the world. The spiritual respite would be gone.

But, an even more frightening thought occurred to the novice. The magic would trap all those who served Avalon. Although they would not be surrounded by water, for all intent Avalon would become an unreachable island.

Even though she was agreeing to imprison herself she nodded again. Taking in a deep breath for courage, the novice met the eyes of the high priestess and spoke in a clear voice, “I understand.”

“Do you?” the high priestess questioned.

“Yes,” she said in a small voice that belied her fear.

“This is the only way for Avalon to survive as the world changes. It is the only thing that will keep us alive, until...”

“Until when?”

“Until the King returns.”

Heart’s Curse
By

Emery LaRue
 

Vorn could not believe her beauty. Even after many nights of shared dreams, after making love to her in every way imaginable, the woman before him was more potent than any potion he had ever concocted.

Her hair fell around her shoulders like liquid flame. Green eyes looked to him with an invitation, one he knew he would not refuse. Her body, ivory, pale and perfect, beckoned for his touch. His hands itched to enfold her perfect breasts, his mouth watered to once again feast.

For a moment, a feeling of sadness started to settle in but he shook it away. For whatever reason, this was the only way they could be with one another. She never spoke of why she chose to come to him this way, she never spoke her name. But he knew she was very real. He knew just how to touch her, just what she needed to bring her pleasure. Just as his heart knew, he had loved her for a lifetime. It was only a matter of finding her.

Something seemed different about her this night. In her eyes, he read not only passion and need, but something more. Was it fear for him? With one more sunset, he would be in the middle of a great battle. A battle that would cost many lives. Their world, Vantassi, was under the rule of an evil wizard. For many months, the people  secretly gathered, and the time to reclaim Vantassi was at hand. Did she fear he would meet his end at the hands of Ghaun?

All thought of the battle left his mind as he pulled her naked body close to his. She felt so warm, so alive. Vorn stroked her back, feeling her tremble. He inhaled deeply of her hair. It smelled of honeysuckle and was as soft as the sweet flower itself. Again, he felt an urgency in her as she held him close to her.

“What troubles you? Will you not speak to me this night?”

Vorn held  his breath as she raised  her  head  and looked  into his

eyes. Would he be gifted with the sound of her voice? Would she finally break the silence?

“I fear our time will end soon, Vorn.”

Her voice washed over him and struck him like a blow. Vorn lost his breath at the sound of his name on her lips. He stared into her eyes, feeling himself fall even more in love.

“Our time will not end, for I will not allow it.” His hand cupped her cheek. “Please, tell me your name.”

“Sharie.”

“A beautiful name. Almost as beautiful as the woman.” The hand cupping her cheek moved to the silk of her hair. “Why have you never spoken to me before? You must know of my feelings for you.”

“Because I did not want the dream to end.”

“The dream will never end, Sharie. You are out there, waiting for me. I swear I will find you.”

“You do not understand the danger of your vow, Vorn.” Her hand rested over his heart. “I am cursed.”

“Cursed?”

“Please, let us not speak of it. I only wish to feel alive in your arms once again.”

Vorn meant to argue, he truly did. But once her lips touched his, he knew he was lost. Now he knew her name, he spoke it aloud, his love for her was firmly planted.

Gently, he lowered her to his bed. He lay half his body over hers, leaving his hand free to roam. Vorn touched her everywhere, while his mouth took possession of one hard, perfect nipple. Nothing sounded sweeter to him than her gasps of delight. Nothing compared to the feel of her soft hands on his warm skin.

Vorn pulled her knee over his hip, resting the head of his cock at her heated entrance. Lifting his head, he waited for her to look into his eyes. Now he knew her voice, he wanted to share it all with her.

“Do not look away, Sharie. We share it all this night.” He watched her eyes flare as he nudged her entrance. “I want to see your every expression, hear your every pant of pleasure, and taste my name on your lips.”

He gave her no time to respond. Vorn thrust himself into her, and took her gasp into his mouth. He felt her walls, tight around him. Felt her heat, and her desire as she relaxed and allowed him further entry. It was different tonight. As if just knowing her name was enough to seal his fate. A fate that would include this woman by his side for the rest of his days.

