you come out at night
that's when the energy comes
and the dark side's light
and the vampires roam ...
oh you're so beautiful
with an edge and a charm
but so careful
when I'm in your arms
Building a Mystery
Sarah McLachlan
A young witch, dressed all in black, sat inside her circle at the very heart of Salem, Massachusetts, looking up at the stars. Her name was Zatanna.
Although Zatanna was her given name, many of her friends assumed she chose the name at initiation, when she first became a witch. Others assumed far worse things.
A few years ago, when she was still in high school, a teacher typed "Zatanna" into a word processor. The dumb machine choked on her name, thinking it misspelled, and replaced it with the name Satan. From that moment on, the buzz around town was that Zatanna had named herself after the Christian Devil. To most people, this was simply a joke, but others saw it as a warning from Heaven. She had received three death threats so far.
People never changed, and fear never faded away, even in a city that today welcomed witches with open arms. Someone was always ready to lash out at anyone different from the norm -- different even from other witches. Any suggestion of Satanism, no matter how far fetched, was as good as a conviction.
This controversy earned her a spot on a local talk show. The host suggested she change her name to something normal, something Christian, to prove her good will to the people of Salem. She retorted that she would rather cut off her hand than disgrace her existence. "My name is my power."
This mysterious statement turned out to be a self-fulfilling prophesy. It caught fire on a slow news day, making the headlines of the local paper, and sound bites on TV news updates. To her enemies, this statement only proved her allegiance to the devil. To the local covens, it made her a hero.
But to Zatanna, it was simply the truth. Words and names had power beyond what people realized. Sometimes, only the right word will do the trick. The headlines. The sound bites. They weren't just random words. They weren't just clever combinations. They were spells. Magic.
Common magic, though. Like cards up a sleeve. Like the flicker of a candle. That kind of magic lasts five minutes, then it’s gone. So Zatanna had something to prove. She was not a show magician. She was not a witch only at Halloween time. Her time had not come and gone -- she was just getting started.
When she was done, she would command the essence of life and love, and she would offer it up to the world. Who would dare attack her name then?
Zatanna sat alone in her circle, concentrating her energy, summoning the Sun's Beloved, as the modern goddess was known in the Craft. Zatanna would succeed alone where the combined energy of many covens had failed before. They were all fools, Zatanna thought with a sly smile. They fumbled with magic like a toy. One focused woman could be more powerful than a dozen poorly prepared covens. Magic was a precise art, requiring the right tools and the right words. Zatanna always had the right words, but finally, with a little help, she had acquired the necessary ingredients.
She searched all of Salem before deciding on the most obvious place to set up her circle: in the pagoda, at the center of Salem Common. She came here every day for two weeks, when the sun set in the horizon, and the moon shined alone in the night sky. But tonight the sky was black, except for the stars, as the moon was new. She sat in the circle, surrounded by five candles, two red, two blue, one yellow, and stared up through the pillars of the pagoda at the stars. As strange as it seemed, the moon was the key to summoning the Sun's Beloved. The moon was the forgotten element, the essence that the goddess yearned for, and needed, to be complete.
Zatanna placed a photograph of the goddess at the center of the circle, the most intimate photograph that she could find. She touched the image with a strand of the goddess's own hair, and she sprinkled a few particles of the goddess's dried blood over the glossy likeness of her body. Then Zatanna closed her eyes, and chanted in an ancient language: "Arak snus devoleb ot males emoc."
"Linda," she replied when asked her name, but then she hesitated. "Last name?" the lady behind the counter asked impatiently.
Linda was caught off guard. She wasn't good at names. She should have put some thought into this before now, because whatever name she chose, she'd have to stick with it for a while, maybe even for the rest of her life. She wanted something credible, something meaningful, not something anonymous like Smith. She looked quickly at the wall behind the lady, where there hung an engraving with two lists of names, all of them victims of the Salem witch trials of 1692. She picked the first name.
"Danvers, " She replied suddenly, and then she put the two names together, to see how it sounded. "Linda Danvers."
The lady's face lit up. "Oh, like the town? That's an unusual name. Any history behind it?"
Linda glanced again at the engraving. At the top of each list was the town or city where the victims lived. Oh, good one, Linda, you just named yourself after a town.
"I guess you could say that."
The lady glanced at her quizzically, then started typing into her computer again. "And how long will you be staying at the Hawthorne Hotel?"
Again, Linda paused. Even these simple questions were more than she could handle right now. "How long can I stay?"
This earned a frown and a sigh. "The best I can do is a week. Are you sure you can afford it? Any reasonable-sized room will cost $120 per night."
Linda nodded. Andrew's assignments had paid her well, and she had accumulated a small nest egg in her savings account. She could last a year, even at these inflated rates. "Oh, one other thing -- do you allow pets?"
The lady threw her hands in the air. "You're kidding, right?"
Linda leaned over. When she stood up again, she was holding a small patched cat in her arms. "His name is Calvin," Linda said with a smile.
The lady smiled back mockingly. "Are you sure? Listen, Ms . . . Danvers, this is a Hotel, not an apartment building."
"But I feel like I belong here," Linda pushed, knowing she sounded crazy. "Why can't I rent a room with my cat? He won't be any trouble."
The lady was near the end of her patience, but she collected herself. She glanced around and said in a soft voice. "It's against hotel policy, but maybe if you hid the cat in a box or something . . ."
Linda shook her head vehemently and turned away. "I'm sorry. I was wrong. We don't belong here."
The lady shook her head. "Sheesh, some people..." she whispered, then went back to typing at her computer.
Linda put Calvin on the floor. Several people watched as she exited the hotel, with Calvin at her heels. Apparently, it was quite uncommon to walk a cat, especially without a leash.
But Calvin and Linda had a special kind of bond you don't often see between pets and their masters. For one thing, Calvin respected Linda. He knew from experience that he could not escape or hide from his super-master. He knew from the psychic connection between them that he could trust her. He could sense her thoughts, even if he couldn't understand what she was thinking. He wanted to follow her everywhere.
Still, Linda had to keep an eye on him as they entered a crowded sidewalk, alongside a busy street. She led him across the street to a large park near the hotel, which was all but deserted. It was a good place to just walk around and think.
Think about what led her here.
So much had happened in the past three weeks, since the incident at the football field. Incident -- that was a comfortable choice of words. A euphemism. She would never get over this if she hid behind comfortable thoughts, belittling the horror of what she had done. Face up to it, girl, as her college friend Mary would have told her. It had been three weeks since you lost all respect for yourself, for your friends, for the world, when you got up on a stage and acted like a bitch in heat, for all the world to see.
Linda shivered. She couldn't swallow the guilt. She rationalized that she didn't take off her clothes; someone else did that for her. And she didn't broadcast those images over all the world; that was the media's doing.
But even if she didn't commit the crime alone, Linda knew that she was an accomplice. And what scared Linda the most was that she wasn't entirely ashamed. Part of her had always ached for this kind of attention. She had appeased this perverse hunger with small indulgences. At first, not wearing panties or a bra was enough. Then she wore tiny skirts, and tight tops. But these indulgences merely increased her perverse appetite, leading her into several sexual adventures and a secret life as an exotic dancer, where she had sated her passions, until her palate grew wilder.
Linda felt dizzy and she leaned against a tree. Her shame and stress was like poison in her body. She fell to her knees and retched, trying to evacuate her burdened soul, but she could get no relief. As much as she hated to admit it, the poison was a part of her. She had always been a shy girl, afraid of attention, yet she never hid from it. She had always hated crowds -- unless they were watching her. In fact, she would probably be a shut-in, if not for the attention her body craved. Now this hunger inside her had grown into a sex monster, and it was too much for her to handle the contradiction.
It was also too much for the world to handle. For the past several years, parents pointed to Supergirl as a model for their daughters. She was powerful, she was beautiful, she was special. Linda mistakenly thought that she was like a celebrity, but she didn't quite understand until a few weeks ago -- until Andrew explained it to her: Supergirl was not a person, as far as the world was concerned.
