Soul Selecta

by Gill McKnight

  Bette’s fingertips delicately extracted her sex juices and spread them liberally over her labia. She brushed Jesse’s clitoris for a teasing moment, then a solitary finger pushed deep inside her. Jesse bucked against Bette’s palm then she felt the warm spasms of her sex tighten around Bette’s finger. Bette slid slowly in and out building up a delicate heat that snared Jesse’s hips into a matching dance. Sensation thundered through her. She was breathless, out of control, and unable to register all that was happening to her body as it was assaulted on all sides by tongue and touch. Eventually, Bette’s fingertips hesitated; she removed her mouth from the breast she was nuzzling and looked up at Jesse with dazed eyes.

  “Okay, baby? We gonna do this thing?” she whispered. “We’ll make it good for you, Jess. Trust us. Just lay back and let it happen.”

  Jesse tried to focus on Bette’s flushed face nestled against the side of her breast, but Bette’s mischievous finger idly circling her pulsing clitoris made it impossible. Lorrie was licking a sensuous trail down her neck, her hand cupping her other breast while her thumb zigzagged over the nipple. Jesse shuddered with pleasure.

  Lorrie’s hand abandoned her breast and slid down the curve of her back to join Bette’s at Jesse’s sex. Without hesitation, their fingers co-joined, and in one slow, solid slide, they pushed into her and started to fuck. As one pulled out the other pushed in matching the force of each other’s thrusts perfectly. In fluid synchronization, they filled her constantly and persistently in a maddening rhythm. Mouths, teeth, and tongues roamed over her belly, breasts, and buttocks. The relentless penetration quickly pushed Jesse over the edge. She came with a guttural cry that was quickly swallowed by Lorrie’s kisses. White light flashed behind her eyelids. The life force seemed to hurtle out of her body and boomerang back, knocking her flat. She arched her back, flung her head back, and howled, “Oh, my Godddd!”

  *

  “Oh, my Godddd!”

  The congregation of Saint Keelin’s froze halfway through the second chorus of “Heart of Jesus Meek and Mild.” The organist hit a discordant note as morning mass fell into a startled hush. Even the dust motes seemed to hesitate mid air.

  Every head turned toward the Maguire pew, where every member of the Maguire family stared in shock at Norrie who lay prostrated across the prayer stools as supine as the saint herself on the stained glass above.

  *

  Well, that was not meant to happen, thought Soul Selector. How embarrassing. Those two were so deeply connected even Soul Selector couldn’t break the bond between them. Ironic, considering bonding was what she was aiming for in the first place. Who knew? It seemed some soul mates came supplied with their own glue, and these two were glued together so tightly all the light in the universe couldn’t squeeze between them. She had to seriously rethink this before the little one imploded.

  *

  The following Sunday St. Keelin’s offered up special prayers for the Maguire family whose only daughter seemed to be succumbing to Tourette’s.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Over here, Jesse.”

  Jesse looked up from her precariously balanced tray to see Marcie waving from across the cafeteria. It looked like there was a little media club lunch going on. Relieved at the invite, Jesse headed over to Marcie ignoring the snide looks as she passed Val’s table.

  Val had formed a new posse with the only intention, as far as Jesse could see, of excluding her. She ignored the petty politics. There were several weeks to go to summer break, and she was already discussing colleges with her parents. Her midterm results had been excellent, and she had leverage. She was determined to end up somewhere far away from all this small town shit. All she had to do was work hard, study like crazy, and meet all her commitments for her sports and club activities. Everything else, like Val and her friends, she chose to ignore; life had become complicated enough.

  “Hey, guys.” She took a seat, aware of dozens of curious eyes burning into her back. The fallout with Val was the current topic for the gossips. She smiled her thanks at this little oasis of media club friendship and ripped open her carton of strawberry milk.

  “So,” she said, “what’s up?” and survived another lunch.

  On Mondays, Jesse stayed late to use the pool. Swimming practice was a solitary exercise and allowed her to think while her body stretched through her routine. She was still unsettled at having sex with Bette and Lorrie. A week had passed since the deed, and she was still unsure how she truly felt.