With a slow and deliberate rhythm, Vorn pulled away enough to watch her, as he loved her. Her green eyes alive, her beautiful face flushed as the pleasure grew higher inside of her. His one hand buried in her hair as the other held her hip, holding her so he may touch her deeper still. Vorn quickened his thrusts.

“Our time will not end, Sharie. It will never end. Not even death can separate us.”

“Vorn,”

He moved harder against her, feeling her nails bite into his back and shoulder. It was both heaven and hell, making love to her. He had never felt such passion, yet he knew it would end with the coming of the morning. But only for as long as it would take to find her. Once he did, he would love her just as strongly if not more for the rest of his life.

He tightened his hold as her body convulsed and bucked against him. Feeling her release, he could hold back no longer. Vorn let himself go and for one blissful moment was lost in the world that only Sharie could create.

As the last tremble left her body, he could feel her begin to fade. Morning was upon them, and as much as he would like, his mind could hold onto sleep no longer.

“I will find you, Sharie.”

“Be safe, Vorn, and it is my hope that you do not find me on the battle fields of, Vantassi.”

“Nothing will keep me from you. I swear, I will find you.”

Her smile, yet sad eyes stayed with him long after the morning brought him back to wakefulness. Vorn stood and walked outside into the new day. All around him, others moved about quickly, preparing for the journey closer to the heart of Vantassi. By this time tomorrow, much blood would be spilled.

How he longed for a place to truly call home. Since the wizard, Ghaun, appointed himself king, nothing was the same. Now,  Vorn and the people of Vantassi must set things right. If they succeeded, a new ruler would be chosen. One who would be just and fair.

Only then, when all was safe and right in this world, could he truly move on and make a world for himself and Sharie. Fate had a reason to bring them together through dreams. He was not without some power. Vorn vowed to break whatever curse held her. For if he did not, his heart would forever be cursed along with her.

Orion's Dreams

by

Ravyn Reccio

Prologue

Hear now the words of the witches, The secrets we hid in the night,When dark was our destiny's pathway, That now we bring forth into light.

Mysterious water and fire, the earth and the wide-ranging air. By hidden quintessence, we know them, and will and keep silent and dare.

The birth and rebirth of all nature, The passing of winter and spring, We share with the life universal, Rejoice in the magickal ring.

Four times in the year the Great Sabbat returns And witches are seen, At Lammas and Candlemas dancing, On May Eve and olde Hallowe'en.

When day-time and night-time are equal, When sun is at greatest and least, The four Lesser Sabbats are summoned, Again witches gather in feast.

Thirteen silver moons in a year are, Thirteen is the coven's array, Thirteen times at esbat make merry, For each golden year and a day.

The power was passed down the ages Each time between woman and man, Each century unto the other, Ere time and the ages began.

When drawn is the magickal circle, By sword or athame of power, It’s compass between the two worlds lies, In Land of the Shades for that hour.

This world has no right then to know it, And world of beyond will tell naught, The oldest of Gods are invoked there, The Great Work of magick is wrought.

For two are the mystical pillars, that shine at the gate of the shrine, And two are the powers of nature, the forms and the forces divine.

The dark and the light in succession, The opposites each unto each, Shown forth as a God and a Goddess, Of this did our ancestors teach.

By night, he's the wild wind's rider, The Horned One, the Lord of the Shades, By day he's the King of the Woodland, The dweller in green forest glades.

She is youthful and old as she pleases, She sails the torn clouds in her baroque, The bright silver Lady of midnight, The crone who weaves spells in the dark.

The master and mistress of magick, they dwell in the deeps of the mind, Immortal, and ever-renewing, with power to free or to bind.

So drink the good wine to the old Gods, and dance and make love in their praise, Till Elphame's fair land shall receive us, in peace at the end of our days.

And Do What You Will be the challenge, So be it in love that harms none, For this is the only commandment; by magick of olde be it done!

So mote it Be! Blessed Be!

Chapter One

Powers awaken, rekindle in me;

The forces of Air blow above me.

The forces of Fire, burn within me.

The forces of Water flow around me.

