0 comments/ 13696 views/ 3 favorites It's Not Easy to Be a Love Goddess Ch. 01 By: Cheleste INTRODUCTION It's not easy being a love goddess. You doubt me? You think it might be the most romantic, amazing profession in the world? Let me tell you, it's not. Nobody understands me. Nobody. You either. ***** First of all, you think I'm a prostitute. Or, you will once I tell you my story. And that's exactly my point. There's no room for me here. I was born a thousand years too late, and there's nothing I can do about it. It's probably a punishment for something I did wrong in that last lifetime, that I just can't seem to remember. They sent me here to Hell, and let me tell you, it's a whole lot worse than the flames that licked up around my skin and consumed me when I was the sacrifice in my virginal phase. Those lifetimes a person knew where they were headed, had no illusions; saw the prize and went for it. There was no wavering, no confusion, no identity crisis then. It was--take the plunge and come up for air on the other side. It was cut and dried. It was a cinch. Not here. Not now. Now, there's nothing sure, nothing to count on. The sun comes up every day and goes down at night, if you're lucky enough to be able to see it beyond the smog and the hazy, mutated weather patterns. It's all so confusing. Because what I am, who I am, is not reflected back to me by any of the life forms so anxious to get ahead of me on the freeway. It's like, I've entered this crazy funhouse where all the mirrors are distorted and perverted; and let me tell you, I'm having a hard time maintaining my equilibrium. If it weren't for Darian, I don't know what I'd do. Darian's my guide, my protector. Does the term "pimp" mean anything to you? Well, in your perverted world, that's probably what you'd call him. But you're wrong. Darian loves me with the highest love there is. Only you jokers don't seem to get that. So for you, he's my pimp. Got it? Do I sound angry? Sarcastic? Disillusioned? Well, I don't know an illusion from a Golden Axiom incarnate anymore until it bites me. But where was I? Oh yes. I was going to tell you my story. Do you want to listen? Really listen? Ah well. You'll do what you want. So here it is anyway. CHAPTER 1 I was born in this little house in the middle of Nowhere Town, USA, a few years short of the Millennium. I batted my long dark eyelashes at my father and mother, and they both fell in love with me at the Opening Ceremonies (opening of the womb, I mean). But the moment they strapped me into that chastity belt they called a "diaper," I knew something was wrong. A faithful servant, my mother bathed me in sweet waters, perfumed me with oils, and clothed me in the exquisite fabrics and adornments befitting a personage of my rank. My father adored me and worshipped at my altar, caressing me and covering my soft, chubby skin with kisses. When I was older and perched upon the throne of his arms, I blessed my subjects with the benevolent wave of my arms and blew them kisses from my pursed, heart-shaped lips. But as I made my acquaintance with the new body I had acquired, and the new world to which I had come, I began to realize I was not at home anymore. I was in a strange new place, and I was not to be allowed to pursue my calling. I observed that this place I now called home was a world of sadness and unfulfilled desires. Though my parents loved me dearly, I could tell they were not truly happy, and at times their negative vibrations and the words of anger and frustration they spoke gave me great distress and confusion. I fell into a great despondency. The knowledge of my office had accompanied me to this birth, but no one had sent a messenger ahead to herald my dawning. These people were idolaters, and they worshipped something they couldn't even see, but called "God." How strange. I had come to them as Love Incarnate, and rather than bow down to me, they did the unthinkable: they didn't even recognize me! ***** Well, I had a lot of thinking to do, and I spent what was called my "childhood" doing it. They couldn't keep the other children away from me—especially the boys. They were drawn to me as if I was a magnet, and seemed content to sit under my gaze for hours. I said little. As I told you, I was thinking. But the love waves flowed out of me in undulating ribbons, and seemed to cast a spell over them as they gathered to me. Even the girls—those who didn't harbor a similar calling in their past and feel jealous, who had never harbored even the ambition of such an occupation—were drawn to me and especially delighted in bringing me lemonade, removing my sandals, braiding my hair into long, dark plaits. But my father made it clear from the beginning that I must keep my clothes on in company at all times. A kiss stolen now and then from the little boys who followed me as if I was playing haunting music on a pan pipe was small comfort. ***** The real trouble began when I hit puberty. Up until then, while I was versed in the practice of my craft and knew it all by heart, I had no great urge toward using it, not being presented by opportunity. However, the boys in my school recognized the scent of my Blossoming, and I too began to sense a need of expression rising within me. It was then that I began to struggle with the ultimatum of my father. It was an exhausting battle, but I won, thank the Golden Axiom. The force was too strong within me. It burst the fetters that had wound around and wounded me. Six hundred thirty-nine lifetimes of practice (well, except for the thirty vestal virgin ones) were too much for the pale stringy words of a man from a warped and impotent planet. Besides, he needn't know. I wasn't a baby anymore. I was a maturing girl-woman, capable of all the wiles of the species. So, the first order of business was to put as much distance between me and those virgin lifetimes as possible. After all, it wasn't like anybody was offering me a fiery furnace and eternity in Paradise for it, or anything. And if they had, I would have told them a few things about how long you really get to spend in Paradise. It only seems like eternity while you're there. Then you get to come back to the land of Time again. Buster was his name. I laugh to think of it now. Good ol' Buster. He didn't know what hit him! How could he? I suspect he had spent a lot of lifetimes digging dirt. I suspected this one held all the promise for him of a plumbing job, complete with drooping pants that never could seem to stay up over that crack! I have to smile when I remember Buster. He was a sweet kid. He grew up to be a sweet teddy bear of a man. He had a pecking hen for a wife and seven yammering youngsters. Lived all his days with that woman, wondering why she couldn't give him the sensations I had, and lamenting that first love—young love—was the best, and it was all down hill from there. But I had too many other supplicants to attend to. I had arrived on a planet that was languishing for lack of the gift I had brought, and I decided that the only way to even begin to satisfy the need of this destitute parish was to allow each petitioner only one sacrament with me. Otherwise, how would I ever reach them all? ***** I became mildly acquainted with the religion of the masses when my girlfriend, Liesl, and I visited the church she attended with her parents on Sundays. It was a small building, very white and very cold. The altar was made of marble: pretty, but plain, and so cold...and high! I asked her how they got up on it, and she told me they didn't. "Then where do you do the coupling rites?" I asked. The whitewashed wooden