WitchsSmokeAaron (3 page)

Then one night, she did not have an orgasm, so she had to fake it. This happened again a week later, but this was all night long. This was a shock because she had always enjoyed sex and the feeling of joy and release to her body and mind. This time, she took a few days off and then went back, and she climaxed, but it was not the big bang. Then it went on for several days, and she was sad. Something that she enjoyed, something that gave her great pleasure, had finally been taken away from her.

After all, if no one wanted anything from her but to fuck her body, and she could not receive anything in return, not even pleasure from an orgasm, then what was there for her?

She spent 48 hours without sleep, just thinking it over and not going into the club. The club was almost like a home to her. The owner, Carol Den, had become her friend. Something had happened along the way with her relationship with Carol. Most people assumed the club was owned by a man or several men because, well, the world was still biased. So Carol signed everything as C. Den and her well paid Attorney represented her in most things.

She and Carol had never had sex. It took her a while to understand that this was why they could become friends. In fact, she was around Carol for several weeks before it dawned on her that Carol was not approaching her for sex. She finally had to ask Carol.

“Everyone in this place, including your bouncers, wants to fuck me. You hired me to fuck as much and as many as possible. Yet, you have not approached me, and I have not seen you with anyone else. Carol, I have to ask, what gives?” Asa sat across from Carol’s desk in her private office, which did not look like the office of a sex club.

Carol sat back and did not laugh or even smile. Finally, when Asa thought she was not going to answer, Carol began to talk.

“It is funny that I own a sex club. I would say that I am the opposite of you.” Carol’s voice was low, and she was staring over Asa’s head at one of the old paintings she had hanging high on a wall.

“You are pure sex, you want it, and do it, and everyone wants you. I am titled as an Asexual. If you look it up in Wikipedia, it will say
sometimes referred to as nonsexuality.
When I did not have my first period, the doctors all agreed that I was female, but there were some male hormones present. Still, I did not have an interest in girls, so it was decided I was not a lesbian. I could have told them that. I was not interested in anything that had to do with reproduction, sex, exploring my body or anyone else’s.”

Carol finally looked down at Asa, maybe to see how the woman was taking all of this. “It did not worry me. This is just how I am. It did worry my parents, so, using college as an excuse, I left without a word and a trace and never had contact with them again. It saved them a lot of grief. They were normal Baptists and did not take well to me not marrying and having children. I cannot have children.

“I am fascinated in the human nature of sex. I read about it, study it, and watch it. But it does not excite me, arouse me, or provoke me to any action. I have found that I am attached in an affectionate way to some people, but I have never loved anyone deeply. So here we sit, two women, one who is the top of sex, and one who is not sex. What a pair.”

So this strange pair had become friends. It probably was destiny. A woman who was not interested in sex and a woman who sex ruled her life, both needed someone in their life. Who else were they going to have as friends? So now, Asa had to take her problem to her only friend.

Carol’s office looked like the back room of a library instead of the workings of a BDSM club. Ugly books everywhere, most of the bookkeeping type, in piles, falling off shelves and stacked on the dark carpeted floor. The furniture was good, the chairs comfortable, but not expensive antiques, just nice worn leather office furniture. It also smelled comfortable, the wood and the paper and the old furniture made one want to take off his or her shoes and relax. Which is what she did when she came in to meet with Carol.

* * * *

Carol slid back and looked over her big messy desk at the woman who had been her best moneymaker and turned into her best friend. She really loved this woman in the way that she loved.

“Carol, I am all burnt out.”

“Asa, you are the favorite of the club. I get too many requests for you. I charge the most for you, and you have made both our bank accounts fat. But I agree, you have been working twelve hours a night and taking on more men and women nightly than most people take on for a week. What are you thinking about? Changing your schedule? Maybe working less hours, or skipping a couple days a week. We could work something out. We could even agree on a short vacation.” Carol leaned back in the chair behind her desk and looked at Asa.

The woman Carol was concerned about was more than beautiful. She had long brown hair with just enough natural curl to make it flow over her shoulders to frame her face perfectly. It had hints of red in it in the sun, and Carol knew it was the natural color because it was the color of her thatch when she was not clean shaven. She had hazel eyes that were sometimes green and sometimes reddish brown framed by long thick lashes. She was one of those people blessed with flawless skin and, because of her long hours, she did not get much of a tan, but still it had a rosy blush. But there was something else about Asa, as she was the epitome of sex. When a man saw her, he wanted her. Women who had never thought of same sex got hot just looking at her. It was as if the gods got together and created sex acts first and then wrapped it in the shell of a woman.

“Not a vacation. I do not want sex anymore. I can’t reach a climax. I have tried different partners, I have tried different toys, I have even tried some drugs. You know I never use drugs. This week I have even gotten sick at the smell of sex. I think I got overloaded and my senses got turned off.”

“Do you need to see a doctor? I have the name of some good ones. Even some clinical psychiatrists.” Carol looked at her friend, worry on her face.

“Well, I think if I don’t get away from sex, I will have a breakdown.” Asa pushed her hair back carelessly. It was obvious she was serious.

“So what do you plan, and I will support you in any way I can.”

“I need to get away from Austin. I think I will go to the coast and try to buy a place where no one knows me. Someplace isolated to just give myself some alone time and see if my body will heal itself.”

Carol was shocked, but she did not want to show it. She would support Asa in whatever way she could. There was a part of Asa that no one bothered to find beneath the beauty and the sex.

* * * *

So Carol had a real estate friend, actually a client, help find the house. They had looked at several over the last few months, but even though the agent was not happy with Asa’s choice, Asa knew it was exactly what she needed. She ordered furniture by searching the Internet at the built-in kitchen counter. She slept on an air mattress until delivery trucks found their way on the rough road to unload and move the items where she wanted them.