The forces of Earth grow below me.

And so it now is, and so it shall be,

All the powers of nature, awakened in me

Many said the gods cleansed the land of Healers for their sins against nature, and the wizard lately had taken to believing in them. Orion had been a protected place before his ancestors decided to meddle with its destiny. On the eve of her wiccaning, a great darkness fell over the lands. The air reeked of havoc and uncertainty. Evil came to consume all that was good in the people of the kingdom. It was still believed to be the home of the gods and goddesses and that they would never abandon their children.

Liadin Rhoswen, keeper of a magic well of knowledge, was born to bring peace between the Druids and the Faes. The only daughter of King Ammon of the Faes betrothed at birth to marry Prince Jarlath Padrlg, son of the Druid King of Danu.  It was their wish to join both houses together in hopes that war would not set out between the great clans. On the day the contract between the two houses became sanctioned, the wizard’s royal seal on the parchment blessed the two families. He foresaw what the future entailed for the infants once they came of age and were joined in the most sacred of all rituals.

The Grand Wizard of the Druids, Midir Gilroy watched as his most adapt pupil, Liadin, grew into a beautiful young woman. Her pale skin and scarlet red colored hair reminded him of a true Fae born and bred. Her brown eyes, soft and seductive, could hold any man captive. He knew she would come into her powers and the rich's of the land once she gave herself to the man she was promised too. Shortly after he had assented to Liadin’s new marriage arrangements, his visions started to involve her.

At first Midir had only glimpses, which he could control. They happened when she needed help, or was very happy. He often saw through her own eyes, another fairy child that held great powers surpassing her own. To which gave him need to fear the coming of such a child.

Liadin's new alliance was giving him pause. In the old days his family carefully arranged each marriage. Each child born had been a gifted matching of two powerful wizards. Special skills sought far and wide, and when enough of them could be found in Orion and its surroundings, the priestly caste was created along with restrictions on intermarriage. By the time Liadin was born, this policy had been in place for two centuries.

The beauty of the small villages around Orion were astounding. White-washed houses sitting alongside stone, ones perched in the hills, even higher up. Princess Liadin did not let the pastoral atmosphere fool her; this was a hard life. Lower ranking healers traveled around often, both to gain experience, and to avoid the dangerous attempt crossing over to Danu one of the larger villages in the constant bad weather. Danu was soon to be her knew home when the marriage between both houses was consummated.

Princess Liadin walked out onto the balcony outside her bedroom chambers. She stood and looked up at the beautiful starlit sky and twin moons of her home. It was customary for her to speak to her fairy friends whenever she felt troubled. Liadin heard people say she was unlike any other child, she took to her studies like no other, while the children of the Kingdom enjoyed being out playing with others of their own age. She watched as the small creatures came out of hiding. From the smallest of all fairies to the wood nymphs they each ventured out under the cover of darkness. She looked up towards the stars in search of her feathered friend that came to her nightly.

Liadin always carried a small pouch with her filled with bits of meat for the hawk. She hand fed him every night. She gained the hawk’s trust many years ago after she nursed him back to health and since then he came to her. Nightly he would feed from her petite hand. Then he would perch himself on her forearm and spend hours while she caressed his silky feathers. She would rant on about the man she was being forced to marry against her will, all for the sake of some antiquated tradition. In her mind she faced the horrors of being a young bride.

Liadin heard exchanges between the other students about the Prince who bore a gruesome scar upon his face. Story had it that in one of his many nightly outings he got into a fight with one of the larger panthers that roam the woods.

The Prince of Pleasure

By

Mae Powers

Chapter One

The goddess Joseppa didn’t particularly like men. She preferred women. Yet lately, even females bored her. Perhaps some new venture to learn from, in which to make her life more fun and  interesting was what she needed. Her powers were extensive enough to protect her lands from other wayward gods and godlings, but she occasionally got tired of being a goddess.

Joseppa looked into her mirror, blowing the ivory blonde curls out of her face. She decided today would be the day to do something about her boredom. It was a bitch being a goddess sometimes and having most of her desires fulfilled. Not that she didn’t appreciate the length her subjects and god lovers went to in order to please her, but she just needed something more intense for herself. Even with her vast knowledge of people and things, it escaped her what she hungered for and sought.

