Tiger in the Bonsai Garden

Elena grew up in a university town somewhere in the Midwest of the United States, but she was born in Venezuela. Her father was a professor of classical guitar who, in his youth, had received private lessons from one of Venezuela's most eminent composers, only few people outside of South America had ever heard of the composer.

Of course, her father wanted her to learn classical guitar, but her mother wanted her to learn piano. That's because the classical guitar has never been held in the same esteem as the violin or the piano. "The piano is more respectable," her mother said.

However, her father didn't care about respectability. Latin America and North America are guitar cultures. From North America, you get the blues, country, and rock and roll — all of which make heavy use of the guitar. From Latin America, you get bossa nova and dozens of other styles of guitar-oriented music. The piano is for sissies; it isn't macho. What's more, pianos are harder to keep tuned in the Amazon rain forest and the Andes Mountains.

So Elena started taking guitar lessons, because Elena's father was the boss. Her first guitar teacher was her father, who taught her the scales and how to read music notation, but she needed another teacher after a few years, because it's very difficult for a musician to teach his or her own child. Her second guitar teacher was a rock musician in his twenties with dreams of rock stardom who taught guitar students by day and played gigs at night. Thirty years later, the rock musician is probably doing the same thing; nobody has heard of him since.

Though Elena was fourteen years old, she looked older, because she had big breasts and was on the tall side of average rather than petite. Her teacher, Randy, probably could have taken her out to bars, if he had wanted to. With a good fake ID, she could have convinced any barmaid or bartender that she was legal, since the legal drinking in most states at the time was eighteen, not twenty-one.

Elena had a crush on Randy because, in her adolescent mind, Randy was a guitar virtuoso because he could play Jimmy Page's licks note for note. Randy liked Elena's breasts; he also liked to eat pussy. One thing led to another. After he got her to remove her blue jeans and her panties, he told her to sit on a wooden chair in one of the practice rooms of the music store and spread her legs. When she obliged, he dropped to his knees and exposed her to the joys of cunnilingus.

The problem was that a secretary heard Elena and informed a manager. The manager interrupted them and fired Randy on the spot. Then he called Elena father, who came down to the music store as fast as he could. "I'm sure you can press charges, Mr. Romero," the manager said. "After all, your daughter is a minor while her teacher is over twenty-one..."

However, both Elena and her father were really embarrassed. The last thing either one of them wanted was for people to know, because they lived in a small university town where people knew each other. If there was a trial, it might even make the front page of the town newspaper and create a scandal, though Elena couldn't be mentioned by name. While a conviction for statutory rape ruined many a rock star's career in the 1950s, this was the 1970s: it might have actually helped Randy's career. He could have even written a song about it and possibly have a hit record. But Elena? She would have had to endure the taunts of kids at school. Therefore, Elena's parents decided not to press charges. They were sure she had learned her lesson.

Before the incident with the guitar teacher, Elena had been playing guitar for three or four years — long enough to actually start to get good at it. She had a repertoire of about twenty songs, ranging from classical to pop. However, she couldn't pick up the guitar again; it always brought back the memory of her humiliation. Nor would she let a man eat her pussy. Sometimes, her lover got started, but after a certain point, the memory of the music store manager barging in on her and Randy always came flooding back. She didn't seem to understand that people usually had sex behind closed doors without being disturbed. Or, rather, she might have understood it in her head if somebody had told her, but she didn't feel safe enough to relax.

While she was at university, she met an undergraduate student from Canada named Alex, who wasn't a musician — though he had dabbled in the Black Art of playing guitar as an adolescent. He was studying to be an engineer, so Elena felt that it was safe to fall in love with him and get married. Once he got his master's degree from a polytechnical institute somewhere on the east or west coast, he would be earning an income in six figures or more. He might even start his own company some day, once he saved up enough money. He didn't need to be a rock star.

With the temperament of Munro Leaf's Ferdinand the Bull, Alex conformed to the positive stereotype of Canadians being nice and polite. That is, he preferred to take the time to smell the flowers thrown by the señoritas in the Plaza de Toros rather than charge at matadors full tilt. Whenever Americans called him a Canuck, he rarely took offence; his standard response was: "No, the Canucks play hockey in Vancouver..."

However, he also conformed to Conan O'Brien's negative stereotype of Canadians being boring rather than sexy. That's to say that Elena soon found that he was no better at playing a woman than he was at playing a guitar. So he took offence when he heard O'Brien call Canadians boring on American TV. He angrily flipped the TV the bird, because he, Elena and the kids were in a Toronto hotel at the time; he was being "dissed" in his home and native land.

The difference between Alex and Elena (besides gender, of course) was that Alex was an intellectual while Elena was an artist. Men like Alex approach making love to a woman as a series of intellectual problems that need to be solved. Number one, how do you get her to go out with you? Number two, how to do you get her out of her clothes? Number three, how do you get her to put her clothes back on the next morning and leave? While a woman is a mystery who speaks primarily the language of emotions, guys like Alex approach a woman as a crossword puzzle: what is a three-letter word for affirmative rather than a two-letter word for negative? Guys with high IQ's and few people skills find mates and reproduce, however, because these are the people who build bridges, design data bases, and come up with the cures to diseases like the mumps; their intellectual skills are in demand, so they bring home the bacon.

