Welcome to Free Love Friday-here’s another of my stories from earlier days…one of the first stories I sold to the amazing team over at a now (sadly) defunct pioneer of erotica on the web. So…let’s step into the tent and see what the future holds…
Her crystal ball was murky. Not because the future was clouded, but because her last client had spilled his soda on the globe when he leaped back, startled by what he had seen there. She sighed and wiped it down with Windex and a chamois, contemplating how far she had fallen. From the beautiful assistant to the world’s most famous magician to the still beautiful but totally blackballed carnival attraction Madame Kriselda.
Staring into the ball, it was the past that she was seeing in her mind’s eye, as it had played out for her since the break up of the Amazing Anthony’s show. “Break-up” was the perfect word, since that what had happened when she discovered that his favorite trick had been making her scruples disappear through hypnotism while he sold the pleasures of her body to the rich men who frequented the front row of his many shows.
In this case, Anthony truly had been amazing, because she had never known it was happening. Her memory of most of the after-parties that were always thrown were a pleasant haze of good whiskey and the sweet smell of the excellent marijuana Anthony procured through his contacts in Mexico. She never questioned the presence of audience members, she assumed they were invited along with the rest of the cast, crew, and production staff at the end of the run in order to preserve the ego of the man that was Anthony. It was only because one of the men brought a camera to the back room which Anthony always had decked out like of a séance chamber that she figured what had often transpired to her falsely willing body. The man had dropped one of the Polaroids when he left and she found it the next day while packing up her costume trunk.
The image that flickered before her in the depths of the quartz was herself, dressed in her the standard revealing costume. She lay on her back, and the costume top had been pulled down to release her breasts to the fondling of the man who sat astride her. She had to admit that it she was doing a lot the fondling, although she was blissful forgetful of the event itself. In the picture, she was pressing her flesh together tightly around the organ of the man, whose own face was cut off by the angle of the camera. Her head was thrown back, and the ropy semen that spread from her chin to cover her neck revealed that the camera had caught what the French would call “le moment juste”, the perfect moment. Perfect for her unknown lover, perhaps, even though it appeared Kris had been enjoying herself. Her own face in the shot was the perfect image of a woman experiencing intense orgasm, eyes closed, jaw clenched, flushed. Her hands gripped her pale breasts so hard that her nipples stuck out like over-ripe cherries, and the head of the man’s cock was a dark purple from the pressure. That was one of the things that made her so very angry-Anthony had made her own body betray her by convincing her mind that she was having the time of her life. When she confronted him with the picture, his first comment had been “Well, it looks like you’re having a good time, what’s the problem?”
The sound of the rain coming down harder brought her thoughts back to the present. While the fairway wouldn’t close down completely, only the most thrill-seeking carnival goers would stay out in this, and those weren’t the types to visit Madame Kriselda. She considered closing down the tent, although the promise of at least one more client, or perhaps a couple seeking a romantic story to tell later (“It was raining, and we ducked into this old tent, and the gypsy told us we would live long lives and have two boys and a girl”) forced her to keep a lonely vigil while the thunder rumbled nearer.
And that was the real bitch of it all-she was lonely! Anthony had been the best thing to happen to her in a long time. At least she had thought so, and even might have been willing to allow him to use her like he had if he had just asked! She was no saint, liked a good screw as much (or maybe more) than the next gal, and had done worse things for money. It might have been fun, but he had taken away that possibility. When they had their last screaming fight he had turned cold.
“Really, Kris, maybe its for the best. After all, you aren’t as young as you were.”
Her threats to press charges and have him exiled from the Magician’s Brotherhood meant nothing. After all, how could she prove that she was doing anything against her will? When she began looking elsewhere for a position for the next season she found every door shut against her. Even the magicians who had been after her for several years to leave Anthony and join their show, hoping some of his “magic” would rub off on them, looked at her askance and muttered about how things were tight and it wasn’t a good time to shake up the act by adding a new star side-kick. Anthony had gotten to them before she had, and he painted her as a dangerous hysteric, prone to tantrums, who had finally become so unstable he had no choice but to release her from her contract.