Still, it was expected of her to take care of her subjects, even if she didn’t always get her way, which was rare. Today, she made the decision to move amongst her people and see what they really thought of her. Perhaps even help them in some way. She liked taking care of her whims, but it pleased her more when those that worshiped her were taken care of. It had been awhile since she walked amongst the people of her lands. Glancing back in the mirror, she smiled as she noted her blue eyes sparkled back at her in mischief.

Everything seemed so complacent lately, she thought, I need to liven things up around the country. No one started wars, even villains were not villainous lately. Nor had she heard from that pesky wizard godling Klevis recently. Maybe he got tired of chasing her around or trying to inveigle her into his bed. He ruled over the mountainous regions just beyond the borders of her lands.

She glanced at her tall voluptuous figure once more, and decided she needed a change indeed. She waved her hands in front of herself and then twirled around. Joseppa giggled wickedly. Oh, the ways of a goddess could be so wickedly delicious indeed. She looked at the blue peasant blouse she wore tucked inside of a multicolored long skirt, with a cinch-waisted gold belt, and thought she looked very much like a young peasant girl. With her hair now a coppery dark red and tied back with a ribbon, and her feet encased in sturdy traveling shoes, her image looked nearly complete.

She twirled in front of the mirror once more, then decided she needed just a few more things for her journey. She majicked a travel pouch with needful things inside it. When it materialized, she slipped it over her shoulder so that it lay over her opposite shoulder. She then made a heavy shawl appear so to stave off the cold.

Admiring her handiwork again, her lips curved upwards mischievously. If she went through with this, it would mean being almost non-magical. One more thing. She conjured up a necklace of protection that would aid her in her return to her goddess abode. She just hoped she got it right and would remember how to bring herself back when the time came to being a goddess again.

Not many knew how forgetful she could be at times; it being her one downfall, which she kept closely guarded. Still, being a human for a few days would give her the break she needed from her boredom and to mainly see what her subjects thought about her these days. And perhaps during the journey, she might actually learn something too. Even goddesses needed to heighten their wisdom.

She glanced at the mirror again and waved her hand towards it. It glowed with a silvery light, and then became foggy. Taking  a deep breath, she walked into the mirror, disappearing completely.

Elemental Dances

By

Bridghid Parkinson

Chapter One

Tyra stomped her foot in frustration when Wayde winked at her.

Trouble started with that wink. He knew all the right buttons to push to soften her up for the plans he made. Soon, he’d walk up, wrap his arm around her waist and kiss her neck. Inevitably, he’d keep up the playful, but sexual assault until she gave in to his plans. Luckily, he was usually right, and she never regretted his diversions.

Rather than put him through the dance, she nodded affirmatively.

Wayde didn’t seem to understand her frustration. He signed them up for yet another meditation series at the Pagan Wild Spirits Festival, and while the atmosphere, music and vendors were beyond description, she’d been hoping to find a special spiritual pursuit for herself and couldn’t find the time. The meditation series took three hours out of the afternoon she hoped to spend floating in the swimming pool at the clothing-optional end of the camp.

They left their cabin at the campground with towels. She tightened the sash around her ample bust and adjusted the skirt at her hips. Her handmade purse tied around her waist drew comments from everyone because of the way the sash rested over her hips at the top of her filmy skirt.

Wayde balanced himself with a cane. Shrapnel from an explosion tore into his hip and thigh when he served in Iraq, and the scars from the surgeries and wounds left him with a limp, but the injuries could have been worse. His cane held an elaborately carved woodlands scene with a stag at the top. True to his strength of spirit, he began having tattoos worked over the scared area of his body, and the skin no longer looked twisted, scarred and burned. The artist had done wonders in blending the scars into an image that resembled a glimpse into an ethereal plane, with eerie mists swirling around images of elementals.

“Can you tell me what this meditation is?”

“It’s a hands-on series about the elements.”

“Why three hours?”

“It’s a class followed by a meditation ritual for couples and then something ‘hands-on’. The teachers can only work with six people at a time so they run two a day—every day—and I signed up for it when we sent in the registration for the weekend.”