benches lining the aisles toward the door didn't look very comfortable either. "We don't do coupling rites," she answered. I was stunned. What kind of religion was this? ***** At the end of high school during the graduation ceremonies, I congratulated myself. I felt humbled by the enormity of my task, and grateful for the strength that had been given me to fulfill my mission. By the grace of the Golden Axiom, I had persevered to plant the Immutable Jewel of Light within every member of the male population that marched across the platform that night to receive their diploma. For many of them, I had been the first in this lifetime to offer the sacred gift, and while many of them identified themselves with each other as part of the "Shawna Club," others kept their membership a secret, preferring to worship in private the fire which had been kindled upon their individual hearths. Those who were attentive knew they had been changed, and were prepared to go out and initiate others to the High Altar of Love presided over by Shawna, High Priestess. Sadly, I noted over the years that the faithful dwindled, and many of my initiates did not nurture the Flame with loving kindness, but allowed it to grow dim and dingy under selfish and base pursuits. Still, I persevered. Being accustomed in former lifetimes to the support of the Temple—"A workman is worth his hire", and "Do not fail to bring offerings unto the Servants of Love" were written in the Scriptures, after all—I received gladly the tithes and offerings brought to me in many forms. Sometimes it was cash, other times a meal, a gift of jewelry, an opportunity to travel to other places on the globe. The most difficult part for the petitioners to accept was my edict that, once initiated, they could not return to me. This gave me the most trouble. I felt terrible about it, because in any civilized society, there would have been numerous goddesses to satisfy the need, and I would not have been overtaxed. As it was, I could only do what I could do. ***** At one time, I thought I had found the sisterhood of my profession, when a gentleman escorted me downtown in a large, brightly lit city one night. There were glittering gowns, short form-fitting skirts, and tight blouses strutting up and down the street, linking arms with men whose prowling scent reached me within the vehicle we were driving. I had never felt so much hungry, seeking energy concentrated in one place before. My nipples were reaching to it, my body was straining, bathing itself in moisture. I felt myself being pulled apart, ravaged by the need. My companion, sensing my arousal, mistook the source of it for himself, and began to fondle me in the darkness of the car. Arresting his hand, I asked him about the place we were in. I had not heard of the "Red Light District" before, but I thought it was a fitting name for a Temple. For the Fire which I sought to kindle in my followers was a Light that burned red hot in its most living state, just before it turned white, shifting into the cosmic dimension. I got excited at the thought that here were other purveyors of my craft, and I asked my companion about them. Yes, he had visited some of them in his younger days. I wanted to meet them, but he discouraged me. "Honey, you're a cut above them. You're a diamond; they're cut glass. You're the real thing; they're just cheap imitations." I didn't know what he meant. Oh, how blessed it would be to find others of my kind in this world! But he refused to introduce me to them, drowned my protest in the warmth of his mouth, took my elbow and escorted me inside to the restaurant on the 35th floor. So I found a way to meet them on my own. While the energy was intense in that district, and I felt a drawing upon me that was predatory and unnatural, it wasn't as bad in the daylight, when I went and found some of the girls pacing. I asked a couple if we could talk, and offered to take them to tea at the restaurant where my friend and I had dined, as it was open for luncheon during the day. They seemed surprised by my offer, and told me they'd have to turn a few "tricks" first, but they could meet me in a couple hours. I felt puzzled. Why were they pacing the streets? Where were their Temples? Did a "trick" refer to the alchemy we performed of implanting the immutable, or was there other sorcery which they practiced? I browsed a book store while I waited, and met them at the appointed time. Where to begin? Well, I gazed into their eyes over the table, and one of them lowered hers, while the other flicked hers sideways. Taking in the surroundings in the restaurant, she asked, "So, whatcha wanna know? Lookin' for some action? This job ain't no walk in the park. Oh! I forgot! Yes it is!" She glanced at her friend, put out her hand, which the other girl slapped, and laughed heavily. "So, whatcha need girlfriend?" "Well, I was wondering where your Temples are, and why you pace the streets as you do," I said. "Temples? Temples?? Girl, I ain't Jewish. I don't know 'bout no temples. There's a cathedral down the end of Market Street. But why you bring us here to ask us about temples? We ain't exactly the church-goin' kind, if ya know what I mean." She glanced at her friend again, widening her eyes and making a face at my naiveté. She looked back to me and said with disdain, "An' why we walk the street? 'Cuz we need the green stuff." She rubbed her fingers together. "Gotta eat; gotta drink." She nudged her companion then. "Specially drink. Helps ya' forget. Helps pass the time. Helps dull the blows them bastards give . . ." she said, as if I ought to understand. But I felt as if I was in a foreign land. This goddess was not speaking my language, if indeed she was a goddess, which I was beginning to doubt. The seeking vibrations I had felt in this place were unmistakable, but I began to understand their perverse nature as I noticed the dark circles around the woman's eyes which led into the dark, brooding sadness in their center. Such eyes held not the Sacred Light, much less the ability to transfer it to another through Union. I didn't know what to say. There didn't seem to be any communicating with these life forms. My hopes sank in my chest as I realized with embarrassment that it would take at least fifteen minutes to get the tea we had ordered and drink it, and find a polite way to end this fiasco. The tea came while the woman was making her second examination of the entire restaurant, as if she had never seen such a place before. She grimaced at the first sip of her tea, as if she had never tasted tea before. After a few more sips, she suddenly exclaimed, "Well, we gotta go. Come on Carlotta. Thanks for the tea." And they left. I could only conjecture that this meeting had been as strange and alien to them as it had been for me. ***** So I resigned trying to contact others of my kind. My companion of that evening had told me they were called prostitutes. I was rather shocked when a subsequent devotee referred to me as such. He was greatly in need, and I feared for the Jewel I would plant within him, for I felt from the moment I met him that he did not have the ability to nurture it. But, being a Servant of the Most High, it was not mine to question the disciples drawn to me by the Golden Axiom. The sun shone upon rich and poor, just and unjust, and in the same way was my gift given to all who sought it. It was when I told him I could not see him again that he called me that name, asking in an angry tone why I thought I was too good for him, since the friend who had referred him to me made it plain I was "just an expensive, high