  Pop sex they’d called it. It popped up here, it popped up there, and you grabbed at it, just like that. You could take it or leave it. No big deal. She knew they’d laugh at her if they knew the self-inflicted turmoil she put herself through.

  When she had left the party, everything had been relaxed between them. All three had cuddled for a few moments, giggling at her riotous climax. They had casually stroked each other’s bodies until Lorrie needed to pee and broke the languorous spell. Then they dragged on their togas and went out to mingle with the rest of the party. Jesse stayed ten more minutes before changing into her street clothes and quietly leaving. She needed to find a place where she could sit and process the evening’s events. Part of her was smug that her first time was such a mind-bending blast with two hot girls. It filled her with confidence for future adventures. She was eager for more. Yet a part of her was terrified at her own daring. She never thought she could be so reckless, so tempestuous. But one thing she knew for sure, she wanted a girlfriend all her own.

  In the swimming pool, her thoughts circled in her head as her body looped the lane. Finally, exhausted both mentally and physically, she exited the water and dressed. A glance at her watch showed a twenty-minute wait for the next bus. Can I be bothered? Her feet answered for her. She began the walk home.

  Fifteen minutes into her journey, she looked up from her daydreams and saw she was more than halfway home. She was skirting the edge of a rough neighborhood her parents wouldn’t be happy with her walking through. Jesse picked up her step.

  She was by the thoroughfare that bordered this neighborhood and her own when she saw a dog get hit by a car. It was a young mongrel, and the car drove on, not even slowing down. The dog writhed in the middle of the far lane, its hind leg looked crooked and bloody.

  “Shit.” Jesse dropped her gym bag and checked the traffic. The next car that came along would kill it if the driver didn’t stop, and with the speed these cars made along this stretch of road, she’d be surprised if the driver could even slow down, nevermind stop without causing an accident. If she was fast, she could reach the dog and get it onto the sidewalk before the next wave of traffic arrived. Behind her, she could see the vehicles lined up at the stop light. Any minute now, they would come barreling down and that would be the end of the dog. Measuring the distance to the dog and including the time to scoop it up, Please don’t let it bite, Jesse reckoned she could make it in time. She made a run for it.

  The yelping dog struggled against her chest, and she cursed herself for not considering its weight, but she made it to the far side. In this neighborhood not only were dogs allowed to wander onto dangerous roads, but the safety barriers for the pedestrian area had been ripped out. Jesse stood near the edge breathing hard and checking out the dog. She didn’t think the leg was broken though there was a nasty gash that she was sure would need stitches. Maybe she should call her dad to come help? Her cell was in her gym bag on the other side of the road. She hoped no passing opportunist came along and stole it while she stood like a fool on the opposite side. It would be several minutes until the lights turned in her favor again.

  She wrapped the dog in her jacket and hunkered down to stroke its brindled head.

  “Don’t worry, boy. I’ll help you. I’ll call my dad and everything will be all right. You’ll see.” She moved to stand up again as a delivery truck roared past. The absent safety rails let the vehicle move too close to the pedestrian area. It also meant Jesse stood too close to the freeway. With only a
few inches to spare, the truck’s wide, low-slung side mirror clipped the top of her head. Jesse died instantly. She died before her knees had straightened, before she had fully registered the dangerous proximity of the truck. Her last thought on earth was, How could someone hit a dog and drive on…

  Chapter Sixteen

  The Elysian Fields

  “What in Hades were you thinking? You just took out one of my people! Talk about friendly fire!” Soul Selector bellowed. “You’ve snuffed out one half of my soul mates. What am I going to do with point five of a soul mate? I can’t have half a soul mate running round. It’s unheard of. Have you any idea of the spiritual imbalance, the universal disparity, the cosmic divergence—”

  “I’m sorry,” Death said. “I’m weally, weally sorry.” Soul Selector glared at him. Most people thought Death was all gloom and doom wrapped up in a big black cloak. Well, he wasn’t; that was her. Death was a frivolous, fluffy thing. He was all about release and deliverance. He was smiley and sweet as if he’d been stuffed with meringue. He was also slightly rhotacistic, in that he had trouble with his r’s. In Soul Selector’s opinion, he was also a sloppy worker, which was surprising considering how long he’d been at it.

