The Spider and the Fly, Part 1
A college stud is seduced by an older man via a strange occult ritual
“You don’t shy from an adventure, Henry,” Alexander breathed. “I think we might have a place for you in our group. Shall we seal the deal?” Alexander leaned in to plant a fiery kiss on his lips.
Henry Andrews was a well-built young man, broad-shouldered with powerful legs. He had been the star of Corman University’s 1938 football season, but keeping up his grades was harder than expected.
Today, he hoped he could change all that, with a Hail Mary pass of his own devising.
Professor Alexander Cartwright answered the knock at the door with a smile. He had dark hair, and sharp, almost pointed features. His widow’s peak made them look all the sharper. Alexander smiled. “Thank you for coming, Mr. Andrews,” he said in his low, honeyed voice. “My work in anthropology may seem tedious, but it was so refreshing to meet a student with my passion for the rituals of the Orgone.” He wore a red velvet smoking jacket, black trousers and a pristine white shirt; in his school sweater and worn pants, Henry felt a little underdressed. “Will you come in?”
Henry thanked him, and the young student was ushered into a parlor of dark mahogany, bookshelves and plush carpeting. The Professor offered Henry a drink from the parlor bar, but the young man declined.
Professor Alexander made an Old Fashioned for himself. Putting his glass to his lips, he took a seat beside Henry on the settee. The scholar’s eyes were slate grey and rather piercing, and Henry found that he couldn’t help gazing into them.
And the professor shamelessly gazed back. “You have such lovely brown eyes…with a touch of mischief, perhaps?” Henry didn’t feel the sting that came with a smirk from one’s classmate. No, Alexander was flirting. “Why are you really here, my boy?”
“I’m 21. Hardly a boy.” Henry said, adding a hot, slow smile to the end of his sentence. “Let’s cut to the chase, Professor. I heard about your little extracurricular activities. You’re bringing those Orgone rituals back in the auditorium basement, right? A lot of the kids from the frats and sororities want in….but the Board of Trustees wouldn’t like that. Here’s my deal: you tell the school not to flunk me, I keep quiet. And I want that power your group is harnessing. What do they call it, ‘devil worship?’ ‘The unseen world’? I’d like to see for myself.”
“You don’t shy from an adventure, Henry,” Alexander breathed. “I think we might have a place for you in our group. Shall we seal the deal?” At the young man’s smug nod, he lifted Henry’s olive-skinned hand to his mouth and kissed it. With Henry still in a daze, Alexander leaned in to plant a fiery kiss on his lips. The younger man could hardly contain himself. He’d never been attracted to older men, but beneath Alexander’s polite veneer there was something darker and more sensual. Alexander was old enough to be his father, but he’d never seen a man that age so handsome and fit. “Are you ready to be one with the gods?”
“You know it,” Henry breathed.
In the hour after midnight, the moon lay cold and silent above the auditorium. Behind the basement door, Henry was gently being blindfolded by a woman a few years older than he. “I’ll be with you the whole time,” she said in a gentle voice. Her auburn curls were close enough to reach out and stroke, and her petal-pink hands were soft against his skin. Yet something within Henry told him not to touch her - the ritual was the focus, not her. I want enough power to get a hundred women like her, he thought, greed quickening his blood.
“Take my hand,” she whispered, and led him down a steep flight of stairs. Even with the blindfold, he could feel his surroundings growing darker, and the touch of cool air and dampness settling in. The smell of the musty basement was soon overpowered by incense. Only one thing remained unchanged: the soft hand clasping his.
“Such a lovely girl must have a lovely name,” he said, trying to appear casual. They could do anything to me. They could kill me down here - have I made the worst mistake of my life?
“Please, you can’t speak during the ceremony,” she said. Finally, they reached the last step. He heard a door open and two strong sets of arms that felt distinctly male pulled him toward what must be the center of the room. His footsteps echoed around him- the room must be large, and he could sense the presence of many people around them.
“My children,” a low, mellifluous voice intoned. “I have brought you our newest acolyte, Henry….such a fine figure of a man, don’t you agree?” It was the Professor, and he sounded ready to devour Henry headfirst. “Take the blindfold off, Henry.” He removed it, only to find that the professor was clad in a floor-length black robe that resembled a Victorian caped coat. The neck of the coat was open to reveal a white silk cravat, and a gold medallion in the shape of a goat’s head. Henry whirled around to see that the other members of the group - thirty in all - were wearing plain robes with their hoods up. His lovely escort had faded into the crowd, nowhere to be seen.
“Henry, you’re trembling,” Alexander said with a low laugh. His slightly unkempt hair had been pulled back into a small ponytail, and he smiled as he ran a thumb over Henry’s full lower lip. Henry could feel those eyes on him, drinking in his beauty, even more than he could feel the slightly rough touch of the older man’s hand. “Don’t be frightened. This is your rightful place.”
“Yes, sir-“
“Yes, my lord,” Alexander purred. “I am lord and master here.” Henry was certain that if Alexander didn’t hold him down and start ravishing him soon, his heart would give out.
