Greed & Charity: Mammon

This is the second in a series of seven intended unrelated but theme connected tales.  You’ll find the first here:  one of seven

“No one can serve two masters, for either he will hate the one and love the other; or else he will be devoted to one and despise the other. You can’t serve both God and Mammon.”

Matthew 6:24

***

Charity rubbed the fabric of his jacket sleeve between her thumb and forefinger.  “New suit?”

Mammon gave her a level look.  “You’re not going to purse up your lips and give me a reproachful little glare, are you?”

Charity smiled despite herself.  “Don’t you think the money you spent on this suit, which you quite did not need, could have been put toward something ….” She paused at the look in his eyes.

“Charitable?”  Sarcasm dripped from the single word.

“You have at least three charcoal suits, Mammon.  And while you look very nice in them, I just wish I could convince you to let go of such material pleasures.”  The second she uttered the final word, Charity wished it back.  Biting her lip, she looked up through her lashes at him, found his dark eyes smoldering down at her.

“Quite the virtuous little hypocrite, aren’t you, poppet?  You’ve learned to embrace pleasure quite handily.”

“Not at the expense of others,” she protested.

“No?”  He placed a manicured fingertip on her bottom lip, rubbed it lightly back and forth.  “You’d give up the pleasures you’ve so recently enjoyed for the sake of helping someone?”

Her mouth fell open slightly.  “Yes,” she murmured, then closed her eyes.  Her tongue darted out to kiss that fingertip. 

Mammon trailed the moisture down her chin, then crooked his finger beneath it to lift her face.  “That didn’t sound terribly convincing.”

Obstinacy hardened her eyes.  “I do not see how giving up sex would help anyone in need.”

He chuckled.  “You’re so literal.  So preoccupied with being outwardly good, with demonstrating altruism, that you fail to see you’re falling far short of being someone who is truly giving.”

Charity turned away.  “Go away, demon.  Take your greed and your fancy new suit and your selfishness.  It was foolish of me to think I could change you.”  She took a step away, only to be halted by his hand closing around her upper arm.  She sighed, but didn’t look at him.  “Let go of me.”

“No.  I’m greed personified, remember?”  He stepped up behind her, pressed himself against her back, pulled her against him.  His arms crossed in front of her, cupped a breast in each hand.  “You see, I understand you, Charity.  You confuse altruism with duty, and think greed only applies to materialism.  That makes it easier for you.”  He found her nipples, rolled them between his thumbs and forefingers.

Charity caught her breath, resolved to fight the ache growing inside her.  Her knees were weakening, though, and she knew he felt the way leaned into his hands.  “Why won’t you just go, please?”

HIs mouth found the throbbing pulse in her neck, bathed it in the humid heat of his breath.  “Because you don’t want me to.”   He nibbled at her flesh, removed one arm from around her and eased the zipper down the back of her dress.  He straighted and turned her around, pushing the dress off her shoulders so it fell to the floor in a circle around her feet.  He pushed her, hard, against the wall, pinned her there with his body.  “Ask me again, pet.”

“W-why won’t –,” she stuttered, then buried her face in his neck as he lifted her, settled her legs over his arms and pushed her thighs open.  “Release my cock,” he commanded. 

Breathing hard, she did as he said, her hands fumbling with his belt and the closure on his pants in her haste.  She whimpered when her fingers finally slipped through the opening of his boxers and found him, hot, hard and ready.  She scraped aside her panties, pulled him to the opening of her cunt.

And there, he stopped.  She wriggled against him, felt him slide smoothly against her outer lips.  “Please,” she whispered.

“Not that easy, poppet.  You’re going to have to beg this time.”

Charity groaned.  “Beg?  Why?  You want this as much as I do.”

“Do I?”  His hands found the front closure of her bra and unhooked it.  Her breasts filled his palms, her hard nipples settling neatly into the V’s between his first two fingers.  He squeezed them.  “Tell me what you are.  Tell me you’re a greedy little slut.”  He pressed himself against her, pushed his hard cock against her clit.

“Why are you doing this?”  Her voice was small, bewildered.

He didn’t answer, just moved slightly so that he entered her slowly, allowed her to impale herself on his cock.  She clutched his shoulders, her breath coming in short gasps.  “Mammon?”  Her voice was tinged with desperation.

His fingers dug into the flesh of her breasts.  “Tell me.”

Charity strained against him, shook her head.  Her teeth found the muscles where his neck sloped into his shoulder, and she bit down, more to fight her desire than to hurt him.