So now it had been over a year, and she had had no contact with the Magic community, no boyfriends, no lovers. There was only the quartz globe, which seemed to actually give her visitors some sort of vision of things to come. It could have just been her own slightly hypnotic way of talking to them that made the things they hoped for, or feared, in their own psyche take form in the mists and occlusions within the smooth and faceless ball.
As she gave the crystal a final wipe and polish with the purple silk that it nestled in, a fresh roll of thunder startled her, and her arm knocked the ball off the table. It hit the hard packed dirt of the floor with both a dull thud and a ringing sound that was like a note pinged off a glass half filled with water. She gave a groan when she saw that her livelihood now lay in two halves, split evenly down the middle along one of the occlusions that had provided its mysterious character. She reached for it, putting both halves up on the table. A sharp edge caught her finger. “Fuck!”
“Sorry, maybe this is the wrong tent?”
She whirled around to see a mark standing in the archway created by an open flap of canvas, looking pretty much liked a drowned terrier. His blond hair was plastered against his head by the rain, and his sweater gave off the distinctive odor of wet wool.
“I was looking for the fortune teller…not a fuck…” He smiled tentatively, and she relaxed at his attempt to defuse the situation. She smiled back, relaxing into her mysterious gypsy pose by settling into the chair at the small table that held the pieces of the erstwhile tool of her trade.
“I am she. Have you come to seek the future?” A consummate actress, she moved without hesitation into the spiel, “I see far and tell much…please have a seat.”
The young man, as she could now see, was perhaps in his mid-twenties, slimly built. Under the damp bangs he had bright blue eyes that had a humorous light to them. She could tell he wasn’t sure whether he was going to choose to buy into the act, given her exclamation as he had walked in. He finally sighed and sat down. Leaning forward over the pieces of crystal, he looked around him, at the walls of the tent, the deep velvet draperies and red candles that gave the small space the appropriate séance air (all stolen from Anthony-she decided to take what small revenge she could by removing the dressings from the room she had been violated in. Having examined the room, he continued his inspection by looking her over. She had never found that kind of inspection disconcerting. It was part of the role.
Whether sexy assistant or mysterious fortune teller, part of the job was to have her ample bosom, flat stomach and fit but slender legs on display for the mark. Today she was wearing a loose fitting white shirt, open to the navel and exposing her the tops of her breasts and the red lace push-up that made them seem larger than they were. The lace barely covered the top of her nipples, which she realized were stiff from the slight draft that came in through the open door. She leaned back slightly, letting herself enjoy his inspection. As she did, she wondered what their age difference was. No more than five years, but he had a certain innocent air about him that made him seem younger. Maybe it was the drenched puppy look that he kept, in spite of taking of his soaking sweater before he sat down.
Shit! She realized that, without her crystal ball, she would have to change tactics. She drew a deck of battered cards from a hidden drawer in the table and began to shuffle them. After a moment, she stopped and moved the pieces of crystal across the table to give her room to lay the cards out.
“Actually,” he finally said, “I’m hear to ask about the past. My fiancée was in here last week, and she visited you. I don’t know what you told her, but she came home, said she couldn’t marry a man like she saw I would become, packed and left. I haven’t heard from her since. Do you get many single women visiting?”
The answer of course was “No”. Kris found that women felt having their fortunes told was a team sport. They invariably brought a boyfriend or a gaggle of other women with them. The woman he was talking about had to have been the redhead. She had been thin as a rail and kept touching the small crucifix at her throat. There was an engagement ring on her hand-a small stone, and very new. Kris had been prepared to give her the happiness-and-children routine, assuming she was newly engaged, and Christian.
Additionally it was clear that she was self-conscious about being in the presence of what would undoubtedly be called pagan and evil in conversation at church groups. She had been a sweet girl, no breasts to speak of and straight hair down to the small of her back. Kris had had her share of women in her bed, and had realized with a start that this woman, while not beautiful, had a definite attractiveness about her, made more poignant by her self-consciousness.
Kris dealt a row of hearts face up in front of the man. “Lost love…a difficult quest…” Suddenly the man startled her by standing up and sweeping the cards off the table. He didn’t have the puppy dog look any longer, it had been replace by a new fire in his eyes. He leaned over the table, and over her. She had thought that he was slightly on the short side when he walked in, but now he loomed above her and she felt her hands tighten on the twin pieces of glass that were in front of her, in case she needed to defend herself.
