Speaking in Tongues

Speaking in Tongues

     Chris looks at me silently. I feel a little nervous. The restaurant is dimly lit and Chris’s eyes seem to glow green. He looks pale, but I can feel his burning flame of passion emanate from his frail body. He has an intense hungry look in his eyes. I look away from him nervously. He asks, “What’s the matter?”    
     I say, “Oh. I don’t know. I guess I just feel strange.” I sit across from him.
    He says, “Don’t worry. I feel the same way.”    
     I say, “Hey, I’m sorry. I’ve never done this sort of thing before.”      
     He sits hunched in his chair glaring at me. He asks quietly, “What sort of thing?”    
     I laugh nervously and say, “Oh. I don’t know. I guess I am at a loss for words.”    
     He reaches over and holds my hands prayerfully between his. He says, “Well, don’t feel bad. The Lord will give you the words you need when you are ready.”    
     I feel a pulse of fear flicker in my quivering body as my heart beats fast. I say, “Oh look, I’m not really very religious. I guess I’m just looking to meet interesting people and experience the mystique of the quarter.”    
     He says, “Well, I understand, but aren’t you looking for something more than just meeting interesting people? Don’t you ever hunger for something more?”    
     I say, “Yea well, right now I’d really like to get drunk.”    
     I want to excuse myself, tell him I am sick, and leave. However, being the polite southern woman I am, I don’t want to hurt his feelings. So I sit there paralyzed emotionally. It is the most uncomfortable moment I have had since being caught skinny dipping in St Catherine’s creek by my mom when I was nine. I cover my mouth and laugh with embarrassment.
     I say, “Well oh my gosh. And I thought you were the reincarnation of Rhet Butler come to sweep me off my feet.”    
     He says, “Well, sorry to let you down. I just want to share the word of Christ with you.”    
    I feel embarrassed, but amused. I say, “Well jeez. I just don’t know what to say. You’re pretty good with women. I felt butterflies in my stomach when you wiped my back this morning.”    
     He looks down and lays his forehead in his hands. He says, “Listen, I’m really sorry. I feel like a jerk. I guess escorting you back to my apartment for prayer is out of the question?”    
     I just stare at him for a moment, as a plan begins to take shape in my head. I feel an aching hunger which won’t be satisfied without taking him. I am determined not to go unsatisfied. I stare at him intently and his eyes began to shift nervously.
     I say, “Alright. We can go back to your apartment.”    
     He says, “For prayer?”    
     I giggle and say, “Of course.” We laugh together
     When we get up to go to his place, he says, “I hope you find your Rhet Butler.”    
     I say, “Yes, thank you. A good man can be hard to find when you need one.”
    Chris asks “Hey what’s your name? I forget to ask the most obvious things.”
     I reply, “Let’s say I’m your mystery girl tonight. Doesn’t that sound intriguing?”    
     We walk out into the cool evening. We pass down Bourbon Street with its glittering neon signs, “Live nude girls.” Crowds of drunken men and women stagger past. When get to Dauphine Street the crowd thins out.
     I say, “Tell me something. What does Christ do for you?”    
     He says, “When I talk to Christ, it feels like ecstasy. I feel touched in a place nobody else can touch me.” We pass onto Burgundy Street and turn right walking past a row of houses. People are sitting out on the steps and from somewhere jazz music is playing. We get to his apartment house and walk through a courtyard with a fountain and banana plants swaying in the breeze. He opens the door off the patio and we enter his apartment. Inside there is a nice plush couch, the type you can sink into. I am thinking that would be the perfect place for us to get comfortable and for me to make my move.
     I have never seduced an unwilling man before, but this is going to be fun I think. We stand by the couch and he looks at me nervously and begins to smile. He is looking at my breasts and I look back at him batting my eyelashes.
     I say, “Why don’t we sit down?”    
     He says, “I’ve never had a woman over to my apartment before. I guess I’m a little nervous.”    
     I sit down and gently pull him down onto the couch beside me. I say, “There’s nothing to be nervous about. I don’t bite.”    
     I ask him, “Are you a virgin?”    
     He says, “Yes.” I snuggle close to him and he moves away. I think his resistance won’t last long. He reaches over to the coffee table and picks up a Bible. He begins reading to me the part about the Pentecost and the Holy Spirit sending tongues of flame down to touch the apostles.
     I ask him, “Have you ever been touched by the Holy Spirit?”      
     He says, “Yes, many times.”    
     He begins to relax a little. I massage his shoulders and ask, “Why are you so tense? You’ve never shared the word of the Lord with a woman before?”    
     He says, “I don’t know. Something about you feels different.”    
     I ask, “Do I excite you?”    
     I reach down and massage his chest. I run one finger down his hips scraping his thigh through his jeans. I come very close to his crotch and he shifts away laughing.
     He says, “I can’t. It would be a sin.”    
