Pay in Gold

+ At other times, Ela-Vhyirmat was a quiet, modest woman in a public position and men came secretly to draw wisdom from her, telling them selves that they were not being influenced by a mere woman-- it was only for the wonderful sex that a man in their powerful position deserved!

+ A French king spared the life of a servant-girl who had been caught stealing food for her child. The king was so stressed out that he was impotent, until Ela-Vhyirmat found that he would relax as she caressed his chest. His subjects soon marveled at his compassion. The king's courtiers marveled at the whispers among court ladies about the king's newfound ability to command their performances in the royal bedchambers with something approaching his long-lost enthusiasm.

+ Another court marveled at a bold warrior who announced that his next project would be to commission construction of an academy. In that same court, a poet found his muse. And Ela-Vhyirmat smiled quietly and enjoyed each in his own way. The bold warrior developed a fascination with her ability to control her muscles around his manhood. His hard tool, as he had bragged to his men, had pushed into many beautiful captives. But this woman he told no one about – she took his hardness and transformed him into a tool of her pleasure. It felt so wonderful that he thought about her at the most awkward times and his legend-making member pushed upward like a young man's.

+ The poet spun out beautiful words to describe her and Ela-Vhyirmat smiled. She smiled as she thought about how Lit majors in future generations would struggle to make sense of what he wrote, how critics would debate the identity of his influential love, and best of all, she smiled and licked her lips as she thought of how she could command his silence. When his words had no further meaning, she would move closer and closer to him, and he would sense her warmth. And then, his mind would turn to lovemaking and his poetry would pour into her and her heart would sing the song of Creation.

"It seems as though you were gently guiding History," I observed.

"That's an interesting way of putting it." She smiled. "Yes, I have been nudging it in the direction that I felt the Goddess wants for us." Playfully, she nudged me.

She finished the explanation with a quizzical look, as if asking herself a question. "But I don't recall a life as a German. Something about Britain, something about Arabs, I remember that. But it's just bits and pieces. And gold... yes gold. Jewelry? I don't think so... but lots of it... piles of it." She answered her own questions as best as she could.

"So there are some lives that you can't account for?"

"Yet!" She winked at me. "I learned in college that only the most special lovemaking opens my soul to these recollections."

I whistled. Imagine, me, at a loss for words!

"There's a pattern that I've learned."

"And I fit into it?" It was my turn to whisper, as my voice too had turned scratchy. Lovemaking in Colorado's dry, high atmosphere has its quirks.

"Yes!" She grinned broadly and leaned back contentedly against the pillows for a minute. My hands followed her movement, gliding over her nude curves. I could see that her mind was floating on the remaining pleasure that was ricocheting through her body. One of my hands seemed to float down between her thighs, as though with a mind of its own. Her warmth greeted me, led my fingers to begin stroking. I paused for a moment and whispered to her: "And your orgasm is the gateway, yes?"

"Yes," she sighed and wiggled her body a bit to let her legs find a comfortable position that would open to my touch. "But not any orgasm."

"How do you mean?"

"Only my third orgasm, riding on top of my lover, on the night of the full moon....." I looked carefully at her – it was almost as if another person were speaking—was there someone else insider her not? Had she become someone else? There was much here for me to learn.

"What?" I almost snapped at her and lost my concentration on her sensuality. "I think that's pushing it a bit. Talk about performance anxiety!" My fingers dropped off of automatic pilot and I found myself having to think of what to do. When I stopped stroking her something happened.

"How dare you disagree with me?" She snapped back. "It's my body, and my lives. Why do you think that you can tell me what to do?"

"True!" I laughed when I realized how foolishly I had behaved. I would show Ela otherwise-- I was not ready, even with the Viagra, to enter her again. I relaxed and my long fingers began their gentle, but firm, explorations, teases, rewards. She started to say more, but I held a finger to her lips and then kissed her firming nipple closest to me. I suppose that I grinned wickedly at the plan that had come to mind. I should have paid more attention to her tongue, licking hungrily about her full lips, and then I might have realized that she had anticipated what was about to come. Eagerly, she opened to my caresses, shifting to let me finger her in ever more inviting ways.

