“I can’t help it.”
“You’ll learn. That’s the first lesson, self-denial. Take off that ridiculous thing and follow me.”
I slipped off the thong and handed it to her with the rest. She tossed the clothing into her room and locked the door. “This way.”
I followed her jangling gold out to the courtyard surrounding the pool.
My brain tried to wrap around what was happening. “So, from what I gather, you’re going to train me to be some kind of Immortyl sex toy?”
She again spoke to the air. “How can I train a mere street boy to understand a sacred art that has evolved over three thousand years?” She turned back to me. “I will instruct you in the art, not the mechanics of sex. Every movement, every gesture an adept makes is like a poem you must memorize in your body. You will learn to play musical instruments, dance and sing pleasingly, serve at table gracefully and adorn yourself properly. When the time for practical training comes, a male adept will teach you under my direction. In any case, the act isn’t mere copulation but a celebration of Immortyl creation. There are ceremonies to observe, rituals of our Mother. First, you must learn that your body is an instrument of pleasure, but not your own. Mother Kali teaches us to transcend the tyranny of flesh.”
Sandhya gestured to the horrifying statue hovering over the bubbling pool. Crafted of polished pitch-black stone, it had wide-open, crazed eyes painted in and a long bloody tongue hanging out. The Goddess wore body parts for jewelry. Her many hands wielded weapons and even a severed head. Nothing about Mother Kali remotely reminded me of motherhood. Yet a look of serenity overcame my teacher as she gazed on her grotesque patroness. “Sexual union is the ultimate expression of Shakti’s creative force, but it makes one vulnerable to dangerous feelings and attachments. When your master makes a gift of your favor to another it is a high compliment to his guest, but you must never fall prey to your own lusts and forsake your devotion to the Mother for a romantic attachment. An adept must serve where Kali commands.”
“What happens if you don’t?”
“Your life is forfeit. The Mother demands complete devotion. An adept walks the edge of a sword every time he or she makes love. You are lost once you slip into self-indulgence.”
Okay, so I was to be trained to amuse others without reciprocity. Fair enough. On the streets, I’d seldom enjoyed the uncomfortable fumbling that passed for sex and never wanted to hang around long enough for my own orgasm. But not even the most psychotic of my clients had ever passed it off as a religious experience. I didn’t want this alleged honor. “I suppose I don’t have any choice in this matter?”
“It has been ordained. Your success or failure is in your hands. But ask yourself this—do you want to live in a closet of a room with poor little Monkey to be used by Kalidasa’s guards when Raj tires of you? Oh, trust me, he will, but as an adept you will be worth too much for him to discard. I’ve outlasted all of them, girls and boys. Ask him how many other young men there have been over the years. Ask what he did to them when they got on his nerves finally.”
She’d hit upon my gnawing insecurity that Raj wouldn’t want me anymore. Nothing scared me so much as that. I weighed the alternatives. Neither appealed to me, but if I had to be everyone’s bitch, it made more sense to be a high-class one. At least I’d have the opportunity to play music and sing. “What happened to the others you trained?”
“They were too thick headed, vain, and selfish to learn. A true candidate comes along only a few times in a century, only once in the last. The last four candidates have failed, and my head is under the axe, as you say. Even an adept is subject to the chief elder’s whims. Do you know what will happen to me if I’m unsuccessful with you? He’ll torture me until I beg for death. And then he’ll torture you.”
“Ouch.” What kind of sick place was this? I’d walked right into a trap. Men with guns, vampire eating tigers and electric fences surrounded the compound. Even if I made it out alive, I was in the middle of the jungle in a foreign country with no cash, no shelter, and no prospects. And I had no idea how to survive on my own as a vampire. I’d be forced to kill people to drink their blood and have to live in sewers to get out of the sun like those insane vampires in London. No way out. Raj had set this snare for me, baited with his beauty and wealth, and now I was his tool for eternity.