So Elena kept moving into a series of bigger and bigger houses with Alex and their two children — all the while more and more sexually frustrated — until one day, Alex announced that he had found a job in Victoria, British Columbia. Like most people, Elena preferred her native country — which was the US, not Venezuela. However, she didn't think that moving to BC would be such a big adjustment. Like most Americans, she thought that Canada was just like the US. Except for recent immigrants and those who live in la belle province of Quebec, everybody spoke English. As well, Alex was as tickled pink as Canadian bacon at the prospect of starting a new job in Canada.

Victoria is situated in the southwestern corner of Vancouver Island, which is arguably to Canada what Madagascar is to Africa. This is not to say that Vancouver Island has flying lemurs and five species of baobob trees that are found only on that island, like Madagascar — not at all! Rather, Vancouver Island's flora and fauna are exotic because of their sheer abundance, not to mention the fjords on the windward side and the relatively uninhabited mountains in the centre. With so much Mother Nature and so few people, Vancouver Island has the elbow room that Canada's neighbours to the south crave but seldom find. Most of the island is forested with Douglas fir, sitka spruce, and red cedar, among other species of trees. Every spring, you can see the grey whales and the killer whales make their migrations south, without mentioning seals and sea lions, and endless varieties of sea birds, like puffins. Pacific Salmon come to spawn in its many streams, the carcasses of which draw bald eagles and black bears. And at dawn or dusk, the sighting of a black doe and its fawn by the road is by no means a rare occurrence. However, bears, being the scavengers that they are, make no distinction between a carcass and someone's untended garbage. They don't see very well, but they have a keen sense of smell.

Most of the people live to the south of the island, though the island is about 460 km long and has an area of 31,284 square km. What's more, Vancouver — the largest city in British Columbia and the third largest city in Canada — isn't even on the island, but across the Straight of George in BC proper. Therefore, Victoria, the capital of BC, is the largest city on Vancouver Island, with a mere 33,000 people.

Upon arrival in Victoria, Elena found that Canada wasn't quite like the US after all, or at least the part of Canada where she was living with her husband and children. She found Victoria to her liking, a beautiful, family-friendly city. Victoria is one of the most unique cities in all of Canada — sort of a combination of Seattle and London. Like Seattle, Victoria gets lots of rain, well over 150 cm a year, since the northwest Pacific rain forest extends well into British Columbia. Vancouver Island pays for its greenery, you know.

However, the British settlers who first came here brought with them a bit of Olde Engelande. The centre-ville looks pretty much like it did in the 19th century, with the red brick streets of Bastion Square and all the buildings with red brick façades. Then there's Craigdarrach Castle, a Victorian Gothic castle wouldn't be out of place in the moors of Scotland. There are the double-decker buses and telephone boxes that make Victoria rival only Auckland, New Zealand, as one of the most distinctively English cities in the world, since London got rid of the double-decker buses and the phone boxes after the terrorist attack of 2005.

Elena and Alex bought a a big house on the outskirts of town whose architectural style might be called northern Californian. It only had a small backyard with a privacy fence, but it looked to be designed by Frank Lloyd Wright or one of his disciples, with high red cedar ceilings, red cedar walls, and red cedar floors, built with the idea of blending in with its natural surroundings. Because the windows on the east and west sides of the house were wide and spacious, about 2.5 m x 6 m, the house was seldom gloomy, even when it rained, but well-lit. You got a clear view of the mist-shrouded mountains to the west, particularly in the morning.

Now forty-two years old, Elena sublimated her repressed sexuality into her home, raiding antique stores for mahogany tables, chairs and armchairs with voluptuous legs, like the calves of a dancer, from the Victorian era. In the master bedroom was a big brass bed with a quilt for a bed spread and a skirt around the box spring that almost touched the floor. She preferred sombre but warm colours: dark green, maroon, tan and brown — earth tones — because she was an earthy person.

Her favourite dress was a simple multi-coloured one with a long tan pleated skirt; it looked to be coloured with a box of crayons, though it nicely accentuated her large bust line and her other curves; she had always been buxom, even as an adolescent. Other than her large breasts and full hips and ass, her most outstanding feature was her shoulder-length dark brown wavy hair, which complimented her olive skin and dark brown oval eyes. Her facial features were Iberian rather than Meso-American: rectangular face, straight nose and thin lips that curled into a mischievous smile. Her face was pretty, intelligent, ironic — friendly, in the manner of an adulterous woman with a husband who didn't please her.

Late in the spring, she hired two brothers to put in a Japanese garden in the backyard. Their parents was nisei, or second-generation Japanese-Americans who had immigrated to Canada from Hawaii before they were born. It was the younger brother who caught Elena's eye. Fed on a steady North American diet of dairy products and red meat, he was of average height for a Canadian male, an inch or two short of six-foot and 165 pounds. He seemed to cultivate an Oriental mystique, with a canary-swallowing grin meant to suggest enlightenment, though in what, Elena could only guess. He was about twenty-three years old, young enough to be Elena's son, that is, if she had got knocked up in her freshman or sophomore year at college and had to drop out.

For the first few days, Elena talked to neither of the brothers very much. Then she saw the younger one pruning a little bonsai plant at the picnic table. First, he closed his eyes for a moment, then he pruned it to his specifications while Elena watched.

"What are doing?" she asked, curious.

"Practicing the ancient Japanese art of bonsai," the brother replied mysteriously. "You close your eyes, then you visualize what you want the plant to look like, then you prune it. I saw it in a movie once. Would you like to try it with this one?"