If he prepared that far in advance, arguing with him wasn’t fair. “See, you know all this stuff, but you’ve been doing this since you were a teenager, and I didn’t start until late.”

“College isn’t late. Nobody cares when you start. Even the elders are still seekers in many ways.”

“Do people ever find the answers?”

“To which question?”

Damn it, he is going to start talking in circles again!

“Every time you find one answer, you may find more questions. It’s a cycle. You should only stop seeking new answers when you take your last breath.” He looked at her as they walked through the gate for the clothing optional area. “Hang on.”

Tyra lost any fascination with the clothing optional environment ten minutes after walking through the gate the first time. Wade dropped his swimming trunks, lifted them off the ground with the handle of his cane and hung them over his arm. They continued down the path to the Elements Grove.

Their relationship became comfortable in the last several months and almost stagnant. With no sign of getting married, or even moving in together, Tyra wondered what the next step would be for them as a couple. His support during the last semester of college and later, when her younger sister died in an accident, kept her moving forward when the world seemed ready to collapse around her. His soothing voice helped her keep perspective when she could have easily lost hope.

As a practicing Wiccan for over a year now, she heard from many elders that her pagan name would come to her from the Gods. Until she found her name, the group of people she studied with had taken to calling her Aphrodite. One of the teachers, a curly-haired older woman everyone called Moon Willow, seemed to taunt her, “In order to hear the Gods, you have to be listening.”

Right. Tyra didn’t want to be disrespectful by saying it.

In the beginning, she’d been awestruck by the home built on the many acres out in the woods, with gardens, and distinctly pagan decorations all around. The lifestyle was incredible. The gatherings held a mysticism she had never seen before.

They all told her that becoming Pagan was not instantaneous. Many people would make the claim of Wicca—some for shock value—but to live it was different. She understood because her fascination with Pagan Gods and mysticism started when she was very young, but until later in life, she never understood people actually honored the many Gods. A basic aspect seemed to elude her—a name.

“Tell me how you got your name?” Tyra asked Moon Willow.

“I was searching, like you. I sat on the bench at the memorial in town, the one for the firemen and police officers killed in the line of duty. It’s somber but a lovely garden”

“God can be anywhere?”

“Yes. In the middle of summer, I had a notepad, and I wrote out what I thought could be cool chants. I sat for hours because I blocked out the entire afternoon and even made a picnic supper. I could ignore the traffic, and I just sat and started writing.”

“But that’s one of the things you do anyway. You write some of the chants and articles for the group.”

“Right. Soon, it was too dark, but I moved under a street lamp. I was just in the perfect position to see the moon through the branches of a nearby willow tree, and the sight was gorgeous. I got goose bumps and the breeze picked up a little. I soon discovered that if I asked a yes or no question, I would get a breeze or a cricket chirp, or a fish flopping in the water for a yes answer, and if it was not right then I had silence.”

Tyra studied her. She didn’t appear to be crazy. In her early forties, she didn’t look old enough to be anyone’s grandmother. “You are an elder, but you still go through things like that?”

“First, I’m not an elected elder, I don’t want it and I’m not that old.” Moon Willow started laughing. “Second, everyone should be able to go through something like that, but it took a long time to find that connection, too. The Gods are always talking. You just have to find a way that you can hear them.”

But it was that one area where she felt she hit a wall and couldn’t get past the obstacle. In a world where people said the Gods—even the muses, spirits, elementals, fairies or other spirits—were always talking and showing people the way, she felt deaf and blind.

Playing with Fire

by

Anne Leland

Chapter One

Someone watched her. An unknown entity lurking on the edge of the shadows zeroing in on her every move.

Maria glanced around the yard, expecting to see a prowler jump from behind the ornamental rows of fichus, or demons rising from the dust. Yet, even as her imagination consumed her, she knew she’d find nothing more harmful than a caterpillar trolling through the garden.

Every summer she could remember, she had the feeling she was being watched. The daughter of affluent parents, constant scrutiny grew to be second nature to her. Sadly, she played the role of puppet so well it filtered into her subconscious, inducing her imagination to create non-existent dangers.