Supergirl was an animal, a girl of steel, an alien, an angel, an icon of femininity, a demon, a Siren, a goddess. For several years, she and Superman were glorified in the press as the embodiment of Truth, Justice and the American Way.
So when that embodiment stood before the world, stark naked, exuding raw sexuality, America struggled to find meaning in her act. Was she the Whore of Babylon or the Goddess of Love? Was she an example to follow or to condemn? Would fucking her be like heaven or hell?
Andrew predicted the chaos and confusion that followed. Hundreds of women and girls, inspired by Supergirl, saw fit to walk the streets of Metropolis nude or semi-nude. Miniskirts were suddenly back in fashion with a vengeance, especially among teenagers, who were turning Supergirl's unveiling on a football field into a ritual. The public enthusiastically assigned to Supergirl blame or credit, while the media poked at the tinder, sending the flames higher. One newscaster proclaimed that Supergirl would either raise eroticism to respectability, or she would be destroyed by her own sexuality. Only time would tell.
Linda tried to hide until the craze blew over, if it ever did, but the media hunted her like hungry wolves, following a trail that led from the Kindling Klub to her home.
Linda Lee died that Tuesday, when her life story was told on the network news. The anchors interviewed her professors from college ("Linda was a quiet but bright student"), and some of the people she hung around with ("Yeah, I did her").
Now Linda felt as lost and alone as when she first arrived on Earth, and none of her friends could help her. Even worse, they actually seemed afraid of her.
Clark called her on the phone, to give her comfort and forgiveness for everything she had done, but he wasn't out of danger himself, and he couldn't risk being seen with her.
Linda moved in with Andrew for a several days, before the SSA began pressuring him to turn her in. He told her: "I've done all I can do, but now you need to disappear for a while. Find an apartment somewhere, preferably outside the city. Stay away from the media, and eventually things will return to normal."
She doubted things would ever seem normal again, but she packed up some clothes and took Calvin with her, in search of a new home. She didn’t even tell Andrew or Clark where she was going. She didn't want to be a burden or to seek their protection. She didn't feel she deserved friends like them.
Wherever she went, she was afraid that someone would recognize her. No one could watch TV, buy a magazine or surf the net without seeing her face, or another part of her body. Changing her hair color wasn't enough anymore. For once, her shy personality won out over the exhibitionist, and she wore a long skirt, brown boots and a loose sweater. A pair of sunglasses and a 70's style hairdo completed the disguise. Linda Danvers looked more like a school teacher than a sex goddess. Her public image was so much larger than life, yet she was in reality a rather slight woman. A few people stared for more than a second or two, but no one confronted her.
She was feeling quite down and without hope, as she entered a train station. There were departures heading north, south, east and west. She wanted to leave Metropolis, and she didn't care where, but she couldn't decide. She needed a plan. She just sat down on a bench inside the station, petting Calvin, while she watched a giant TV in the company of a hundred other people. They were waiting for a ride, she was waiting for inspiration -- a voice to tell her where to go.
The TV was set to Cable Network News, and of course, Supergirl was always the lead story. Linda covered her face, as CNN presented a picture of herself she hadn't seen before. Apparently, one of Linda Lee's fans snapped her picture at the Kindling Klub a few months back. Linda was bent over, while a cop pushed his billy club into her pussy. The photo was quite fuzzy, and her face was just barely visible, but Linda was the only dancer to ever perform stunts like that. It was her.
One woman sitting near Linda said: "Jeez, just look at that whore..."
And everyone did look. As long as people continued to watch, the networks would search for new pictures to show, and show the old pictures again, just in case someone awoke from a coma and hadn't seen them yet. The networks had the opportunity to legally show a naked woman on television, and they would make the most of it until the law changed, or people stopped watching, or they ran out of pictures.
The current segment expounded on religious perspectives concerning Supergirl's sexuality. The anchor was interviewing a minister from Metropolis, a rabbi from Gotham, and a self-proclaimed witch from Salem.
The rabbi was indifferent to the craze, cracking jokes, and saying this was a non-news item. "Let’s get back to the real issues, like what are we gonna do about the raging vigilante problem?"
The minister said that Supergirl was a lost soul who needed saving. "Jesus is the savior of humans and Kryptonians alike. The real evil lies in news shows like this . . ."
"Thank you Reverend," the anchor cut in. "And now, would you enlighten us with the Wiccan perspective, Zatanna?"
The camera zoomed in on a young lady, with a backdrop of the Hawthorne Hotel. Zatanna wore a black silken top; her hardened nipples peeked through the fabric. Her black tights were ultra sheer, with an embedded fishnet pattern. She wasn't wearing any underwear, but the fishnet hid the details. A month ago, her clothing would have been considered daring in the least. Today, no one raised an eyebrow.
Zatanna spoke without a smile, and the dark eye shadow she wore had an eerie effect. "You are all skirting the issue, as though you are afraid of something. You are afraid of the feelings inside you, because you don't know what they mean. You don't understand that itching, that need to see more, that hope to feel more. You can pretend that you aren't affected, but you can't stop thinking about her. Kara from Krypton has done far more than undress before you. She has put the world under a spell."
"Oh, rubbish," the woman sitting near Linda at the train station muttered. "I've had enough of this filth. Why don't they . . ." Her voice trailed off, as she squinted at the TV screen and shook her head. It was yet another XXX picture of Linda performing at the Kindling Klub.
Linda looked around her, and she saw that Zatanna was right! All eyes were glued to the screen. All faces, men and women, had a blank, anxious glint in their eyes. They needed to see more, and Linda doubted that the authenticity of the photo mattered, as long as they thought they were seeing Supergirl.
And Zatanna knew! She knew what was going on! Linda's heart leaped and for the first time in weeks, she felt a sense of direction and hope. She got her ass off the bench and bought the first ticket to Boston, and took the subway from there to Salem.
Now, hours later, she felt stupid, coming here with nothing planned, and no place to stay. Did she get her hopes up for no reason? What if she couldn't even find this "Zatanna" woman ? What if she was just a quack?
She walked around Salem Common at least twice, thinking that she would take that lady at the Hotel up on her offer -- to sneak Calvin in unnoticed -- when a dim, flickering light caught Linda’s attention. She stood perfectly still, caught between fear and hope. The light was coming from the pagoda at the center of the park, like a lighthouse over an ocean of darkness ...
Zatanna sat cross-legged, and stared into the flame of a candle. The image of the Sun's Beloved was etched in her mind, and she no longer needed the photograph to focus her energy. She scried into the flickering fire and saw the future.
The goddess was near. Zatanna could feel her.
She rubbed her fingers together, mixing the dried blood and strands of hair together, and touched her lips. "Arak emoc," she cried out, swaying her head, exposing her neck to the darkness, as she licked the goddess' seasoning from her finger tips. Her hand fell from her lips to her chest and swept over her body in clockwise circles. Her other hand fell into her lap, and her finger snaked through a secret entrance in her tights. "Oh, arak emoc!"
Zatanna collapsed and lay sprawled out within her circle, sweat on her brow and a smile on her face. Her message had gotten through. She was sure of it. But she wasn't expecting an answer to her calling so soon.
She opened her eyes and stared through the structure's portal at the twinkling stars hanging over Salem's night sky. A form climbed the pagoda's steps, blocking her view. Zatanna drew her legs tightly together and propped herself onto an elbow. For a moment, she doubted herself -- after all, she had never summoned a goddess before. The figure standing over her was an earthly Salemite, no doubt. A mere passerby. Another witch, or a friend. A police officer, who had been alerted to her pagan rituals.
A moment of silence passed, and Zatanna could feel the personal energy around the silhouette. It was awesome. And Zatanna doubted herself. Who was she to contact a goddess? Who was she to command such power? If Zatanna hesitated any longer, the goddess might fly away. Who was she? How could she forget her own name! She was Zatanna!
