Chapter 9
Marta Changusa pulled into Hal's service station for the second time that day. "Ah," she said, surveying the blond man's supple body appreciatively, "I see you were waiting for me."
"Sure," he answered, grinning at her as he jumped into her battered car. "This afternoon was only a preview, right?"
"That is correct. Tonight, I have something very special planned. Tell me, do you like group activities?"
"Sex you mean? Sure. Love 'em."
Actually, Hal had never tried group sex, but after this afternoon with the blonde woman, he felt ready for anything. If her friends were anything like she was, he was in for an evening to remember. There was nothing Hal wanted more right now. He had tried calling home a hundred times during the day. Each time the phone rang and rang with no answer. Wherever Sandra was, she was playing hard to get. Hal had decided to stop worrying about her. Sandra was a grown woman. Let her take care of herself. He was not going to chase after her, and while she was away, he had made up his mind to enjoy himself to the fullest.
"Where we going?" he asked as they sped down the highway.
"You will see soon enough," the dark-skinned woman said, smiling at him.
She turned off on the road that went by his house. They bounced along for some time until they passed a small sports car parked off to one side.
"Hey," Hal called out, "That car belongs to a friend of mine. What's it doing here?"
"Never mind that now. You and I have more important things to do than look for your friend or worry about a parked car. Who knows? Perhaps it. is a meeting in the woods, something of a loving nature."
"Yeah, maybe," Hal answered. Knowing Candy, that could well be the case. After all, she had been quick enough to lure him into the bushes. He was not going to worry about her now, any more than he was going to think about Sandra. It was almost night, too late to worry.
The blonde woman pulled the car off into the driveway of an abandoned farm. The house had burned many years before, and the barn was little more than a pile of weathered boards and beams.
"Come," she said. "Follow me." She walked off into the darkness.
Hal followed, his eyes on the curve of her back and on the lush fullness of her swinging hips. This afternoon, the woman had f ellated him to one of the most exciting climaxes he had ever known. Tonight there was no telling what promises lay ahead. Before it was over, he knew he would have the experience of group involvement. He had read and heard so much about orgiastic behavior, had secretly yearned to participate. Now he was to have his chance. Hal's -heart beat excitedly as he followed the blonde woman through the trees, ducking to keep from being hit in the face by the low branches.
"Come," she said, turning to him, "We have only a little further to go. You will find it well worth the walk."
They stepped into a small clearing. Hal could see, even in the darkness, that some sort of pavilion had been set up. Above, a huge piece of painted canvas had been stretched to form a roof. Its corners were secured to the tree tops by long ropes. Prom its corners hung curtains that formed its walls.
"We will perform a sort of ritual tonight," the woman said, her accented voice low and purring. "I feel certain you will find it exciting and enjoyable."
"Ritual? That usually has something to do with religion, doesn't it?"
"Sometimes, yes. Think of what happens here as drama if you like. Each of us shall play a part. I take the part of Ishtar, the goddess of physical love. I direct the actions of you and of the other participants."
"I get it. You decide who fucks who, right?"
The woman smiled. "Something like that, perhaps. You will take off your clothing and put on the costume provided. It is there, on the ground, One of our participants is already in position. See?" She lifted one of the curtains, and Hal peered into the space within.
The pavilion was dimly lighted by banks of candles and hanging lanterns. Near its center stood a rough scaffolding. Hanging from it, arms and legs stretched apart, was a female figure, its head downcast. The figure's hands and feet were bound tightly to the scaffold. It wore a mask covering the upper two thirds of its face, and its beautifully formed, lushly smooth breasts were bare. A long, silky cape of red satin trimmed in white was draped over its shoulders. Gold and silver chains hung thickly from its slim hips, half-hiding the crotch.
Hal looked, blinked his eyes, and then looked again. The woman's groin had been shaved completely. Her pouting pussy lips were as clean and hairless as a child's. The blond man stared at her, his mouth watering. What would it be like to eat at that open, incredibly smooth slit?
"Who is she?" he whispered.
"She is Altara, goddess of the dawn. Altara is the prisoner of the night. It is up to the sun to free her. It is all part of the ritual. The sun is Solono." The word rolled off her tongue with a rumble that ran excited shivers up and down Hal's spine. She looked directly at him. "You, oh, golden giant, are Solono. You will free Altara."