“Dammit, I don’t want card tricks or patter. I want to know what you said to her to make her think I was some kind of monster that she couldn’t marry. She was everything to me!” Deflated again, he sat back down in the chair, and she realized for the first time that he had a haggard look behind the youthful face. Unfortunately, she would not be able to help the man.
After chatting for a few minutes with the redhead, Kris had been prepared to paint her future in words, but the girl had reached out a hand to stop her as she stared into the crystal ball. Kris had felt a brief thrill of electricity in that touch, and ended up not saying a word. The girl had straightened up, sighed, dropped a $20 bill on the table and walked out with a determined air, like the attitude of a child who has resolved to take gulp of bitter medicine. Her exit was at odds with the initial impression she gave, but she had definitely seen something that meant a great deal to her.
Kris decided to take a risk. She picked up the cards and told the man the truth. “Your girlfriend was the redhead with straight hair?”
“Fiancée,” the man corrected her, “Yes, she was.”
“I never gave her a fortune. She read something herself in the crystal, and walked out. It happens often. People’s destinies are in their own hearts and their own minds. I just help them see the way.”
The young man looked at her intently. Kris realized that the same odd attractiveness that the redhead had exhibited was present in this man. Perhaps it was what had brought them together in the first place, and maybe the girl had seen that the initial attraction was not enough to build a lifetime relationship on.
“Was it a quick engagement?”
“It was love at first sight!” His gaze continued to rest on hers, and she felt that she was being challenged to doubt it. She also felt that his stare was perhaps too intent for the subject matter. She was just a woman who had met the unfortunate man’s former fiancée and spoken to her for a few minutes. Suddenly she realized that his intensity reminded her of Anthony, attractive and overwhelming and uncomfortable all at once. She felt an unwilling flush cover her face. Maybe the girl had been frightened of that level of power; after all, Anthony had abused the connection his gaze was able to create.
“What do you want from me?” she asked in a low voice, breaking eye contact quickly.
“I always believed she was my future. Maybe I was wrong, but I put a lot into the belief. Christ, we even decided to wait to…” this time it was his turn to blush.
A virgin? No way. In her years as a performer, she didn’t think she had ever met a virgin who was over 16, not a man anyway. Her own defloration had been the weekend she turned eighteen, to the director of the senior-year play. She smiled at the memory of the look of complete astonishment she received from the man as she walked into his small office at the back of the stage. She had been playing the role of Titania in Midsummer Night’s Dream, and while not quite inappropriate for her a high school, the costume certainly showed off her teenage body to perfection. It had not been a wonderful experience, but he had been gentle that first time and her orgasm had been a small introduction to the pleasures ahead. It was later that she learned to like it rougher and to encourage the director to act out his own theatrical fantasies on her willing young flesh. Again, the flush crept up her neck, and a corresponding heat moistened between her legs.
“Let’s see what your new future may be. No patter, a real reading.” She smiled, a little wickedly as vision of his immediate future had already started to form in her head. It had been a long time since Anthony, after all. She pulled out a real deck of Tarot cards, something she rarely used in her practice but had been using personally since before her on-and-off stage adventures in High School.
She dealt the cards in a simple three-lifetimes reading.
“First Card, your past. The Devil. Oh, don’t snort like that!” The young man had indeed given a snort, then immediately looked sheepish. After all he, he had come to the fortune teller, not vice-versa. “Notice how the man and woman are chained to the pillar underneath the demon. They are slaves to something-maybe addiction, maybe money,” Noticing that he was surreptitiously eyeing the expanse of skin left exposed by her bra she added, “Or perhaps lust. Think about the past that you had with your redhead. Was your ‘love at first sight’ perhaps an obsession for romance?”
“We did make a point of our waiting until we were married. At first we felt noble and self-sacrificing. To be honest, lately I’ve just been feeling frustrated.” He had finally relaxed into the reading. Kris’s honesty about her experience with the fiancée had paid off. And as she moved her leg innocently across his under the table, she felt her current ploy would pay off as well.