He didn’t move.  “Tell me.  Now.”

She released him, threw her head back and cried out, “I’m a greedy little slut, Mammon.  Dear God, please fuck me.”

And his mouth found hers, his tongue invading the gasping orifice as he pulled out of her cunt, then slammed back inside her, fucking her with brutal abandon.  She took the abuse, grasped his shoulders, her hips struggling to meet his rhythm, fucking back while she repeated the words he’d ripped from her soul.  “I”m your greedy little fucking slut,” she grunted until she could no longer form words.  When her orgasm came, it ripped short, desperate screams from her throat.  As the walls of her cunt contracted around him, Mammon emptied himself inside her, then pushed her into the wall again, bringing his forehead to rest on the cool surface beside her head.

After a moment, he felt her hands in his hair and the soft touch of her lips on his cheek.  “Darling?”

“Mm?”

“I think I’ve ruined your new suit.”

“Greedy slut.”

 four of seven

solipsist

sassy asked, in a comment on my last post “Are you in fact a solipsist?”

i don’t have an answer for that.  i do have this in my archives, which explains the reason for the name of my blog.  Other than that, i’m not terribly sure what i am.  Except, perhaps, simply elise.

caught …

by this … please read this:  The House Across The Street.

i’ll say no more.

four: keep the Sabbath

This is a continuation.  You might want to begin here:  one

“Remember the sabbath day, to keep it holy. Six days shalt thou labour, and do all thy work: But the seventh day is the sabbath of the Lord thy God: in it thou shalt not do any work, thou, nor thy son, nor thy daughter, thy manservant, nor thy maidservant, nor thy cattle, nor thy stranger that is within thy gates: For in six days the Lord made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that in them is, and rested the seventh day: wherefore the Lord blessed the sabbath day, and hallowed it.”

***

“i can’t breathe,” Olivia whispered.

Sera dragged her gaze from the back of Micah’s head.  She noted the look passing between Jason and Olivia.  “You’re dead.  You don’t need to breathe.”  She might have been talking to a wall for all the attention Olivia paid her.  “Olivia!” she hissed.

Micah leaned toward Jason and said something.  Jason gave Olivia a barely perceptible nod then turned his attention to the Life Defense Counselor.  They huddled over a pile of papers, deep in whispered conversation.  The spell broken, Olivia finally realized what Sera had said.  “Why does it feel like i’m breathing?”

“It’s an easier transition from being human if they leave all your involuntary instinctive reflex activities in place.”  She paused.  “You can’t do that.”

Olivia frowned.  “Do what?”

“Catch his attention.  Micah has to focus.  He needs Jason to focus.”  She tilted her head in the direction of the table of demons.  “They,” she said, her tone dripping with derision, “love it when people lose focus.  Thrive on it.  Exploit it.”

“i didn’t mean to.”

“I know.”  Sera frowned.  “We shouldn’t have come.  If it wouldn’t draw even more attention by doing so, we’d leave.”

Olivia said nothing, just bit her lip and nodded.  She glanced down at Lucifer’s table and sucked in her breath.  He had turned in his seat and was now looking directly at her.  She reached blindly for Sera’s hand and squeezed it.

He didn’t look at all as Olivia might have imagined.  He was, in fact, rather handsome.  His dark hair was impeccably trimmed and slightly wavy, not slicked back ominously from a widows peak on his forehead as she had frequently seen him illustrated.  He looked serious and assessing, with dark eyes under slashing black brows.  Nothing diabolical about him.  Just a strong face, not unlike Jason’s in expression and demeanor.  And, with that thought, she remembered why he was here, that his intention was to deny Jason the opportunity for entry into Heaven.  She folded her lips and narrowed her eyes at the disarming former angel.

A corner of his mouth quirked, almost as though he were stifling a smile, and he turned his back. 

Olivia sat back and crossed her arms.  “i don’t like him,” she muttered.

Sera looked amused.  “He doesn’t like you much, either.  Were it not for you, Jason wouldn’t even be here.  Lucifer had him well in hand before you entered his life.  The fact that he’s personally fighting for Jason’s soul is huge.  He seldom bothers.”

One of the angels on the dais nodded toward Micah.  “Begin.”

Micah stood.  “I bring the case of Jason, a deceased human soul for whom I intend to show just cause to be brought before this court in defense of his life.”  He swept a hand toward Jason, who remained seated, his eyes lifted to meet the gazes of the four angels.  “It isn’t often a soul destined to spend eternity in Hell finds itself before you.  And the forces of Evil have joined us.”  Micah crossed his arms and strolled toward Lucifer’s table.  He tilted his head toward them and smiled.  “They clean up well, don’t you think?”

