by Ashlyn Chase
“Got it. So why don’t you just dodge between them?”
“Look, I don’t ask you why you don’t like spiders...”
“Who said I don’t like spiders?”
“Oh, well. It was a shot in the dark. There must be something you’re afraid of. Something irrational...”
“Yeah. I’m afraid you’re going to show up as I’m making love to Brigit and ruin the moment.”
“Why would I do that?”
He shrugged. “Curiosity, probably. I’ve got to go upstairs and pack my candles.”
“I’ll meet you there.”
Ethan knew she could pretty much come and go as she pleased throughout the house, but he wished he could figure out how she appeared at her destination almost instantly when she wanted to.
He reached the attic where he kept all his supplies, and which he used as his sacred space. His altar greeted him like an old friend. I don’t have time for a complete ritual, but perhaps I can entice the Goddess to bless the night to come.
Then he got a flash of inspiration. He dashed to his book of shadows and looked for the spell he had used before regarding right decisions and outcomes. The witches in his coven protected themselves and others by asking that their spells and intentions be for the common good. But he could relax if he did a spell specifically geared to what he was about to do with Brigit.
“Ah. Found it.”
“What did you find?”
“Oh. I forgot you were here, Charlotte. Can you give me some privacy please? I’m about to work a spell.”
“You do realize that you invite all helpful spirits to attend your rituals, right?”
What could he say? It was part of the wording he always used. “Perhaps you can sit this one out. I don’t want to be distracted by your opinions—not that you’d interrupt to express them. It’s just that I already know what you think, and I don’t want it to influence me.”
Charlotte sighed. “Oh, all right. I’ll see if I can turn on the TV by myself.”
“Don’t blare it. I need quiet in order to concentrate.”
“Sheesh. Any other orders, Captain?”
Ethan ignored the dig, set up the altar and surrounded it with salt to protect himself from any harm. He placed candles in the four quarters inside the salted circle, and lit the incense.
The TV came on downstairs and thank goodness the volume was low. He briefly wondered why Charlotte asked him to turn it on for her if she was capable of turning it on herself. Not wanting to distract himself from his mission, he pushed that thought to the back of his mind and cast the circle.
“I stand in circles of light that nothing may cross,” he said for added protection. Then he welcomed the Goddess and her God to the ritual and asked the guardians of the watchtowers to protect his circle.
Confident that everything was as it should be, he lit the green candle on the altar and uttered the beginning words of the spell.
“Candle shining in the night, with your flame enchanted. By the powers of magic might, may my wish be granted. When the candle sheds its gleam at the magic hour, let fulfillment of my spell gather secret power. Flame of magic, brightly burn; spirit of the fire. Let the wheel of fortune turn, grant me my desire. One, two, three—so shall it be!”
He wished he’d had time to put his intentions into words ahead of time, making sure his wording was correct and couldn’t be misinterpreted. He thought about it for a few moments and came up with something he thought would work.
“Brigit is a valued friend, and asked me for my help to lend. May healing light, like flowing water, bring my friend a son or daughter. And if it harm none, so mote it be done.” Then just for good measure, he added, “By all the power of three times three, this spell bound around shall be, to cause no harm nor backfire on me. As you do will, so mote it be.”
He bowed his head and closed his eyes, visualizing the positive outcome of his spell. He saw Brigit’s womb gradually swelling with his child. He pictured an uncomplicated birth and saw her smiling while holding a healthy baby. What he didn’t do was include himself in the picture—as much as he wanted to.
* * * *
Okay, it’s go time, Brigit thought as she knocked on Ethan’s door. She had no idea what he had planned, other than ‘the act,’ but whatever it was, she was ready. More than ready. Her thighs were tingling in anticipation and her panties were damp.
He threw open the door, clothed in black jeans, and he wearing his full length black cape. She glanced down at her blue jeans and sweater and said, “Oops. I didn’t get the dress code memo.”
He smiled. “Don’t worry about it. You’ll be sky clad for the better part of the ritual anyway.”
“And where is this ritual going to take place?”
He grinned. “I know how you feel about privacy. I had thought about the woods, but it’s getting chilly. I have another idea in mind. Do you trust me?”
“Of course. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”
“Good.” He took her hand and led her up the stairs.
“What about...you know...her?”
“Charlotte knows you can see her, but if you’re the least bit uncomfortable, I have a plan B.”
“Okaaay.”
“If it helps, she’s in favor of this and swears she won’t interfere.”
“She knows?”
He shrugged. “Hey, I had only the male perspective and needed to talk to a female who wouldn’t tell anyone.”
Brigit still felt slightly uncomfortable, but she did trust Ethan.
He opened the door to the attic and her jaw dropped. The floor was covered with rose petals in a wide circle. There must have been thousands of them, perfuming the air. The full moon shone in the dormered windows and white candles provided flickering golden light.
His altar was set up within the circle, but far to one side. The majority of the petals were heaped in the middle. It looked as if she had found their bed.
“It’s beautiful, Ethan, but—um—are there splinters under those rose petals?”
