I Made Love to a High Priestess

Warren: Many a heyday ago, I was a feckless college student in my twenties, pursuing the elusive and somewhat impractical liberal arts BA at tiny Morris College in Irish Grove. My declared major was zoology, although my other pursuits involved uncontrolled pizza eating and drunken revelry until all hours of the night. However, the delights of flesh deftly eluded me my freshman year. The most exciting evenings ended with a traditional kiss goodnight and a long lonely walk back to the dorm. Needless to say, I was heartbroken. And terribly horny.

     I had no desire to be the only adult who had not tasted the fine vintage that was apparently all around me, but for others fingers. My friends' stories of their sexual conquests shut me out of a very special fraternity, and longed for the hazing I so much deserved. Certainly, I thought to myself, there must be someone out there who could help me. A spiritual guide. A muse. Someone with high ideals and loose morals. I longed to meet an avatar to guide me through this hidden valley which promised pleasures beyond my wildest dreams. That spring semester, my dreams came true.

     Through a philosophy class, I became very good friends with an Alfred Bonetti, a fellow traveler in the world of hedonism. Many were the nights that we sat on the roof of his house, tossing back the booze, while reciting our silly but flamboyantly emotional feelings through poetry and political oration. Many on campus began to refer to us as "Jack" and "Neal", for our post-beatnik, pre-doom insanity was enough to liven up any fraternity bash on campus, and make even the most shy, nerdy wallflowers burst forth with all the propriety of a shameless circus clown. This relationship, in its own way, helped to develop the self- confidence I was lacking around people in general. By the time May had arrived, it had done much more than that Alfred and I had never very deeply discussed our religious beliefs, despite our closeness as friends. He had always seemed to me to be an atheist, since he held some of the same views on Christianity as I had. My philosophical direction at that time was a void, as I had just gotten away from my parents and their small town views on things. I reveled in the fact that I did not believe or follow anything but my own conscience. To me, at that time, reason ruled the world, not religion. Which is why when I received a call from Alfred on April 27 to go to a "Pan Pagan Festival" at Wessex Minnesota, there was some trepidation in my voice.

     "Pan Pagan. You mean: witches."

     "Yeah, witches! Sounds cool, don't it?", Alfred smiled over the wires.

     "Well, I mean, Is it safe? Would we be welcome there?"

     "Of course! This is for every one!"

     "Well, what if they decide, you know, a sacrifice or..."

     "Reed! Relax! It's not satanism! It's Wicca! White Goddess stuff! You know, Earth worship! Wine and making merry! And tons of babes just wantin' it!"

     "Wanting what? My blood for a ritual?"

     For the first time, I sensed I had disappointed Alfred. There was a long pause and a sigh.

     "Reed, c'mon man. Forget that shit you were brought up with. These people are friendly. I've done this for the past two years, so I know. It's a festival for celebrating who we are. These people are not fakes. They're like you and me. Regular people."

     "Regular people who like to dance naked around a fire chanting."

     Again, I had struck a nerve. After an even longer pause, "It's cool if you don't want to come, Reed. I just sort of felt like havin' you there. I'm leavin' tomorrow. If you change your mind, just call. I love ya, man. Bye."

     I could not stymie the twinge of regret for not accepting Alfred's offer. We were, after all, best friends. And it was true that, in spite of my paranoia of the "dark arts", I was insanely curious about what exactly went on at these so called pagan hullabuloos. Were there mass orgies? Unrestricted opium smoking? Free thought? My mind reeled at the possibilities. It also kept going back to Alfred's "I love ya, man." Alfred rarely said that. Which meant that he meant it. Which meant I was supposed to be there with him.

     I dialed the phone.

     "So do I have to buy a black robe? Or will they have one to rent in my size?"