A small wave of nervous laughter rippled from the gallery

Micah dropped his arms and the smile, turned back to face the angels.  “They have turned this soul into a commodity, and I have little doubt that Lucifer and his …” he smirked “… backup singers will present example after example in an attempt to prove that Jason’s soul has no business requesting entry into Heaven.  And they might be right.”

Olivia tensed and sat forward in her chair, her hands clutching the seat so hard her knuckles were turning white.  Sera placed a restraining hand on her shoulder.

“What they’re requesting with their ludicrous claim of prior ownership, is the chance to simply take this soul and have their way with it.”  Micah shook his head.  “And isn’t that just the sort of thing you’d expect?  They seek the easy way.  No waiting for a Life Defense trial, no sense of fair play.  Just pure selfishness.  We want it now.”

Micah lowered his voice, turned to face Lucifer again.  “I’m here to make things hard for you.  Too easily you capture souls before they die.  You had this one.  I’ll concede that.”  He leaned forward, smiled a little.  “But you lost him.”  Micah straighted and turned to again address the angels.  “This soul fought back, dragged itself from the clutches of Hell.  He deserves a chance to defend his life, deserves a chance to finish his fight.  Death came too soon for Jason.  I think you’ll agree, however, that it came too late for Lucifer.”

Micah bowed his head briefly, then turned and strode back to his chair, seating himself beside Jason.  His demeanor was relaxed and confident.  He looked expectantly at the angels, then at Lucifer.

“Sadism.”  Lucifer didn’t stand, didn’t even change position in his chair.  His voice rolled out into the courtroom, rich and deep with a silky, lazy quality.  “Selfishness.  Greed.  Ruthless disregard for the needs of others.”  He leaned back in his chair and smiled.  “Qualities I admire.”

Sera’s hand moved soothingly across Olivia’s shoulder.  She had flinched the first time Lucifer spoke, and Sera could feel her trembling slightly.  “Breathe,” she whispered.

Lucifer finally stood, walked from behind the table and sauntered to the middle of the room.  “Jason wasn’t a soul I had to tempt.  There was no need.  The depth of his depravity alone caught my attention early on.  Impressive.”  He nodded toward Jason, who stared back at him evenly.  “There is nothing I need to prove here.”

Lucifer looked up into the crowd and found Olivia.  “Jason belongs to me, just as surely as his girlfriend belonged to you.”  The crowd murmured and turned to see who he meant, and Olivia froze, pinned in place by his eyes.  “He soiled her, would have ruined her, given more time.  Instead, she is now forced to defend a life that had never required defending.”

He turned back to face the angels.  “You know, I think I’ll take my chances.  I’m giving up my claim of prior ownership.  Let him defend a life that is impossible to defend.  I’ll be back to collect his soul — and that of his girlfriend — when he fails.”

Before anyone could react, Lucifer and the demons disappeared.  The crowd erupted with excited exclamations and began exiting the courtroom.  Olivia stood and began making her way toward the stairs, pushing against the surge of people leaving. 

“Olivia!  Stop!”  Sera’s voice didn’t carry over the noise and Olivia pressed on.  By the time she’d shouldered her way to the floor and emerged from the crush of bodies, Micah and Jason were gone, as well.  She looked up at the angels with tears in her eyes just as Sera caught up to her.

“You have to listen to me,” she said.  “He’s tried so hard.”

“Enough.”  The angel to the far right spoke sternly.  “Your Jason will have his trial. And yours is ongoing.  Sera.”

Behind her, Olivia heard Sera speak.  “I bring the case of Olivia, a human soul requesting entry into Heaven.  The commandment in question today is four, “Remember the Sabbath day to keep it Holy.”  Olivia went numb, unable to process the fact that she was on trial again after all that had just happened.  “I have no defense for this commandment.  Olivia did not attend church and often worked on the day of rest.”

“Guilty, then.  You may go.”  The angels abruptly disappeared, leaving Olivia and Sera alone in the courtroom.

five

 

pandora

Utter brilliance.  If you’ve not been there, do visit Pandora.  The concept is stunning:  you create your own free radio stations.  Type in a favorite artist or song and Pandora builds a playlist based on your suggestion … music “like” the selection.