He motioned to the plant to the right of the one that he had just pruned.

"Sure," she replied.

Elena sat down next to him, to his right, held the plant in both hands, then closed her eyes. Then she tried to prune the plant according to the mental image that she had seen with her eyes closed. When she was finished, she gave her work mixed reviews. "I guess I need practice," she said, frowning.

"You can always prune it again," he replied. "Plants need constant pruning..."

Then Elena and the gardener introduced themselves. "I'm Tiger," the gardener said, "Tiger Tanaka."

"Tiger's your real name?" Elena asked, smiling ironically.

"My real name is Japanese for 'tiger,'" he replied, "so everybody just calls me Tiger."

Elena bought a few more bonsai plants from the nursery and practiced the art of bonsai on them, then put them in various windows of the house. She would go back to them and prune them if they needed pruning, closing her eyes to get the mental image of the plant that she wanted. She got better at it.

One day, Tiger brought a steel-stringed acoustic guitar and played it on his lunch break while his brother worked through lunch. Elena could tell right away that he wasn't very proficient at it. Then, after fumbling for a bit, he strung together three full-barre chords in succession: A, G and F, at the fifth, third and first frets. He was now playing guitar. For Tiger, it was what the Zen Buddhists call a satori experience, because he had suddenly realized that he could make barre chords in other positions besides the first position at the first fret. He now knew that he could play guitar.

Impressed, Elena went outside to the garden and said to the gardener, "Hey, that's pretty good!"

Tiger smiled politely and replied, "Thank you."

Then Elena said, "I took guitar lessons for a few years. I could teach you a few chords and how to read music, if you want..."

"Sure," Tiger replied.

So Tiger started to bring his guitar every day while Elena gave him lessons. For the first time in many years, Elena began to practice diligently every day. Then they started to sing songs together. Tiger sang "Love Me Tender" by Elvis Presley while Elena sang folk songs from her native Venezuela. Then they learned to play "Vaya Con Dios" together, with Tiger singing and providing the accompaniment while Elena played the intro and fills with double-stops and voicings, like Les Paul and Mary Ford on the original recording. They seemed to play well together, but Tiger's older brother seemed to look on with disapproval whenever he was present, though neither Tiger nor Elena seemed to notice.

It was late spring. However, the Japanese garden was nowhere near completion, and it was costing Tiger's brother money. Maybe that was why Tiger's brother looked on with disapproval. As well, maybe Tiger's brother understood that something was happening between them, even if they didn't realize it yet.

One day, they sat at the picnic table with their guitars, without playing anything. Then Elena took Tiger's left hand in both of hers and kissed it, then held it against her cheek. Then they kissed, leaving little breezes on each other's faces. Then they locked mouths like two kissing gouramis in a fish store. They had both obviously seen lots of movies, the way they kissed, though neither could recall any movie where a couple had made love on a picnic table.

Then they heard a peel of thunder to the west, over the mountains. "Looks like rain," Elena said with foreboding.

"We get it a lot out here," Tiger replied.

Elena stood up, smiled mischievously, and led him by the hand to a clearing in the backyard. Then she pulled her dress over her head — the multicoloured one with the tan pleated skirt — and removed her panties and her bra until she was dressed like Eve, while Tiger stripped as well. There they were, on the grass, making love under an ominously overcast sky.

With her hands as a guide, she guided his mouth to where she wanted it on her body. First, she let him play with her magnificent breasts, alternately flicking the nipple with his tongue and sucking it, the right and then the left. Her large breasts soon become engorged with blood and desire, the nipples standing erect. Since she was the mother of two children, there were feint stretch marks on both of her breasts, but to Tiger, the stretch marks on her breasts and abdomen only gave it character.

Then he looked up at her, smiled and asked, "Shall I?"

She smiled and nodded. Then, mesmerized by her sex, his face slowly descended to her mons puberis, nibbling the labia with his lips, then devouring it with his mouth like a succulent fruit. At first, she surrendered to the pleasant sensations that radiated from his touch, then she began to panic, remembering her humiliation as an adolescent guitar student. "Stop," she cried.

"Shhh," he whispered, "it's okay. There's nobody here but us. No one's going to hurt you..."

But he stopped what he was doing because she had asked and slid up until he was face to face with her again. He kissed her on the lips, allowing her to taste herself. Then he inserted the his right middle finger and began to stimulate her g-spot with rapid up and down motions, trying to emulate a vibrator. Then she clutched his finger greedily with her sex, tilted her head back and cried out. She had never had an orgasm like this before, such an intense clitoral orgasm.

Then he smiled at her and asked, "Shall I continue?"

She smiled and let him bury his face in her sex again. This time, she didn't resist. But before he got very far, it started to rain. First, it was only sprinkling, then it rained harder. Eventually, they were in the middle of a downpour — it was raining nails. However, the rain only served to increase her sense of isolation, as she felt the rain drops striking like little water pellets and running down her body and disappearing into the grass underneath her. When she moaned or cried out, her voice sounded far away because of the rain; she felt alone. When her clitoris exposed itself, she first felt little rain drops splattering against it. Then his lips nibbled at it like a little beanstalk, or a little seedling. "Mmmm," she moaned softly, "yes..."