In one quick move, she was on her feet, eye to eye with the Sun's Beloved. Zatanna raised her chin high. She wasn't a tall woman, but even in bare feet, she was two inches taller than the goddess. Her confidence soared.
Linda's eyes lit up with recognition, and then looked away in embarrassment when she considered what Zatanna was doing within her circle. She could smell Zatanna's excitement in the air, and see the proof: a dark stain between Zatanna's legs. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to see you doing ... that. I was looking for. . ." Linda's voice trailed off in uncertainty.
Zatanna put a hand on Linda's shoulder, immobilizing her, as Zatanna finished Linda's thought: "You were looking for the truth, weren't you? So why look away now in shame? What you saw was the truth. Passion. Desire. Feelings you are familiar with. Feelings you exude with every breath."
"No!" Linda shook her head, trying to deny it. "I don't want that any more."
Zatanna smiled. "You want it, but you are afraid. You are afraid to let the goddess in you loose. You are afraid of your potential. You are afraid of losing control. But you were never in control, were you? There was always some amateur recklessly playing with the fire. But I'm no amateur. In the right hands, you'll be very user-friendly."
Linda was like a computer mouse under Zatanna's finger tips. With no force at all, Zatanna's dragged Linda into her circle and backed her into the railing of the pagoda.
"You know me?" Linda asked, shivering under Zatanna's fingertips, she felt her body reacting against her will. Was Zatanna telling the truth, and Linda had no will at all?
Zatanna's fingers moved up from Linda's shoulder to frame her face and familiarize herself with Linda's software. "I know you better than you know yourself."
"Who am I?" Linda asked desperately, shying away from Zatanna's probing eyes.
Zatanna touched Linda's dyed, permed hair, and replied, "You know who you are, but you are hiding." Zatanna shook her head disapprovingly as her fingers surfed over Linda's heavy sweater and long woolen skirt.
"What am I?" Linda pleaded, while staring into Zatanna's hypnotic eyes. Linda felt like she was falling, so she grabbed the railing for support.
"You know what you are, " Zatanna whispered as her hand dove beneath Linda's skirt and dragged up her thigh. "You can pretend you don't know, but underneath, you don't even try to hide. Soft, wet, hot, and naked. You are fire, and a fire cannot control itself. Do you really want to know what you are? Let me show you."
Zatanna's finger found Linda's button and double clicked.
"Arak otni sannataz smra peels. Ot flesruoy rednerrus. "
At the Daily Planet, Clark Kent kept his office locked. He paced around anxiously, filled with worry, after Andrew called about an hour ago. Linda had left without a trace. He mentioned that she was very upset. He said he would call back when his agents found her again. That was five hours ago.
"Damn you, Linda," Clark muttered under his breath, almost as angry as he was worried. After everything he had done for Linda over the years, she had never given him a moment of peace. In his twisted state of mind, he could only remember the screw-ups. It was almost like she was trying to destroy herself. The Cuban fiasco. The skirt-flirting. The exhibition in Midvale. The definitive performance at the Kindling Klub; she almost took Clark down with her in that disaster.
What if she went that final step towards self-destruction? That's what scared him the most. She had been feeling terribly lost and confused lately -- who knew what she would do?
And how would Clark live with himself? Maybe he should have told her something. Maybe he could have done more for her, if he just opened up to her, instead of acting like a big brother all the time.
"Damn you Linda," he repeated, "for making me care so much."
The phone rang on his desk.
"Kent," he answered sharply.
"I'm at the hospital," Andrew replied.
Clark's heart stopped in fear. Then it skipped a beat, and he fell against the desk when Andrew finished what he had to say.
Linda awoke to a furry paw batting in her face and a worried meow.
She opened her eyes slowly and smiled like she might to a crying child. "Oh, hi there, boy. What's wrong?" she whispered, and rubbed Calvin on the scruff.
Then her smile dropped as she looked around her.
"Oh, here we go again!" she exclaimed while sitting up, realizing that she didn't have a clue to where she was. She didn't even know if it was night or day. "Why can't I ever sleep without the whole world changing around me?"
She was lying naked on a circular bed of black furs and black sheets. She was confused for a moment, because she didn't exactly feel naked. She didn't exactly feel clothed, either. Her body glowed like satin, and she felt warm, like she was lying in the sunlight. Then she understood. Someone had anointed her body with oils while she had slept, and had rubbed it into her skin. Someone had done a very thorough job, she noted, as she examined between her toes and even the crack of her ass. Her hair was moist, but not with oil. Someone had washed the dye from her hair, returning it to it's natural blonde.
Mirrors surrounded the room, and when she looked up at the ceiling, she was looking down at herself. Her body glowed like a heavenly body against the black background. Like a jem on display. Like a fire in the night.
Ok, she decided, this is just a little too strange. She stepped out of bed and looked around for her clothes. No such luck. The small room didn't even have a bureau or a closet. The room was empty, except for the circular bed, a fold-up chair, and a small bedside table, covered with vials, bowls, candles and a well-worn leather bound book titled: Book of Shadows.
Linda leafed through the pages briefly, finding various references to oils and magical stones, and a whole section handwritten in a language she couldn't understand. She carefully closed the book and positioned it exactly as she found it.
She turned her attention to the vials, which contained clear liquids with the slightest hint of color and strong scents. Each vial was identified by a small white label. Some labels were falling off. Others were discolored, so the words penciled on them were almost unreadable. Linda squinted and sounded out the words aloud. "Vanilla . . . Musk . . . Dragon's blood?"
"Oils," a voice said, startling her. Zatanna was standing at the entrance to the room, which was merely a curtain. "It's just an exotic name. We didn’t kill a dragon to get it. What are you doing out of bed?" Zatanna made a subtle hand gesture and said. "Arak no elcric yal. Ot flesruoy rednerrus."
Calvin lept from the bed, as Linda settled on the furs and lay on her back. Unconsciously, she parted her legs and showcased her body. Consciously, she asked, "Where are my clothes?"
Zatanna shrugged, as she moved closer. "They didn't suit you. You've spent so much time hiding behind clothes and costumes, while the goddess within you wanted to get out. This is all you'll want for clothing and a costume from now on."
Zatanna held a stunning necklace in her hand. The chain of delicate gold links led to an ornament with a golden pentagram shaped base. A single tiny diamond accented each of the five corners, and the red sunstones mounted within formed a pattern. It was a variation on her costume's S-symbol.
Linda lifted her head from the bed and shivered, as Zatanna put the gift around her neck. Her whole body reacted, and she couldn't understand why. She felt very warm inside. Maybe she was feeling gratitude? "Thank you," she replied. "But I can't accept this. It's too expensive."
"You have already accepted it," Zatanna said with a smile and an admiring glance. "Cost doesn't matter, as long as it's the right gift. The right gift to the right goddess."
Linda giggled, feeling like this was a game. "Goddess? Why did you call me that? I am not a goddess. You are the one with all the power. I'm just laying here. What kind of goddess does that make me?"
"The reluctant kind." Zatanna moved closer to Linda, and she felt her confidence waver. "The kind that stumbles into her own fate."
Linda bit her lip in anticipation, as Zatanna dipped her hand into a bowl of oil and drew tiny circles around Linda's nipples with her dripping fingertips. Linda held her breath. Weakly, in the back of her mind, she argued with herself. She sensed that she was a prisoner here, if not by force then by mind control. Maybe she should resist. But there was something in these oils that excited her skin, awakening her passion, stealing her will; Linda reached out to push Zatanna away, before her will was completely gone. But rather than pushing her away, Linda found herself feeling Zatanna's body through her silk blouse. She urged Zatanna closer. Linda wasn't losing her will at all; she was losing her resistance.
Zatanna's hands were shaking. Linda could see the reaction in Zatanna's eyes, mirroring her own. "How can you think that you don't have any power over me?" Zatanna whispered passionately, as she kneeled one knee on the bed, and drained the remaining oil from the bowl onto Linda's breasts. "Can't you hear it in my voice?"