She worked each day, painting walls and hanging drapes, until she fell across the bed to sleep in exhaustion. She ate when she was hungry and took walks when she felt like it and forgot about clocks. She had been in the house six months, and the weather was turning cooler, so she built a fire in the outdoor fire pit that was part of the wooden porch. This was what she wanted, quiet and rest. She took a quick shower and pulled on a heavy robe with nothing else and went down to enjoy the warmth of the fire and being alone. She could hear the waves on the distant beach, and she was relaxed for the first time in years.

She leaned back against the pillows and allowed herself to enjoy the quiet of the night as the fire died down, and she was fascinated to see the smoke dance in a thin veil around the pit. She closed her eyes and drifted off, almost asleep, when she felt the touch of a hand on her foot. She did not move, because it was a soft, messaging touch, the thumb under her arch rotating slowly to relax that ache. She thought, gee, what a real dream, as the hand moved up to her ankle and lifted her leg up and off to uncross her legs. In her dream, she allowed the hand to keep hold of her ankle, as it felt warm and comforting, and then it moved up to her calf.

She rolled her head slowly to one side, and the hand messaged the muscles in the back of the leg, and it felt so good she moaned low. She scooted down to get more comfortable. The hand moved up to her thigh, but it was only softly drifting up and down the inside, raising small goose bumps of enjoyment. Unconsciously, she let her leg fall away, opening herself up.

The hand softly moved back and forth, but each stroke up brought the strong fingers closer to her cunt. She realized that, besides the wood smoke, she could also smell her own sex. For the first time in months, she was actually aroused. This was a great dream even if she was only barely asleep. Finally, the fingers’ soft movements made the contact she wanted. Soft caresses against the slit, then a finger was slowly moving back and forth between the lips, moving easily due to the moisture that seeped from her core.

She thought she heard a soft chuckle, but the finger felt so good she just relaxed and let it do its job, dragging her moisture all the way back to her tight ass hole and then up around the nub that was pounding, fat with blood. She felt the hand insert itself between the wet lips, and the finger slowly went into her core. She sucked in air, and her hips moved up. Then, as the finger moved up and down, the thumb went back to the demanding nub, the heat rolled upward through her stomach, and her breasts tightened until the ends were hard as pebbles.

Finally, as she was finger fucked, she felt the build of climax as muscles all through her body began to clinch. The hand pulled out and a finger and thumb pulled and pinched her nub. She yelled as she bucked and lost it as blackness rolled over her. She lay back, grasping the wooden chair handles, pulling air into her desperate lungs. It was at this moment she realized she was not asleep, this was really happening. She raised up, expecting to be facing a man either on his knees or leaning over her.

But no one was there. There was only a wisp of smoke floating over her leg and then dissolving in the breeze, leaving behind the smell of sandalwood and cinnamon.

Chapter Three

But no one was there
. She repeated these five words over and over during the next few days. The words would interrupt her work, and she would find herself standing, dripping paint from a brush that she had intended to put on a panel around a doorframe.

She would say the words to herself as she stood in the window, letting her cup of coffee go cold, staring out at the sea oats being stirred by the wind that she did not see. She would find herself holding a book, in her bed with the light on, warm and comfortable, but sleep far away and just the thought of the climax bringing warmth to her cunt, feeling moisture form on her panties. Funny, she had given up wearing panties years ago, as she had shaved her pussy for years. Now she wore the panties and let the curly plush hair grow. The need to take her body away from all the things she had done sexually seemed the right thing to do, so why was it now that she was having this problem?

She had heard of madness hitting all the old artists who indulged in too much sex, Donatello, van Eyck, Raphael, and others more recent. But upon reading up on most of the history of this, she found they had contacted diseases, and she was clean. It was a miracle that she had escaped the many modern plagues that lay out there to trap the unwary sex partners. But that was one area she had tried to be careful.

Twice in her tumultuous life she had been raped. Both times, her first trip had been to a private doctor, not the police. One time, the man had used a condom. The other time, it had been several men, but she had escaped any diseases. The doctor had taken a great deal of time flushing her out with sterile antiseptics. He was worried that all traces of DNA from the men was being flushed away, too. She paid him in cash with the extra that would ensure his silence. The second time she had broken ribs, bruises that took weeks to heal, broken fingers, and two deep cuts that the doctor took care of and left very small scars. Reminders to be more careful of who she said no to, and if she did say no, being careful of going out alone.

So if she was going mad, it was not from diseases, it was just from her lifestyle or maybe something passed down from one of her parents, as both were long dead by this time. She needed to check into their background to see if there was any genetic mental illness. It was possible she had been out of her mind all of her life and had finally tipped over the wall. What she had done, concerning sex, was not mainstream.

Or maybe she was not going mad. Maybe she had all of her bodily senses back, and she now could have normal climaxes. Yes, that might be it. She had indulged in a break in her old lifestyle. She had rested and eaten well and exercised. Her body looked good, her hair had more natural shine, and it was longer, way past her shoulders now. She had gotten some color from walking the beach.

So what if she had one crazy experience? That did not actually mean she was crazy. She probably was just returning to normal. What she needed to do was try out a trick, and then she would know for sure. She needed plain old vanilla sex with one man to see if she enjoyed it. Yep, that would answer the question.

She went to the phone and looked up at the pegboard in the kitchen. She took the card for the country store. This was the one that had the manager, the great looking guy who had hit on her. She made out a small list of items, normal things, eggs, milk, etc, and called in an order for a delivery. She was assured by the deep voice that he personally would have everything out there within the hour.