She had a series of little orgasms, then one big orgasm that left her pelvis feeling like it was floating up like a balloon. When she cried out, a gentle breeze seemed to carry her cries to the mountains to the west, since it had stopped raining. Then he drove into her, her sex wet from the rain, his mouth and its own lubrication. He was slip-sliding away inside her — she was extremely pliant, relaxed. When he came, he squeezed her shoulders hard with his hands, his body coiled like a spring, then he cried out before he exploded into her. Then his cock jerked one more time inside her.

She didn't come that time, but she told him afterwards that she still enjoyed the sensation of him sloshing around inside her; she felt closer to him. She didn't want him to take it out right away when he was done, but he had to, so that the condom wouldn't slip off.

They cuddled on the wet grass for a few minutes, but Elena said, "My kids are going to be home from school soon..."

Elena and Tiger had a few more afternoon rendezvous, but always upstairs in the master bedroom. Elena learned to relax and let him bury his head in her sex. She also overcame any aversion she might have had to doing oral sex. For her, tasting herself on her lover's cock was a big turn on; she preferred to do it after intercourse.

Once you memorize something, you never completely forget. Therefore, Elena was able to get back much of what she had learned to play on the guitar as a teenager. Alone in her bedroom after one of her rendezvous with Tiger, she tried to play Malagüeña by the Spanish composer Isaac Albeníz. After two or three false starts, she was able to play it all the way through, though she made few small errors. When she was finished, she raised a clenched fist and cried, "I'm back!"

Finally, Tiger's brother felt that he had to read Tiger the riot act. "This job is costing me way too much money," he scolded him. "When I hire somebody to do a job, I expect him to do it!"

Tiger hung his head in shame and apologized. Then Tiger's brother apologized to Elena for the delays. Elena merely smiled ironically and replied, "That's quite all right, Mr. Tanaka, it's quite all right..."

However, there were no more rendezvous between Elena and Tiger, because his brother wouldn't let him out of his sight.

After the Tanaka brothers were finished with the Japanese garden, Elena decided to give Alex a chance to redeem himself. She smiled slyly and said, "I want your face down there at least twenty minutes..."

Alex's response was a three-letter word for affirmative. Maybe he could learn to play a woman like a guitar.

The next morning, while Alex was still asleep, Elena went downstairs to the garden outside. When she saw the first bonsai plant that she had ever pruned, the one she pruned with Tiger, she sat down at the picnic table and closed her eyes. When she got the mental image that she wanted, she opened her eyes and started to prune the plant to her own specifications.

The End

The Other Woman of Eden

L'autre femme d'Eden


Je suis l'ange Gabriel, la dernière personne dans le jardin Eden avant de Dieu foutre tout le monde hors de camp. « Il faut aller, vous autres ! dis-je à tout le monde. Le Vieux, il veut que tout le monde s'en aille toute suite ! »

Tous deux l'homme et la femme comprenaient bien la raison pourquoi on devait s'en aller, mais ce n'était pas beau à les voir quitter de toute façon, eux, faisant ses valises, seulement tout ce qu'on pouvait porter (que n'était pas grand-chose). On eut juste cousu des nouveaux vêtiments en se découvrant à être nu, et on ne savait pas faire des poches encore. Aussi, on ne savait pas faire des sacs à dos ni des valises non plus. On savait faire seulement un petit brancard misérable, tiré par le pitou de famille, c'était ça. Adam et Eve et leurs enfants étaient les premiers refugiés dans le monde, tu sais.

Puis je mis le feu à l'endroit. L'incendie dans le jardin Eden c'était le premier incendie de forêt, le premier cas d'incendie criminel dans le monde, bien qu'on n'y lit pas grand-chose dans la Bible. Ça suffit à dire que ces animaux-là ce capotaient beaucoup ; ils n'eurent rien vu comme ça jamais. C'était qu'il se sauvait qui pouvait, puisqu'il était à cause de cet incendie qu'il fut arrivé la mort aux animaux dans le monde. Il y avait des animaux en masse qui furent tués, tu sais. Je pourrais entrer dans les détails dequel fut passé, mais la plupart d'entre vous comprend quelque peu quel arrive où une forêt s'incendie sur le point d'être carbonisée. Ce n'est pas beau à voir, à moins qu'on aime bien des allumettes brûlées qui étaient jadis des arbres.

Mais avant de moi m'en aller, je mangeai une pêche, la dernière chose mangée dans le jardin Eden. Puis j'enjouis bien une dame, parce qu'il y avait une autre à part Eve. Elle s'appelait Lilithe. Comme Eve, elle fut créee d'un côté d'Adam. Donc, il avait vraiment quatorze côtés jadis, ne pas treize.

Or, Lilithe représente l'autre moitié de la femme : ombre et sexuelle, primative et mystérieuse. Torride et sauvage. Eve, en revanche, elle prend soin des tissons au foyer et elève les enfants. L'une est une mère, l'autre, une concubine. L'une est perçue toujours comme une vierge, innocente ; l'autre, une putain qui n'a jamais eu de l'innocence à perdre.

Lilith a été profondément mal compris — et a été très crainte. Selon le Cabalah, elle est responsable si une femme fait une fausse couche, si un nouveau-né meurt peu après la naissance. On dit qu'elle volera aussi avec un bébé, qui est laissé tout seul trop longtemps dans son berceau ou dans sa bercelonnette, en laissant un substitué en lieu. Les cabalistes ont l'appelée elle le démon d'Adam, mais la vérité c'est que c'est elle qui était probablement le daemon d'Eve, qui n'est pas égal comme un démon.