“The second card, your current life or situation. The Wheel of Fortune. An indication that what happens next is completely out of your control. You are at the mercy of the universe.” She felt a slight answering pressure on her leg and decided to raise the stakes a bit. The rain outside had made the small tent muggy, and she unbuttoned the remaining few buttons on her shirt and let it drape open as he picked up the second card to examine it closer. She put down the deck while he looked at the card closely, and by leaning back she allowed the cloth to gap open and reveal the small diamond that pierced her navel. Absently, she lightly stroked the two halves of the broken crystal ball that still lay in front of her. The completely smooth quartz felt oddly warm-almost body temperature. He put the card down.
“The writing around the edge of the Wheel in the picture, what does it say?
“R-O-T-A, or A-T-O-R, or even T-A-R-O. It’s a circle, so all those words are accurate. A reminder that every thing comes and goes in its cycle, but that chance always plays a role. Also, that the past and present continually come and go and even repeat themselves.” Now that her shirt was completely open, she leaned forward to give him a full view of her breasts, held proud and firm in the grasp of the blood-red lace. He looked slowly down, and unashamedly stared. After all, she was obviously showing them off. And he had been frustrated lately.
He pulled his eyes away from her pale mounds, and asked point blank, “Do you believe this stuff?”
His hand was laying next to the midnight purple silk that had nestled her ball. She turned it over and lightly stroked his palm. “Do I believe your future is written here? In lines and whirls of the flesh on the day you are born? No. If anything this would tell me more about the past.” She continued her light stroking, “I believe that we all carry an idea of our future in our souls. So the crystal ball or the cards give us a way to focus our minds on what the soul wants to tell us. Many people have come to me seeking answers. Of them, a good number wanted patter and predictions. I charge them their fee and give them what they want.”
“Many others however have seen something on their own, some echo of their future, that gave them pause.”
It was true. She had always told fortunes for fun and many people had returned to her to talk about what they had seen in the pattern of the cards or in the depths of the crystal. She picked his hand up. His palm was moist, and she could feel the pulse quickening in the wrist under her painted nails. “I believe that I may be the agent of that message, that I provide the conduit for those people to see something in their life clearly. Perhaps I allow them to see, not with their eyes but with their heart.” She pressed his hand, firmly held captive in her own, to her left breast, allowing his fingers to slip under the lace trim and come to rest against her taut nipple. He caught his breath and she held the hand there, trapped. A shiver ran down her own flesh, and her other nipple stiffened in sympathy with its twin. She pressed her advantage.
“Above all, the Wheel tells us to be prepared for anything, to seize what is offered up by the universe. Are you ready to grab opportunity?”
His eyes were blazing in the shadows. All her candles except one had guttered out, and the storm outside made the dim room seem even darker and closer that it really was. In one of those serendipitous happenings that make life interesting, as she turned over the last card, there was a clap of thunder and the final candle guttered out, leaving the pair in near complete darkness.
“What do you see in the future?” she asked, the cards themselves lost in the gloom. The smell of sandalwood incense, previously just a slight background scent, surged to the forefront as their senses shifted gears to compensate for the darkness.
She felt him stand, and his other hand came to her lips, and softly move down to cup her right breast gently. He whispered “I don’t…I’ve never…”
She thought of Anthony, who had removed certain choices from her, and of other lovers, many of them over the years. This was a novelty for her as well. She heard herself say “Whatever you want…seize the future.” When he hesitated, she pulled the straps of her bra down and squeezed his hands against her freed flesh, roughly squeezing both his hands and her own skin. “Do anything you’ve ever wanted.”
Suddenly she was pulled toward him. She fell to her knees and waited. She heard his zipper come down and felt a hand on her head guiding her toward her target. “Um…suck me, suck my cock.” She heard a note of hesitancy and stood up, almost ready to give up. Knowing he was a virgin was exciting, but if she had to work too hard for it never mind. Then she thought about that flash of anger he had demonstrated earlier, and wondered if maybe there wasn’t more of that same fire to be stoked.
She pushed him into the chair he had abandoned, and grabbed his head. She came to his eye level, barely able to see him but loving the contours of his temples in her hands. “Listen, and listen good. I’m offering you whatever you want. I know you’ve watched pornos, read magazines, and jerked off a million times to some fantasy in your head. Don’t be shy, fuck me any way you want, call me a whore, slap me around and tie me up, whatever. But don’t hesitate, don’t stop, or this moment will be gone. The wheel will roll on. If that’s what you’re going to, get your ass back into that storm and find some other girl to moon over.” For a moment, she thought he might just do that.