“Yes, my lord,” he said, his voice trembling in spite of himself.
“Disrobe, Henry,” Alexander said. A look of amusement passed over his face. “Show us what you’re hiding.”
Once Henry undressed, he shuddered slightly in the basement air. The group looked on him with murmurs of approval, and he was astonished to find the attention sent chills up his spine. His skin gleamed in the candlelight, and he smiled as he thought: I could get used to being admired.
“This will be the start of your initiation,” Alexander said in his sonorous voice. “Madelaine, if you would?” The young girl appeared beside him, pulling down the hood of her cream-colored robe. An attendant handed her a halved pomegranate, as full and temptingly dewy as her mouth. She did not smile as she held the other half out to Henry.
“Eat with me,” Madelaine said. Her voice was delicate and soft where Alexander’s had been deep and booming. “And let me be your gateway into the next world.” Stunned, Henry took the fruit, and bit into his half while Madelaine ate hers. Juice dripped down her chin as she kissed him, and two attendants whisked the remains of the pomegranate away. The sweet taste of the dark red juice was still blooming on his lips when she announced, “Look and know my true self.” Opening her robe, her pale skin and curly auburn hair seemed to melt and change before him….was she growing taller? It seemed impossible. Her skin took on a greenish-gray tinge and her features grew more angular. Her hair straightened and lengthened, draping her shoulders in black. Her lips grew thinner and darker, until their color matched the juice of the pomegranate Madelaine had shared with him. The fingers of her manicured hands grew long and gaunt, and her eyes darkened until no white remained. Only black.
He’d expected a bit of play-acting, for the girl to try to get him in bed or fool around with him while the crowd watched. But there was no trace of the girl he’d seen before.
“Who are you?” he whispered in terror. Is she still human?
“I am the one blinding light in your darkness,” she said in the deeper, raspier voice. “Sister goddess to the beast they worship. You have been found worthy.” Smiling, she turned to Alexander. “My consort…put this body to use. The girl aches for you, and I will hold her safely.”
“Your Grace, it would be an honor.” Alexander tossed his head and undid his white silk cravat, then opened his robe. He wore nothing beneath it, revealing a strong and trim body for a man his age. Four robed men took his clothes away and straightened the gold medallion. He was a sight to behold, and Henry looked on him in awe: Alexander’s sex was an impressive nine inches, uncut and standing proudly.
The strange green woman, the one who called herself a goddess, was also looking at Alexander, and her ardor was just as great. The professor smiled back at her - almost like he’s forgotten me, Henry thought with a pang of bitterness. Then, Alexander made a very courtly bow to the green woman and held out his arms to her. She ran her hands over her small, neatly pointed breasts and strode toward her lover. Henry’s breath hitched as he watched what they were about to do. But suddenly, a hand reached out and stopped him.
“Wait for us,” a figure said. Three companions joined him.
They removed their robes and stood revealed as four men, just about Henry’s age. They were exquisitely beautiful: one with high cheekbones and a wanton smile, two like Henry, muscular and square jawed. One looked lovely enough to be a girl, long lashes glittering against gray eyes. Not a stitch hid their lithe bodies, and they huddled around Alexander. He looked up from covering the green woman in his kisses and smiled, gesturing to the four men: “My concubines, Henry. Rise far enough in our ranks, and you may have your own collection of pretties one day.” The green woman leaned in and nibbled on Alexander’s ear with great force, making him groan: “Soon, love. Ah, now that you’ve revealed yourselves, gentlemen…make him ready for the ritual.”
A murmured “Yes, my lord,” went up through the group. Even with a woman draping herself over him, Alexander preened at their attention.
“You’re going to make a lovely bride,” the most elegant of the young men said, smiling lewdly at Henry. “For the Ancient One.”
“What are you talking about- you mean I’m a sacrifice?” Henry laughed. “But I’m not a girl. I’m not even a virgin!”
“We call all the ones in your spot ‘the Bride,’” the same young man replied. “I should know, the Ancient One took me for his bride three months ago.”
“That’s right, Edgar,” one of the strong-jawed young men said. “Wise up, Henry. The gods don’t care what’s in those football pants. The texts call for ‘a mortal, fair to behold.’ And you’re it, kitten. That’s you all over.” He laughed, reaching out to tousle Henry’s curly hair.
“What do you mea- OH, my god,” Henry breathed. His professor was spread-eagled on his back, and the statuesque woman was straddling his face. The way his body served her, she could be nothing but a goddess. She was riding him back and forth with all her might. Her moans were pure ecstasy, in a voice so low it seemed to come from the earth itself. Henry swore her black eyes were glowing in their sockets. Bizarre….and yet, she still has a beauty to her, even if she can’t be Madelaine anymore. There was something in her angular face that reminded him of women in ancient sculptures and stylized modern art, as if she was somehow beyond time or country. As if all of history could be known in one kiss from her lips, or the valley between her breasts.
“This way, lover boy,” said the boy with long lashes, tugging at Henry’s arm. “We need to get you ready for the Ancient One.”