class prostitute." I decided to let his attitude slide and chalk it up to sexual frustration, and ignorance. I too had thought at one time that there was some similarity between those others and myself. I couldn't expect one of their kind to perceive the difference. But when he grabbed my wrist across the table and wouldn't let it go, I became frightened. None of my adherents liked the limitations of my service, but they had all accepted it one way or another. An angel stepped up to our table at that moment. [The continuation of this story is available at all the popular online bookstores, if you would like to order it.] It's Not Easy to Be a Love Goddess Ch. 02 Dear Reader, Though this story is published and available, I am more interested in having it read than in making money with it, so I will be uploading it by chapters to this site in the next weeks. Love, Cheleste * "Are you alright?" he asked me. He looked squarely at my escort, who released my arm, then back at me. "May I show you out?" he inquired. I rose from my seat. "Yes, thank you," I said, looking into his lavender eyes and glimpsing the silhouette of wings which angled above his shoulders and down the length of his arms. He placed his hand upon the small of my back, and guided me out of the restaurant. Finding a quiet spot next to the building, he took me aside. "Thank you," I said again. "Listen," he stopped me short. "The Cosmic Forces feel you need some protection. You have been assigned to a particularly difficult sector, so they have sent me to help. "I will not often be visible to the masses, as I was just now, but you will always be able to see me. They do not see my wings when I become visible, as they vibrate at a higher frequency than the rest of my body. However, they are available to you should you ever need to fly a predicament." **** So this was my introduction to Darian. He came at an opportune time, and none too soon. We strolled about the botanical gardens during the afternoon, dined elegantly at sunset—he had quite an appetite for an angel—and he flew me home once darkness had fallen. Unlocking my door, I welcomed him to the warmth of my humble Temple. It was the smallest one I had ever occupied. I missed the spacious open reception lobby, with its gleaming marble walls and multiple hearths; the sun rooms, moon rooms, round altars, fountain pools and gardens of my former abodes. Here, the cleansing pool was tiny and the waterfall which fed it miniscule, hidden away in a tiny room without even a window to let in the morning breeze as I practiced my daily ablutions. The gardens were reduced to a small patch of green with a few flowering bushes. But it was all I could afford, being the only goddess in residence. I had made the best of it, as Darian saw when he entered and glanced around at the sumptuous draperies, plush couches, lynx carpets, and gilt furniture which graced the small sanctuary. I sank wearily into one of the couches and closed my eyes. It had been a long, if mostly pleasant, day. Kneeling on the floor before me, Darian eased my sandals off and caressed my feet, taking each one by turns into his deft, skilled hands. The gossamer webs which were his wings brushed the floor behind him. Unlike those of his feathered brothers of the air, when not in use his wings fell in graceful folds more like a garment than a structure, for unlike his brothers, there was no skeleton of bone at their core. Such was the transmutation when the frequency had to be lowered. But his remained high. He kissed my feet then, murmuring, "I would pay you homage, Sacred Lady." Ahhh. To be acknowledged after so many years of service to the unschooled. It was a cool drink after a long summer's drought. His gentle fingers moved up my calves, over my knees and thighs, releasing tension and creating another kind of their own—an expectancy, a thirst. He took my hands then, stroking with infinite patience, eternal serenity, communicating to every cell of my body his willingness to touch as long as they asked, as long as they desired to drink it in. I could feel the colors of the rainbow coursing out of his fingers and into and around me. I could hear the subtle humming of his aura as it reached out to envelop me with the love I had been administering day in and day out to others. His hands moved up my arms, pausing where there was any energy blockage, moving along once it was flowing again. I began to feel the tides of energy moving through my body as I had not felt them since I had visited the Purple Delta of Venus, before coming to this planet. How utterly freeing and refreshing they were! They stimulated all my power and pleasure points, before Darian had even moved to touch them. He then moved to the inner sanctuary, warming it with the heat now emanating from his palms. Rubbing in circular movements, clockwise and counter-clockwise, he awakened the sentries of the triangular power source. Joining their conduits, a line was activated, sending the life force surging in an unbroken current. Then he placed his hands upon my sides, and the current flowed out his fingertips in five directions on either side, creating a matrix which linked with the triangle. As he removed his hands to lift my blouse off and unbutton my skirt, I watched with pleasure the prismatic energy cords twist and curve with every movement, creating infinite designs like a turning kaleidoscope. Corresponding sensations moved within my body, linked to the glittering patterns of light. He began to suck on the light patterns, bringing them into his mouth from my naked skin, and I saw them traveling through his body, following the course of the blood through his veins. He stood up to remove his clothing and to present his monument of honor to me. It was dazzling with the golden glow, emanating heat and light as he kneeled again, bringing it to the Hallway of Power, Enlightenment and Life. He entered the Holy of Holies then, shouting praises, singing a song to the Creator, the Golden Axiom, the Mother of All, and the Naked Truth. Forcefully he danced within that Womb of Life, beating the pounding rhythm, making his offering to the All-Consuming Fire which burned in that place red hot, and then exploded into the White Light of Cosmic Oneness. I shuddered with the force of his gift, overwhelmed with the awesome power of my office, ecstatic with the knowledge of our oneness and the terrible strength of love. His naked body wrapped around mine, reclining with me on the couch, and his upper wing covered us like stained glass which had melted into soft contours. My head was spinning with joy, my heart singing at the top of its lungs, and my womb—my womb was laughing hysterically like a happy, crazy lunatic. For an ovum sat perched upon its spongy walls, waiting for the army of spermatozoa to overtake it, waiting to open its door to the chosen one with whom it would join in the next twelve hours. "You know you will be relieved of all duties for the next thirteen months," Darian said softly. "But this one." I grinned like a Cheshire cat. "I'm ready," I said, drunk with pleasure. "Let Motherhood come to me with all its voluptuous abundance!" I raised my arms up and out to the Universe. "I welcome it!" I was so happy, everything Darian said made me giggle. "Time off for good behavior!" "Vacation time!" "Teddy bear time!" "I'll love her with all of my heart!" Darian raised his eyebrows at me. "It's a girl?" he asked. I nodded. "It's a girl," I smiled. "Of course," he breathed out, nuzzling my head. "Someone has to carry the torch here, doesn't she?" "Mmm-hmmm," I hummed. **** I