It’s an amazing way to revist old stuff and discover new stuff.  i’m completely enchanted.   Create an account (free) and take your stations with you.  It’s like … a musicgasm.

thank you

i spent the weekend helping my best friend pack up her home to move.  At some point, while i was sifting through the massive piles of (in my estimation) junk she’s accumulated, the site meter on this blog ticked over 100,000 hits.

i just wanted to pop out a quick thank you to my readers:  those of you who read me regularly, those who only read me occasionally, and those who have ever even popped into this rather odd little mix of the things that spill from my head.  You’ve all given me a place to be.

An additional thanks to the people who comment here.  All writers like to be read.  The feedback i’ve received from you since i started this blog a year and a half ago has been unbelievable.  i absolutely adore the interaction.

And to you … the reason i started this blog, the inspiration for a great deal of what i’ve written here, the perpetual well of emotion into which i tap, even when you’re so very distant.  You’ve been far more than a muse.  i can never … ever … thank you enough.

Por siempre.

elise

kathryn learns

This is a continuation.  You might want to begin here:  kathryn’s lesson

The next few days passed without event. Kathryn did not hear from or see William. Really, that should not have been surprising. Their paths had rarely crossed before … Kathryn blushed … before the incident.

The incident. That was how Kathryn had chosen to think of it. She could not give a name to her humiliation, could not think of the acts he’d had her commit without giving in to horror. And yet, occasionally, while sitting at her desk, her fingers would still on the keyboard. She’d stare off into space a moment while a tiny portion of the event replayed itself in her mind.

Then she would force it from her consciousness, make herself get back to work. She looked, every day, in every corner of her workspaces for the cameras and monitors she now knew invaded nearly all of the office. William had recorded her breaking in to Shelley’s computer, had every mortifying second of the time spent in his office filed away somewhere for future viewing. It stood to reason he could be watching her now.

Kathryn was right, as it turned out. William was watching her. He watched as she got up from her desk and left her cubicle. His fingers touched a combination of numbers and letters on his keyboard, turning on cameras to follow her progress down the row of workspaces, around the corner into the corridor and into the ladies room. Another quick succession of keystrokes, and he was in the bathroom with her. He watched as she locked the door and stepped up to the sink.

Kathryn looked at herself for a long moment. Then she closed her eyes. When she did, the image she had seen of herself on his monitor invaded. She felt her pussy begin to moisten and pressed her lips together in self-loathing. She opened her eyes and watched her reflection as though it were someone else. Her left hand untucked her blouse, slipped underneath, stole upward, slipped inside her bra. Her fingers, nimble, found the erect bud and squeezed it. She gasped at what she was watching, the hand tweaking and moving under the blouse. She stepped backwards and sat on the toilet, still dressed, tugged up her skirt and spread her legs, her eyes never leaving the reflection.

All she could see now was her head in shoulders in the mirror, but it didn’t matter. Her eyes bored into the identical eyes in the mirror as her right hand found its way into her panties. Two fingers plunged into her pussy then slid back out. This would not be leisurely … no. She needed to come and to come quickly, come hard. She stroked her clit with her middle finger and watched the eyes in the mirror narrow to slits of pleasure. The hand on her nipple pinched harder, the finger on her clit stroked faster and then she lost contact with the Kathryn in the mirror as she threw her head back and convulsed into orgasm, biting her lip to keep from crying out, just in case someone was walking outside in the corridor.

As the last spasm faded, she slumped on the toilet, her hands leaving the pleasure spots they’d just worried. What the hell was she doing? What had happened to her? She was a normal girl with a fairly normal sex life. Not terribly active, at the moment, not since she’d broken up with her boyfriend, but normal, nonetheless. Normal girls did not bring themselves off in the company washroom while thinking of the single most humiliating event of their lifetime.

William adjusted his cock and sat up in his chair. Kathryn was turning out to be a good investment of his time. He opened his email platform and typed two quick emails, keeping one eye on his prey as she straightened herself up and washed her hands. He hit send on the second email as she emerged from the restroom and made her way back to her cubicle. He smiled.

Kathryn nearly ran into Shelley when the girl emerged from her cubicle at a near run. She hadn’t really talked to her since she returned from the quick emergency leave to care for her mother, something Kathryn felt a bit guilty about. She should have sent an email, asked her how she was doing. It just felt … awkward.

Shelley spared Kathryn a brief, apologetic smile before hurrying onward. Kathryn watched her disappear and decided she would go ahead and send the email with an apology for not asking before. She slipped back into her chair and clicked on the email icon, then froze. The inbox, previously empty, now contained one new email. It was from William Llewellen and had no subject line.