A sharp flare of light from the belly of a firefly snatched her attention.

She angled towards the insect. Cool blades of grass squished beneath the soles of her shoes, dampening her approach. The lightening bug stilled, almost as if in anticipation of its fate. His light flickered, pulsing, drawing her in with its steady beacon. Darkness knitted around them, closing a circle in which the rhythm of her heart matched the strobe of the firefly’s dance. The night stilled, enhancing the jungle tempo building inside the walls of her chest.

Her arms moved of their own volition, fluid fibers closing together, arcing the glass cage to capture its prey. The firefly protested with a blinding flash. As she sealed the bug in the Mason jar, the beat of the jungle dissipated.

A slow shiver along her spine prickled the fine hair at the base of her neck. An all too familiar laugh rang out behind her.

Busted.

Marie turned to face her judge and jury. Nancy strolled into view, then flopped onto a chaise lounge while shaking a perfectly French-manicured finger in Maria’s direction. “I can’t believe you still catch those nasty things. When are you going to grow up?”

The bug rattled against its glass barrier as Maria placed the jar atop the picnic table. A subtle flash lit up the sheer Formica giving it a brief, almost other-worldly glow.

She pulled over a cushioned chair and sat down, keeping the makeshift bug catcher in her direct line of vision. Staring at the jar was preferable to returning Nancy’s disapproving gaze. “Old habits die hard, I guess.”

The firefly gave off a short blast of light. Maria couldn’t decide if the bug confirmed her words or mocked them.

“Surely you’ve give up on that fairy tale nonsense by now.”

Nancy’s high pitched voice stung Maria’s ears. “It’s not a fairy tale.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” her nemesis taunted, “and exactly how many vampires have you found now, sis?”

“They’re not vampires, they’re Adze.”

Maria shifted in her seat, barely making out Nancy’s lithe, tanned shape under the dull moonlight. Still, she knew far too well the petty look of disdain pinching down her sister’s lips right now.

“Ad-zee, pad-zee, mad-zee, you’re fuckin’ cra-zy! A bloodsucker is a bloodsucker by any name, stupid. We’re not even in Africa anymore, hello?” Nancy’s voice dripped with enough sarcasm to coat the entire lawn. “Do you think your imaginary friends immigrated to Chicago?”

“Shut up, will you. If I choose to catch fireflies, it’s my business. It’s silly, I know. Just like everything else I do, right?” Truthfully, she did still hold out for the myth, but hunting the luminescent creatures provided a level of comfort too. A tangent reminder of happier times.

“You know Mama made that shit up, don’t you?”

“Drop it, already, will you?” The last thing Maria wanted to talk about tonight was their mother. Two years hardly did anything to ease the pain of the loss. She already had enough weighing on her mind without taking an excruciating trip down memory lane.

Stretching out with a cat-like grace, Nancy uttered a small sigh. “What ever are we going to do with you? What is it now, little one?”

Damn her sister and her keen intuition. “Nothing.”

“Girl, I’m not stupid. Spill.”

If Marie were going to confess to anyone, it certainly wouldn’t be to Nancy.  Ms. Gold-digger rap-star-girlfriend-wanna-be could never understand the aching need, the desire for a real relationship. And Maria fucked up her own chances for one. Once again.

Why breaking up with Matt surprised her or even bummed her out as much as it did, she wasn’t quite clear on. Nonetheless, it did.

Big time.

The hurt and the disappointment left a sour burn in the pit of her stomach and a fountain of untapped tears swelling behind her retinas, threatening an instant flood. The cover of darkness served her well tonight. “I told you, there’s nothing wrong.”

“Then why are you up at midnight chasing down those wretched bugs?”

A fierce flash of light from the jar caught Maria by surprise. It was almost as if the firefly understood her sister’s scathing remark and lit up in defense. What a silly notion. Maybe she was pushing the borders of sanity with her fairy tale fantasies. “I just couldn’t sleep, so I came out here.” The hint would skate right over Nancy’s blond highlights, but she couldn’t resist adding, “The quiet is nice.”