     I massage his stomach below the navel and notice the growing bulge in his jeans. I touch it and he jumps a little.
     He says, “Please, don’t lead me into sin.”    
     I say, “Isn’t there a part in the bible called the Song of Solomon, about the pleasures of the flesh?” I bite his ear a little and run my tongue down his neck. He is covered in sweat.
     He says, “I thought you said you didn’t bite.”  
     I say, “Well, I guess I told a little white lie. But I promise I won’t hurt you.”    
     I run my finger down the length of his growing bulge and feel it throb through his jeans. I ask him, “How did it feel, to be touched by the Holy Spirit?”    
    He is quiet. I kiss him on the lips. I repeat, “How did it feel?”    
     He says, “Like I was on fire with pleasure.”    
     I ask, “Did you speak in tongues?”
     He looks at me with hunger and says, “I’ve done so many times. I never felt closer to the Lord than those times.”
     I stand up, pull off my dress, and pull my black lace panties off. He watches from the couch with a fascinated look and I smile at him. I walk up to him swaying my hips. I know he is mine now. The battle is finished. It is all over but the finale.
     He says, “Forgive me Lord for the flesh is weak.”    
     I look up at him and lick my lips. I stand up, poised over him. I look down at him, point to my pearly gates, and say, “These are the gateways to paradise not hell.”    
     I need to completely capture him, whether he wants it or not. I kneel before him and unzip his pants. I tug his jeans and briefs down freeing his stiffened scepter in all its glory. As I reach between his legs and grasp his scepter I feel it stiffen and throb in response to my touch, telling me in a way beyond words that he needs this as much as I do.
     His reflex is ungovernable as his spear becomes rock eliciting moans from deep in his virgin flesh. I run my tongue around the crown.  He groans and closes his eyes. I lick his figs into ripened sugar melt. With my left hand I touch myself into oceanic bliss.
     I gaze down at his erect penis. I say, “I see you’re really enjoying yourself.”
     He blushes in embarrassment as I continue to stare at his penis.
     I say, “I’ve always dreamed of making love to a born again Christian.”
    He says, “But we’re not married.”
     I say, “A mere legal contract easily overlooked in the heat of passion.”
    I lead him to the bedroom. As we lay together on his bed I gingerly grasp his manhood in my warm grip and feel his body thrust to awareness.  
     I mount him raring to break him in.  I giggle and smile while I look down at him from above.
    I say, “I never was one to delay gratification.”
    I pinion his wrists with my talon fingernails. My nimble fingers guide him in. I enfold him in my velvet mystery. My sugar walls squeeze his penis harder and harder. The merciless friction of my honey walls beats upon his helplessly enraptured stalk. I slide my wet heat around him and surround him with satiny pleasure. My fevered passage clutches him in moist caress. I feel the warm wet pulse of him as he relinquishes his seed.      
     A growl of hunger emanates from my throbbing center. I scream like a cat, as my fingernails rip into his chest. His fingers dig deep into my slick derriere. The pain excites me and gives me spasms of pleasure as I ride him.
     Pearls of hot pleasure stream from my thigh cusp up my spine. Fireballs explode in my liquid depths as molten pleasure fills every nook of my body. I ride him as he grips my buttocks sending me into orbit. My succubi calyx milks his cock devouring his soul. With my body slick from female conquest I unsheathe him from my wet heat.    
     I feel as though I was touched by the Holy Spirit. At that moment, I know what he feels when he speaks in tongues. I hear him begin to mutter something strange, in a language I have never heard.
     After the flames die down to a simmering echo of ecstasy, I kiss his flaccid scepter. I kiss his lips and get up to towel off. I lie beside him and he stands up with a gleam in his eyes.  I gaze longingly upon my androgynous Puck.  
     We sit back on the couch with my head nestled on his shoulder. He looks exhausted. I ask him, “What was it like?”    
     He says, “It was like being touched by the Holy Spirit.”    
     I say, “Did you feel like for a moment you died a little?”    
     He says, “Yes.”    
     I kiss him and say, “I felt it too.”    
     As I sit next to him he wraps his arm around my shoulders. I say, “I hope you don’t hate me for seducing you.”    
     He says, “Oh no. No one is without sin.”    
     I snuggle against his chest. I say, “Have you ever wondered if Jesus ever made love?”    
     He says, “Oh no. Jesus was the son of God.”    
     I say, “He was also God made man. He was a living person of flesh and blood. He was a man.”
     He laughs a little and says, “I guess, we’ll have to agree to disagree.”
     The next morning, I walk into the lobby of my hostel. A guy with a tiny pointed beard on his chin stands behind the desk under the fluorescent lights. He looks really cute.
     He asks me, “Are you enjoying the city?”
     I say, “Oh yea.”  
     As I walk past him he asks, “Was it all you expected?”
     I look back at him with a naughty smile and say, “Oh yes, and more!”