Room Blessing

Todays reading…

April 1, 2015

witchcraftfortomorrow

Naps…

April 1, 2015

naps

Going down on her….

April 1, 2015

mouth

My mood is strange. I try to explain, but it sounds naff. My voice is this dull monologue, that drones on and on. As if I can fill the cracks between us with words. So monotonous and absurd. Assailed by the blackest depression all day, and now my stomach’s tied in effin’ knots.

I’m like a nervous kid. And Gabby is…well, Gabby. Charismatic, gorgeous, done-up to the nines for this get together. She seems to thrive, does Gab’s, on her own vulnerability.

‘You want to eat?’ I ask.

‘Is the Pope a Catholic?’

I try to tell her that parting the way we did is like death. ‘I’m not saying if we give it another go it’ll be any different. I just feel so bloody empty. Part of me’s been amputated,’ I say. ‘My motives, I know, are totally selfish. But I’m rational, I can see clearly the difficulties you face. You want stability. Security…’

Words, words, and more words. What’s the frelling point?

‘You are you, Gabriella, Dee is Dee, and I am me. No games, no lies. Dee’s not going to change. I know how you feel about her…And she loves you, too. She’s gutted by what’s happened. She doesn’t really understand…But she’s not going to change. She’s always going to want her “little adventures”. It’s part of who she is, and we both have to like or lump it.’

Gabby frowns at this. Like she’s hearing this for the first time. A sort of “news to me” expression on her face. She’s eating steak, mushrooms, onion rings and fries. I’ve got the vegetable lasagna and we’re sharing a bottle of Merlot.

‘Since you’ve been gone,’ I say. ‘I feel as if I’ve taken my head apart to look at the wiring inside. It’s just so much self-flagellation, so much shite…’

After the meal Gabby’s wants to go to Trenye. ‘We can sit and listen to the river,’ she says.

‘Okay, if you want…’

So we sit in the darkness in my car listening to the rushing water. Three-quarter moon. Scudding wisps of cloud. ‘It’s all a tangle in my mind,’ Gabby says. ‘You know? I’m unhappy, and I do miss you and Dee. I don’t know. It’s such a mess.’

‘Love builds the best survivors, so they say.’

‘I need to refocus…’ And Gabby reclines her seat, lays back, says, ‘But I’ve missed you, both of you. It’s been like hell…And I s’pose you and Dee have been at it like dogs?’ She pulls me forward by my sweater, then presses my head down. Somehow I scramble over the gear shift, find myself half-crouching in front of her…a feckin’ uncomfortable position to be in, cramped. ‘You know what I like,’ she says quietly.

So I take my time, despite a threatening cramp. Push her skirt up over those magnificent marbled thighs. Her breathing is ragged. I treat the act like a delicate ritual of devotion, take great care, butterfly kisses on tender flesh. I want her to relax, become lost in the physical…Her gentle moans make me shiver. Her leg movements become involuntary. Her hands on my head pressing my face down hard, harder, hardest. My jaw bone aching with the force of it…

Her panties are soaking wet. I press them to one side, use the flat of my tongue, licking as I hold the lips apart, lick in circles, anticlockwise, clockwise, up and down, slowly, deliberately, feeling her wriggle…then gently, oh, so gently insert two fingers. Jaw cramping, face smothered by acrid, musky dampness, I feel her hips jerk down…her thighs closing on my head, crushing, relaxing. The a shrill involuntary cry as she tenses, convulses…

Soften my tongue as her body relaxes. A few final kisses. Savour the taste of her, like fine old wine. The seat beneath her is wet. The force of her orgasm has robbed her of breath. She strokes my hair…

She takes off her panties and throws them out the window. ‘Leave them for some old perv,’ she says. ‘They’re just too yucky to bother with.’ She produces tissues from her bag, wipes herself, her actions unselfconscious and natural. ‘I needed that.’

‘You’re welcome,’ I say. ‘Any time.’ My jaw feels as if it’s suffered permanent damage, but a small cost in the circumstances.

‘I’d like you to leave the Italian holiday stand,’ she says. ‘If I don’t go, I’ll pay you back the money. But I think I might come with you both.’

‘Okay.’

‘But I’m not coming back to live with you. Not just now. Not till I’ve sorted out in my own mind what it is I want? I’ve got to think of the future, my future.’

‘I had visions of the three of us collecting our pensions together,’ I say. ‘Then making love supported by Dee’s Zimmer frame…I thought we’d always be together.’

‘I don’t think anything’s forever, Peedeel. And no lover exists who doesn’t have scars. But I need to get my head in a right place.’

‘I understand. Why don’t you come over Good Friday for a meal? You, Dee, me, like old times. We can talk…See what comes up?’

‘Ummm, okay.’

‘It’ll be magical,’ I say.

‘That’s what bothers me,’ she replies softly.

never

Happiness…

April 1, 2015

happiness

Could Be My Sisters…

April 1, 2015

catfight

Such a good idea…

April 1, 2015

suchagoodidea

Dirge Without Music

April 1, 2015

graveyard2

I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground.
So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind:
Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. Crowned
With lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not resigned.

Lovers and thinkers, into the earth with you.
Be one with the dull, the indiscriminate dust.
A fragment of what you felt, of what you knew,
A formula, a phrase remains,—but the best is lost.

The answers quick and keen, the honest look, the laughter, the
love,—
They are gone. They are gone to feed the roses. Elegant and curled
Is the blossom. Fragrant is the blossom. I know. But I do not
approve.
More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses in the
world.

Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave
Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind;
Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave.
I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.

Edna St. Vincent Millay

THE RITUAL…

April 1, 2015

incircle

1. The temple (Room) is empty except for a simple altar in the north.

2. On the altar: One green candle illuminates the sigil (which is visible from every part of the temple). A brazier or open-topped thurible on which an appropriate incense is burning.

3. Start the drumming tape. The equipment should not be visible.

4. Stand facing the altar, regulating the breathing and meditating on the sigil.

5. Perform the Caltrop banishing.

6. Pause for a minute or so.

7. Start to chant the mantra. The drumming should come on at about this time.

8. Start whirling and continue to chant the mantra. The sigil is kept firmly in mind.

9. Stop whirling.

10. Hold the sigil to the candle until it starts to flame. Place it in the brazier and watch until the fire has consumed it.

11. Perform the Caltrop banishing.

RAY SHERWIN
The Book Of Results