“Would I do that to you?” He chuckled. “There’s an alpaca rug over the floor boards. If you’re uncomfortable with this, my plan B is to take you to the boat. I have a bunk there with a mattress. It’s thin, and only built for one, but—”
“No. This is perfect.” Tears burned the back of her eyes and threatened to spill.
“I thought I could provide extra privacy by keeping my cape on and covering you with it as well.”
She reached for his hand and squeezed it, unable to speak past the lump in her throat.
He noticed her mood change, but may have misinterpreted it. “Are you all right? We don’t have to do this, if it’s too much. I thought since we’re both Wiccan, the Great Rite would be the way to go.”
“It’s beyond my expectations, but it’s not too much. It’s beautiful.” She turned into him and nestled her head against his chest. She took a few deep breaths to settle herself. When she the strong emotions subsided, she leaned back and pulled his head down for a deep kiss.
When at last they broke apart, both of them were breathing deeply. That would be a natural part of going into trance, but she felt like she was already there.
“Ready to go sky clad?” he asked.
Her nerves surfaced. Was it because she hadn’t been naked in front of him before, or was it the weight of what they were about to do? Some covens went sky clad often, and she had always been glad the coven of the Triquetra wasn’t one of them. Maybe it would have been easier if... Get over it, Brigid, she told herself, using her witch name.
“Don’t worry about your body. It’s the one the Goddess gave you, and I’m sure it’s as beautiful as the woman inside.”
She smiled and yanked off her sweater over her head, then tossed it far from the circle. She unzipped her jeans, pulled them off, and they landed beside her sweater.
Ethan didn’t look away. It was hard to miss the hunger in his eyes as he gazed at her. As if he caught himself, he quic
kly unzipped his own jeans and discarded them along with his button down shirt. At last they stood before each other in only their underwear, with the exception of Ethan’s black cape. He tossed it over his shoulders behind him.
Talk about beautiful! His abdomen rippled with muscles. She had felt his strong biceps before, but his muscular thighs and the rest of him took her breath away. She spied an unmistakable bulge behind his black boxer briefs.
He whipped off his underwear and revealed a perfect penis. She suddenly realized what her acute fear was about. Sex could be painful for women with endometriosis. Her own case was mild, but if a guy wasn’t gentle...Should she tell him and ruin the moment?
“Um, Bridge. I didn’t plan on getting into your panties—literally.”
She glanced down at her pink lace bra and matching boy shorts and giggled. “Oh, yeah. I guess I could make it a little easier.”
They grinned at each other and she removed the final layer. He took her hand and escorted her into the circle. The rose petals felt like velvet beneath her feet.
“Would you like to surround the circle with salt?” he asked.
“I think we can forgo it, if that’s okay with you.” She didn’t feel the need for protection. She’d never felt so safe.
“It’s fine. Less to sweep up later,” he joked. “I do want to light the black, white, and green candles on the altar. I empowered the green one with my intentions for success earlier. Would you like to add yours?”
She nodded. As soon as he lit the candles they joined hands and Brigit said, “Goddess, bless this uniting of bodies as the cosmic and the most personal energies of life. If it be your will, may our joining create another life. A healthy, happy child is my wish. If it be your will with harm to none, heed my spell. So mote it be done."
Satisfied, she closed her eyes and visualized her intent. Her pregnancy. The beautiful baby she had been dreaming about in her arms. She took a few meditative moments to let her mind wander. Ethan. Try as she might, she couldn’t keep his smiling face from returning to her thoughts.
Why? Was the Goddess trying to tell her something? Should she have been more specific? Maybe if she had read the whole contract out loud, the darn thing would have had value after all. She could have contracted with the Goddess, rather than the legal system.
But she knew better. The Goddess would give her what she asked for if it was for the best, or she might come up with something even better. The key was to believe that this or something better would happen.
Brigit sighed and opened her eyes.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Yes.” She lay on the bed of rose petals and their sweet scent seemed to increase ten-fold.
He held the edge of his cape, lay down beside her and covered her nether regions with it while he kissed her. She no longer needed the extra privacy, but didn’t want to stop him in order to tell him so. His kiss was warm, thorough and lingering.
He caressed her skin in places she didn’t realize were sensitive. Her collarbone, her rib cage, and her hip bone. At last, he moved his lips to her cheek, her ear, and then kissed down the column of her neck. Her skin shivered with the pressure, but she wasn’t cold. Far from it. Her body was heating from within.
At last he reached her breasts and cupped one while he bent over the other. His thumb rubbed the nipple furthest from him and his mouth captured the closer one. The suction sent wild sensations vibrating through her and tugged at her womb. She moaned and threaded her fingers through his hair.
Ethan wasn’t just doing the deed. He was making love to her. She tried not to worry—but should she allow herself feel that level of intimacy? It felt right. Completely right.
He adjusted position and kissed across her chest to give the other breast equal attention. She arched and moaned, enjoying every moment. And then his hand slid to her mons She stilled his hand. He looked up at her, and concern filled his hooded gaze.
“I—” she began. Her words died in her throat. She wanted to reach that height. Wanted it badly, but stopping him was the right thing to do. She’d be more upset when it was time to leave him. “I’m ready now.”
“You’re sure? I can do much more...”