Les Grecs anciens croyaient que tout le monde avait un daemon, qui était l'autre moitié de soi-même. Si on était un homme, le daimon était femelle. Si on était une femme, le daimon était mâle. Mais c'était Lilithe, pas Adam, qui était l'autre moitié de soi pour Eve — son âme soeur. C'est à dire, elle était plus égale à Eve. Adam ne désirait pas Lilithe. Pourquoi ? Elle voulut être à la femme supérieure.

Ainsi, Dieu dépêcha à Adam Eve, qui était passive comme une vache. Mais une vache a des idées bien à soi également : Lucifer la tenta de manger du fruit prohibé, glissant à travers son corps comme un serpent, mais la décision était à elle à la fin. Il se doit, c'était la langue à huit pouces...

Je fit la reconnaissance de Lilithe en la voyant là-bas près d'une entre les quatre rivières qui coursaient dans Eden. Plutôt de se genouiller comme une chienne, elle se coucha sur le ventre pour boire de l'eau, ne laissant aucunes traces sur le sable. « C'est bien ruse, pensais-je. Cette femme-là a bien connaissance du bois... »

Elle était tout nue également, aussi nue que Dieu avait voulu qu'Adam et Eve fussent. Je regardai fixement ses cheveux longs de jais longtemps, s'enroulant, s'entortillant en bas au cruex du dos en jolies anglaises. Ah, comment j'aimais ses cheveux ! Et les foufounes et les cuisses et les mollets ! Il y avait quelques grains de sable qui collaient au postérieur des cuisses. Ah, comment je la désirais ! Je voulais voir sa figure, mais elle se couchait prone sur le sable encore.

Moi, un ange, je décidai de la saisir par force. Il a dû être facile, n'est-ce pas ? Après tout, elle n'est qu'une femme, pensais-je — que pouvait-elle en faire ? (Je saisis plus tard Marie, la mère de Jésus, en même façon, mais c'est une autre paire de manches, mon rendez-vous avec Marie.)

Ayoille, elle était prête pour moi ! Le moment que je sautai vers elle, elle se tourna, aux griffes montrées, à la bouche ouverte aux canines supérieures comme ceux de tigre à dents de sabre. Elle était aux irises de yeux rouges comme ceux de chien ou ceux de loup pris soudaine par une lampe de poche — c'était effrayant ! La peau lui était fauve, comme la fourrure d'un animal sauvage, ses cheveux, comme des serpents vivants. Celle-là, elle n'était pas comme toute femme qui j'eus jamais rencontré avant.

Sauf le fait de moi l'avoir prise par force, elle, on peut dire que c'était moi qui perdit le plus. Il y avait des morsures sur ma poitrine partout comme preuve, et des égratignures sur mon dos. Elle me mordit sur le cou comme une vampire, et prit un gros morceau de mon épaule avec ses dents. C'était une bonne chose que nous n'étions pas quelques mantes. Autrement, elle a pu arracher des dents ma tête.

Je pouvais la vaincre seulement en raison de moi être un ange, en raison d'elle se coucher sur le ventre sur le sable lorsqu'elle se tourna pour faire face à moi. En sautant vers elle, j'atterris droit au-dessus elle, ayant failli l'empaler. C'était chanceux pour moi, parce qu'elle ne pouvait pas échapper de moi.

Moi, j'en ai frissons rien que d'y penser, qu'est-ce qu'il me serait arrivé si c'était elle qui m'avait pris en embuscade ! Mais il semblait qu'elle aimait bien ce que je faisais à la fin. Moi, en poussant dedans elle, elle sifflait comme un nid de mille serpents, glissant et se lovant au-dessous moi, sifflant à plusieurs reprises: « Oh là-là ! »

Puis elle me poussa sur le dos pour sauter sur ma face, sautant en haut et en bas sur ma face comme un tout-petit sur un ballon de plage inflatable jusqu'à ce qu'elle jouissait aussi bien qu'elle en voulait. Les lèvres de son sexe étaient violetes — les lèvres intérieures plus marronnes que les lèvres extérieures — ne pas la couleur de rose de laquelle je me fus habituées. La peau de son corps entier était un bleu cadavereux. Le premier, je goûtais le sable de plage, puis je goûtais les jus de son sexe, lavant le sable comme les larmes que lavent un objet d'un œil. Les jus de sa chatte devenrint collants et gélatineux, couleur de gélatine rouge — ma barbe était collante une semaine. Et son clitoris était comme une tige longue d'asparge — drôlement étrang. C'était la chatte la plus étrange que j'avais jamais mangée. La vérité c'était qu'elle me mangeait.

C'était vrai : Lilithe aimait mieux être en dessus, quoique je ne comprends pas la raison pourquoi Adam s'en plaindait. Après d'elle être au-dessus ma face un peu de temps, elle finit par être au-dessus ma scimitaire, qui se courbait profondement dedans elle.

Avez-vous jamais vu une auror e boréale ? Hé bien, c'est à quel je me traitais en la voyant glisser en haut et en bas ma pine. D'abord, la couleur de sa peau était un vert scintillant que ressemblait aux rideaux qui ondulaient dans le vent. Puis on voyait tous les couleurs de l'arc-en-ciel : rouge, orange, jaune, vert, bleu, pourpre. Je m'en revenais pas ! Cette poupoune ressemblait à un anneau de couleurs interchangeables pris en folie.

