Tapping Coral's little fingers in time with our breathing, I routed the ball of light by saying, "My belly. Your belly. Round and round, draw the circle of light with your eyes. And don't forget; at every one of your belly-stops, recharge your ball lightning with light."
I shut up, let her carry on for a while. "Can you feel it going around?"
"Yesss," she said, her whisper slipping out like silk.
Though I'd reached the point where Rachel had always terminated the healing exercise, I went on tapping her fingers. I had been trying to get this Fiber major in my shack for weeks, and I wanted to keep her here, in the dark, as long as possible.
Tapping away, a game plan came to me. Rachel had once described an advanced phase of the healing exercise. A phase she had refused to try on me because, in her words, "It drums up stuff--deep stuff--you're not advanced enough to take on."
Oh, that Rachel; could ride a high horse with the best of them.
To help recall the advanced procedure Rachel had described, I gazed up at my dirty skylight. The procedure seemed simple enough. Still, having had no experience in the field, I deemed a brief disclaimer appropriate.
"All right then," I said, tapping away, "this next phase may not work because it's pretty advanced. I know when Rachel tried it on me, it didn't take, so don't get your expectations up."
Coral didn't say anything.
I took a deep breath. "OK, what this phase involves is me. This gets complicated so try to stay with me here. Instead of matching my inhales with your inhales, I'm going to breathe opposite you--inhale with your exhale, exhale with your inhale. What else I'm going to do is add my creative force to yours; mix my ball lightning up with yours, move my ball in conjunction with your ball. I'll pull with your push. You pull with my push. Oh, and don't forget the most important part: The quick recharge you do in your belly."
I shut up and concentrated. Around and around I willed the glowing ball, smiling at the buzzing it left as it passed through my arms and belly. I could tell Coral was experiencing a rush as well for her breathing intensified, her inhales deeper, her exhales more forceful. What's more, I had to up the frequency of my tapping, for she was breathing faster and faster. What a ride! It was as if our combined ball lightning, buzzing around, had made one glowing tube of neon out of the two of us.
Wait; something had gone wrong. Coral had taken three hard inhales in succession, was now gripping my extended little fingers as if she were in pain.
"Coral! What's wrong?"
She didn't answer, just held on tight, as if my little fingers were all that kept her from crumpling onto the dirty floor.
"Jeez, Coral, are you all right?"
Coral exhaled. "Mmm-mm," she said, sliding her loosening grips off the ends of my sweating fingers.
My heart pounded as I strained to make out Coral's face in the dim light of the shack. All I could see, though, was the silhouette of her tipped-to-the-side head. I was confused. I had thought she'd had a bad trip, causing her to experience some kind of pain, envision some kind of horror. But the way she was sitting across from me, leaning back in my fish chair, her legs together, her arms folded under her breasts, well, it just wasn't the body language that spelled much in the way of pain--or freaked-out, either.
"Coral, you freaked me out. I thought something bad happened."
Coral took a deep breath, exhaled. "It might of been bad. But it sure felt good."
I only hoped my shack was dark enough to hide the shock in my face. "Felt good? What felt good?"
"The orgasm."
Cry me a creed! I couldn't breath, couldn't speak, couldn't think. The man in me wanted to inflate, having just given the girl what for. The professor in me wanted to reference the book Rachel had given me on astrology, how Scorpios could squeeze the sex out of just about anything. The trouble-shooter in me wanted to prepare for what was coming next: Coral accusing me of having taken advantage of her with this snake-oil technique I'd pitched as a New Age healing exercise. But in preparing my defense for that, the gunslinger in me got to thinking of Trent; how I'd have to hold my little fingers behind my back the next time I ran into him. So I took to practicing that.
"Sorry Anton, I didn't mean to mess up your exercise. I was doing all right until you reminded me to recharge the ball lightning in my belly. I had recalled then what you had said yesterday--healing energy is sexual energy. So, after that I started doing my recharging . . . well, I guess I got confused."
I looked up at my dirty skylight--my portal to the gods, asked them to help me make sense of it all. But they didn't answer me. Why? Because, those damned gods took no little pleasure in keeping the whole lot of us in the dark.
****
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