     When we arrived at the campgrounds, I was surprised at what I saw. I don't know what I was expecting. A wood hitch for bikes, horses, and brooms? Dozens of boiling pots with gnarly, warted pagans tossing in the requisite eye of the newt? Perhaps a naked screaming woman tied to an alter? What I saw instead could have been the weekend camp out of the local rotary club. Cars, trucks and trailers looking for spaces on the rain-drenched green hills. A man in a flannel shirt directing traffic while occasionally shouting "Blessed be" to a newcomer. Tents set up with barb-b-ques and tons of traditional "church potluck" casseroles. People scattered about, a few in multi-colored robes, talking, laughing, hugging while their children played around a treehouse. It was amazing how, well, how normal it looked. Strangely, even though I had yet to meet these people, I felt instantly safe and right at home. Alfred turned to me after parking the car and said "C'mon. There's someone I want you to meet."

     We walked up an enormous hill that was beginning to look greener as the sun came out. All the air was fresh with flowers and I suddenly realized how much I had missed the outdoors. As we topped the hill, Alfred pointed down to a circular rock outcropping at the other side. This, he informed me, is where the "ceremonies" would take place. My stomach got a little queasy and I must have looked a little pale because Alfred turned to me and outright laughed. "Don't worry Reed. No blood. No sacrifice. Just a blessing from the high priestess."

     "High priestess?"

     "Yes, she's, there she is now! Ayesha! Over here!"

     Suddenly I turned, and, well, just like in those sappy Hollywood romances, my mouth dropped open and my breath disappeared.

     Ayesha walked toward us, looking incredibly gorgeous from her black jade hair to her exquisite legs. Dressed only in a small, light summer dress, she smiled a thousand yards and approached us like we were old friends. And I couldn't help noticing, in spite of what Alfred's relationship was with her, that her eyes constantly returned to mine. They were deep and brown and responded to the sunlight like lit gold. She came up and hugged Alfred for a very long time. I stood to the side and gained my repose, not wanting to horn in on Alfred's "good thing". But as soon as she finished, without a trace of restraint, she pulled me into her like a long lost nephew.

     "Reed, right? Glad to meet you."

     "Blessed, uh, be." I returned, smelling her perfume and appreciating the fact that the hug was a full body embrace.

     "Do what thou wilt, harm none." She smiled when the embrace finally broke, "I understand that this is your first time. Nervous?"

     "Yes...I mean, no, not really, maybe..."

     "Don't be. You're safe here. The goddess walks here. "

     "Did Jake and Julie make it?" Alfred broke in.

     "They're by the pond, setting up the tent.'' Ayesha returned, still ogling me in a very blatant manner.

     I should've suspected a set-up but I was too busy drooling to notice, or care.

     Alfred said something about going down to meet them, but before I could join him, Ayesha had taken my arm.

     "Alfred will be back. I want to show you the campsite. It's really impressive."

     Ayesha guided me through the prime areas of this twenty acre property (I never learned whose). It included a large camping area, a very large "wild" area of bush and trees, a small stream, wooden cabins and dormitories, a huge pond for fishing and swimming, almost like a small state park.

     Ayesha informed me that the festival started ten years ago with a local small coven. This year, it was over 1000 strong, and becoming quite the "party zone" for pagans of all persuasions.

     "Goddess worship. Not devil worship. Devil worship is a Christian thing. There is evil in the world. But it is manifested through us. Through our greed, mistrust, and self doubt."

     "So what does the Goddess do."

     "Everything. She is nature at it's purest. We are a part of nature and she's in all of us. When we worship her, we acknowledge all that is natural and good about us. That is why witches perform sex-magic. It is pure nature and the highest form of praise."

     She turned to me, and for the first time I saw her eyes clearly, and what I saw twisted up my spine like St. Elmo's fire. In the deep, dark ochre, I saw a living breathing energy coiled in the shaped of a huge dragon. Dwarfed by its shiny brown-scaled bulk, I was terrified when the mouth shot flames out, searing me body and soul.

     I moaned and felt the coil tighten around my spine. Just as I felt I would die, the wetness of her tongue-darting kiss turned the heat into a cool mist.

     I turned away, embarrassed. She looked down and laughed, pulling me closer.