didn't realize until I received this reprieve how hard I had been working. Not a Friday or Saturday night had gone by since I had entered puberty that I had not administered the sacraments to the members of my parish, except for the few my father had vetoed before I won my battle with him. That, of course, had simply been a matter of realizing that in order to protect him from the knowledge still too wonderful for him, I had to use my girlfriends as messengers and their homes for reception points. In those days, I was like an itinerant preacher, dispensing the gospel in the wilderness, using makeshift Temples. My creativity was stretched to the max as I found it necessary to hold services in the most unlikely of Temples. However, I discovered that bedrooms strewn with baseball caps and layers of dirty clothes, posters of rock bands, and dried-up spaghetti from last night's dinner were actually quite sensual, and their earthy odors strangely enticing, when no parents were at home. Ever after, I could never smell the incense of dirty socks without feeling a nostalgia for Buster and his cronies. Likewise, the back seats of automobiles, while cramped, earned a charm of their own for me. The smell of vinyl, pushed into my face with incredible pressure; the bounce of the seat springs, coiled to their limits; and the throaty cry of my adoring altar boys as they forgot me in the moment of conversion, were memories I would cherish always once I moved out of my parents' house and got a more permanent Temple. That, of course, I had had now for several years. And since that time, I had often entertained initiates during the week, as well as on weekends. I didn't know how thoroughly they had exhausted me until now. This vacation was welcome and timely. And, I had received a promotion! The sacred station of Motherhood was now to be given me. I had never, in all my 639 lifetimes, ever stopped receiving the eucharist which rendered me sterile until just last month, at the prompting of a heavenly message. It had not been easy, in this new home, to find the necessary wild fruits and herbs which went into the host and wine. But one of Buster's friends had an older brother who was majoring in botany at the university, and the unusual plants were the tithe he brought me at his initiation once I had informed the friend of what I needed for a "science assignment." I had always known my fruits were borne in other realms, as I planted the Seed of Love within my followers. But now, I was to have the privilege of bearing a daughter! I was going to savor every moment of it! Darian kissed my hair with soft angel kisses, lazily traced patterns along my arms, and squeezed me with happy hugs. "This is my first time, you know," he said. "Really?" I looked up at him, and then settled into the cradle of his body again. "Mine too." "It's exciting, isn't it?" he said. "It's awesome. I can feel her in there, waiting to be. Waiting for the male chromosomes to introduce themselves to the female. Waiting, hoping, for the new journey she is about to begin!" He ran his fingers lightly down my breasts; reached to suck lightly on one nipple and then the other, murmuring, "I think they need to get used to this." "Oh yes!" I cried. "I can't wait until their fountains spring up to feed her! She will be so grateful; so healthy! So loved." He sucked then, drawing them out, nourishing himself on their taste and texture in his mouth. Then he laid his soft hair on my chest, listening to the gentle thump of my heart. "I . . ." I began, but he stopped me. "Shhh," he whispered. "Your heart is speaking. It's saying . . ." He stopped to listen, putting his long index finger to his lips. "It's saying . . ." He listened again, placing his hand on my waist, ". . . I'm willing; I'm willing; I'm willing . . ." He smiled. "Yes; yes; yes . . . I'm willing too," he said. He looked up at me then, and I couldn't believe this angel of a man had come to me. His face was so radiant, so beautiful. I couldn't believe this miracle had come to nestle his head on my breasts, just when I had started to believe I would never, ever find one of my kind on this planet. I had wondered who the father of my child would be. I had never imagined it would be an angel! I was swooning in his love. It's Not Easy to Be a Love Goddess Ch. 03 He moved in with me then, if you can call a toothbrush and a hairbrush luggage. "Angels travel light," he told me. "But I always carry my own toothbrush, and the hairbrushes in this dimension are just too hard on angel hair. They hurt like hell!" I could believe that as I stroked the mane of silk that cascaded to his shoulders. That hair alone had the invitation of all my body parts to come and visit any time—any time honey! The reunion took place in my womb sometime in the wee hours of the morning, and "she" came to "be." I was soon to learn why they're called the "wee" hours—when my hormones started the processing of extra fluids which had to be released several times a night! However, at this point, all I knew was that within me had occurred a seismic implosion which was to affect my life, and the lives around me, in ways I could not even guess at this moment. I welcomed her to my womb, directing her silently to the comfort of my heart, which beat out its music, steady and true; and was to be her loyal nursemaid during the long months of her confinement in that watery state. My little mermaid would swim peacefully in Neptune's kingdom until she reached the shores of this world. Then, unlike me, she would have a proper welcome into the priesthood and the Holy Mysteries in this place. In the morning, I greeted my husband with a smile, and he greeted me back with a warm kiss. ***** We spent our days singing, playing musical instruments, acting out charades, taking walks in the garden down the street which some referred to as Mapleleaf Park. Darian not only played the harp, but the violin, the flute, and the saxophone to boot. It was so wonderful to have an angel providing for me. I thought of the prostitute I had interviewed at the restaurant on the 35th floor when Darian rubbed his thumb across his fingers, and green paper appeared in his hand to pay for our trips to the grocery store, movies, shops, and the landlord's mailbox. The prostitute had had the right idea. She just didn't quite know how to turn that trick. My belly grew round and smooth, and its passenger let me know with flicks and nudges that she was saying, "Hi." Darian massaged my feet and hands often, sending cleansing light through my bloodstream to nourish the placenta through which Angela got her sustenance. Whenever the energy moved through my body like that, Angela danced and sang inside my belly, and blew her father kisses, which I delivered for her. And, of course, if he massaged my feet and hands, then my calves and arms had a few requests; and if he stroked my calves and arms, then my torso needed a few things; and when my torso had his attention, my thighs spoke up; and since my thighs were so happy, my breasts got notified; and when my breasts heard from him, then my pleasure hub sent a message and . . . Well, you know he always found his way to the dancing palace, where his tongue and lips paid their service within the secret folds hidden from my vision by my majestic belly; followed by his prodigious magic wand, as his wings shimmered over us like silver drapes above the bed. ***** When the day of Angela's birth arrived, I was reclining in one of my many rapacious couches. Only Darian could hoist me out once I had lowered the pendulous weight of my body into them, but they