Mais elle était belle à voir : ces seins, ce cou, ces épaules, ses cheveux couleur de minuit. C'était la femme à toute sa gloire, ce que la femme était censée à être, avant d'Eve la remplacer dans le jardin Eden. Elle ne ressemblait plus à une bête sauvage lorsqu'on sauta au-dessus elle, ni comme une cadavre couchée dans la morgue en asseyant sur votre face ; elle ressemblait présentement comme une femme caressée par un arc-en-ciel. Son corps était percé par millions rayons de lumière en même temps, comme la lumière verte lui serrait les seins.

C'est à quel une femme ressemble sous une aurore boréale : comme un arc-en-ciel est après faire amour avec elle.

Puis elle poussa un gémissement fort : « Uh, uh! Oh, ouais ! ouais! » Puis elle me serra dure la bitte avec son con. J'écoutai le son de quelque chose sucer, comme elle essayait de m'absorber. En jouissant, je fis mal aigu, comme j'eus été donné le coup de pied ou périneum, entre les génitaux et l'anus. Mais c'était tellement plaisirable, tellement intense qu'il était presque douloureux ! Elle me baisait sur le point de me faire mal.

Après de nous avoir fini, elle se coucha auprès moi sur le sable près la rivière. Elle fut devenue normale à nouveau. Sa couleur de peau se fut transformée de multi-colorée à sa pâlleur naturelle de retour. Ses yeux était au bleu le plus bleu, comme le ciel sans nuages. Les cheveux se furent transformés à une tapête luxueuse de velour noir de retour. Elle semblait delicate, comme la fleur-de-lis, ne pas comme quelqu'une ou quelque chose possédée. Et le moment où elle me parlait, elle sonnait comme une humaine : « Merci, dit-elle, tout ésouflée. C'est le sexe meilleur de ma vie entière... »

Puis elle prit ma main pour la presser aux babines. En comprenant ce qu'elle m'eut fait, tous les morsures et tous les égratignures, elle me dit : « Ah, j'suis désolée, moi ! je crois que je vous ai fait mal... »

Puis elle se mit à m'embrasser à nouveau. Le premier, elle m'embrassa doucement sur les babines, puis elle semait des baisers sur le front de mon corps surtout, léchant mes blessures. Elle me suçait également les mamelons, que personne ne me faisait jamais avant, mais je m'en foutais. En venant à mon pénis, elle l'engloutit entièrement. En se goûtant sur moi, elle regarda en haut et sourit, tout satisfaite, puis elle continuait à glisser en haut et en bas, plus à plus vite. Puis je me fis frissoner et m'écriai et explosant dans sa bouche, mes orteils se pelotonnés. Mais il ne lui manquait une goutte. En finissant, elle sourit et dit : « Si elle vous aime, elle va engloutir... »

Puis elle dit : « Il faut vous avertir : j'aime mieux être en dessus. Mais sois tranquille : je serai douce cette fois... »

Elle m'était douce.

Alors, après de nous nous être détachés, elle poussa des ales pour s'en voler. Je la regardais s'en voler avant d'elle avoir disaparu pour toujours parmi les nuages. Je ne la vois pas depuis alors, quoique je sais bien qu'elle est dehors toujours, vivant parmi les ombres, une habitante de la nuit.

Mon temps avec Lilithe c'était la première fois d'un homme enjouir une femme en paradis, peut-être la seule fois d'une femme avoir connaissance de paradis en Eden.

Puis je me rappelai de la raison laquelle j'étais dépêché à Eden : pour incendier l'endroit. Le Vieux voulait me détruire toute évidence de paradis ; l'incendie d'Eden c'était la première opération de camouflage.

La Fin


I'm the angel Gabriel — the last person in the Garden of Eden before God kicked everybody out. Well, actually, it was I who kicked everybody out. "Gotta go, guys!" I said to everybody. "The Old Man wants everybody out now!"

The man and the women both knew why they had to leave, but it was a sad sight to see them leave anyway, them, packing only what they could carry, which wasn't much. They'd only just stitched some new clothes when they found out they were naked, and they didn't know how to make pockets yet. They also didn't know how to make back packs or suit cases either. They only knew how to make a miserable little gurney, which was dragged by the family mutt, that's all. Adam and Eve and their children were the world's first refugees, you know.

Then I set the place on fire. The burning of the Garden of Eden was the first forest fire — the world's first case of arson — though you don't read anything about it in the Bible. Let's just say that those animals were scared shitless; they'd never seen anything like it. They ran for their lives, because it was through this fire that death first came to the animals of the world. A lot of animals were killed, you know. I could tell you in detail what happened, but most of you have some idea what happens when a forest is burnt to a crisp. Not very pretty to look at, unless you like burnt match sticks that used to be trees.

But before I left, I ate a peach — the last thing to be eaten in the Garden of Eden. Then I enjoyed a lady, because there was another one there besides Eve. She was called Lilith. Like Eve, she was created from one of Adam's ribs, so he really had fourteen at one time, not twelve or thirteen.