Sandhya tilted her head to the side, pressing her lips together as if searching for something in me. Jeweled hands rested on her hips. “It takes great character to withstand what we must. This is why a candidate is first put to torture to find out how resilient he or she is. But we channel this dominant nature into dedication to our art and willful submission, first to our guru, then to our masters, and always to Kali Maa. So, will you submit, or must I waste time hardening your resolve with another ordeal?”
I couldn’t bear the thought of anyone hurting her, and I didn’t relish the thought of enduring such torture myself. What real choice did I have? “Raj did test me before he gave me the blood,” I answered. “At first I thought he was just some kinky bastard. Well so he is—but he’s never hurt me like that again. I hope no one ever does. What do I need to do?”
Sandhya gestured toward the water. “This is the sacred spring, used for the cleansing ritual. Get into the water and dunk yourself seven times.”
I held my breath and plunged in. It was hot, heated I imagined by some natural source far below the earth. My skin tingled from the effervescent water. When I’d accomplished the ritual dunking and come up for air, Sandhya stood there with arms crossed over her breasts, tapping her foot like she had better things to do and I’d upset her schedule. “You are ritually cleansing yourself of impure experience. Eventually you will learn the ritual of attending in the bath of a lover. The bath is an important ritual no matter where you may find yourself. It frees the mind like the blackness of the Mother’s womb and focuses one on the chakras.”
I shook wet hair out of my face. “Shack-what?”
She rolled her eyes and muttered some gibberish under her breath. “Chakras…centers of divine energy within the body. Now close your eyes and empty your mind of all clutter.”
My head spun from trying to absorb all this religion and feminine domination, but the water made me pleasantly drowsy. I lay back with my eyes closed, snatches of Ziggy Stardust drifting through my brain. But then her scent drifted to me. I opened my eyes to see her juicy little body perched on the edge of the pool. All I could think of was shagging her. Her heart thumped. I couldn’t resist. My mouth had to taste the pulsating spot on her throat. I made my move.
Her fist hit my face so hard that I saw wee stars and twittering birds. I fell back into the water. Blood gushed out of my nose. I held onto it, wondering if she’d somehow damaged it permanently. It jutted a bit off to the side. I knew it would heal quickly, but it would heal crooked. “Christ! You’ve broken it!”
She stood above me, clenching her fists. “Your precious nose is the least of your worries. Try that again and I’ll make certain you have no inclination to do so. I am your guru, and you will respect me.”
“Fuck! It hurts, and it’s crooked now.” I lowered my hands.
She grabbed my nose, wrenching it back into shape. I screamed now. “This pain is nothing compared to what you’ll experience if you fail to complete the training.”
I sagged against the side of the pool, gasping and pinching my nostrils to stop the bleeding. Girls had slapped me once or twice in my time, but nothing to compare with this. I deserved it. I’d think twice before I took any more liberties with her. Sandhya was a force to be reckoned with. The blood clotted and pain subsided. I let go of my nose and ducked under the water to clean up, surfacing to meet my teacher with new respect.
Her mouth tightened into a thin line. “Now, we will try this again. Close your eyes and recall a time before sexual awareness, of some pleasant childhood memory perhaps.”
I closed my eyes and willed my mind to wander into the past. My consciousnesses flood
ed with the smell of wood smoke and my mother’s voice singing a Scottish lullaby to me, that barely-remembered moment when I was happy just to be warm and safe in her arms. Sandhya’s soothing voice blended with the one in my memory. “Much better. Now repeat these words over and over. It is the mantra of the adept. It will bring you closer to her. You will feel her power move within you.”
She chanted in this spooky voice and then explained the meaning. The words were Sanskrit and meant something to this effect: I am an instrument of the mother, beyond all desire. Kali is the destroyer of selfish lusts.
“Stay in here awhile and meditate,” she said. “I must fetch something.”
Now, I opened my eyes. “Say Sandhya…it’s rather hot in here. I’ll be stewed as a prune.”
“You’ll survive, Shardul. You’re an Immortyl.”
I could put up with a lot if my life depended on it, but I wouldn’t let them obliterate my identity. My name was the one my parents had given me. The only thing I had left from them. “My name is Cedric MacKinnon.”