Yes, Linda could hear her passion. And that made Linda feel weaker and burn with a growing energy. Zatanna had all the control, while Linda lay paralyzed. Or so it seemed.
Zatanna touched Linda's cheek with one hand, while her other hand massaged Linda's breasts, rubbing the oil into her already saturated skin, sliding over her sleek belly, caressing down her side, pausing over her hips, then stroking up her thighs on the inside, towards her pussy. "Can't you feel it in my fingers?"
Linda's eyes were tiny slits, as she parted her thighs. Her pussy was already soaked, not needing any oil for lubrication. Zatanna's fingers hovered just inches from the target, before pulling away.
Linda squirmed and arched her back in torturous desire. "No, please don't stop..."
But Zatanna wasn't trying to tease Linda. Zatanna lifted her blouse over her head, breaking eye contact for barely a second or two. Her hair, which was perfectly combed, was now in disarray. Her eyes, once steady, now could barely focus. She pushed her tights down to the floor and stepped out of them. Her pussy was hairless and wet, just like Linda's. "Don't you get it yet?"
She climbed on top of Linda and kissed her lips to lips, breast to breast, and legs intertwined. "I'm just feeding the fire," Zatanna whispered, between kisses, as she descended down Linda's body, kissing, tasting and sucking along the way. The aroma and the piquancy of the oils excited an ancient part of Zatanna's mind. She put her seasoned fingers in Linda's mouth. Linda's hips bucked in reaction, as Zatanna led her goddess to her primal source.
"You are the keeper of the fire," Zatanna breathed the words out, as she climbed down off the bed. She kneeled before Linda's burning pussy and told: "If you cover a fire, it will go out. But if you feed a fire enough..."
Linda screamed, and her legs wrapped around Zatanna's shoulders, pulling her in tight, as Zatanna stoked the fire with her tongue. The flame was expanding from her core. She squirmed under the heat, while the rest of her body ached to be touched. She was like a torch, covered in oil, bursting into flames. Zatanna's hands pushed the flames up her body, squeezing her breasts, while fanning the fire at it's source.
Then finally, as Linda's mind disappeared, she understood. There was no limit to her passion. If you feed a fire enough, it would keep on growing and growing, until...
But just before Zatanna could fan the flames beyond control, a voice from outside the room stunted her magic.
"Hello in there!" The voice yelled. "I smell sex and candy. Are you sneaking into the cookie jar?"
Zatanna was shocked back into awareness, tearing her psyche from Linda's.
"Oh, no! Don't stop now!" Linda cried out, writhing as if in pain, when Zatanna pulled away. Linda's body was left burning without a flame, snuffing out her sexual energies in a discharge of smoke.
Zatanna struggled to collect herself. She climbed into the bed with Linda, held her gently and brought her down from her sexual high. She stared into Linda's eyes until Linda's gaze was steady and her mind was coherent. Then Zatanna said: "Dnoyeb siht eripmav kool. Enoemos wen teem."
Sun and moon. Life and death. Passion and emptiness. Whenever these opposites meet, nature succumbs to magic. The elements open, and akasha is set free.
Most people today didn't believe in magic, even when they saw it for their own eyes. Even when humans flew in the air, they would not believe in magic. Instead, they built a science around the untapped energy in ordinary sunlight to explain human flight in physical terms. They called her a Super-girl, rather than see the truth.
But a witch knew magic when she saw it. The Sun's love energized His beloved, not the Sun's ultra-violet rays. And the rhythm of the moon set her passion free. This was common knowledge among witches since Kara first arrived on Earth. By mentioning her name in a ritual or contemplating her image in the circle, the witches invoked Kara's passion into their own lives.
Yet the world at large was blind to her erotic powers, even while her sexuality had sweeping effects on their everyday lives. During the goddess' first five years, sex therapists reported a dramatic drop in Sexual Arousal Disorders, attributing the change to "causes unknown". As Supergirl's costume grew slighter and more revealing, popular fashion followed the same direction, yet the public saw Supergirl as riding a fashion wave rather than causing it. A recent survey done by Her Choices magazine ranked Supergirl the "sexiest woman alive" by the widest margin in the history of the survey, prompting some feminists to condemn Supergirl, since she equated a woman's power with her sex appeal. Others hailed her for exactly the same reason.
The world simply didn't get it.
Then a few weeks ago, a "mysterious event" occurred in the vicinity of Metropolis, with smaller effects vibrating world-wide. The country awoke from it's sleep in a sweat. Some people reported waking from a nightmare, while others awoke from an orgasm. A few short hours later, the world learned that Supergirl nearly died at the teeth of a vampire. That news dominated the media, and the psychic response was mostly ignored as something in league with UFO sightings, leaving it for the radical magazines to explore. But no one quite understood what had happened.
No one except Zatanna, who immediately made the connection. Sun and the moon. Life and death. The ingredients to magic. And the timing couldn't be better.
She spent the next several nights chanting at the moon, summoning the vampire, with no success. The police in Metropolis eventually reported that the vampire was presumed dead, and like a fool Zatanna believed it.
Then one night, when the moon was full, Zatanna awoke to a dark figure standing over her bed. His skin was heavily tanned from exposure to sunlight, yet the life-giving blood he had taken from the Sun's Beloved had sustained him. Kara's blood was running thin in his veins, and his hunger for her grew day by day. He demanded Zatanna's help.
Zatanna first cowered in fear and suspicion of the power she had summoned. But the vampire, like the goddess, couldn't comprehend his own destiny. He felt the power between himself and Kara, like a nuclear reaction. He felt the need for her flowing through his veins. But he didn't understand their potential. If somehow Zatanna could control the situation, the power and the good she could do would be incalculable.
He was just a silhouette when he entered the room, with the sun blazing in from behind him, partially eclipsed by his body. But when he removed his hood and his cloak, Linda saw his strangely familiar face. Dark hair. Dark hungry eyes. Seeing him sent her emotions into a tailspin, spiraling down and deep. Seeing him made her writhe in fear and made her want to puke. This was a very severe reaction to seeing someone she didn't even know.
Maybe it wasn’t him making her feel that way. Maybe she was experiencing withdrawal from the orgasm Zatanna had denied her. She grabbed Zatanna and held tightly to her. "Oh, why did you stop? I was almost..." Linda started, and then her body shook violently. Backing off from an orgasm was harder for Linda than for most people, but it had never been this hard before. Something else was bothering her.
"Is she OK?" the man asked Zatanna, concern in his eyes...
Zatanna shrugged, "I don't know. Maybe I brought her down too fast. Maybe I put too much energy in motion to slam on the brakes like that."
"Why were you fucking her in the first place? I thought the plan was to wait," he spat out, his fangs showing.
Linda didn't notice. In fact, she was feeling so bad just then, she barely noticed that they were even talking about her.
"I underestimated her sexual powers," Zatanna replied. "I didn't realize how powerful we had made her. I thought I could handle it, but when she got hot, I just lost it."
"I warned you," the man glared at Zatanna. "You aren't taking this seriously enough."
"Hey, I’m sorry, but she was so hot, no one could have resisted her just then. Even her cat looked like he was walking in catnip," Zatanna shot back, laughing. Then her smile fell, and she held Linda close to her. "Now the passion is gone. Funny how her mood changes everything."
The man's eyes softened on Linda, who still felt awful. Her brow was covered with sweat, and she could barely understand a word they were saying. "She looks like she's really suffering," he said to Zatanna. "Linda told me once that she needed some kind of psychic feedback from sex. Maybe you should have removed that charm you gave her and finished her off."
Zatanna shook her head vehemently. "Now, you’re the one who's not taking this seriously enough. We have only one chance to do this right. The time is near, and she’s at her peak energy. Her body is ready to burn, but we need to get her flame started again."
"Should be a piece of cake for a super-witch like you, right?" he said with not a little skepticism. "You must have brought something along to spark the girl's desire. Aphrodisiacs. Wine. Chocolate."
