Chapter 10

If it was indeed Naraja, it was likely necessary to proceed with caution. Shiva was just as happy creating shit as he was destroying shit, and often, the two behaviors were one and the same. I approached, none the less. The closer I got to Naraja, the more aroused I became. The moon gate ring thing was on a pedestal. I tried to keep reminding myself this could be a male, but you know, damn it, if you allow that a male human could be genetically effeminate enough to be confusing, well, God’s can take that to a whole other level. Her right leg was lifted, knee bent, as if she was cradling an invisible lover. I entertained being that lover. I proceeded up the stairs. At this point, knowing magic and all, I almost expected her to come twirling down off her lotus pedestal, freaking me out something awful and I die of fright before she had a chance to pull my heart out of my chest, like Indiana Jones the Temple of Doom.

Have you ever been so drawn to a statue you would fuck it? OMG, this Goddess was beautiful. I wanted all four hands molesting me, all four pinning me down while she had her wondrous ways with me. If God was female, I would never be allowed into heaven because I would want to fuck her! And you know, I am sure there are other humans who have held the same thought, but how many since the Greek error has entertained fucking gods and goddesses, or at least dared to admit it. If you have been following my stories by now, you might commiserate a little that I am swimming in hormones and thinking, if this is the only way out, well, ‘a man’s got to do what a man’s got to do…” (Conversely, I wondered if God is male I wouldn’t be allowed into heaven because I would likely be so jealous of the competition for women that I would want to kill him. Holy shit! Was this the ultimate Freudian concept of the Oedipus and Electra complex?! (I am so screwed!))

I touched Naraja’s hand. Her head turned to me, but I didn’t die of fright or run away.

She spoke, “You’ve been messing where you shouldn’t be messing…”

Naraja pivoted her pelvis towards me, descending down from the lotus, overstepping her own knees in an exaggerated dance move, one hand on my shoulders, pushing, guiding me down away from the portal out. There was music now. Unmistakable, even if it was a remix. Six females flowed from the alcove, their movement reminiscent of a sixties dance move. They wore knitted sweaters that were solid colors, pink, red, blue, green, yellow, purple. Standing normally, their sweaters fell just below their crotch, but when they arched their back in dance, or raised their arms, or swung their hips, dark panties were exposed, which was clearly distracting. You would think, a goddess is pushing on me, I wouldn’t be so easily distracted by her backup singers, or worried that I had an erection. Can being about to die make a man hard? They were sparkly hose and, of course, if you haven’t guess based on the lyrics and music, boots. Naraja suddenly, magically, had boots.

I won’t bore you with reciting the whole lyric set to “These boots are made for walking,” but I will impress that I was the focus of the song, I was being warned or chastised and appropriate teased by Naraja and her backup singers/dancers and when it was over, they were all back in their place, the gate, once again, appropriately blocked. And I was left wanting! It was like wanting to masturbate to a movie, only the scene you wanted to cum ended before you came, and no matter how many times you rewind it, you just kept missing the opportunity, or worse, you came when the guys face popped up, which reminds me of a trailer for a movie, and you know, maybe, judging by the way movies go now a days, we are moving towards a society that can be more open about sexuality. I so liked ‘Zack and Miri Make a Porno, especially because of the Star Wars scenes. Yeah, they probably pissed some core people off about that as if it were sacrilege, but you have to remember, the core audience of star wars was mostly pre-pubescent kids. I was one, only I was sexualized early, and so even though Prince Leah was purposely non feminine, she had my attention. Of course, that could be due to the fact she was one of two girls in the whole film. No, literally, there are two females in Star Wars. You had a choice, the princess, or the aunt. Yes, I, personally, would do them both. And this conversation goes to a whole new level when we get to Return of the Jedi and we have Leah in the slave costume and suddenly, my generation becomes the BSDM generation. It always existed, Star Wars allowed us to touch in mainstream. Yes, 50 shades gray, you have nothing on star wars!

