by Justin Kairo
I have known this feeling before. It comes when we stand around the circle. It comes after we are all purified and before we disrobe. The feeling is always the same when the people are the same. But it is different when there are new people in the coven. There is a new force to be conscious of. The coven is an animal. A creature with 13 parts. Change any one of those parts and the being is different.
On this evening I feel the difference strongly. I am aware of the new face. The new body. The one who is not initiated. I am always aware of Juliet. But tonight I am more aware of her than ever.
I enter the circle and I nod to Harry. It is the signal. We are readied now to burn the incense and hear the sounds. He goes to the censer at the edge of the clearing and the burning of the incense begins.
“We add sacred fumes to the night,” I say. “We mingle with the moon air and become one.”
“We are all one,” replies Harry Oliver.
“We are all one,” the others repeat. “We are all one and it is all the same.”
And next the sounds. A small music player and from it the noises of birds and wild animals and the moans of human beings and music. Notes from instruments. Sounds of flutes and harps but not sweet. Never melodious. Never harmony. But strange discordant sounds. Mingling with the human and animal sounds. They will continue for the entire ceremony. Without stopping.
The disrobing ritual begins with Harry Oliver. He lets his arms slip out of the sleeves and the robe falls to the ground at his feet.
“I take off the cloth that stands between my flesh and the moon,” he says.
He pulls back his naked shoulders and raises his head to the sky.
“I give my body to Merlin,” he says. “Every fiber of my body that can give pleasure will give pleasure tonight. And it will be for You, Merlin. Every sinew of my flesh that can know ecstasy will know ecstasy tonight. And because of You, Merlin.”
Billie Orton is next. She lets her robe fall to the ground. Her breasts are large and firm and they glisten in the moonlight. She lifts both hands and cups them under her breasts, shaping them into creamy spheres.
“My flesh is Yours, Merlin. I want to feel Your tongue against my nipples. My body is meant to be free of clothes. My life is meant to be free of pretense. My soul is naked and it is all pleasure.”
“We are all one,” said the others. “We are all one and it is all the same.”
Bobbie Orton follows her sister. Her robe falls to the ground and reveals her slim and yet voluptuous body.
“I come to you the way I was born, Merlin, for You are me and You are life,” she says. “I know the answer is between my legs and I know that only You know the question.”
“We are all one,” intone the others.
Kenny Cooper is next. He takes off his robe and stands naked, his erection probing the night. He puts the forefinger of each hand on his pubic hair.
“My body is filled with life and the life is a gift from You, Merlin,” Kenny says. “And it is a gift for You. The forces that surge through my veins are forces that come from You and will return to You.”
Karen Cooper is next. After her robe is off, she takes the index finger and middle finger of her right hand and moves the tips of both around her pubic hair, dyed a metallic silver that gleams in the moonlight.
“Three times,” she says.
The others in the coven repeat her words. Then repeat them three times.
Karen Cooper lies down and holds up her middle finger. She bends her knees and opens them wide to expose her center.
“This is my third finger,” she says, as she circles it slowly around the glistening, rosy pink outer lips of her vulva. Three times. Then she places the tip into her vagina and gradually plunges it deeper and deeper.
“This is for you, Merlin,” Karen Cooper says.
She waits in silence for three seconds and extracts her finger and points it at the moon.
“My finger and Your body are the same, Merlin,” she says. “We are all one and it is all the same—”
“It is all the same,” echo the others.
Olivia Lanzetti is next. After her robe drops to the ground, she holds her breasts in her hands and points the nipples at the moon. Then she raises her arms straight up into the air and she jumps up and down and again up and down. Her breasts bounce and jiggle against her body as she stares at the sky.
“My flesh is not as young as the flesh of Your other disciples here,” she says. “But it is clean and pure and Yours. And it knows Your touch. I give You love, Merlin, and I feel Your love in return.”
“I am You and You are me and we are all the same,” says Harry Oliver.
“We are all the same,” echo the others.
Marcus Kessler is next. He has enormous broad shoulders and muscular arms. He makes a fist with his right hand and flexes his bicep so his arm looks even bigger and stronger.
“The strength in my arm is the strength in my groin and it is all Yours, Merlin.”
His wife Nora follows him. “Off with the robe,” she says, letting it slide from her shoulders to the earth. “Off with anything and everything that keeps me from You because I am Yours and I can feel Your hot breath between my legs and Your tongue is warm, Merlin.”
Then Lou Lanzetti takes his turn. He cups his right hand under his testicles. “These orbs are for You, Merlin,” he says. “They belong to You, Merlin. I give You everything.”
The others speak together. “We give You everything, Merlin,” they say.
Gordon and Carrie Bridge take off their robes at the same time and speak in unison. “We give You all that we have, and all that we have is Yours and You, because it is all the same.”
Finally Juliet’s turn. The moment I have been waiting for. In my imagination, a spotlight suddenly appears, visible only to me. Ready to highlight her breasts and her mouth and her pubic hair. Courtesy of Merlin: for Juliet, a sliver of moon.