Already sensitive in every part, her muscles tuned to draw in the maximum pleasure, Ela arched her back in my embrace. I concentrated all my attention on her needs, and applied every ounce of my experience toward the powerful force that crashed through her, extending it, stroking her into each of the lovely ripples that came afterward. She sighed a little sigh, and then went limp in my arms. A cooling wave of perspiration washed over her. She smiled, perhaps the same contented smile that had enchanted ancient kings and poets and warriors.

But nothing ethereal had happened. No message from her former life. No reincarnated soul speaking to me.

"You enjoyed that, didn't you?" I laughed.

"Yes." She grinned. "You used David Shade's method, didn't you?"

I did not answer, but from the twinkle in her eye, I think that she knew that I had.

"Guys who find out about your past lives always try to do that, don't they?" I was figuring out why she was so promptly ready to be pleasured in this way.

"Yes! If they know how."

"But this way doesn't work for your past lives, does it?"

"You're right."

Somehow I still was dismissing this idea, and as you would suppose, it did not come up until the night of the next full moon. We were not seeing each other every weekend; both of us were too busy. She had to make several trips up into Wyoming on her project. I do not think it was conscious on either of our parts that fateful night, but perhaps our subconscious minds remembered what to do.

The first time was urgent-- we tumbled into bed when she came by my place in mid-afternoon, her lace camisole still clinging to her curves, eager to reunite and restart our sexual clocks timed to each others' signals. The Viagra that I had slipped was barely down the hatch when my lips were closing over the soft skin under her jaw and teasing their way over the lace covering her warming breasts. I never thought about her story of past lives-- I was thinking of the male imperative that was even more ancient, although touched with the modern, scientific knowledge that my precum contained ingredients that early societies would have thought magic, ingredients that met ancient female needs.

Ela wiggled sensuously when she felt my special fluid meeting hers, and opened naturally to me. It was a beautiful moment, one that would have been special enough had it been our lone time that weekend. I flexed my muscles inside her and coated her with my honey, moving over her, dipping into her, as she stretched out eagerly beneath me. I enjoyed our maturity in preparing each other and reveled in my ability to focus on her needs first, but as we moved together, our movements became ever more instinctive and then we gasped in unison as our orgasms merged.

We lay in a tangled, warm embrace for a while. Ela murmured her approval, which I could only second. She talked a little about her reading and what she had learned from other lives, and that brought the reincarnation idea back to me. What she explained is that in her experience and that of her women friends who paid attention, some men's precum was exactly right for some women, and so on. In other words, to be technical about it, the chemical bond that developed between lovers enhanced the intimacy for the right couples. They were literally meant for each other. She could have done the same lovemaking with another guy, and it would have been fun, but not felt fulfilling more than the ordinary needs she and other experienced women understood they had.

I floated the idea with her that perhaps this had evolved in ancient times, so that women would select the mate that gave them the most pleasure, even without sex manuals. She laughed and suggested that, no, only the most highly evolved modern women could detect this powerful influence! It was funny, she admitted, to tease men in this era with the thought that women did not really need men to carry on the species. But even as an interesting man turned flustered and tried to argue with her, she could feel herself yearning for the offering that would come with his sperm.

Ela had thought a great deal about this, I came to realize. She pointed out to me that because most sex research was done by men thinking about how to avoid conception, there had been a sort of assumption that all that wonderful ivory stuff was just one of those "inert ingredients" listed on packages. Now that women were taking a role, she explained proudly, their need for the right male contribution was better understood.

This came up during the lecture that we attended that evening. We learned that in pre-historic or oral history times, only a few women seemed to have been sensitive enough to take this special pleasure. In recent generations, there were more and more women with that ability. Still, they were a minority.

"Somewhere," the lecturer explained, "at this moment there is a woman sitting wondering why her friends don't talk about their needs in the way that she feels them. And they wonder why she may act so boldly when the opportunity to meet a fascinating man comes her way. Their rules were not made for her and vice versa."