sure were comfortable—until it was time to get up. A sudden flush of water from my lower quarters signaled the beginning ablution which was to culminate in the Opening Ceremony later in the day. I retired to the bedroom, where we had prepared all the vestments of the room for this occasion, while Darian toweled the couch dry. Darian sat above me with my head in his lap, his hands a golden helmet around my head. Warm energy moved down my body, bringing with it a languid relaxation akin to sleep. I felt very heavy and drowsy, as the golden threads of revolving light wound down my torso to the Bunyanesque egg on its lower half. Like fingers, the cords moved in undulating waves, contracting the muscles and drawing the puckered door of my cervix open. I breathed slowly, closing my eyes and letting go completely; giving the sentry at the door of the womb leave of duty; asking the red carpet to roll out; opening wide, wide, wide the cervix to allow passage to Her Lady. As I focused upon the preparations for her coronation, she began to move into the outer corridor. The fingers were pressing now with peak intensity, as she traveled down the red carpet, through the Holy of Holies, to the threshold of the vestibule. She crowned then, and Darian moved to the end of the bed. With one long, protracted thrust, she was catapulted into his hands, trembling with joy; and we laughed with relief and gladness. He laid her upon my belly, and our eyes met for the first time. I felt that I had never been in love before this moment, as I melted into her clear, intelligent, knowing baby blues. She suckled then, while Darian covered us both with his wings, too choked with silent worship to speak. She was sweetness personified, and I felt like my body had never been at the disposal of a more deserving soul. In the next few days, my breasts grew into magnificent orbs, releasing rivers of teeming nourishment to Angela and Darian. Darian had a proposition for me: he would feed me every delicacy and dainty I desired, if he could sup at the springs of my bounty. In those days, I think I was his exclusive source of sustenance just as I was for Angela. But how could I refuse? And why would I want to? I had nothing to do all day but eat and suckle, and it's hard to say which of my loves was more pleasant to have at my breast. Angela's tiny hands grasped at my arm and the long tendrils of my hair, while Darian's long, graceful ones caressed my thighs and waist. He petted the fleshy folds which had opened to welcome his angelic daughter into the third dimension, fingered the bud of my delight, and drew paroxysms of pleasure out with my milk. Angela's eyes squeezed shut, while his stayed open sometimes, giving me a penetrating gaze; and they both made soft, rhythmic sounds of contentment as they savored the soothing libation. It's Not Easy to Be a Love Goddess Ch. 10 Reina graduated from college the same spring Paul graduated from high school. I hadn't seen any need for Reina to go to college, since she already had her life's work in front of her; but she really wanted to continue her education. And besides, as she told me, "All those college guys are so hot, Grandma." Well, I couldn't argue with her there, and it made Angela so proud to tell her friends that Reina had earned a degree in languages and literature. Paul got accepted at a university across the country. He needed to get away from home and have the chance to find himself without all his family and old friends breathing down his neck. The summer after his second year, he returned home and got a waiting job in a local restaurant. Paul was still a sweet guy, and his patrician features and wavy blond hair only enhanced his charm as a waiter. I was downtown one day, having a late afternoon lunch with a prospective client, when I caught a glimpse of Paul out the window of the little bistro where I sat. He was dressed in a white shirt and tie, which told me he had probably just gotten off the lunch shift where he worked down the street. He had his arm around a young man with dark hair, wearing jeans and a muscle shirt. The young man was well built, and filled his muscle shirt out very nicely. The two of them passed my restaurant and proceeded up the street, without realizing I was there. My heart leapt for joy! It appeared that Paul had opened up to his truth; at least to the extent that he was dating men, now, and not women. What an awkward farce it had been, the few times he had dated girls in high school. I was relieved to see this new development. The next time he came by my house, I said, "I had a late lunch with a client downtown last week, and I saw you coming out of work. Who was that handsome young man who was with you?" Paul grinned a little self-consciously. "His name is Ted." "So, you two are enjoying one another's company, are you?" I asked coyly. "Yes, we are," he nodded and grinned again. Then his smile faded. "Please don't tell Mom and Pop." I put my finger to my mouth. "My lips are sealed." "But I'm so happy for you!" I exclaimed, grabbing him and giving him a squeeze. "Thanks, Grandma," he said. I knew those two words represented a lot of unspoken ones about my support of him over the years. "No problem," I returned. * * * * * * * * * The following summer, he came to me with a problem. He was discouraged, he said, because all his relationships with men were turning out to be so short lived. None of them seemed to last very long. "Grandma, it's like these guys come to me—they're so hot to do the horizontal mamba—and once we've done it, they just discard me. It's like, they've gotten what they wanted, and they go on their merry way." "How do you feel about that?" "Well, in some ways the variety is nice. I've had a lot of pretty powerful experiences, if you know what I mean. In fact, they seem to be getting more powerful all the time. But I can't help feeling rejected when I get turned down. It's not easy putting yourself out there all the time, and thinking there must be something wrong with you if a guy doesn't want to see you again." "Paul," I said with authority, "you've got all the symptoms." "Of what?" he asked. "Of a love goddess. Or god, I guess I should say." He waved his hand back and forth in a negative motion. "Oh, no, no, no, Grandma. No, no." I just smiled at him. "Grandma . . ." he intoned. "What are you saying?" "Just that it all fits." "What fits?" "The increasingly powerful experiences, the numerous liaisons, the sense of completion after only one time; it's the new Dispensation. There are very few gods and goddesses on this planet right now. The harvest is plentiful, but the workers are few. We cannot afford to distribute more than one celebration to our supplicants." Paul just sat there; but I could see it sinking in. He wasn't rejecting what I was saying. He was just going to need some time to assimilate it. He tapped his fingers to his lips, thinking deeply. Finally, he asked, "What do I need to know, Grandma?" "Why don't you come over tomorrow evening, and you and Grandpa and I can have some lessons." "Alright," he said. * * * * * * * * * And we did just that. Darian and I explained some of the principles of the energy links involved in this ministry, the mechanism by which the Immutable Fire is accessed, and the techniques of implantation. We gave Paul some suggestions of exercises he could try, both alone and with his partners; and Darian gave him a cleansing session and installed a force field. Since Paul would not have an angel as I did for protection, Darian was able to transmit some of his guardian energy into a permanent shield for Paul