  “I’m not sure what happened.” He blinked up at her. “I was in the neighborhood, at a quack house—”

  “A quack house?”

  “Yes.”

  “What, like in ducks?”

  “No. A QUACK house.” He grumped, but she was none the wiser. “Like in dwugs,” he said.

  “Crack? A crack house? You were on crack?” Soul Selector was horrified. No wonder he’d popped off one of hers. He’d been high as a migrating flamingo.

  “No. I was collecting a consignment.” He puffed in exasperation, which was totally uncalled for. He was the one being obtuse.

  “You’re dealing in dwu—drugs?” She tried to make sense of it all. Death on drugs was not a must see.

  “Addicts, silly, I was collecting a consignment of addicts,” he said. “Dodgy methamphetamine.” He winked and tapped his nose. She wanted to slap the meringue clean out of him. “I was collecting several individuals that evening. I turned away for just one minute, and when I looked back, well, there she was, standing beside me, dead.”

  “That was MY girl. Mine. How could you kill her? How could you miscount? How?” She shouted. It felt good. She needed the release.

  Death shrugged. “She must have wandered into my death zone. What can I say? It was a weird night. Those dwug deaths always are. I mean, I was supposed to pick up a dog too, but he was a no-show.” Death looked mystified at this. Soul Selector was unsurprised a dog had outsmarted him. “Goodness knows how it happened,” he continued, blissfully unaware of the storm cloud brewing over him. “It’s not like she was on my list.”

  “I know…BECAUSE SHE WAS ON MY LIST!”

  He held up his hands. “Believe me, I was totally dismayed. It was like I’d seen a ghost. Oops.”

  “Oh, shut up.” Her left eye started to tic, much to her annoyance. It was hard to intimidate Death, or anyone for that matter, when she was inadvertently winking at them. “Can’t you put her back before anyone notices?”

  Neither of them wanted the Celestial collective to notice the cock up. It could lead to innumerable problems. The Gods didn’t like problems unless they’d engineered them themselves.

  “Like a zombie?” He looked uncomfortable.

  “No. Not like a freakin’ zombie. Like a soul mate.”

  He sighed theatrically. Death loved a good drama so he was sucking this one up. “It’s been a whole day in Earth time. She’s in the morgue now in a cooler…like a Popsicle, or should I say Popsicgal?” He tittered at his lame joke. “Popsigal, Popsicle. It’s a joke, see?”

  She glared at him until the inane smile slid off his inane face. Soul Selector had a hard, hot stare she was rather proud of. It was the Greek in her.

  “Right, that’s it. I’m taking this all the way to the top.” This was a bluff, but she had to motivate him into helping her somehow. “You have no right snuffing my people. I’m going to sue!”

  “Over my dead body.” He came back. Then realizing he’d made another dreadful joke, giggled nervously. Another hard, hot glare soon napalmed that.

  “Look, Soulie,” he said, trying to placate her. Unfortunately for him, she hated the nickname. “By the time you fill out years and years of paperwork, I’ll be collecting the other soul mate. Accept it. You’ll have to come up with another plan for these girls. I weally am sorry, and I owe you a lunch. Byeee.” With a cute little wave, he faded into a smudge of pastel particles and blew past her as fast as he could.

  She hated him. Usually, they got on okay. But today she hated him because he was right. Even if she did register a complaint about the untimely culling of her soul mate, the paperwork to start the process would fell a hundred trees and take a thousand years. The Celestial Plain had the bureaucracy from hell, except that Hell was super efficient.