Ela leaned over and whispered to me.

"See, the Goddess is leading us to a new age."

"One at a time, apparently!" I whispered back. "Wait till the pharmaceutical companies find out how to market millions of a douche with your choice of men's chemical gifts." Ela grimaced playfully and stuck out her tongue at me.

This whole discussion, after what Ela and I had already discussed that afternoon had the effect that you would expect. It was a good lecture, but we were holding hands like kids when we should have taken notes. My hand was caressing her thigh when others were asking questions of the lecturer, Doctor Markus, the noted German sexologist. (You remember that he helped me with research previously.) I don't even remember what the title of his presentation was now, except that it had to do with sex. That part penetrated my thoughts and I was open to any suggestion that might be offered.

When Ela suggested that we have some of the orange sherbet that I had at home, instead of eating out, I was ready for her. To her surprise, it arrived on my coffee table with whipped cream sprayed over it, topped by a red Maraschino cherry. We barely were able to finish this desert, before we were licking the last tastes of it from each other's mouths, my hand diving beneath her loose wrap-style skirt to find a hot welcome between her thighs. Her legs relaxed with the easy familiarity of trust, and my stroking hand captured and held her pussy.

"You've never tried whipped cream with sex?" I asked, genuinely surprised. She had not, but she purred that it was time to find out.

"It seems like everyone can enjoy something different with this hobby," was her eager reply. This was said as she pulled her camisole over her head. Her breasts gave an extra pointed quality to her words. With familiar urgency, I unwrapped her skirt. She kicked her sandals away.

Gleefully, she presented herself to me, proud in her panties, wincing with comedic shock as the cold whipped cream jetted out onto each breast in turn. I warmed them with my kisses-- and my tongue scooped up the sweet, gooey stuff. As we embraced and licked up the remains of the cream, my hands found her waistband and stretched her last covering over her hips. She wiggled as I held her there.

"I would have thought that the whipped cream would be put in an area below the waist, too!" She hungered for the maximum effect and I crowned her feminine center with a foam G-String. Ela trembled as I rolled it onto my tongue.

Before long, it was my turn. She yanked my slacks off with my underpants caught in them. Before I could think about it, I was on the couch and she was kneeling to tenderly lick the whipped cream shroud that she had sprayed over my shaft. It had only been partly erect when she had first pressed the white jet in my direction, and the cold had initially discouraged my erection. But now I rose out of the foamy collar, warmed by her embracing lips.

She coaxed me to my hardest point, and then as my fingers moved to bring her to another orgasm of her own, she guided me to a bursting climax.

Sophia, you probably are getting increasingly excited by anticipating the third orgasm of the full moon night, but perhaps this is a good stopping place. Try not to let it get to you for a minute while I explain. Just remember those winter nights in the Oxford Hotel when we cuddled under the covers and talked about all kinds of things in the in-between times. Or, remember when you teased me by saying that in my stories I should always leave a quiet spot where you could stop and make your way to the little drawer in the bedside table and pull out the vibrator? So that you could finish... the story! Well, here is that quiet place.

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I had raised the question of Ela's past lives with Professor Markus, and he had explained some of his research regarding women's needs to me. At first, this did not seem like an obvious connection, but as you think about it, there is an explanation. Through a synthesis of the latest biological research and his own hypnotic interviews with a cross-section of couples, he had identified that women with strong past life associations also were able to obtain more enjoyment from sex. And in turn, they were more conscious of the connection that sexual intimacy gave them with Creation – not just with the man they had selected. Markus said that he was an agnostic himself, but that as a scientist there certainly was a link of some sort there. He was not sure – it was a chicken and egg thing – whether their past life experiences made them more knowledgeable about sex or whether, as I suspected, their comfortable acceptance of it as an essential part of life also opened them to new experiences and awareness of their ancient experiences. You could contact me if you find that you keep thinking about this and we will talk more about it.