“Not anymore.”
She moved off, hips swaying in a way that made all efforts at concentration futile. How could they lock up a nineteen-year-old Immortyl male with this curvaceous goddess and expect him to deny himself? Before Raj came along, my experience with sex had been a hasty affair with some bloke in a car, public toilet, or some equally unpleasant place. Only on occasion had I gotten the luxury of a bed, and my experience with women had been rather limited to a quick one-off with girls who traded as I had. None of those poor strung-out creatures were in my instructor’s league. I decided I’d died and gone to a circle of hell reserved for self-absorbed sex objects. I’d spent too many years congratulating myself on my own looks and powers of seduction. Now as punishment I was condemned to a place where I could merely look and never touch.
I simmered over an hour in that pool, until I was unable to conjure anything but the vision of my flesh coming away from my bones into Cedric soup. Sandhya returned with a small, carved chest in her arms that she set on a bench. She told me to get out of the pool, handing me a fluffy white towel. A lovely sleep appealed to me much more than her lecturing, but then she handed me a flask of scented oil, instructing me to rub it into my skin all over, explaining that it warmed, smoothed, and even lubricated. I would use it on my lovers as well as part of the ritual. Next she handed me some clothes made of white cotton, very much in style to the colorful silks I’d seen Kalidasa’s favorite Avijit wearing. The garments felt cool and soft to the touch, but were very plain.
“This is the garb of a novice. Only when you’ve taken your vows can you wear silk. The robe is called a choga. A male adept wears it open over a bare chest. The trousers are called pajama. They are fastened and unfastened with a drawstring, very practical. Your feet will be always bare while in costume, but when traveling outside you may wear western garb and shoes.”
I pulled on the clothes. They were very comfortable, but it felt rather odd to go about with one’s chest exposed and bits bouncing around under the sheer cloth. Not that my guru took notice. She was apparently made of stone.
Sandhya sank down to the pavers surrounding the pool. The move came so easily to her, like a bright robin settling onto her nest. “We will begin with meditation and breathing.” She closed her eyes and composed her face. At last I could enjoy the sight of the soft curves of her face and form. Her legs pulled up into an impossible knot. “In the lotus position, Shardul, like this, breathe deeply.”
“What’s this Shardul business all about?” I sat beside her and twisted my legs into the unfamiliar pretzel shape. I couldn’t quite make them behave. For her it was as natural as the deep breaths raising and lowering her bosom. She sat in that garden like she’d grown there with the flowers. I fought down the urge to recline her among them.
Her face remained relaxed and serene. She took in another long breath. Her hands turned upward in a cup shape. “Kalidasa finds western names prosaic. He prefers a name that is somehow descriptive. My given name means twilight so I got to keep it.”
I still struggled with my much longer limbs. She chanted something soothing under her breath. Somehow just listening to her made me feel relaxed. Finally, I managed to get the hang of the leg business. “I like my name. It means a warrior chief. What does Shardul mean?”
She paused in her chant. “It’s from Sanskrit, meaning tiger.”
“Like a pussycat? It’s damned insulting.”
She opened one eye. “If that’s the worst indignity you ever suffer, you’ll be damned lucky.”
“My name is Cedric, and you’ll call me that.”
She shook her head and sighed. “Very well Cedric, now shut up and breathe deeply. Focus your energy. Empty your mind of all thought. For you it should be easy.”
Her quiet singsong resumed. I sat there, all knotted up, my nose still smarting, annoyed at her superior attitude. I didn’t sign on for this. As a matter of fact, it sucked. But if I had to become some kind of courtesan, I’d be the best one she’d ever seen. I’d learn everything she had to teach me, and I’d surpass the rest. I had talent and brains. God knows, I looked good enough. I’d survived the streets, HIV, the ordeal, and I’d bloody well survive her.
FOUR
A fist pounded at my door. “Cedric, up!”