Now, you may think I am trying to distract you from my dilemma, but part of my dilemma was, that’s where I was stuck. I wanted more. I also wanted through that gate. That hole behind the gate! Is there no way to not be completely non-sexualized? Even the gate and the whole is a metaphor and you just can’t escape sexuality in the physical plane. What would take to get past her? An increase in libido? How much work would it take to turn on a Goddess? What would Kirk do? What would James Bond do?

Oh, fuck it. I went back up the stairs.

“I would like to negotiate passage,” I said.

Naraja laughed. “I bet you would. Passage, indeed. Entry. Intercourse. And what do I get? Do I need to redo that song?”

“So, we are negotiating,” I said.

“You have nothing I want,” Naraja said.

“I will sing a duet with you,” I said.

An eyebrow went up, her gaze came to me. “You would sing and dance with me?”

“I can’t promise the dance part, but I will sing,” I said. “But, I suspect, even if I can’t dance, you’re so good at choreography, you could make us look good, like maybe a Bollywood musical number, in the rain, in the garden, and on the beach, baby on beach, ba ba baba ba, bada ba,” I said, singing a little bit from “I ain’t got no body.”

She chuckled, but still, seemed skeptical.

“Do you think I will be so easily impressed with American pop songs?” Naraja said, almost warningly. “Don’t even think about a musical. I’m not going to be your Olivia.”

“Oh, baby, please, you got what I need…”

“I am so not your friend,” she said.

“Tell me your name, baby,” I said.

“You may call me, Sinthra,” she said.

“If I am going to woo you, it will not be with an American song,” I said. “I mean, I am partial to Barry, but I just can’t do that deep, sexy tone, being a natural tenor and all. No, if I am going to do this at all, it’s going be in French.”

“I’m listening,” Sinthra said, but put a hand on my hip and drew me into her leg, looking down on me. “But there will be penalties if I am not pleased.”

I swallowed. I was right where I wanted to be, minus exposed and inside her. I led with the sexiest duet known to mankind, straight from the sixties, and banned by the Pope himself, which probably helped give the song its status. People are so stupid. Burning books and protesting only increases the want for the thing. Why do you think bras are back? I am okay with females with or without bras. I’m non-discriminating in that department, though I will own that my relationship with breasts is American quirky, which may be in part due to not growing up around Indian statues with huge naked breast in your face.

I led with “Je T'aime Moi Non Plus.”

Naraja chuckled and embraced me with lower arms. “Oh, Monsieur,” she said. “You speak French.”

Not a lick, but I wasn’t going to tell her. But I can sing it. I don’t have a clue what I am saying, but put a bit of breathless wanting into it, and girls swoon. Unless they know French. Then it’s hit or miss, variable being such as how horny they are, how long it’s been, how forgiving they are with the French language, etc. But usually, as an American, I get laid just for putting out the effort to speak something other than English. Americans are considered linguistically lazy and self-absorbed. Every time I hear someone say, “they came here, they should learn our language,” I always interrupt, “Do you speak Cherokee?” What I don’t get is why people don’t feel properly rebuked and chastised, but it will shut down a conversation pretty fast.

All of that may feel like a distraction, because you want to know about Naraja. I’m actually leading to that. I have had a score of missed opportunities ‘hooking up’ with females due to stupidity and lack of confidence. I have been on a beach in Florida surrounded by hot girls, where the men are out-numbered, and not hooked up. I have money, security, car, but no confidence, because American Advertising has screwed us by teaching men that you get the wealth first, you can have every female, which only leads to a lot of rich, unhappy men, who then start wars, or make more money. You have these young men from Brazil, some good looking, most not, but they move with this attitude “I have a penis, I will get laid,” and by God, they will have more American pussy in their two or three week vacation than I will in ten years. They’re broke. They’re not speaking English. What the hell? Well, they don’t think like Americans. The way you think does affect outcomes. Change the way you think, and you get different results.