"No chocolate for me, thank you." Linda spoke up, laughing and wincing at the same time. She was amused by the way they were discussing her emotions, as though her feelings were as malleable as clay. Maybe they were, because just the thought of sickly sweet chocolate made her feel even sicker.
"We can do much better than that," Zatanna said, rolling her eyes at the man's ignorance. She reached onto the table behind her and produced a jar marked 'Damiana'. She took a leaf from the jar and handed it to him. "Try this instead, and put a little of yourself into it."
He glanced at her quizzically. "What do you mean?"
"Do I have to spell it out for you?" Zatanna patted the sheets beside Linda, indicating that he should join the two naked women in the circle. "Feed it to her, and remember, the magic is in you, not in the leaf."
Linda watched him nervously, her heart racing with fear, and her belly complaining angrily. Without thinking, she shielded her throat with her fingertips, as the man sat on the bed beside her.
His woolen pants rubbed against her hip, as he leaned over her, holding the leaf to her lips. When he gazed into her eyes, Linda felt the rage in her body changing. When he touched her cheek with his free hand, she parted her lips. He pushed the leaf into her mouth with his finger, and rubbed it against her tongue. Minty, Linda thought, and a little bitter.
A shiver pulsed through her body. Her heart beat raced in excitement, and her belly ached longingly. She took his hand in hers, trapping his finger in her mouth. Her eyes half closed. She felt his free hand sliding down from her cheek to her neck. Her hair fell away from the two scars, which even after a month, glowed blood red when Linda was excited. When he touched her scars, she moaned softly, turning her hips towards him, parting her legs, and offering her pink wet pussy to feed the appetite she saw growing in his eyes.
He was about to accept the invitation, when Zatanna shoved him lightly on the shoulder, smiling, "See what I mean? She turns on in a heartbeat, and once you get her going, and she's impossible to resist."
He pulled his hand from Linda's mouth and forced himself to look away.
"No!" Linda cried, reaching for him, needing his touch to keep her from falling again. "Don't stop!"
"Yes, don't stop," Zatanna concurred, as she stroked Linda's thighs and hips. "We need to keep her excited, but we mustn't lose control of her or ourselves in the process. We can't let her come for another hour, yet."
"Why not?" Linda objected. She wasn't bothered that they were talking mysteriously about her, or that they were making plans involving her. What bothered her was that those plans did not immediately lead to orgasm. She then bit her lip, as the man gently squeezed her breasts. Zatanna stroked inside Linda’s thigh and rubbed against her gushing pussy. Just a few minutes ago, she was writhing in agony; now she was squirming in desire. She had never been turned on so quickly before. Was this magic, like they said? She spread her legs, welcoming Zatanna's fingers inside, but Zatanna left her hanging, hovering near the flower like a bee, but never exploring inside. Linda groaned in frustration. "Oh, God, what are you doing to me? Why won't you let me come?"
"Because the time isn't right, yet, " the man replied. "Not for me. And not for you, my sweet goddess."
"You think I'm a goddess, too? Some kind of sex-goddess?" Linda asked incredulously. "I'm just a horny super-girl who wants to get laid."
"And that's all you want out of life?" Zatanna asked her, disappointed. "You have all these powers, and so much to offer the world, yet all you want to do is 'get laid'?"
"No," Linda defended herself. "I want to use my powers to help people and make them happy, too ... But I have my own needs."
Zatanna shook her head impatiently. "You don't understand. You think that strength and speed are powers, while passion and sensitivity are needs. Yet they all arise from the same fire inside you. What you are calling needs are actually your greatest powers. "
"Well, those great powers have destroyed my life!" Linda cried out. She glanced at the mirror on the ceiling and saw the reflection of herself. The oil on her skin made her whole body appear as wet as her pussy. And the reflection was true; that was how she felt. She felt as though her life was taken over by her pussy. She shut her eyes tight. "What good is this fire you keep talking about? The whole world hates me because of it!"
"That's not true, and you should never be ashamed of the gift you have," the man replied with tenderness in his eyes. He caressed her face. "I was dead before I met you, but you have given me life. That fire doesn't stay inside of you; it touches everyone you share it with."
"Your feelings touch the whole world," Zatanna continued. "Haven't you read any of the newspapers? Haven't you noticed how the crime rate fell during the hours when you were dancing at the strip bar? Did you ever wonder why no one complained, no matter how revealing your costume got? Or that no one, not even gay men, ever argues about how sexy you are? Did you ever wonder why the whole world squealed in delight, when you finally took it all off on that football field -- or why everyone has been burning in desire ever since to see more?"
"They've been burning with desire for me?" Linda asked. "I don't know if that's good thing or a bad thing."
"Like any power, it depends on how you use it," Zatanna answered. "Your body has been sending signals to you all along, yet you've been fighting with yourself, against your body and against your destiny. And those negative feelings vibrate through the whole world. Sometimes people feel frustrated, and they don’t know why. Sometimes they feel happy, for no good reason. Now they are dimly aware that you play a role in their lives. They may resent it, and they may envy you, but they are all fascinated. You have captured their consciousness. Isn’t that what it means to be a goddess? But with all this power comes responsibility. When something feels good, you have a special obligation to enjoy yourself, and share that feeling with those around you."
Linda stared wide eyed at Zatanna, as if she was crazy, but everything she had said rang true.
Linda looked up again at her reflection. Was that the image of a goddess? Her body glowed from within, and her pussy expressed its pleasure at Zatanna's fingertips. The image told the truth, and was that really worse than the other images she gave to the world? She pretended to be so many things, afraid to show the passion inside her, and never wanting to disappoint her friends. But she had never felt as at home with herself as when she danced at the Kindling Klub, sharing herself openly. The passion was all that mattered, then. The feelings of loving and of being loved, even if it was with a stranger. There were no pretenses and no conditions to that love. Just the pure emotion, with nothing held back and nothing hidden. Was that the image of a goddess?
"Maybe you are right," Linda purred at her naked teacher, starting to see her life in a new light and with a new confidence. While running a finger lightly up Zatanna's thigh, and then pausing to test the waters before dipping in. "Maybe I should enjoy myself and share that feeling with you right now. Won't that be a good thing?"
Zatanna tensed in anticipation, yet urged Linda’s finger away.
"It will be a much better thing if we wait an hour," the man replied.
"Why? What happens in an hour?" Linda asked impatiently.
Zatanna and the man looked at each other, surprised she didn't know. It was the second biggest news story, after Supergirl herself.
"What happens in an hour?" Zatanna repeated the question with a look of wonder in her eyes. "Why, something that only happens once in a very long time."
Clark was sitting at his desk, staring at a book called "Legends of the Sun and the Moon."
It was almost the middle of the day, yet the offices of the Daily Planet were mostly empty. Many reporters were scouring about looking for more dirt to print on Supergirl. Others were preparing for the solar eclipse that would begin in less than an hour, and which was generating more public interest than expected.
Eclipses, especially total solar eclipses, where the moon blocks the light of the sun, were extremely rare. Most people never see more than one in their lifetime. And the climax, when the eclipse reaches totality, lasts only five minutes. That made it a very special astronomical event.
And that was also where the media dropped the ball -- by assuming that the phenomenon's appeal was related to science. They underestimated society's superstitious nature. Solar eclipses played major roles in almost every religion. Many faiths prophesied that an eclipse near the millenium would mark the end of the world. Even the darkness that swept the land when Jesus died was presumed to be a solar eclipse. Eclipses always seemed to accompany amazing events. Often amazing and terrible events.
Clark closed the book, and rubbed his eyes. Although the subject matter was fascinating, his mind was elsewhere. He had real problems to deal with. He eyes were tired from lack of sleep, as he waited for a call from Andrew or from anyone, telling him where Linda was. Telling him that Linda was alright.
She had caused him a world of grief, but he couldn't turn his back on her now. He had felt responsible for her since the day she had first arrived on Earth as a refugee and as an orphan from a dead planet. He had never met anyone who felt so lost and alone. Clark did everything he could to help her and to guide her way, but life had dealt her a particularly cruel hand. She was always struggling just to find some meaning and purpose for her existence, and if she created a little havoc here and there while she searched, Clark couldn't blame her for that.