  Hades always got the cunning bastards. The ones who thought they could sneak and steal their way through life. And they did. It’s the afterlife they forgot about. Wave a few dollars under their noses and they’d sneeze out their everlasting souls like so much sputum. So while Hell filled up with the sly and corrupt, the heavens had a glut of charity workers, animal activists, and for some reason, natural therapists. The last time Soul Selector looked in at the Office of Appeal, the top ticket on the inbox was a reprieve for Joan of Arc.

  Death pulled a fast one running off like that. He knew how hopeless the situation was. Soul Selector would have to pull a few strings. Maybe she could ask for a private audience with Aphrodite, the Goddess of Love and her boss. After all, this was an emergency. Nevertheless, she balked at that option. The less the Gods knew the better for those who worked for them. Time was on her side. If she was lucky, maybe she could fix this herself, with or without Death’s help. She had one half of a soul match languishing below and who knew where the dead half would show up? Soul Selector had to locate her, and quickly. She could still be operational.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Jesse found herself sitting in a huge meadow surrounded by buttercups and sweet grass. I don’t know what just happened, but I think I fucked up.

  She had a headache and felt dull and unfocused. There’d been an accident. She knew that much. She carefully flexed her neck from side to side. Then her back. Next, she stretched out her arms and then her legs. She felt okay. She felt very okay, loose and limber, as if she’d finished a long swim session.

  So I’m still in one piece. Without thinking, she broke a stem of grass to chew on and looked around her. Well, it’s not like it’s awful or anything so I’m probably not in hell. But then again, it’s not very heavenly either. Maybe I’m in the hospital and this is where the comatose hang out? Any minute now I’ll hear my favorite song played on a loop.

  Wherever she was, it had the heavy, hazy feel of a lazy summer afternoon. It wasn’t weird or unpleasant; it was just big. Very, very big. The meadow stretched away in every direction to impossibly distant indigo-smudged horizons. She was sitting in a huge prairie of rippling grass. Jesse was mesmerized by the wind-woven patterns falling open and closed in the grasses around her. She was transfixed by the flash of silver and greens swimming across the prairie like seawater when she realized there was no wind. The air lay heavy and still on her skin and the grass moved by itself like a living thing.

  I’m dead. The thought exploded in her head. The sudden knowledge was irrefutable. I’m dead. I died. And maybe that’s okay. She felt calm, apart from a small hand tremor. It was curious how deep the calm went within her. Like a drug seeping into her bones leaving her mellow but super receptive to her environment.

  The dog wasn’t with her. She spun a slow three hundred and sixty degrees but didn’t see him. At least one of us made it. Unless dogs go somewhere else? Which would be a pity because a dog would love it here.

  “Hello.” The deep voice
came from behind her.

  Jesse turned to face the tallest woman with the bluest eyes she had ever seen. So blue it looked like the sky behind her had found a way to shine directly through her skull and blaze through her irises.

  “Are you a giant?” Jesse asked in a voice squeaky with surprise.

  The woman frowned. “No, I am the Soul Selector. The giants are over there in the Titan marshes.” She pointed vaguely to the left.

  “I meant that you’re very tall.”

  The Soul Selector sniffed. “I’m just over nine foot, and you are sitting down.”

  “Did you select me? Is that why I’m here? You said you were a soul selecta—”

  “No, I damn well did not select you. You are here because you have broken your eternal pathway and nobody knows what to do with you. And it’s Soul Selector, with a TOR, not a TAH. Selector.”

  Jesse shrugged. “Whatever.”

  There was a moment’s silence then Soul Selector asked, “What is a soul selecta?”

  “A soul selecta is a deejay,” Jesse said. “She selects the smoothest grooves. Keeps it chill. Manages the mood. Basically, a good one owns the place.”

  “Hmm.” The sound was almost a growl. Soul Selector’s scowl deepened as she thought this over. Then she seemed to resolve something and her frown quickly cleared. “Well, I am the Soul Selector. There are rules, you know.”

  “Okay, sure.” Jesse was relieved the moment had passed. She was still trying to figure out if this scary chick was dangerous. What with the billowing black cloak and long dark hair, she looked like a banshee, and those luminescent blue eyes were freaky.