Juliet discards her robe and covers her breasts. I have never seen her do this before. She is not a creature of physical modesty. This is the first time I have ever seen her hide her body.
Then in one dramatic gesture, she hurls her arms to the side and exposes herself from the top of her head to her feet. She is now the way I want her to be always. No reason for Juliet to conceal. No purpose in hiding when there is no shame. No guilt. Only honesty. Only herself. And the moon. And Merlin.
Each curve I have seen and adored many times before, but this time I have to control my response. Stifle the noise. Make certain a gasping sound does not emerge from my throat. I must not telegraph to the others the intensity of my feelings. The depth of my passions.
Everyone is naked now except for me. Because I am the high priest. My time to disrobe will come later.
We all stand around the circle and put our arms on the shoulders of the person next to us. The music is different and sweeter and we move in time with it. We feel the rhythm inside our skins and move our feet and hands with the beat.
The excitement is getting stronger, and we are approaching the moment when we will all lose our own identities. Sentences will flow then and, though I will still be aware of who is speaking, I will no longer care if the person is Harry or Olivia or me. That no longer matters when we are all one and we are all the same.
My fingers on the naked shoulders next to mine move up and down in time to the music. We all move our feet but not in unison. Different steps but the same rhythm. We dance in and out and move to the right in a circle. Against the clock. Then we lower our arms until we circle waists. Fingers touch flesh and there is music and the sound of animals in the air. Crickets. Moths. And slow moans. Of pain and pleasure. All the same. And I feel myself becoming a part of the others as they are becoming a part of me.
“Yes, I will,” someone sighs. The moment has come. The moment when I stop knowing who the speaker is. Or even if the speaker is me.
“Complete me and take me.”
“The moon and your lips.”
“You
r breasts are soft and warm in my fingers.”
“I love you.”
“Love.”
We move and our arms are trembling and the circle becomes smaller so there are more shoulders to touch. More arms and more waists. We are all very close to each other. We can close our eyes and know each other’s spirits. The essence of each other.
Our sounds become louder, our movement is faster and there is more touching and moaning and sighing. Lips and hands stroke legs, and faces brush against pubic hair and our prayers become louder and louder until there is nothing but sound and flesh and then only flesh.
And suddenly everything stops. The people and the music and the sounds of the animals and the wails of pain and pleasure stop and everyone knows what that means. It is now time.
Chapter 4
We form the circle again, our arms on each other’s shoulders. But this time there are twelve of us. Juliet is in the center. She does not need to be told what to do. She knows. She has the power to know these things without being told.
Juliet sits on a white silken throw with silver threads placed in the center of the circle. Her hands are just below her knees and she pulls her legs close into her stomach.
“She comes to You to be pure, Merlin,” says Marcus Kessler.
“She has never given and she has never received,” says Nora Kessler. “She has impurities and can only be pure by giving and receiving.”
Sounds start again on the tape. And the fragrance of a new incense. This one from a cathedral. This one, more pungent.
There are many glass vials arrayed next to Juliet. She knows what each one is for. She has been given instructions she doesn’t need. Juliet is a natural. Her own instincts tell her what to do and what she must know.
Juliet puts the fingers of her right hand into a green cream consisting of several ingredients. The important one is a reduction of wild rose, iris and patchouli to make the skin rich and radiant. She takes the cream in the fingers of her right hand and spreads the cream on her two large, perfectly round breasts. The cream loses its color as it melts into her flesh. No longer green.
She dips her left hand in a clear liquid that she puts behind her ears and under her eyes and around her mouth. A potion made from balsam and wild mint to heighten her feelings. To make her more aware. To help her senses come alive.
She now takes a viscous liquid from yet another container and rubs it carefully over her entire body. A liquid made from white amber and orchid petals to insure health and longevity.
When she is finished, she lies down, extends her arms and stretches her legs far apart. “I am Yours, Merlin,” she says. And then she pauses.
“She is ready to give herself to You, Merlin,” said Harry Oliver.
“She is waiting for the moment of purity,” said Olivia Lanzetti.
And now, as words tumble one after another again, I lose track of whose words they are.
“She is waiting with the breath of an owl for the moment when there is no lie—”
“She is waiting for Merlin to show her His will—”
“She covers herself with sacred potions to make herself ready for You—”
“She exposes herself, preparing to welcome You—”
“The night is filled with the scent of jasmine—”
“The sprigs of rosemary and the buds of lilac—”
The music becomes louder and the women in the coven begin to hum. The men clap their right hands against their left thighs. I bow in reverence and enter the holy circle. I stand between Juliet’s legs. My left ankle touches her right ankle. In my right hand I hold the athame. I look into her eyes and without words I speak to her. She understands.
I take the athame and bend over her. I make a small V just above her pubic hair, a mark that will be on her body forever, the sacred V. The mark which means she had come to Merlin as a virgin. She had not yet been initiated.
For Juliet and me, the mark means we are at this moment living the best night of our lives so far. The Very best.