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I was so tired that, in spite of my certainty that this would be a special night, I fell asleep. I was stretched out on the couch when I awoke. Ela's clothes and mine had been tossed around the room when they had become hindrances, and I had nothing on me except for Ela's hair. She was kneeling on the rug in front of the couch, bending over me and with sweet kisses, tenderly bringing my cock back to life. Her hair teased my tummy. I don't know where she had been or how long she had been there— there wasn't room enough on the couch for both of us to have slept.

What caught my eye was the faint glow around her. Later, Professor Markus told me that it was just the moonlight silhouetting her. To me, the glow danced like the Northern Lights, outlining her nude form. As she warmed to her pleasure at bringing me back to readiness, it was as though I was watching an infrared image. The colors changed, the way her eyes had changed color each time we made love. And I could see the tints glowing red around her warmest places.

She rose and stood before me, hands on her hips, inviting me to rise and come to bed with her. The aura moved with her and intensified as I shook the sleep from my eyes and stood before her. She looked me over approvingly, as I did her. It all seemed to be in slow-motion, but perhaps that is only how I remember it now. I remember it so vividly!

We walked hand in hand to the bed. Our path through the strewn clothes took us past the full-length mirror, and to my amazement, I noticed that Ela's aura seemed to be reaching out over our entwined hands to include me. It could have been frighteningly strange, but it did not feel that way at all. Instead I felt closer to her than I had ever been, calmer, even though we were only holding hands.

"Just a moment," Ela spoke quietly. She moved to the window and drew back the inner drapery. A gauze curtain filtered the mingled city lights and moon light that cast a beam of silver energy over the sheets. For a second, her shadow fell across the bed, and then she was in my arms. We lay down side by side and embraced, taking in the sense of each other so close. I felt her passion, but I also felt her comfort at knowing that everything was right about this. That was my sense, too.

You know how it is when you are so well-tuned to each other that everything seems to happen on its own? That was how I felt, as my hand found her opening flowerlike as I touched her. She accepted my caresses with increasing sighs, and finally could take no more.

"I want you..." she sighed, "to be inside me. To be a part of me...." She moved the pillows about, stacking them and the ever more intense aura danced about her. I straightened out and I found myself looking deeply into her eyes as she tenderly beckoned me onto her.

Again, it seemed to be in slow motion. Yet you know how quickly that can be done! There was none of that "he impaled himself in her twat" or that sort of thing. It was a gentle enveloping of me in her warmth, as though she wanted to savor each centimeter of me coming down onto her. The scents of our sex needs perfumed the air around us.

That was most of the centimeters into Ela, but as the sensual tension built, we suddenly felt a wave of power sweep through us both, and I felt my hips thrusting downward as she pushed up. A heavy dose of the masculine urges to set the pace rushed through me, and I began to move in ways that would please, ways that in another time or with another woman might have rushed toward a climax for both of us. I was losing myself in her, my body pushing her down toward the brink of ecstasy.

But that is not what happened.

It is difficult to describe, but somehow as we went deeper and deeper into intimacy, I began to be able to see both myself and Ela from above. It seemed like I was floating over the room, except that could not be, because I could see myself, my body, energetically fucking her below. Her hands were tracing my muscles as my hips flexed with abandon, her legs wrapped tightly around mine. And, I would swear, Ela-Vhyirmat was there with me as we floated above the room. Or her aura was. But I could see her down below, tossing her head back and licking her lips, shifting slightly from one side to the other in order to take the maximum pleasure that I was offering, offering her breasts for my hot caresses. Then I saw her move her legs under me, tightening her hold on my manhood. Her body was definitely down there! I saw my legs spread wide over her—my back arched and muscles bulged.

And as below us, the tender trap of her vagina took in the power that she had released from me, we reached a climax as no other. The aura Ela-Vhyirmat floating with me, and I, suddenly rushed together as though a gust of wind had swirled two clouds of smoke into one. For a moment, there was a feeling between us—or through us— of indescribable bliss. We felt whole. I suppose that I heard angels singing, but I was hardly taking notes at that instant. That cloud of us was floating down, down, toward our orgasmic-tuned bodies.