She sat there a full five minutes before she worked up the courage to open the email. It was a costly mistake.. As soon as she clicked on it and read it, she groaned. “My office, 3pm. Do not be late.” Kathryn looked at the clock in the lower right hand corner of her screen. 3:02.

With a sigh of resignation, she locked her workstation and walked to the elevator. She was already late. There was no sense hurrying now. That would be her second costly mistake. She became aware of that as soon as she entered his office.

“Close the door, Kathryn.” He held up eight fingers. “That’s how many minutes late you are.”

“I’m sorry, William,” she began, then stopped at the hard glint in his eyes. “I mean, Sir. I was in the washroom when your email arrived….”

He looked at the screen. “You logged back in to your workstation and opened your email platform five minutes before reading my email.”

“Yes, Sir,” she said. She didn’t know what else to say.

He looked back at her. “Have you thought about our last meeting, Kathryn?”

She considered lying for a moment, then changed her mind. She had the disquieting thought that he could invade her mind the way he did her workstation, that his cameras found their way inside her very head. Hesitantly, she nodded.

He almost smiled. “How have those thoughts made you feel?”

This was horrible, Kathryn thought. She stood there in front of his desk, feeling like a recalcitrant child caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Her throat began closing up, to her horror. Tears. She was going to cry. She bit her lip and tried to think of something, anything, to calm her mind. Finally, she stammered, “I don’t know, Sir.”

He shook his head, stood and began unbuckling his belt. “How many minutes late were you, Kathryn?”

She hung her head. “Eight.”

He turned the monitor around so she could see it and pressed a button on the keyboard. An image of Kathryn leaving her cubicle and walking toward the ladies room filled the screen. “Bend forward and put both of your hands on my desk.”

Kathryn did as he asked, her heart pounding as she watched herself disappear into the bathroom. When the screen clicked over to show the inside of the ladies room, she gave in and began crying.

“Watch yourself, Kathryn.” William walked behind her, the belt in his hand. “You’re very beautiful when you come.” He lifted her skirt, slid it up over her ass so that it bunched around her waist. “Eight minutes. I’ll give you a choice.”

She stared at the image on the screen stumbling backwards onto the toilet, one hand up her blouse, the other reaching for her pussy. “A choice, Sir?”

“Yes. Eight minutes or eight strokes of my belt on your ass.”

Kathryn’s knees almost buckled. Eight minutes of what? she wondered. She thought of the hard look in William’s eyes when she’d forgotten to address him respectfully, and decided the eight strokes would be far more painful than she could imagine. “Eight minutes, please, Sir,” she said.

William chuckled. “Very well,” he said. He grasped the hair at the back of her neck and leaned forward. “Watch a moment longer,” he whispered into her ear. “This is the best part.” His teeth found her earlobe and bit down, hard, just as the image on the screen convulsed silently into orgasm. Kathryn gasped.

“You’re going to have to learn to ask permission for such pleasures, Kathryn-slut.” He pulled her upright by her hair and turned her to face the leather sofa at the far end of his office.

Kathryn’s hand flew to her mouth in startled shock. Shelley was on the sofa, completely nude. Her legs were bound, spread, to the armrests and more rope secured her upper torso to the back of the couch. Her arms though, were free, and her fingers were busy at her nipples, twisting and squeezing and tweaking them into hard pink nubbins. She was smiling, and Kathryn suddenly realized that Shelley had never gone to care for her ailing mother. Shelley had set her up.

“Ahh, Kathryn. You’ve figured it out. Such a smart little slut.” William propelled her inexorably forward, then forced her to kneel between Shelley’s spread legs. “That is what you are, you know. A slut. The video from the ladies room proves that.” He pushed Kathryn’s head forward until her face was a mere inch from Shelley’s shaved, wet pussy. The scent of her co-worker’s arousal washed over Kathryn. “You have eight minutes to make Shelley come, or the bathroom tape gets sent to your mother.” He pushed her face into the bound girl’s cunt and let go.

Kathryn recoiled and looked at him once. He stood, impassive, the belt in his hand. Then she turned back to her task and tentatively stuck out her tongue and licked Shelley’s clit. The girl moaned and reached for Kathryn’s head, abandoning her nipples in her greed for satisfaction. Kathryn swallowed hard, once, then allowed Shelley to guide her.