Now, Lilith represents the other half of woman: dark and sexual, primal and mysterious. Wet and wild. Eve, on the other hand, tends the fire at home and raises the children. One is a mother, the other is a concubine. One is always perceived as a virgin, innocent; the other, as a whore who has never had any innocence to lose.

Lilith has been profoundly misunderstood — and greatly feared. According to the Kabbalah, she's to blame if a woman miscarries, or if a newborn dies soon after birth. They say she will also kidnap a baby left alone in its crib or bassinet for too long and leave a changeling in its place. The Kabbalists have called her Adam's demon, but the truth is that is that she was probably Eve's daemon, which is not the same as a demon.

The ancient Greeks believed that everyone had a daemon, who was the other half of one's self. If you were a man, your daemon was female. If you were a woman, your daemon was male. But it was Lilith, not Adam, who was the other half of Eve's self — her soul mate. That's to say, more her equal. Adam didn't want Lilith. Why? Because she wanted to be on top.

So God sent Eve, who was passive like a cow, to Adam. But even a cow has a mind of her own: Lucifer tempted her into eating of the forbidden fruit, slithering across her body like a snake, but the decision was hers in the end. Must be, it was his eight-inch tongue...

She was also very naked, as naked as God had intended Adam and Eve to be. I gazed at her long and raven hair, curling and twisting down to the small of her back in pretty ringlets. Oh, how I loved her hair! And her ass and her thighs and her calves! There was some grains of sand sticking to her bare ass, and on the back of her thighs. Oh, how I wanted her! I wanted to see her face, but she was still lying prone on the sand.

Since I'm an angel, I decided to take her by force. It should have been easy, right? After all, she's only a woman, I thought — what could she do about it? (I later took Mary, mother of Jesus, the same way, but that's another pair of sleeves, my rendezvous with Mary. )

Yikes, she was ready for me! As I leapt at her, she turned around, claws bared, mouth open with upper canines like those of the sabre-toothed tiger. The irises of her eyes were red like those of a dog or a wolf suddenly caught by a flashlight — it was scary! Her skin was tawny, like the fur of a wild animal; her hair, like live snakes. This was like no woman I had ever met before.

I met Lilith when I saw her down by one of the four rivers that ran through Eden. Rather than getting down on all fours like a dog, she laid down on her stomach to drink some water, leaving no tracks in the sand. "Very cunning," I thought. "This woman knows the woods..."

Except for the fact that I took her by force, you could say that I got the worst of it. There were bites all over my chest and scratches on my back to prove it. She bit me on the neck like a vampire, and took a chunk out of my shoulder with her teeth. It's a good thing we weren't a couple of praying mantises, or she might have torn off my head with her teeth.

I was only able to overpower her because I was an angel, and because she was lying on her stomach in the sand when she turned around to face me. When I jumped at her, I landed right on top of her, practically impaling her. Fortunate for me, because she couldn't get away.

Me, I shudder to think what would have happened if she had ambushed me! But she seemed to like what I was doing in the end. As I thrusted away, she hissed like a nest of a thousand snakes, slithering and coiling underneath me, hissing over and over again: "Oh, ye-s-s-s-s!"

Then she pushed me on my back and jumped on my face, jumping up and down on my face like a kid on an inflatable beach ball until she came as much as she wanted. The lips of her sex were violet — the inner labia darker than the outer labia — not the pink that I was used to. The skin on her entire body was a cadaverous blue. At first, I tasted the sand from the beach, but then I tasted the juices of her sex, washing away the sand like tears washing away an object from an eye. The juices from her pussy became sticky and gelatinous, the colour of red jello — my beard was sticky for a week. And her clitoris was like a long, thin stalk of asparagus — very strange. It was the strangest pussy I ever ate. The truth was that it ate me.

It was true: Lilith liked to be on top, though I don't know why Adam was complaining about it. After she was on top of my face for a while, she ended up on top of my scimitar, which curved deep inside her.

Have you ever seen an aurora borealis? Well, that's what I was treated to as I saw her slide up and down my pine. At first, the colour of her skin was a shimmering green that looked like curtains waving in the wind. Then you saw all the colours of the rainbow: red, blue, purple, orange, yellow. I couldn't believe it! That chick looked like a mood ring run amok.

Then she let out a loud wail: "Ughhh, ughhh! Oh, yes! Yes!" Then she squeezed my dick hard with her cunt. I heard the sound of something sucking, like she was trying to absorb me. As I came, I felt a sharp pain, like I had been kicked in the perineum, which is between the genitals and the anus. But it felt so good — so intense that it was almost painful! She fucked me till it hurt.

But she was beautiful to look at: those breasts, that neck and those shoulders, her hair the colour of midnight. This was woman in all her glory, what woman was meant to be, until Eve replaced her in the Garden of Eden. She no longer looked like a feral beast when you first jumped on her, nor like a cadaver laid out in a morgue when she was sitting on your face; she now looked like a woman being caressed by a rainbow. Her body was pierced by millions of shafts of light at the same time, like the green light was gently squeezing her breasts.

That's what a woman looks like under an aurora borealis: like a rainbow is making love to her.

After we were done, she laid down next to me on the sand by the river. She had become normal again. The colour of her skin changed from multi-coloured back to its natural pallour. Her eyes were now the bluest blue, like a cloudless sky. Her hair changed back into a lush carpet of black velvet. She looked delicate, like a madonna lily — not like someone or something possessed. And when she spoke to me, she sounded human: "Thanks," she said, panting for breath. "That was the best sex of my entire life..."