The slap surprised her, it was firm enough to sting but not to do any damage. She gasped, and then felt a sharp pain as teeth closed around the tender flesh just under her nipple where his hand had rested. She held his head in close, supporting him and herself as she pulled them down onto the pile of velvet that lay in the back of her séance tent.
No sooner was she prone than there was faint snick and she had just enough time to think knife! and the blade was under her clothes, cutting off her thong and gypsy dress in a single swipe. She felt the backside of the blade run along her skin and again she shivered, and this time she felt the heat between her legs like a pulse in her gut. She moaned, not in fear but in anticipation. She was spread open by the pressure of his hand, and the knife made a bright line of pleasure as he moved the flat along her thigh, brushed her female flesh lightly and ran up to her breasts. This was, unexpected, to say the least. Maybe the redhead had seen this aspect of him in the crystal and it was too much for her to accept.
Kris found the unexpected violence intensely arousing, as her heart pounded and her pussy flooded with anticipation. As she groaned again, she remembered that when aroused, she always slipped into thinking in the most vulgar terms possible. The knife rested underneath her tit, then slipped out of that salty hollow and the point circled her nipple, pricking just enough to tingle, adding to the general feeling of pleasure that was pervading her.
She cried out “Yes, more! Do what you want!!” She was stifled when his cock slipped past her rouged lips and, like a reflex, she circled it with her tongue and sucked gently. She learned at college to breathe through her nose, and this allowed her to take him deep into her throat, fighting the first quick reflex and then relaxing to the thrusts he was making. Suddenly, the shaft was withdrawn and she waited for the pressure again to open her, spread her and fill her. Instead, she felt the weight of him on her chest, slippery and hot between her throbbing mounds. She ran her fingers over his organ, and heard him gasp. Kneading her own breasts, she trapped him there, the friction almost as intense as if he was actually inside her, and she felt her orgasm building from the base of her spine and heading from there to enflame her nipples even more. She realized as his thrusts picked up speed that she must look very much like the Polaroid picture that had landed her here. Well, she had said that she might have been willing to go along with what Anthony was doing, and she certainly could have used a share of the profit.
Her nails dug so deeply into her own flesh that they hurt, but she felt the need to squeeze tighter and tighter. His cock was not huge, but it filled the space between her breasts so perfectly it might have been made for it. He stopped, and for an instant she thought he was going to come. Then she felt him at her lips again, and she drew him in, liberally coating him with as much saliva as she could, licking and sucking gently and her own pleasure, while slowed, continued to rise toward a peak.
When he forced himself between her swollen tits again, it was like nothing she had ever felt. Like losing her virginity without the pain and blood, but even more intense as she squeezed herself around him. Her back arched up as his whole length, wetted by her energetic mouth, slipped between and through the channel she created with her hands and breasts. The pressure mounting, his breaths coming faster, she opened her mouth in a silent shout of exaltation as he exploded onto her, triggering her own massive spasms as waves that washed from her toes to her eyelids.
He rolled off, breathing heavily. She mirrored him, matching gulp for gulp to get air. One of her fingers aimlessly spread the warm liquid of his explosion around one now flaccid and tender nipple. She heard rustling, as sound as if he was about to speak, and through the haze of her receding pleasure she groped to put a hand on his lips.
“No. Whatever you saw, whatever you felt, that was yours. I told you that the vision comes from your heart. Whatever you feel, take that with you.” Her arm dropped, and she drifted a bit. She wasn’t sure if she heard him leave or just felt his absence, but when she realized he was gone she startled, and noticed that the storm had gone as well. Wrapped in a length of velvet, she groped for a new candle and her lighter.
In the light of the small flame, she saw three things simultaneously. First, he had left the fortune telling fee on the table. It was exactly the right amount, based on the sign outside the tent. Second, he had taken one half of the crystal ball with him. Oddly, she didn’t feel angry, it felt….over. Like she wouldn’t need it or use it again. And lastly, the third and final card of the reading she had laid out. Kris laughed to herself at the image she saw, delighted. The card was exactly right. And she hadn’t even dealt it off the bottom of the deck!
(Note: this story originally appeared on http://www.oystersandchocolate.com)