     "I think we may have to praise the Goddess soon." She leaned into me then kissed me with sensual abandon. I can't recall feeling so indescribably weak and strong at the same time. This was not the demure kiss of a sorority girl. In fact, everything I had ever known about kissing up to that point was suddenly blown to pieces. The Goddess, or whoever was in charge here, had some major worship going on. And in spite of my shyness, I wrapped around her like a glove. This moment was certainly headed somewhere. And then, of course, life got in the way.

     "Ayesha! Sister! We have arrived!"

     A group of pagans walked up to us and hugged us with the traditional blessed be. Ayesha introduced them to me as her good friends from Vermont. We exchanged the usual introductions (even with pagans, complaints about the weather) and salutations. Unfortunately this little reunion broke up our little pagan love chant, as we joined her friends for the opening ceremonies.

     The ceremonies were exciting and surprisingly little to do with spells and potions. They were mostly the opportunity for the witches to spread, for lack of a better phrase, good cheer. While my memory cannot pick out the specific chants or rituals, the overall feeling was of serendipity and communion. I mean, yes, there you are, buck naked in front of strangers, chanting for someone to get well, or for a coven to find a new leader, or asking the Goddess for rain. No blood. No sacrifices. Just a feeling of belonging to a big family. This feeling went on with every evening ritual, including the last that included a...well ever hear of free love?

     Through the week, I had been unable to get back with Ayesha. Despite efforts to find time with her, she was either busy or I was. Goodness knows there were tons of things to do. Lectures, music, lessons, a regular Chautauqua of the pagan arts. Still, I was driven by something, Goddess worship, lust, whatever, that would not let me forget Ayesha. Occasionally, we'd pass each other going to different parts of the campground. She would smile lasciviously to me, pursing her lips for a kiss, or lift her skirt to show how uninhibited a pagan can be. All of this simply made me insanely horny. When the Mayday revelry turned to the sexual part of the evening, I started searching for her.

     But after two hours (and drinking to stay in the spirit of things) I resolved that she had found another. Dead drunk and no place to go, I carefully avoided a "moaning" bush and, removing my clothes, laid down to sleep off my drunken despair. But the despair didn't last. For I started to dream.

     A simple wet dream of Ayesha and me in a warm lake somewhere, falling into each other and giving each other the praise we so desperately needed. It felt so real, I thought, that it was probably going to be the best wet dream I ever had. Or was it a dream. My moans and cries sounded too close to be that of a dream-state. Suddenly, I began to hear laughter. Giggling, snickering laughter that sounded all too familiar. My body heaved as it headed relentlessly toward orgasm. Even so, I opened my eyes to find Ayesha in all her splendor, astride me, taking all of me in her as she laughed capriciously and luxuriously. I lost all control over my will and gave into her completely. With each rise, I could feel her take more control over me. As her head bobbed up and down, her eyes, reflecting the campfires around us, smirked mischievously as though this had been her plan all along. In one final heave we both came and fell together as one. We kissed madly on the ground as we traded places and she wrapped her legs around me.

     "Bitch" I growled. Suddenly, I stopped, shocked at having said something so vicious and offensive.

     Ayesha simply smiled back, squeezing tighter. "Just a compliment to me, Reed".

     And for the rest of the night, we made love like psychotic eels.

     In the morning I found that Ayesha had gone. After gathering my things and putting on my clothes, I caught up with Alfred who said Ayesha had left already with her coven, and had wished us both a happy return to our college. On the drive home, not much was passed between Alfred and I. We had obviously enjoyed our stay, and it seemed that Alfred had indeed set me up for my night of pleasure. On the way home, we stopped at a restaurant. Alfred, smiling a "I told you" look in his eyes, handed me a note.

     Dear Reed,

     Thank you for your love and your sweet body. You are a beautiful man, and I hope some lucky woman has the heart and guts to love you right. The Goddess watches us all.

     Blessed be, Ayesha

     Alfred and I parted ways long ago. But I always thank him for his friendship in my thoughts. I always thank Ayesha in my dreams. And my wife thanks God when I make it home safe.