What a picture of perfection her sister was. If anyone stopped to compare her and Nancy, they’d never believe for a second, they were remotely related, let alone sisters. Maria’s petite frame and brown curls wilted in comparison to Nancy’s fair-skinned, fair-haired, tall and thin frame.

Matt probably would have got down on his knees and begged Nancy for marriage, rather than curtly sharing with Maria his need for some “space.” What the hell was that supposed to mean anyway?

“It’s Matt, isn’t it?” Nancy zeroed in on Maria’s thoughts like a cat to a silver vine branch.

No sense in denying the truth. It would be public knowledge by this time tomorrow, anyway. “If you must know, we split up.”

Nancy bolted upright. “Oh honey, you poor thing.” Syrupy consolation poured from her lips as she patted Maria’s arm. “Don’t worry, I’ll have a chat with William and everything will be right as rain in the morning.”

No matter how many years they’d been out of the south, the southernisms still crept in to their speech patterns. Maria wondered if Nancy realized how quaint and un-hip she sounded half of the time. Probably not. And what did it matter? Her looks more than made up for any shortcomings.

Men didn’t care about what came out of Nancy’s mouth.

“Don’t bother talking to William. I really don’t want Matt back.”

Nancy snorted her disapproval before replying. “Heir to the Linton fortune and you don’t want him back?”

“No. Not really.” Not even to squelch the tears of wounded pride now streaming from her eyes. Truth be told, Matt never gave her anything she desired, not in friendship, nor lack thereof. Not in sentiment or ill-thought-out gifts. Not even in bed.

She hung onto to the relationship as long as she did, in false hope. The salient need to quench her desires of finding someone who wanted to be with her more than they wanted to be a part of her family fortune. Nothing more.

As usual, love escaped her. Maria felt more cursed than any Adze could imagine.

The lightening bug snapped off two bright flashes as if to argue its cause. “You’re not an Adze, are you?” She whispered to the black form crawling along the smooth walls of its prison.

“Of course it’s not, you ninny.” Nancy loomed over her, hands planted firmly on her hips.

So deep in her miserable contemplations, Maria hadn’t even notice her sister got up from the chaise lounge.

Nancy ran her fingertips over the rim of the jar, tilting it back and forth. The firefly tapped furiously against the glass in protest.

“It’s a bug, Maria. A damn stupid bug. You need to wake up and stop this childish shit. Blowing your chances with Matt equals not cool. Do you understand? Let me talk to William, we’ll have the 411 by morning and plan our moves from there. Maybe we should have a quickie bash? Oh, I know just the DJ.”

The glass jar rattled as Nancy knocked it over. With a sudden, overwhelming urge to protect its contents, Maria snatched the jar from the table, pressed it against her chest, and stood up, imposing as much of her five-foot-four stature as possible towards her sister.

“I’m twenty-three-years old and more than capable of deciding who to go out with all on my own. I’ll be damned if I’ll stand here and argue the point with you. If I thought for a second you actually gave a shit…”

Maria’s resolve slipped away with a gush of tears. “I’m going to bed now.” She wheeled around and ran up the hill towards the Colonial house.

Nancy’s words trailed after her. “You have fun with your little bug there, sis. I’m sure it’ll keep you warm and comfy tonight. Maybe you can do voodoo dances together, or something.”

Maria hesitated. She’d forgotten all about releasing the insect from the jar. An unexplainable desire to keep the firefly close snowed over her sensibilities.

Half tempted to give Nancy a three-minute lesson on the difference between voodoo and pagan rituals, she decided the trouble wasn’t worth it and continued up the hill, leaving her sister’s laughter to find a new target.

The glow from the glass container illuminated her fingers, giving them a transparent glow. Maybe she should release the creature? After all, she’d lived her whole life in a gilded cage, it hardly seemed fair to place an innocent bug in the same position. But something about this particular firefly connected to her on an unexplainable level.

Tired. She was just tired. Tired of being dictated to. Tired of being watched.

She held the mason jar up, staring at her captive. Its light pulsed. The night stilled as a feint drumming sound echoed in the distance.

What harm could it do to keep the firefly for one night?

Pagan Pleasures

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