to enter into the work. We had done this for Reina, and it had been quite satisfactory. As Paul prepared to leave, we wished him well and told him to come back any time he needed help or had any questions. "Good luck," I told him at the door. "Thanks, Grandma. I think this is going to be pretty awesome." "Yes, it is. There's no other work I'd rather be doing," I smiled. He kissed my on the cheek and left. I sat down on the sofa and sighed. What more could a love goddess ask for than two bright, talented grandchildren to carry on the legacy of her mission? I felt so blessed and grateful. Their willing cooperation with the Golden Axiom was not a substitute for Angela's, but it sure went a long way to soothe the pain of that. It's Not Easy to Be a Love Goddess Ch. 11 Angela came to me one afternoon. She looked tired and worn, and I felt concerned for her. I asked her how her practice was going. It was fine and we chatted about this and that, but I sensed she wanted to say something she didn't quite know how to say. So I just got quiet and looked at her, creating a silence which was an invitation to her heart to share what she really needed to tell me. Finally, she let it out. "I'm leaving Sam," she said. I was surprised. I had not seen this one coming. "Oh?" I said, waiting for her to explain. "We're not getting along. Well, that's not exactly true. I mean, we get along fine, as long as we stick to the things he wants to talk about. We don't fight, or anything. He makes sure of that. "But it's just . . .well; I think our love has died. We live in the same house, we talk about his books, and my work but it's just all empty. There's no spark, no passion. We haven't made love in three months . . ." With that, she looked away from me. "I'm sorry. I really am. No one should have to live in a loveless relationship," I encouraged. "I don't know where I'm going to go yet, or what I'm going to do. I just know I can't live like this anymore . . ." With that the tears welled up in her eyes, and I took her into my arms as I had not done in years. "You and Daddy have been so good to me all these years. And I feel like such a fool. I had to do it my way, and it failed, just failed! I feel like such a failure!" she blubbered. "Sweetheart, you're not a failure and you're not a fool!" "Yes I am. I've been doing it my way all these years, and I've been so damn stubborn and self-righteous! If I hadn't been so stubborn, I would've left Sam a long time ago! "But I just couldn't stand to think that you'd be able to say I was wrong to marry him! I couldn't stand to think I'd made a mistake! I just had to prove to you that what I did was right—that it was better than what you wanted me to do! And I've just made myself miserable in the process!" "Oh, sweetheart," I said sympathetically. "I'm sorry you felt like you had to do that. I don't think it was wrong for you to marry Sam. Look at the two beautiful children he gave you; and I know you had some good times with him. "I just believe that, if it's no longer working for you, why then, you have the right to change your mind and do something that does make you happy." "Well, I don't know what that would be right now. I just know I'm not happy staying with him." "Well, it may take you a while to sort that out. But the first step is to leave, and your father and I will support you in that in any way we can." "Thanks, Mom. You're the best." "There isn't anything I wouldn't do for my Angela," I assured her. Oh, it was so nice to be let into Angela's confidence again. * * * * * * * * * So Angela moved out of the house she had lived in for seventeen years, and got an apartment. After the initial difficulties and grieving about being on her own again, she began to look happier every time I saw her. She started dating a man named Tom, and he certainly had more of a spark about him that Sam had ever had. Angela came to me with some questions one day about their love life. In fact, she called ahead of time and indicated to me that she was in need of a "consultation." I truly felt honored that she was daring to broach what I knew was a very sensitive subject for her. She told me that Tom had tried some new things with her when they had sex, and she wanted to know a little more about the variety of options available. Apparently, she and Sam had stuck with the missionary position all their twenty-three years of marriage, and I don't know that his mouth had ever strayed below her neck on those occasions. She did indeed have a lot to learn! But, how exciting that she was ready to learn it! "It's never too late," I told her. "And I ought to know, because I date a number of elderly men, and I'm still teaching those old dogs some new tricks!" Anyway, I gave her some exercises to do, some bedtime stories to read, and some suggestions about what Tom might like. She was attentive during our session and grateful afterward. * * * * * * * * * I had not met Tom, so Angela invited Darian and me to have dinner with them one night at a Chinese restaurant, after things had started to get serious between them. When we arrived, they had already been seated at the table. Tom stood up as we approached and held his hand out to me. I took it warmly, and instantly knew I had held this hand somewhere before. Then I remembered. The facial hair had thrown me off at first. He had grown a beard in the two years since I had last seen him. We had spent a lovely week together in Kauai on Poipu Beach. Darian flew all the way there behind the airplane, just as a little personal test of endurance. You see, I was in my sixties now, but no one could ever guess it. The high vibration rate of the energies I channeled regularly kept me youthful and strong, and made it possible for me to continue to attract younger men, as well as older ones. Tom was probably quite shocked to learn I was old enough to be Angela's mother. But Angela was a lucky woman. I had known the moment I met Tom that he would be a faithful steward of the Flame. What a blessing to have my ministry to him come full circle to anoint my daughter in her hour of need! He covered up his astonishment quite well, I thought. Angela was rather used to men becoming flustered and tongue-tied in my presence, so I'm sure whatever lack of composure Tom betrayed was chalked up to that. He took me aside later to apologize and suggest that Angela need not know about our previous acquaintance. I agreed, explaining to him that my calling was as sacred as any other professional service, and professional etiquette dictated confidentiality. He did not need to tell her I had ministered to him anymore than he needed to give her a list of every doctor he had ever seen. He understood and agreed. I was just happy for Angela. Now, at last, she would get to experience lovemaking as Love ought to be. I knew now that she would never take up the full expression of her calling in this lifetime, and I made peace with that. There would be other lifetimes; and the important thing was that she find some happiness her own way in this one. I could still look forward to my retirement someday with the assurance that my two grandchildren would continue to carry the Flame. It's Not Easy to Be a Love Goddess Ch. 12 Though I had a youthful body, and younger men found me alluring, on the inside I was old with experience, and just the slightest bit tired. I had been serving my parish now for a long time. I began to be aware that the time for my retirement was approaching in a few years, so I felt I ought to concentrate on older men. I wanted to be sure, when it was time for me to step down, that I had