I close my eyes and invoke the most sacred prayer. So sacred that I cannot repeat any of the words to you even here. I recite the sacred prayer and everyone in the coven joins me as we pray to Merlin.
“Merlin, inhabit my body,” I say, coming at last to the final line. The others repeat after me: “Merlin, inhabit his body.”
“Juliet, look at me carefully,” I say.
“I am looking,” she replies.
“See me as I take off my robe. Look at my body, Juliet.”
“I see—”
As my robe falls to the ground, I see she is pleased. Her moment to look at Merlin naked. Confront the wondrous ways of nature. She makes a sound of pleasure.
I am standing before her with a full erection. And a majestically large phallus, the shape of a torch, hot as fire, hard as granite. She has seen me before but this time she and I are different. This night is the Very best. So far.
I kneel before her and put my mouth between her legs. My lips, then my tongue, explore the delicate fronds of her pubic hair.
“The mouth of Merlin comes to you,” I whisper.
“Welcome, Merlin,” she murmurs.
We are barely able to speak.
I breathe the intoxicating aroma between her legs. My tongue reaches out and savors the salty, earthy, yeasty taste of her liquids.
“I taste your sacred lymph, Juliet,” I say.
“Hail, Merlin,” repeat the others in the coven.
I move my body up her silky skin until my mouth and hands smother her breasts. Her softness causes every part of me to tingle.
I continue until my lips reach their final destination and press longingly against hers. We are both trembling.
I control myself and the tip of my long, thick erection rests against the portal to her vagina. I am aching to go deeper inside and she is longing for my entry but I delay the moment we have been waiting for all evening.
When, almost overwhelmed with ecstasy, I am no longer able to resist for another moment, I go inside her but just slightly. Just a little. Only the tip of me where my skin was peeled back penetrates. Only a fraction of an inch of my massive erection is inside Juliet. I wait. She moans. Then I move in a little farther. I pause again. Finally I allow her opening to take more of me.
I am almost surrounded by Juliet, but I withdrew a little, pause again, then go back until she has more. But there is still a long way to go.
My mouth is too hungry to keep away from hers and our tongues touch and raise the temperature higher. Every part of us is alight with flame.
Slowly I move deeper. I pull out slightly. Then suddenly I ram all of me into her as far I can go. Both of us scream with pain and pleasure.
Then I become (of all strange things) Juliet’s loving yo yo. Moving up and down and in and out and slower and faster and slower and faster until finally—
Oceans pour out of me and drench her.
We discover heights unknowable and unreachable until now.
The music sounds a crescendo and eleven voices around us chant the name of Merlin and the incense makes me dizzy with passion and the rhythm of the music is inside my body and the sound and the sight and the aroma all become one and again I enter her and make her forever the bride of Merlin.
Chapter 5
How do you become a witch or a warlock? That is a question many people wonder about but rarely ask. How did you get to be the way you are? What’s a nice guy like you doing in a business like this!
Of course I am never asked because people who know me socially are unaware of my other life. But some witches I have met are not so secretive, and they tell me outsiders are always curious.
In my own case, the answer is simple. I never “became” a warlock. I am one. I have always been one. I was born one. I am a warlock in the same way that I am a man. In the same way that I am six foot three, have straight dark hair, intense green eyes and, even at rest, a massive phallus.
I have the lanky but muscular build o
f a professional tennis player. But no one has ever mistaken me for an athlete. Debonair is the word people sometimes use to describe me. Smooth. Poised. Sophisticated.
I am aware I don’t look like a warlock (whatever that means) because nobody ever suspects I am one. But most of the warlocks and witches I know have no particular distinguishing characteristics. No special markings or look in the eyes. No unusual way of carrying themselves. No unique gestures or mannerisms. On the surface they appear to be ordinary members of contemporary society.
The special characteristics are all internal. Often it is the ability to communicate silently, wordlessly. To send out and receive waves and vibrations. To know something instinctively and receive that knowledge in ways other than through the five senses.
When I AM recognized as a warlock by strangers, they are invariably other witches. Ordinary people don’t know and never guess. I tend to blend in. Wherever I am, I seem to belong. In department stores, customers come up to me and ask for directions. Or for the price of merchandise. They think I work there. When I go to restaurants in a tuxedo, other diners mistake me for the owner or, perhaps, the sommelier in charge of the wine.
• • •
I was born a warlock and I have always been one but I have not always known it. When I was six or seven, I suspected I was different from the other children though I didn’t understand how or why.
My family was not like others. My parents traveled frequently and were rarely at home. My father was an engineer, a designer of steel mills, who spent most of his time moving between continents, traveling to Asia and Europe and South America. My mother, a gifted hostess who, in another life, could have been a diplomat, traveled with him. I have a difficult time picturing them without their passports, their luggage packed for yet another job, another trip.
They were constantly coming and going to the airport. Kissing me hello or good-bye. Telling me to take care of myself as they left and bringing back presents when they returned. A tie clip from Thailand. A silk shirt from Hong Kong. Games. Toys. Always some thing to play with. What I wanted was some one.