“Fuck.” I forced my eyes open and rolled over. Reddish light streamed in through the holes in the carved screen over the window. The sun wasn’t quite down yet. I’d slept all of six hours. Dragging my carcass off the cot, I pulled on my clothes. A hot shower being out of the question, I made do with a lukewarm splash from the rusty sink in the bathroom reserved for novice adepts. Such cramped quarters didn’t provide for optimum grooming conditions. The comb snarled in my hair. After much tugging the tangles finally came out. The fangs always gave me trouble when I cleaned my teeth. I hadn’t gotten used to them yet.
Sandhya pounded at the door again. “Hurry, you take more time than a bride on her wedding night.”
“At least she’d get shagged for her trouble,” I mumbled.
I opened the door to face my teacher, who looked perfectly pulled together, as if she’d spent hours before a mirror. “This way.” She set off at a brisk pace with me following in her footsteps down the quiet halls. We entered an empty room, a kind of dance studio with mirrors on the walls and a polished wooden floor. “Lotus position please!”
She worked me sixteen hours, doing Hatha Yoga until every muscle in my body ached, contorting my body into shapes I would have thought impossible if she hadn’t demonstrated them first. Moves with hilarious names like the half-pigeon or downward-facing dog. “Flexibility is key to an adept’s performance in all arenas.”
Sandhya pulled her leg up over her head. I can’t tell you what scenarios featuring her pliable figure that tidbit evoked in my mind. Now I understood why so many ancient cultures gelded the male slaves who served in their harems. By the end of that first night however, all my body craved was sleep.
I rolled back and forth on my cot, trying to find a comfortable position. Missing Raj. Cursing the Goddess of the altar. Hating Kalidasa and the rest of the filthy lot that I’d never even met. I kept reminding myself that the alternative was far worse. The thought of endless buggering by the likes of Beeshom made me bound and determined to succeed as an adept. I finally managed to get a few hours sleep. Then Sandhya pounded on my door, and it all started again.
It took a month to muster complete concentration in her presence. Lots of deep breathing exercises and meditation helped, but I found that thoughts of Kalidasa naked really did the trick for me. Every time my teacher’s breasts jiggled a little, I willed myself to picture the chief’s hairy belly hanging over his bits. Believe me, no one can get aroused with that image in his head.
As for these chakras Sandhya urged me to find, I supposed she meant the insistent thrumming through this Immortyl body of mine. Something flowed through me that I’d never felt as a mortal. I’d do all sorts of tri
cks in my almost non-existent free time, just to test my strength and balance, like climbing up the palms in the garden and swinging like Tarzan, jumping from one tree to another. In London, I’d never had the opportunity to flex my muscles.
When Sandhya was satisfied I could control my wayward thoughts, we began dancing lessons. She led me into an open hall. Another female adept in Kalidasa’s service came in, bearing a pair of drums. Sandhya nodded to her. “Our art assimilates many forms of Indian classical dance and music. Each generation of adepts has brought their own regional tradition and style into the canon. Sita will play the tabla for us. Now do as I do.”
For the first time, Sandhya actually deigned to touch me, correcting my steps and explaining that each intricate hand gesture and glance had a distinct purpose and meaning. After a few weeks of mastering basic moves, Sandhya called upon Avijit to teach me the more athletic leaps, lifts, and turns required of the male dancer.
I worked very hard and soon surpassed my trainer in several areas. With my greater size and strength, I achieved heights and acrobatic feats that he could not. I loved to turn successive back flips for the sheer joy of it. This didn’t serve to endear me with him. He was even more supercilious than Sandhya and never failed to point out that I was but a nineteen-year-old fool. He said it took more than fancy tricks to make an artist.
I didn’t do it just to show off. Okay, maybe just a little. Mostly, I did it to push myself to my limits. What was the use of having superhuman abilities if I didn’t understand them? Somewhere along the line, I might need them to defend myself.
One evening Avijit came into the practice hall, bearing a long velvet bag. He stripped off his choga and laid it over a bench. Drawing a sword out of the bag, he tossed it to me.
I caught it by the grip and slashed it around like I was in a pirate film. “Argh!”
Avijit threw me an annoyed look. “Stand over there and do exactly as I say.”
My Fearful Symmetry Page 6