And of course, he couldn't blame her for the things he did to cause havoc. The disaster at the Kindling Klub was as much his fault as hers. He needed to tell her that. He needed to tell her a lot of things.
Across the office, at the main desk, a phone rang. Clark transferred the call to his desk, since the clerk who usually answered the phone was away.
"Daily Planet," Clark greeted.
A woman's voice spoke through static on the other end. Clark picked up on her New England accent. "A major story is about to break in old Salem," the voice spoke quickly, as if by rote. "Send a crew with a camera."
Clark replied casually. "We don't respond to crank calls. What is this story about, anyway?"
The voice said something quickly that Clark couldn't understand. The words didn't even sound like English. Then she said, "Let's just say it involves both of today's headlines. This is a message from the Witches of Salem to the world."
Then the line went dead.
Clark didn't know what to think, but somehow he knew the call was for real. He looked at today's Daily Planet neatly folded on his desk, and on the first page was a picture of Supergirl.
Clark touched his brow and shook his head. "Oh, dear Linda, what are you getting into now..."
"Tell me your most secret fantasy," the man demanded, while torturing Linda with his fingertips, keeping her on the edge. "Tell me what is still taboo and terrifying and virgin. Tell me what you don't want anyone, anywhere to know."
Linda shook her head, as if fighting the torture. How could he even ask a question like that? But she wanted to tell him. There was something in his eyes and his touch. Something familiar. Something ravenous. "You promise not to tell anyone?"
"I won't tell a soul," he replied, then he sucked on her nipple, grazing it with his teeth.
Linda closed her eyes and pulled him in tight. She was too excited to feel fear or caution. "I want to be fucked up the ass," she said with a wicked smile.
"Oh, you little minx!" he teased, rubbing her asshole with his fingertip. Linda moaned, while trying to explain. "No one's ever fucked me up the ass before, because, well, it's so tight. But it feels so empty, too. Nothing ever goes in, and nothing ever comes out."
"Nothing?"
"There are some private things about my powers I don't like to talk about," Linda replied evasively, trying to think of a gentle way to put it. "My body doesn't make any waste."
"Oh, no shit?" He replied, startled.
Linda shrugged, thinking she just weirded him out.
But she had only made him curious. He climbed between her legs for a better look at this tiny wonder, but with the feast laid out before him, he could barely decide what to taste first. When in doubt, go for the desert, which was melting all over the main course. He licked off the excess. "Mmm, tastes just like peach pie, and your nipples are like strawberries. You smell like . . . I don't know. Damn good! Is there anything about your body that isn't perfect?"
Linda licked her lips in anticipation. "You tell me."
"Tell her later," Zatanna said at the door. She had left them alone for just a few minutes, while she made phone calls. She dropped the cellular on the table, and sat beside Linda on the bed. "I knew I couldn't trust the two of you together, especially at a time like this."
"Oh, please, let him finish me!" Linda cried. They had been torturing her with their restraint for what seemed like an eternity, and she didn't think she could take it much longer.
"Just hold on a few minutes longer," Zatanna replied, while fondling Linda's breasts and thighs, keeping Linda's sexual energy high. Zatanna was wearing her clothes again, but to very little effect. Her blouse clung to her sweaty body, and her wet pussy glowed behind the fishnets. "Everything is in place. It's almost time."
Zatanna stared at Linda with an almost crazed look in her eyes. Zatanna's excitement was more than sexual. She was about to get her five minutes of fame.
Linda's fame would last much longer. She didn't understand it all, but she knew that much. She bit her lip and closed her eyes, and she thought about what Zatanna had told her. Linda wished she had more time to decide. She usually regretted decisions made in the heat of passion, but as Zatanna had said, these eclipses occur only once in a very long time.
"What happens next?" Linda asked, needing reassurance.
Zatanna closed her eyes and orated, mostly reinforcing what she had said before. "Your body vibrates with the power of the Sun and the passion of the Moon. When those two forces combine, vibrating together, Sun into the Moon, all of that passion and power that has been building up inside you will be set free. Your consciousness will bind the consciousness of the world. Your passion will ignite the passion in us all. Your image will fill our minds. And your sacrifice will make that bond eternal."
"My image? What sacrifice?" Linda asked, when suddenly she gasped. Her body squirmed involuntarily, as though consumed by a fever, and she felt a dull, throbbing need in the void of her belly. "What's happening?"
"The Sun and the Moon are touching. It is time to begin."
Zatanna took her Book Of Shadows from the table, then walked toward the curtain to leave the room. The man donned his cloak and hood, and he followed her.
"Why are you putting those clothes on? Where are you going?" Linda complained. "Oh, please! Don't leave me alone! Not now!"
"I would never dream of leaving you alone," Zatanna said, and then she yelled out the door, "OK, take them away!"
Linda sat up quickly, as sunlight poured into the room, and the walls began to move. If Linda had looked closely at the walls, she would have seen the mirrors were on wheels. In fact, the room wasn't a room at all. It was more like a stall used in a market, or something fortune tellers might use in at a carnival. Within seconds, two large men, each wearing witchcraft symbols, pushed the walls and the ceiling away, and Linda found herself lying naked on the black circle in the middle of Salem Common. Just a few feet behind her were the steps to the pagoda, where she met Zatanna last night. Everywhere else she looked were cameras and hungry eyes.
For a moment, the crowd was silent. No one had expected this. The witches merely said that Supergirl would make an appearance, and the reporters thought she would just read a prepared statement, expressing her regret over the way she had behaved in recent weeks. That would have been news all by itself, since Supergirl hadn't been seen or heard from in weeks.
But they wondered about that mysterious black stall, just sitting there in the empty park. Only the witches seemed to know anything about it, and they weren't talking. Nor were they letting anyone get close. Until finally the word was given, and the box opened up, revealing the glistening body of well-oiled Supergirl inside, gleaming like a diamond on a bed of black. An offering to the world.
The police argued with each other, unsure if they should do anything, as the blonde bombshell explosively disturbed the peace.
The reporters were much better prepared.
"Get in closer!" yelled one, determined to get the best photos.
"I don't care about the fucking eclipse!" yelled another, "Just feed me in live!"
Antennae pointed at the sky, where the Sun was connecting with the Moon, and satellites were connecting Salem with the rest of the world.
Clark, dressed as Superman, had just arrived at the scene, and he watched in stunned disbelief. He didn't know what to think or how to feel. What was going on? Linda had felt so ashamed and apologetic the last time he saw her, yet here she was, redefining the term exhibitionist, relishing in fame or notoriety, whatever may be . He wondered how could it get any worse. But with Linda, anything was possible. He had to save her from herself.
He marched towards the circle, pushing reporters out of his way, where he was met by Zatanna. "Superman! What are you doing?" she asked him urgently.
"I'm gonna put a stop to this," he said, never slowing his pace as he answered her.
But Zatanna forced herself in front of him, catching his attention for just an instant, which was all she needed. "Tiaw thgir ereh! Soon she will understand. The Sun's Beloved must decide her own destiny."
Superman stopped in his tracks and considered. He didn't have a right to interfere. Maybe Linda would even be upset with him if he tried. Maybe she really wanted this. His shoulders slumped. He felt confused. He felt powerless.
When the witches pushed the mirrored walls away, they knocked over the table beside the circular bed. It fell over with a loud crash. Then, for a brief moment, complete silence.
Linda sank into the sheets, as the crowd came to life and charged towards her. Bulbs flashed. Cameras were rolling. One man was leaning a television camera out from within the pagoda, almost directly over her. Others stood just a few feet away, immortalizing the moment. No more teasing. No more skirt flirting. She didn't even have to perform to feed their desire. She just had to be who she was. A contradiction. A jewel that burns from the inside. A mystery that grows when revealed. A shy woman who would capture the attentions of the world.
