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Phaedra Invokes Her Muse

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PHAEDRA INVOKES HER MUSEI must be crazy.Or he's crazy.Arms full of packages, Phaedra slammed the apartment door shut with a quick push of her ass, and dumped all of the stuff Odysseus had told her to buy onto the dining table. Two thick white candles, two heavy ceramic holders for them. A cardboard pack of incense sticks. An incense burner. A pint of her favorite Calvados. A double-size nine ounce Waterford rummer that had twinkled at her in the window of an antique store.And the robe. It was a dark blue Chinese silk, embroidered with dragons. Expensive. She took it out and held it against her body. How would it feel on her naked skin?She locked all three locks on the apartment door, and set the Fox police lock in its socket on the floor. There was still a key or two floating around town, and she wasn't going to let anyone interrupt this ritual.She ran a warm bath, thick with aromatic salts. While it filled, she stripped off her street clothes and walked naked into the kitchen. Two cubes was plenty; she opened the Calvados and filled the Waterford almost to the brim.She walked to the full-length mirror, holding the cooling glass to her right breast, watching her nipple erect. She spread her legs apart and pressed the glass to her other breast. She could smell herself beginning to get wet. Carefully, Phaedra dipped three fingers into the brandy and moistened her cunt. The aromatic liquid burned for a moment, and as she worked her fingers fingers forward and back, began to be diluted with her pussy juice. She dipped again, and brought her dripping hand behind her round buttock and into the crack. The brandy stung her asshole, and she dipped out more, pressing her middle finger into the sensitive membranes.She saw her face in the mirror, contorted, mouth open and gasping for breath to endure the burning in her bottom. She squeezed her buttocks tightly and gulped an ounce of Calvados over her dry tongue to anesthetize the pain.She stepped into the bath, holding the Waterford carefully. and lowered her bottom into the soapy warmth. A towel roll behind her neck, she breathed calmly, trying for circular breathing.This is what he said to do, she told herself. Now the candles.Phaedra patted herself dry. Still naked, she set two of the thick white candles in their heavy socket and lit them. She inserted the wooden ends of the incense sticks, six of them, lit them all, and placed the glowing incense under her keyboard. The pungent smoke would come up between her spread thighs. Now the dressing gown. Odysseus was right, she could reach all the sensitive spots on her body. If she slid her bottom forward, she could even comfortably touch the little puckered rose behind her perineum.She ran her hands over her smooth, curved belly, up under her breasts, squeezing her nipples, leaning over the Waterford glass and dipping each tit in icecubes and brandy. They were standing out like pencil erasers.Phaedra was unsteady on her feet as she walked to the light swtich and darkened the room. The only illumination was from the monitor and the two candles, and a smoky glow from the incense. She sat down at the computer, pulling the dressing gown away and settling her spread butocks on the cool leather.--What had he said? Now just masturbate, a little. Oh, God, I'm so turned on by this whole ritual, I'm afraid I'll come too soon... Oh my Muse, my lovely Greek statue come to life, come between my legs, darling, your cool marble tongue easing my hunger, bringing balm to my hungry cunt, Oh now Muse, now Muse mmmnow..And now the libation, for the Gods and her Muse. Phaedra took a deep swallow from the glass, lay back and poured the remaining ice and brandy down between her sloping breasts. For the Gods, Muse, because they are jealous But you come next. The pungent brandy and chilled cubes rolled down her belly, down the vee of her thighs, through her cunt hair and into her crotch, Ah, that stings, lap it up Gods, it's for you. She felt a cool marble tongue easing her burning cunt...Oh God Oh Muse my Muse my love, tell me breathe it into my womb, let me write, as easy and fluent as pissing... what had Odysseus written, invoke the Muse and start to write...A memory floated from deep in her mind, she sat up, conscious of the rich odor of apple brandy mixing with the sneeze-making incense and the smell of her woman's juices...She opened a blank page and began to type...PHAEDRA INVOKES HER MUSESlender Mayali, she of the whitest skin and reddest Florentine hair that fell to her slender waist and curving ivory ass, lay tangled with Phaedra in the lower bunk of the SS Rotterdam, heading towards Marseilles, rolling in a steady rhythm that pressed the two girls' soft bodies together and apart. Mayali had been to an Italian convent school; the first night they shared the cabin, she had begun Phaedra's sensual education. Now they were en soixant neuf, Mayali called it, Phaedra with her arms wrapped about Mayali's soft buttocks, Mayali licking gently around Phaedra's stiffened clitoris. --In the middle, please, do it in the middle,Phaedra begged, I want to I want to...--You want to come, you greedy little pig? Mayali asked Phaedra's cunt.--Yes, I want to... please... again.--Well, if you promise to be very very good... to me...--Oh my God I promise. I will be gooo.. ahhhh.Mayali had very gently touched the red tip of Phaedra's stiffened clitoris with the tip of her tongue. It had been teased throbbingly erect for half an hour. Now, with the faintest butterfly kisses, she brought Phaedra to a sobbing orgasm that rippled from the soles of her feet to the roots of her hair.--Wasn't that nice, Mayali said. I could keep you going like that for an hour. You would scream, you would explode...--Yessss, Phaedra hissed, yesssss.The Rotterdam rose to a sharper swell, and their two bodies were pressed together.--Where did you learn to do that, Phaedra asked.--From a young novice just a few years older than we were, Mayali whispered. I think the nuns knew; it was better than having us fucking the gardener's son and winding up pregnant.* * *Phaedra looked at the page of typing, coming slowly back from the bunk in the SS Rotterdam to the brandied air of the apartment. She spread her legs under the keyboard, letting the silk dressing gown fall off her thighs. It's true. I was the story. I had blocked it out, afraid I was .... But now that I've written it down and seen it as a story, now I don't care; if I were to meet Mayali tomorrow, I know I would be on my knees licking her cunt within the hour, but I also know I am a woman for men. And either way, it's what made me what I am. I yam what I yam, she said to herself, I'm Popeye the Sailor Man.She rose from the typing chair, untying her robe. It swirled in her wake as she picked up the Calvados, walked to the bathroom and stepped into the tub. Oh Muse, she said, now drink your libation, and poured the bottle of brandy slowly into her hair.Drink, Muse, she said, and dropped her robe to the floor, sweating brandy from every pore, she tottered to her bedroom and fell facedown on the sheets of her unmade bed, her legs wide apart, thank you Muse, she thought. And thank you, Odysseus.///4.18.05

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