Then she took my hand and pressed it to her lips. When she saw what she had done to me, all the bites and scratches, she said to me, "Oh, I'm sorry! I believe I've hurt you..."

Then she began to kiss me again. First, she kissed me gently on the lips, then she planted kisses all over the front of my body, licking my wounds. She also sucked my nipples — never had anybody do that before, but I didn't mind. When she came to my penis, she swallowed it whole. When she first tasted herself on me, she looked up and smiled, all satisfied, then continued sliding up and down it, faster and faster. Then I shuddered and cried out loud as I exploded into her mouth, my toes curling up. But she didn't miss a drop. When she was done, she smiled and said, "If she loves you, she'll swallow..."

Then she said, "I must warn you — I like to be on top. But don't worry, I'll be gentle this time..."

She was gentle with me.

Then, after we broke apart, she sprouted wings and flew away. I watched her fly away until she disappeared among the clouds forever. I haven't seen her since, though I know she's still out there, living among the shadows — a denizen of the night.

My time with Lilith was the last time that a man enjoyed a woman in paradise — and maybe the only time a woman knew paradise in Eden.

Then I remembered why I was sent to Eden: to torch the place. The Old Man wanted me to destroy any evidence of paradise; the burning of Eden was the first cover-up.


The End

Bananas

Still in her early twenties, she has just had a baby. When the baby's a few months old, she and her husband decide to go out. So she hires a teenage girl to baby-sit. The girl has a certain something or other: petite, full-figured but very cute, with auburn hair, small and round brown eyes, and a mischievous smile. When the girl smiles at her, the young mother is very disconcerted at first: these feelings are strange to her, different from what she has ever felt before.

Before she goes out with her husband, the young mother tells the baby-sitter what to do. Silently, the baby-sitter listens, smiling like a little secret. When she listens and smiles, her manner is opaque. This girl is mysterious to the young mother. When they pass each other in the little kitchen of the apartment, when the girl casually brushes up against her, the sensation is like an electric shock: "Wow!" the woman thinks. When they look at each other, the girl smiles at her again. The young woman wants the girl like a sunflower wants the sunlight.

But her husband notices nothing: he never notices.

The woman eagerly awaits the next time she and her husband go out, so that she can call the young baby-sitter again. The next time, the baby-sitter arrives early; it's an opportunity to talk. The girl tells her that she's seventeen, that she wants to be a pharmacist after high school. While the girl is demure, the woman is talkative. "What do you do after school?" the woman asks the girl.

The girl smiles mysteriously and replies, "Hang out with my friends."

Then the girl looks at the woman and smiles.

But it seems that the girl wants to hang out with the older woman. The girl appears unexpectedly at the woman's place in the afternoon, smiling mischievously when the woman answers the door. Both are wearing halter tops and shorts, because it's summer. The woman asks her to come in and shows her the baby, who's sleeping peacefully in his crib. Then they sit down in the living room and talk for a while.

There, on the table in the dining room of the little apartment, are some bananas that are still yellow. The girl smiles at the woman and asks, "Can I please have a banana?"

The woman smiles back at her and gives her one.

"Would you like something to drink?" the woman asks the girl.

"A glass of orange juice, please," the girl replies.

The young woman stands up, but the girl follows her silently into the kitchen. In front of the refrigerator, before the woman can open the door, the girl puts her hands on the woman's breasts and squeezes them gently, planting kisses on her bare shoulders and on the nape of her neck like seeds from a sower. Excited now, the woman turns around in the girl's arms and kisses her hard on the mouth. Lips nibbling lips, tongue seeking tongue, they devour each other with their mouths and feel each other up against the refrigerator door while groping and uttering sweet nothings. In a voice husky with desire, the woman says to the girl: "If I only had a cock to fuck you with!"

The girl smiles at the older woman and replies, "But two woman can still fuck each other..."

Then the girl kisses the woman gently, like a school teacher.

Laughing, they hold hands and run into the bedroom, where they quickly strip naked. Now a mountain of feminine flesh on the bed, they fuck each other, clit to clit, mouth to mouth, mouth to any part of the body. With the banana, the girl is quite the tease! First, she gives the banana a blow job before she caresses the lips of her sex with tip of the banana, still in its peal. The woman does the same, tasting the girl's juices while giving it a blow job as well. Then, faster and faster, the girl masturbates with the banana until she comes. Then she inserts the banana little by little into her partner's sex until the banana is completely inside the woman's vagina. Then they do to each other whatever, until the banana is completely soft inside the older woman, still in its peal, taking their foot several times.

Exhausted, sweetly exhausted, they cuddle in bed, making pillow talk. When the girl has to leave, they get dressed and the woman leads her by the hand to the door, where they gently kiss on the lips once more. "Call me sometime," the woman whispers to the girl.

The girl smiles and nods, then licks the woman's ear. They kiss again before the girl leaves. The woman smiles when she tastes the juices of her own sex on the girl's lips. So she licks the girl's lips. She licks her own lips from time to time throughout the day after her little friend has left.

In the bedroom, the woman sees the banana on a mountain of sheets on the bed, now soft inside its peal. She smiles to herself, then she masturbates with another banana from the table in the dining room.

Then the baby cries in the nursery. What do you do?

But her husband suspects nothing: he never wonders why his wife buys so many bananas at the supermarket.