Many of the witches in the crowd were celebrating. Some were tearing off their own clothes. Some were kneeling on the ground, as if praying. Praying to their goddess.
And Linda, who should have been afraid or at least self-conscious, had no more patience for shame. She closed her eyes and took it all in. Her body was on fire. She could feel the passion growing, both their passion and hers, and she wanted to join with them, just as Zatanna had promised. She wanted to bind their consciousness. She wanted to fill their fantasies with images of her. Her body glowed, not just from the sunlight and the oil, but from a force inside her, leaving her weak, while energizing those around her.
Zatanna stood before the crowd, holding a microphone in her hand like a magic wand. "Ta arak ezag dna rednow," she said, her voice carrying over the loudspeakers and over the airwaves. "Behold! The body of the goddess! Feast with your eyes! Drink with your hearts!"
As the crowd ventured closer, Linda spread her legs, welcoming them. She arched her back, so that her breasts perked up into the sunlight. She threw her head to one side, exposing her neck, while she gripped the sheets with her hands. As a stripper, she always sensed when the audience was excited, and that sense was never stronger than it was right now. She knew their eyes were glued to her fingertips, as they slid down her belly, towards her pussy. She felt her audience urging her fingers on.
Until she wasn't sure who was controlling her hand anymore.
"Give us a look inside, Supergirl," asked one of a dozen photographers.
Linda nodded breathlessly and moaned. She held her pussy open between trembling fingertips. Her hips bucked, but she was not even near a plateau, yet. Something was keeping her from coming.
"Finger-fuck that cunt!" said another breathlessly. "Yes, that's it!"
Then someone else touched her, very lightly, on the knee.
Linda squirmed and twisted, like a fish burning on the beach. She was so hot, she could barely see. "Take me," Linda pleaded.
"What?"
"Eat me!" Linda cried desperately. "Please, take my body!"
And they hesitated, not for lack of desire, but they simply weren't ready to partake of the goddess. The world was watching. Their bosses, coworkers, maybe even spouses would be watching, too.
And everyone watching TV sets around the world were wishing they were in Salem and had the same opportunity. All the rules were thrown out the window at this moment. Later they would wonder if the decision was even theirs to make.
Finally, someone answered Linda's call. Linda didn't see who it was. She didn't even look. She just felt the stranger's tongue fill the void between her legs, drinking Linda's sweet wine, and setting the celebration in motion. Linda pulled his face in tight and rejoiced at the ministrations of the well trained tongue, which drank deeply from her chalice.
But the wine only whetted his appetite. "Oh, yes!" Linda cried, as he attacked her pussy with his whole mouth, licking, sucking, even biting, while squeezing her ass. Her legs fell weakly on his shoulders as he ate her out. She felt like a sandwich in the hands of a starving laborer.
Linda's fingers drifted up to her breasts, as the rest of her body demanded stimulation. Then her hands were torn away, as others in the crowd demanded a taste of her as well. Suddenly, she felt lips and tongues pleasing each of her breasts. Long tresses of a woman's hair tickled her belly. Kisses on her arms and hands, sucking on her fingers. Teeth biting into her thighs. Linda gazed up at the fading sun. The crowd was devouring her as if Linda would be their last supper.
Yet still, somehow, she felt no release. The fire just kept growing and growing . . .
Two big hands grabbed her head and pulled her face over the edge of the bed. Her body was contorted, yanked this way and that, but all pain seemed like pleasure to her then. She didn't see the dick until it slammed into her mouth. She started to gag before it slammed in again. She wanted to slow him down, but she couldn't remove her hands from the grasp of her other lovers. She could barely even breathe, as he pumped her throat with bone-like flesh, until he erupted, invading her with the taste of him. His rough grasp turned gentle, and now he held her head carefully, as she sucked the fire out of him.
Linda sucked hard, as if she could suck his release into herself. Her eyes glazed, and her anxiety was unbearable, as the crowd worked her into a frenzy, yet she still couldn't come.
Then, as if someone was pulling a giant curtain overhead, the blue sky faded to black, and day faded quickly to night. The edge of the Sun formed a crescent of flickering, brilliant beads, before totality. Now, the Sun was just a stunning, fiery halo of white and red around the dominating Moon. The heavens were an awe-inspiring mix of light and darkness.
Linda's lovers stood back in awe, as a chill filled the air. The witches stopped their erotic celebrations. The insane festivity faded to a solemn silence.
Calvin leapt onto the bed beside his master. He scratched at the sheets, and then raised a clawed paw at the sky, caterwauling at the spectacle.
Linda twisted on her bed quietly, feeling the energy change around her, as a dark figure appeared from out of her peripheral vision and climbed up onto the circle with her, kneeling between her wide-spread legs.
His hooded head eclipsed the eclipse. He threw off his cloak, and all Linda could see was the silhouette of his naked body. His hood fell onto the sheets, though his face was still hidden in the darkness. Linda didn't recognize his shadowy face as the same man who had teased her and played with her emotions for nearly an hour. For the first time, she recognized him for who he was.
He was Jim. The vampire. The man she had nearly fallen in love with a month ago, during the last new moon. The vampire who had nearly killed her that same night. Adrenaline rushed through her body. Her mind was in a daze. A mix of overwhelming desire and unspeakable fear.
Calvin hissed, then streaked away in fright.
Linda tried to follow Calvin's example. She rolled out from under Jim. She fell off the bed, landing on her hands and knees on the paved walkway.
Jim reached for her, but she stumbled forward, half crawling, half running, to the steps of the pagoda. She climbed the steps, making it nearly to the top, when two hands clamped onto her hips.
She stopped fleeing, paralyzed by indecision.
The hands loosened their grip, and lightly stroked her back and her sides, calming her fear, reminding her of his gentle side.
Leaving only Linda's desire to subdue.
Jim's hands caressed her ass, until Linda parted her legs slightly. He rubbed his fingers into her pussy, until Linda moaned, and her juices flowed freely. Then he spread her juices up the crack of her ass, lubricating her virgin anus.
Linda tensed with fear and anticipation. She rested her head on the cement floor of the pagoda, and straightened her legs on the steps, thus propping her ass high in the air, and flaring her buttocks. Jim pushed a lubricated finger into her asshole, and twisted around inside her, softening her entry point. Linda squirmed in pleasure, but she needed more stimulation. She maneuvered her arm under her body, and her hand between her legs, and fingered her dripping clit, while she looked back at the crowd.
She could barely see them in the odd lighting, but they were gathering closer, eager to watch their sex goddess take it up the ass. Flashes from cameras pierced the darkness. When Linda squinted, she could barely make out several of the naked witches, bent over as she was, with men, maybe photographers, positioned behind them. She smiled bemusedly, and thought they were like an aerobics class following their leader.
But there was one man, standing alone who wasn't participating in the festivities. He looked like a statue in the dim light. Linda tried to see him more clearly.
When suddenly, her mouth and eyes opened wide in horror and pain and wonder, as Jim's dick bored into her tiny, sensitive, unready anus. He penetrated barely an inch or two, but the pain was excruciating. Linda moaned like a dying animal. Tears poured from her eyes. She had never thought it would be this painful. Yet she did not struggle to get away.
Jim withdrew his dick for a moment. He slid into her pussy for more lubrication, and then he thrust deeper into her anus.
Linda felt like she was being ripped apart inside. Her wails were met by wails from her disciples in the crowd, whose asses were likewise crucified, as they followed her example.
Again, Linda glimpsed the solitary man, who seemed like he wanted to do something. Maybe he wanted to go to her. But he kept still.
Then Linda saw nothing at all, as Jim brutally pushed her face into the cement, and his full length invaded her backside. She couldn't even scream this time. She couldn't even clench her teeth against the pain. Her energy was completely drained, having fed Jim's passion, and having fed the passions of the whole world, leaving her empty.
The pain shot up through her belly, and then eased as Jim pulled out. He plunged again. Linda moaned weakly in anguish. He plunged again.