“Oh, I’ll bet you can. But, yes, I’m sure. I need you now.”
He smiled and stroked her face with the back of his fingers. “Whatever m’lady needs.” He kissed her nose and rolled onto his knees.
She spread her legs in welcome and he positioned himself between them. Then he adjusted his cape so it fell over both sides of them, creating a cozy shelter.
He reached between her thighs to test her wetness. She could have told him she was plenty ready, but having his fingers find her opening was satisfying as well.
He gazed into her eyes and guided himself into her slowly. “Are you all right?”
“Perfect,” she whispered.
When he was fully seated, he kissed her again and began his strokes. His unhurried pace made the act even more romantic, if that were possible. She experienced a deep fulfillment she hadn’t expected.
The words, “I love you,” popped into her brain. It must just be the erotic atmosphere and the intimacy of what we’re doing, she told herself. Even when she’d thought she was in love, she’d never experienced anything like this. Of course, that was with a much younger, much less experienced man.
Ethan was an expert, and she suddenly cared how much practice he must have had to become one. Am I breaking my own heart by pushing him away?
She forced herself to abandon all conscious thoughts and concentrate only on the pleasure he was giving her. Deep in her center she felt a flutter and a gentle release. It wasn’t the clenching of a shattering climax, but it was perfect for her.
Ethan seemed to reach his peak shortly after that. He closed his eyes and stiffened. Then he jerked several times.
When he finally withdrew, she wrapped her arms around his back and pulled him down on top of her.
“Am I too heavy?” he asked.
“No. You feel good.” She meant it. His warm weight enveloping her, their heads resting side by side...it was all perfect.
Completely content, she let out a deep sigh. With Ethan still on top of her, she closed her eyes and basked in the afterglow.
* * * *
The following morning, Ethan sat on a stool at his breakfast bar, because Brigit insisted on cooking breakfast. It was strange having someone else in his kitchen asking where the mixing bowls and frying pans were, but ‘thanking him’ this way seemed important to her.
“So, making love in the attic wasn’t too uncomfortable for you?” he asked.
“Of course not. It’s not like you had bats in your belfry.”
He laughed. “Maybe I do, but the house is bat free.”
She shook her head as she whisked the eggs. “You don’t give yourself enough credit, Ethan. You’re more stable than most of the guys I’ve known.”
“Well, you’ve known Hollywood types. I imagine they come with their own set of baggage.”
“You said it. The gays even have matched luggage.” She grinned. “I’m only joking. There were some guys with good values, who wouldn’t step on their best friend to get a role. But there were plenty of others who would. I worked so many nights to afford the rent, I didn’t date much.”
“Seriously? I would have thought... You know what? Never mind. You’re here now. That’s what matters.”
She smiled. “Exactly. Do you like scrambled eggs?”
“Love ‘em.”
“Good thing, because I can’t put them back together.”
“Don’t worry. Neither could all the king’s horses and all the king’s men.”
She barked a laugh. Then she glanced over his shoulder. “Oh. Good morning, Charlotte.”
Ethan smiled. Brigit must be getting used to his having a spirited houseguest.
“Tell her I said good morning too,” Charlotte said.
He focused on Brigit. “You really can’t hear her?”
>
She shook her head. “I saw her mouth move, and I maybe could learn to read her lips, but I imagine she communicates more telepathically that verbally. Ah, yes. She’s nodding. You look lovely this morning, Charlotte. Did you put that scarf over your head for me?”
“Tell her, yes. I found this black silk scarf in the trash and couldn’t allow it to be thrown out, so I hid it away. Now I’m glad I did.”
Ethan frowned and turned around. The shawl his step-mother wore to his mother’s funeral floated in the air. When he’d found out she was the ‘other woman’ he’d tossed it in the trash. The offensive garment hung in the air. He could see a bump slightly to the left, which must have been the dagger.
“She said yes,” he answered for Charlotte.
Brigit removed the bacon to a plate with a paper towel on it and poured the eggs into the frying pan where they made a satisfying sizzle.
“Toast?” she asked.
“Sure. There’s whole wheat bread in the pantry.”
She continued putting together a basic American breakfast. Something he didn’t usually do for himself. It was nice. Homey. Something he could get used to, but he reminded himself not to.
“I hate to spoil the mood, but there’s something I need to tell you, Bridge.”
“Uh-oh. I don’t like the sound of that.”
“I’d rather you storm out than let it be left unsaid.”
She sighed. “Okay. Lay it on me.”
“I want to know where you live. It’s not just morbid curiosity. I want to be sure you and your child are safe. And if you ever need me...”
She busied herself putting their breakfast on plates, and remained quiet for a good long time. He pictured her counting to ten—twice. At last she said, “We couldn’t be any safer...or better off. I live in my parents’ converted carriage house in New Castle, rent free. I told you my mother was right next door and happy to babysit.”
Ouch. Couldn’t be better off. He made a good living as a tug boat captain, and he was plenty proud of his Portsmouth address, but couldn’t compete with even pricier New Castle.
“I was under the impression you had to work hard in Hollywood. It sounds like your parents could have made it easier for you.”
