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I am coming, and coming, and coming—all over his hand, all over his fingers, wet and slippery, warm and sticky. I am drowning, drowning, drowning. A surge of orgasmic waves splash, pull me under, toss me around, awash me with pleasure. And I come a thousand times more. When I finally stop moving my hips and humping his hand, Horus pulls his fingers from out of me, then licks and sucks them. I catch my breath, watching him, then lean in and kiss him. I do not know why, but it seems logical in an illogical sense, tasting my sweet saltiness on his lips.
With his head resting against the crescent-shaped stone head-rest, he holds me in his arms, and allows me to lay my head upon his chest. My eyes flutter and become heavy.
“Raghaba, do you not know my desires for you are endless…?” Horus asks. “…I want to love you, give you the same pleasures you have given me …” His voice begins to dry up the river that still flows through me. I hear him, but I am too weak to speak. Too exhausted to tell him to tie a knot on his tongue, or get out. I close my eyes, and pray to the gods that when I awaken, he’s gone.
I awaken from a deep sleep to the smell of food, wafting about the room. I open my eyes, stretch and yawn, wondering who is cooking. I glance over to the other side of the bed. It is empty. The only remnant of Horus’s burly presence is the big, round stain in the center of the bed that has since dried, and the scent of sex that still lingers between my thighs. I look up at the woven sticks and palm rafters of my roof, imagining it is the sky, and give thanks for the gods hearing my call. Horus has left. That was thoughtful of him to not rouse me from my sleep, I think, pulling myself out of bed and walking into the wash area. I am surprised to see the wooden bucket is filled with steaming water, and sweet-smelling lotus petals are floating atop
. I scratch and shake my head and almost faint when I walk into the central room to find a feast of all feasts spread out on the table. There is fresh fruit, baked bread and honey, along with roasted mutton and sliced cucumbers, onions and carrots. My stomach becomes a roaring lion.
Horus enters the central room, naked, carrying a jar and smiling. “Good afternoon,” he says, stepping into my space and planting a kiss on my forehead. “Were your dreams as sweet as you?”
“Sweeter,” I say, eyeing him. He is really a handsome man with striking features.
“Here, sit,” he says, pulling out a stool. “I have drawn your water from the well so that you may freshen yourself.”
“Thanks,” I say, taking a seat. “I thought you left.”
“No, sweet Raghaba, I have not left you. I had hoped to spend another day with you. As you can see, I have prepared us a meal so that we may nourish our appetites and our urges.”
I reach for the jar of labna—a soft cream cheese made from milk—and scoop out a dollop, then spread it over bread sweetened with honey. I sprinkle cassia over it, then bite into its center, savoring its sweetness. “This is delicious,” I state, chewing.
“Not as delicious as you.” I smile. “But it has been made by the hands of a man who wants nothing more than to please and spoil you, Raghaba.”
I smile. It is the only thing I feel safe offering him; for anything I say will not be pleasing to him. I continue eating. I can tell there is something lingering on his mind by the way he looks at me. I try to finish up my meal before it is ruined by reckless chatter.
We eat in silence. He watches me as I eat.
“Travel to Elephantine with me,” he finally says, cutting into the quietness of the room. I keep my face straight, continue chewing. I have no interest in visiting or taking that hot, long journey to the small island just north of the first cataract of the Nile, on the borders of Kemet and Nubia.
I suck my fingers clean, then dip them in water to rinse. “And why would I want to travel to Elephantine with you?” I ask, eyeing him cautiously.
“So that we may spend time together,” he says, tilting his head as if I should have already known this, “while I hunt.”
While you hunt, I repeat in my head. We are in a land rich and plentiful; a wet jungle of trees and thickets of reed and papyrus that thrive along the Nile; a land that is roamed by rhinos, hippos, elephants, wild boar, lions, and countless other wild animals. Not to mention, the crocodiles, scorpions, ants, mosquitoes and pesky flies that bite. I fold my arms over my chest, and blink my eyes. I blink again. How dare he think to part his lips with such a request? Does he not know I am not destined to be a cheerleader of hunting or any other sport—except sex?
In my mind’s eye, I can see the fluttering of ducks, startled from their nests in the dense reeds by the cats used to flush them out. Ugh! The gall of him to think that I would find fancy in being on a wild duck hunt along the banks of the Nile with him poised with his bow and arrow, and me sitting beside him petting a tame lion and handing him his next arrow. Or worse, watching him hunt crocodile or hippos as many of the men do for sport.
“Horus, you foolish man,” I say. “Though I appreciate the invitation, do I look like a woman who would enjoy watching you or any other man hunt?”
“Would you not like to enjoy my company on the way? There will be other goddesses from all over the land there.” He adds that as if it is supposed to entice me to consider.
I sigh. “I can find much more useful things to do with my time, than spend it in the jungle, cackling with a bunch of petty women who will fear my presence around their men.”
“You’d be in my company,” he says. “So there would be no need for them to fear you.”
I sigh. Okay, this is the moment the gods above have been waiting for—the moment of truth. See. I exist because I am desire. I exist because I am cravings. I exist because I am forbidden fruits. I exist because greed is what will keep one wanting, taking, more than what they already have; more than what they need. However, if it weren’t for the whimsical antics of the overindulgent and self-absorbed, I would probably not matter. But I do. And I will continue to live and flourish in hearts and minds because most can not deny themselves the pleasures of the flesh. So, I, the goddess of desire, will continue to cripple them, to weaken them, to entice them, to lure them into a moment of illicit passion. My lot in life would probably be most different if men and women could refuse temptation. But, because they cannot always deny themselves physical pleasures, they become impulsive, take risks, will do whatever it takes to satisfy the desires of the flesh, and will throw caution into the wind in order to fulfill real or imagined needs—without concern, without regard, for anyone. It is the love of pleasing the flesh which manifests itself in covetousness, whoredom, gluttony, wantonness, and drunkenness. So, I exist. Because, with all the heart and soul and might, we seek and delight in pleasure, no matter what is lost in the process. So, fear will always exist as long as I am present.
I lean in, resting my arms on the table. I tell him, “If her man’s eyes wander upon me with lusty thoughts, then I shall quench his thirst if I so choose. If his thoughts are pure, and he can avoid temptation, then I shall leave him be.”
He stares at me, hard. “And how many men shall you take to your bed, and allow to clutter your womb, before you set your sights on one man?”
“I shall bed as many as my womanhood allows,” I state, matching his stare. “And don’t you worry about the clutter in my womb. I shall keep it flushed so that nothing spreads and takes root inside of me.”
“And have you no shame?” he asks, indignation coursing through his voice. I blink, blink again. How dare he question me, then become offensive? I do not want to bicker, or spew hurtful words about, but the slow spinning in my head indicates I will say things that shall not be taken back if his tone escalates.
I pull in a deep breath to steady the thumping in my chest. It is obvious he wants to open up the conversation from last evening. But I shall tread lightly around the subject.
“Why should I? I am a woman who does not subscribe to the likings of others. I do what I please with whom I please, whenever I please.”