left no part of the population out that could benefit by me. This was a special area of ministry dear to my heart, because I was able to give men past their prime, past their years of productivity, a sense of value and worth many of them had not felt in years. They had the experience with me of feeling young again, of feeling masculine; and many whose pillar of honor had not given its salute in a long time found it ready to stand up and be counted again. I also knew that the implantation of the Fire in them would help them make the transition which would be shortly coming to them, out of this world and into the next. Those energies would be needed when it was time for them to shift out of this dimension toward Cosmic Oneness. So I began to spend more time in the parks, at coffee shops and senior community centers. I volunteered to serve meals at a particular senior center, and had to laugh when I overheard one attendee mention the "Shawna Club" to another. There was a good chance I would achieve 100 percent conversion in this center! Then I could move on to the next. * * * * * * * * * One day, Barry walked into the center. He looked a lot older than the last time I had seen him, but that nose was unmistakable. Well, I supposed 99 percent would have to do. I went over to him and held out my hand. "Shawna? Shawna?" he said in great surprise. "Why, it is you! You haven't aged a day since I saw you last! How are you?" "I'm wonderful," I replied. "It's good to see you, Barry." "Likewise." We chatted for a little while, and then I had to get back to my duties behind the steam table. Barry began to frequent the center, and we would talk after lunch was served and I had some time. He had always been a great conversationalist, and I was taking a little more time these days to smell the roses. I was not so one-track minded about my job anymore. There were other things in life. Barry had only added to the storehouse of his knowledge in all these years, and held me spellbound with his lectures on history, geography, the etymology of language, art, science—you name it, and he had studied it! What a treasury of information and insight he had become. I told him about Darian, because I had decided I wanted to invite him over sometime to meet my family. He wasn't as happy to hear that I was "married" as I though he would be. "So . . . you gave up your profession, did you?" he asked, trying to be tactful. "Well, no. But Darian supports it." He wasn't as shocked by that as I thought he'd be, either. "He must be a pretty amazing individual," was all he commented. "Yes, he is. And I'd like you to meet him, and my daughter Angela and her partner, Tom. I think they would really enjoy the things you have to share." "All right," he assented. So Barry came to dinner, and of course Darian remembered him. But he was happy to meet Darian for the first time, and told him what a lucky man he was to have such a fine wife. He enjoyed meeting Angela and Tom, too. We had a lively discussion around the meal, and retired to the living-room for coffee and tea, to talk further. I knew Angela would like him, because she had always enjoyed school so much. And she had her share of hysterical pet stories to tell us from her years of veterinary practice. It was a very satisfying evening when we all said good-night. * * * * * * * * * The next time I saw Barry at the center, we went to a nearby park after I completed my duties there. He wanted to double check something with me. "You said you didn't give up your profession?" he asked me. "Yes, that's right." "How does Darian deal with that?" He really seemed to be trying to comprehend. "Darian and I have an understanding. He believes in the value of my work. You see, Barry, I don't just have sex with men. I use sex with men as a vehicle to teach them about the true nature of Love. "It is an access point; a way to reach their heart and soul that is unlike any other available on this planet. I use my body as a conduit to channel higher energies—Cosmic Oneness; spiritual power you might say—to the men I serve. And I do mean, serve. This is my service to mankind." "Wow." Barry was thoughtful. "I thought you were so misguided back when we first met. But you speak with such conviction and such authority. You've stayed true to it all these years. I really think you know what you're doing." I nodded my head. "Yes, I do . . ." "So, did you ever marry?" I queried. He shook his head. "No, I never married. It's just been my books and me all these years." "You sound a little sad about that," I suggested. "Y'know, the truth is . . ." He looked at me. "I think I was too scared of sex to get married. You scared the hell out of me with your wicked ways, and I couldn't handle it." "Do I still scare you?" "A little," he smiled. "I guess . . ." he ventured then. "I guess I'm just wondering if there's such a thing as a terminal virgin." "A what?" I snorted. "A . . . terminal virgin. Someone who's too old to . . . you know." "No," I shook my head, chuckling. "There's no such thing." "Well," Barry said. "I'm getting older every day; and I feel kind of sad to think I might end up leaving this earth without ever getting that taste of heaven first. Who knows, I might die and get to Peter's gates and not even recognize them, 'cause I didn't get that taste of it here!" "Well," I said. "We can't have that. Not if I have anything to say about it." His watery brown eyes looked in mine. "Darian won't mind?" he said. "No, Darian won't mind." * * * * * * * * * I talked it over with Darian, and he had a suggestion. "Why don't you do this one without me? There's no safety issue here. His long friendship with you has earned him a night to himself." I looked at Darian. What an angel he was! Always sensitive to me in every way. I appreciated his acknowledgment of the special feelings I had for Barry. "Thank you," I said to him. It's Not Easy to Be a Love Goddess Ch. 13 I arranged to have Barry meet me at the Temple on Friday evening. As I hurried toward it, I could see him hunched in his brown overcoat, waiting outside the door. "Sorry I'm late," I said, fitting the key into the lock, even though he was actually early. We stepped inside, and the pleasant furnishings had an immediate calming effect on him. I lit lamps and candles, started the table waterfalls running, and began to draw a bath in the huge marble tub, pouring in scented oil. I took his overcoat from his shoulders, smoothed his lapels, and encouraged him to relax and put himself into my capable hands. He wasn't as nervous as I though he might be. He was just ready—at the peak of ripeness. I thought to myself how well nature knew best; how each person matured on their own schedule, and came into season in their own time. My heart was overflowing with gratitude for this opportunity to serve the man who had taught me more than any of my other followers. With them, my job had been easy. But this one had challenged me to love in a new and greater way, and all of that was bringing a fullness to this celebration I had never experienced before. I invited Barry to sit on a bench near the tub. I kicked off my pumps and knelt down to untie his shoelaces; I slipped off his shoes, and then his socks. I lovingly massaged his feet one at a time. I stood behind him, massaging his shoulders and neck, and sending energy into his scalp. I walked around in front of him and unbuttoned his shirt, removed it and then his T-shirt. Then I undid his pants, pulled them off, then his underwear, and invited him to get into the tub. While he bobbed in the water, I began to remove my clothes. I lifted