This time it wasn't quite as bad. Her ass was loosening. Or Linda was just getting used to it.
Linda's fingers shook as they touched her clit. She felt dizzy. She looked back over the park. Her vision was spinning. With that one man anchored firmly in the middle.
Now the pain in her ass was a dull, throbbing ache, and she realized the pain had turned. It wasn't exactly pain anymore. It was evolving, growing into something else. Whatever it was, it was building momentum.
A momentum borne of pain and fear and humiliation. Evolving into pleasure and desire and exaltation!
Jim pounded faster into her more receptive ass, filling her with his potency, replacing her lost energy with something new. Linda's fingers rubbed at her clit urgently. She felt like her soul was being ripped from her body, like her soul was expanding, touching everything and everyone around her.
She opened her eyes, and all she saw was that solitary man, looking up at her, thinking about her. Yes, somehow she knew what he was thinking. It was like she could hear his thoughts, like a deep voice rising above the sound of her heart beat and the roar of sex. He was asking her something. "When did you have your last period?"
Linda blinked. What a strange question to ask at a time like this.
She shut her eyes and lifted her head in expectation. She was very near now. The torture in her ass was sweet. The cement scratching her breasts and knees felt wonderful. Her eyes flooded with joyous tears.
Jim reached around Linda's throat, as he drove deep inside her one last time. He grabbed the magic necklace Zatanna had given Linda and, with a quick yank, he tore it away.
Setting Linda free!
She felt like the ocean crashing against a rocky shore, with bits and pieces of her spraying into the air. She sang in screams with abandon. Her soul exploded like a supernova, enveloping the whole world, sharing her joy with all creation. For the first time, she felt as though her life had meaning. If she died right then, she would have died fulfilled, with no regrets.
And then she understood her fate. She understood the sacrifice Zatanna had spoken of. She was meant to die here and now. Somehow dying would make a difference. Somehow dying would satisfy the abyss and make her immortal.
The eclipse was finally breaking, after what seemed like hours. The sun peaked out from behind the moon, and Linda opened her eyes.
There was the solitary man again, though now Linda could see the cape flowing behind his back. Clark? She could feel his love for her, different from the love that the crowd was feeling. And that made her sad. "Have you been feeling nauseated lately?" he queried.
Linda blinked. Again with the strange questions.
Jim pulled out of Linda and rolled her body over on the pagoda's floor, so that she was facing him. Wisps of smoke burned his skin, as the Sun's light exploded from behind the Moon, striking his back. The time was now. He brushed the hair away from her throat. He gazed into Linda's peaceful eyes. He showed his fangs.
Linda felt calm. She felt ready. But something gnawed at her. Something was missing. Something was incomplete.
Something about that solitary man's feelings. Something about his questions.
And then, as the sun exploded the darkness, the truth dawned on her.
She was pregnant.
It didn't make sense. How could she know that? How could she be pregnant? It didn't make sense, but it made all the difference. The knowledge woke her from whatever dream or spell she was under.
She turned her head, as Jim lunged for her throat. His teeth grazed her shoulder instead, barely scratching her, but giving him a taste of her blood. His skin was burning with a different kind of passion, and the bloodlust in his eyes sent a chill through Linda, returning her fear of death. She covered her throat with her hands, as he attacked again. He bit into her fingers, desperately needing just a few drops of her Kryptonian blood, before the renewing sunlight consumed him.
Linda thrashed about, avoiding his attack. "Get off me!" she yelled, but without her powers -- without even an ordinary woman's strength -- she could never win this fight.
Not without help, anyway.
Suddenly, a hand grabbed Jim by the hair and yanked him back like he was a puppet on a string. Jim tumbled down the steps of the pagoda out of view, leaving a trail of sulfur and a puff of smoke in his wake.
Linda didn't open her eyes right away. She kept her hands over her throat, as she waited for him to resume his attack. She had prepared herself for death. She needed a few moments to prepare herself for life again. Finally, she opened her eyes.
Now, a super-man had taken the vampire's place, kneeling between Linda's legs. The warmth of the sun was in his eyes. His only thought was for her well being. He sighed. "Oh, jeez, Linda, I can't believe . . ."
Linda started to cry.
"Shhh," Clark whispered, as he touched her face. The blood on her neck and her hair and her arms alarmed him, but she wasn't badly injured. Just a few scratches. Her struggles made the injuries appear worse than they were, and she would heal quickly when she got her powers back. "You're gonna be OK."
"It's not that," Linda shook her head, smiling through the tears. "I'm just . . . overwhelmed! Look at me! Look at what I did! I don't know what came over me. I don't know what it all means."
Clark looked around the park. Couples were lying naked and in a daze. A minister was kneeling near a tree, praying. Photographers continued to snap pictures with their pants down around their knees. "A lot of people are sharing your feelings right now."
"I don't understand it at all," Linda continued, trying to focus her thoughts. "But somehow it felt right. I never felt so alive! And the worst part is that I liked it! Oh, please forgive me, but I loved every minute of it! ... I'm so scared!"
"Are you insane?" Clark looked away, not believing his ears. "Jeez, Linda, you almost got yourself killed again! Is that what you wanted?"
"Is it true?" Linda asked, collecting herself, thinking the one thought that held her together and tamed her fears and passions and shames.
"Is what true?"
"That I'm pregnant."
"How did ...?" Clark started, baffled, but this wasn't the first time Linda had read his thoughts. "I really don't know. Maybe. The hospital did all sorts of tests with that blood from your visits. They seem to think you are pregnant, but they can't be sure, since your hormones were all over the map. They didn’t need blood tests to know that."
Linda's face was unreadable.
"How do you feel about having a baby?" Clark asked kindly, anxiously. He took one of her hands in his and held it gently, firmly.
"Do you mean it?" Linda asked mysteriously with a glow in her eyes, a glint of recognition and hope.
"What?!" Clark asked in frustration.
"That . . . you love me," she said, now doubting her intuition.
"Jeez, Linda," Clark objected, rolling his eyes. His hands were shaking, as he brushed the blood stained hairs from her cheek. "Come on, now. I never even thought those words. How can you even ask me that?"
"I'm sorry," Linda looked away, stung by his reply. "I don't know what I was thinking. I know it's stupid. How could someone as warm and kind as you love a . . . whore like me? I don't deserve . . ."
Then, suddenly, Linda felt her body lifted from the ground, and Clark kissed her hard on the mouth. She didn't react instantly. It wasn't an earth shattering kiss. It didn't even get her juices going. But God did it feel nice! She put her arms around him and returned his kiss.
Superman looked up, just as cameras started flashing around them. The reporters were already looking for a new angle on the story of the century.
He scooped Linda in his arms, stepped outside the pagoda, and leaped up into the sky.
Linda kept looking at his face, as they flew, wondering what he was feeling. "Tell me," she said, teasing his hard body with her fingertips. His muscles were like steel cables. "Why were you just standing there watching me make love to the world? Why didn't you stop it? Why didn't you join in?"
He didn't say a word. But he didn't have to. She knew.
She whispered in his ear. "Do you ever dream of making love to a goddess?"
Clark's face turned red. He shook his head and smiled. "Jeez, Linda, get over yourself."
Calvin meowed after his master, as the super-couple took to the sky.
"Poor kitty," Zatanna said, lifting him into her arms. "Looks like she's left something behind."
Zatanna sighed. Things didn't quite go the way she had planned. The Sun's Beloved did not live up to her part of the bargain. She gave the world a taste of paradise, and then snatched it away. But wasn't that taste glorious?
And how could the goddess ever forget that taste of pure joy. What earthly pleasures could ever compare to it? Maybe she'll get another chance at paradise next year, at the eclipse in Europe.
"Don't worry, kitty, she'll be back."
I apologize to fans of Zatanna, who may feel offended by my very liberal interpretation on her character. I also apologize to members of the Wiccan faith for perhaps furthering some of the misconceptions about real witchcraft for dramatic purposes.