"And just how do I do that?"
"With the help of the earth spirit. I shall direct you as to what to do when the ritual begins."
"Hey, look, I'm not really the religious type."
The woman threw back her head and laughed. "Do not be afraid. Everything is for the best. You will see."
"But I thought you said ..."
"That there would be sex? Yes. Do not worry so, my godly one. Ease yourself with this as you don your costume." She handed Hal a tall goblet of amber fluid.
He sniffed it. It smelled like some kind of wine. He took a sip, the honey sweetness of the liquid exciting his tastebuds. "Hey," he said, taking another drink, "This stuffs good."
"Enjoy it. I shall leave you now. Hurry and prepare yourself." The woman disappeared.
Slipping into the small tent behind the pavilion, Marta found Hando bending over Sandra. "Is she conscious?" she whispered.
Looking up at her, the dark-eyed boy shook his head no.
"Do not concern yourself. I will prepare her for the ceremony. I see you have made the other woman ready. You are certain it is the right one, Sandra's so-called friend?"
Hando grinned from ear to ear and shook his head vigorously up and down.
Marta chuckled to herself. "At times I believe you would rather shave them than anything else. You have done well, my friend. Go now and ready yourself. You must play the god of darkness. Tonight we perform a beautiful ceremony, and perhaps we will bring happiness to this dear child." She laid a cool hand on Sandra's forehead.
As Hando disappeared, Sandra opened her eyes. "What? Marta, it's you. I must have fallen asleep again, hours ago it seems like. It's dark outside."
"And time for the ceremony, my beautiful one-. You promised to participate. Do you remember?"
"Yes, yes I do. But as soon as it's done, I have to go home. You understand?"
"Yes, of course. Your costume is here. You will be Shanta, the spirit of the earth." She handed Sandra a pile of flimsy garments.
"But what am I supposed to do? I don't go in for this sort of thing much." She looked distrustingly at the sheer costume.
"Do not worry. I will instruct you as the ritual progresses. I am Ishtar."
"You're sort of the master of ceremonies then, like on television," Sandra said, giggling.
"Something like that. Be ready in as lit* tie time as possible." She poured a glass of wine from the decanter beside Sandra's cot. "Drink this." "I had some before. It puts me to sleep." "You have slept sufficiently. Now it will simply relax you. Drink and enjoy." "Thank you, Marta. Thank you for everything." Smiling, she lifted the goblet to her lips.
"And thank you for taking part in our ritual. It is important."
"That's okay. It sounds like fun. I don't get to dress up and perform like this very often." With a slow smile and a slight bow, Marta left the tent.
Sandra held her costume up to the light. It consisted of a black velvet vest trimmed in gold braid. The garment was open at the front. She wondered if Hando was going to witness the performance. If he did, she wondered whether her nearly nude breasts would excite him. From the way he had looked at her ever since she arrived, his dark eyes burning, she suspected he would be aroused, to say the least.
Harem pants of bright green chiffon completed the costume. This was ridiculous, she thought. She would feel like the slave girl in a B grade movie. Holding the pants up, she discovered that they were nearly transparent. She found out some- thing else too. They had an open crotch. Once she got into them, she would be bare from the base of her stomach to the top of her buttocks. Well, she decided, what difference did that make? This whole experience was crazy, a once in a lifetime thing. Why not go along with it? The last item she was to wear was an elaborate mask that covered the top half of her face. Mirrors had been sewn to its surface, and the eye holes were outlined in gold thread. It was beautiful, a work of art.
Sandra finished off the last of the wine in her glass, and poured herself some more. If she were going to appear in this getup, she had better be as relaxed as possible. As she slipped into the skimpy costume with its wide open crotch, she caught herself wondering what part the handsome, mute Hando would play in the ritual. This could all turn out to be very interesting.
Her fingers moved instinctively to caress the hair-studded fissure of her cunt. Strange, she thought, ideas like this never crossed her mind, at least not usually. Perhaps there was something about these people, about being out here in the woods, something about the wine. But that was silly. She was simply doing Marta a favor, returning a kindness. If Hando were to take liberties ... Well, she would worry about that when the time came, not before. Taking one last drink of the honey flavored wine, Sandra left the tent, heading for the pavilion.