my blouse over my head, pulled off my skirt, unclasped my bra, and wriggled out of my panties. Then, I slipped into the water beside him. I continued to massage him while we were in the water, rubbing my breasts against his back as I massaged his shoulders, squeezing his arms down their length. I turned him to face me, closed my eyes, and kissed his mouth languidly, taking his hand and placing it on my breast. He put his other arm around me, and kissed back, and his tongue was a living flame in my mouth. Then we got out of the tub, wrapped up in giant terry robes, and retired to the large cushy bed. I turned on some gentle music. "Love is all you need," the singer crooned. "Love is all you need . . ." "Do you want something to drink?" I asked Barry. "I just want to drink you in, my love," he smiled. "You know I've loved you since the day I met you," I declared. "And I you," he returned. We kissed again, and hugged, coming back time and again to gaze into each other's eyes. His eyes were two oceans of love, washing over me with wave after wave of tenderness. Love had never been so sweet. While we kissed, he entered me so gently, I didn't even know at first that he had. But as we lay there, joined, still, I felt the most exquisite, soft, delicate sensation in my center. It began to ripple out over my body in waves of gentle, perfect, sweet alleluia. The cells of my body were singing the poetry of ancient truth, the genesis of Love. I knew that Barry was feeling the very same thing, because we had merged into Oneness, and he was as much a part of me as my arm, my hand, or my hair. I could feel it. We just lay there in that peaceful, tranquil, eternal pool—just being. It was heaven beyond any heaven I had ever felt before. We eventually drifted off to sleep, dreaming of fairies and sprites and meadow nymphs without anywhere to go or anything to do except to dance, to sing, to be. We found ourselves in the Temple of Bubastis. I untied Barry from the altar, knelt down, and wept my plea for forgiveness to him. He gave it without reproach, took my hand, and led me out to the gardens to wander, carelessly and shamelessly, among the perfume and splendor of the flowers which bowed their graceful benediction to us. We were a long time in coming out of that nirvana the next day. I literally felt our bodies growing denser as the vibrations lowered; and I pinpointed the moment when we became two again. We were slow moving as we donned our clothes and prepared to leave. I didn't want to part yet. "Come home with me," I said. "Are you sure that will be okay with Darian?" Barry asked. "I don't see why not," I replied. We drove in Barry's car. He wanted to wait in it while I went inside to let Darian know he was with me. When I came into the living-room, Darian was sitting on the couch, waiting for me. "Darian, you wouldn't believe the experience I had last night with Barry," I began. Darian's lavender eyes were dancing. His words held a lingering ennui, like last night's experience, and it felt as if we were speaking to each-other under water, moving in slow motion. "I think I might," he returned. "I felt it here, too." "Really?" My eyes widened. "Yes. Heaven was very near last night." "I think I was in it," I said. "They brought me a message. It's time for me to go home," Darian said calmly. "Home?" "Uh-huh," he nodded. "My work here is finished. Your retirement has arrived. And you have Barry to keep you company until you're ready to leave." The enormity of this news was blunted by the aphrodisiac influence under which I was still moving. "I'll miss you," I said. "I can't even begin to tell you how much joy you have brought me." "Only as much as you have given me," he returned. Then he added, "They want me to tell you that you're to stay as long as you want. Enjoy Angela, your grandchildren, and maybe even your great-grandchildren. And when you and Barry decide you're ready to leave, you can go into that state you were in last night, and never come back." "Barry's in the car. Shall I get him?" Darian nodded. I brought Barry in, and we all sat down. I explained to him that Darian was an angel who had come to protect and help me in my work. I told him that while we had been in that state of bliss last night, Darian had been told it was time for him to go back to heaven, because I was now to retire from that work. Darian turned to Barry. "Heaven would like to know if I may transfer the care of this goddess to your capable hands." Barry bowed his head. "I would be honored." Darian stood up. "I'll say good-bye to Angela on my way out." "Take good care of Shawna," he admonished Barry. To me he said, "I'm always just a prayer away." He kissed Barry on the cheek and me on the lips; and then we watched as his wings shimmered into view, and his body glowed with white and gold, and glittered into thin air. * * * * * * * * * Later in the day, I called Angela. "Did you—see your father today?" I asked. "Yes," she said. "He came and said good-bye, and he told me about Barry and all." She began to weep, "I miss him already, Mom." "I know sweetheart. We all do." "He was . . . the best Daddy . . . any little girl ever had!" she sobbed. "We were so blessed to have him." "Yeah." "Why don't you come over and have dinner with us tonight?" "Okay," she said. "I'll be right over." * * * * * * * * * Darian stopped to say good-bye to Reina and Paul as well when he left, and we took time to come together and comfort one another shortly afterward with memories and tributes to him. We hugged each other, looking into one another's eyes, glimpsing shades of Darian and voicing the many ways he had touched and helped each of us. He had lent some of his finest features to Angela and her children, and I couldn't help but notice that Paul was growing into his likeness more all the time. Reina mentioned that as a parting gift, Darian had given her some innovative ideas about how to use media technology to extend her ministry and influence to a much wider congregation than I had ever reached. Paul revealed that his sexology professor had recently shared with the class that his inspiration for entering that field had come from an encounter in his early twenties with a love goddess named Shawna. And Angela confessed that Darian had spent some time with her the day he departed, educating and helping her understand what Paul and Reina were doing—and what her mother had done. I looked around, and I saw the world changing. Paul was already well on his way to becoming a respected and celebrated sex minister among the gay community. Reina was extending her work into many countries around the world. And Angela was proud to be the informed mother of them both. I felt grateful and humbled to think that my work had played a part in moving the planet in this direction. Whatever the sacrifices or difficulties, they had been worth it. * * * * * * * * * Like the sabbatical I had taken when Angela was in my womb, life became one long vacation, and Barry and I made the most of it. We traveled, we took walks, we visited Reina in Washington and Paul in California. I feel so honored when I receive calls from them these days. And Angela doesn't say much, but the radiance on her face tells me everything I need to know about her relationship with Tom. So Barry and I are still enjoying our sojourn on this planet. I've promised to take him to the Purple Delta of Venus when we leave. But we're not ready to leave, yet. It may be quite a while longer before we can tear ourselves away from the people we love so much here. So that's my story. And you did listen, didn't you? Thanks.