She sucked the girl’s clit into her mouth and began laving it with her tongue. The hands in her hair tightened and moved. Kathryn opened her mouth. Shelley slid Kathryn’s face up and down her slick slit, rubbing her teeth, her nose, her chin, generating friction on the sensitive bundle of nerves at the top of her hole. Kathryn did her best to work her tongue through the slick folds, but there was never a moment when her face was still. She felt Shelley’s juices coating her face, even up into her hairline, as the girl on the couch began grunting and thrusting as best she could.

Kathryn spread her legs so that her pussy was resting on the floor. She tried humping at it in frustration, arousal beginning to assert itself. It finally occurred to her that her hands were free, so she reached between her legs and plunged both hands into her panties, rubbing frantically as Shelley suddenly stopped moving and pressed Kathryn’s face deep into her cunt. And then, with a keening cry, she came, flooding into Kathryn’s mouth while her hands twisted and clenched the hair at her temples.

Kathryn felt William’s hands under her arms and mewed in frustration when he pulled her hands out of her panties. She sat back and looked up at him, her face glistening with the evidence of Shelley’s orgasm. Her tongue darted out and licked her lips before she could stop it.

William’s eyes narrowed. “Three minutes, slut. Not bad.” He looked at the belt, still in his hand. “It is nearly 5:00. Go home, Kathryn. We’ll discuss your attempt to please yourself another time.” He turned and left the office without another word.

Kathryn looked at Shelley for a long moment, then stood and began repairing the damage to her attire. Neither girl spoke.

Kathryn went home

daydream

Daydreams won’t stop.  Not for me.  Long ago, i gave up trying to fight them.  i learned they are part of my creative process, and though i spent a great deal of time as a child being chastised for “having my head in the clouds,” it turns out, daydreaming has served me well.

You, stubborn man, show up often.

My favorite daydreams involve pain.  Yours.  Foolish of me.  You’d read it on me long before i managed to hurt you, no matter my attempts to hide it beneath my always so poised exterior.  You’d see it in my eyes, i know, and part of me wants you to see it.

i toy with scenarios, a tiny smile playing about my mouth, while i shop for groceries.  i’d like to slap you, i think, but i’m not sure when.  Right away, the moment i see you?  Or do i savor the moment, drag it out, make myself wait?  my smile widens.  Both make me shiver with pleasure.

my mind curls deliciously around the event.  my palm itches and my fingers twitch, just as though they can feel the sting of connection, the tingle that would follow.  i can hear the sharp smacking sound.  i can see your face change, see that you recognize what is happening a shade too late to stop it.  Ohhhh … mmmm.  It is so sexual, this daydream, and i moan.

There are always consequences, i know.  my daydreams don’t go that far.  Instead, they rewind and i revel again in the imprint of my palm on your cheek.

So pretty.

winter

i do not like to be cold.

Despite this, winter is my favorite season.  It speaks to me through gray, blustery days.  In direct contrast with my odd brand of optimism and the way i cling to hope, the more dreary weather energizes me.  When everyone around me moans about the seemingly endless stretch of bleak, i quietly smile.

The sky, you see, isn’t only gray.  It is blanketed with heavy silver clouds, the cover so complete it looks, instead, cloudless.  Impenetrable.  When it lowers to kiss the ground, i consider it an embrace.  i love walking in the fog.

Birds don’t brave the winter, and i am glad for their absence.  Flowers hide as well, waiting for the spring, waiting to unfurl in a riot of color that beckons back the birds and the sun.  The world around me wakes, and i watch it with wary eyes.  Spring is about blossoming, opening, and beginning.  It is not for me.

I find solace, through the spring and summer, in the violence of storms, and in the days of steady rain that come far less frequently than i’d like, less frequently than the world around me needs.  Like the suffering earth, i crave the moisture.

Winter is quiet.  Snowfalls, rare though they are, muffle and blanket.  White tinged with silver and gray, the sky a monotone backdrop.  i miss it.

And i miss you.

three: do not take the Lord’s name in vain

This is a continuation.  You might want to begin here:  one

 “Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain; for the Lord will not hold him guiltless that taketh his name in vain.”

***

Olivia slept a while, but woke with an odd sense of disquiet.  She knew the third Commandment, would have thought it one she’d certainly violated.  Memories danced through her head ceaselessly, recollections of the times she’d called out to God in pleasure and in pain, especially at Jason’s hand.

Jason.

Missing someone after her own death had never occurred to Olivia, and it really didn’t seem fair.  She closed her eyes.  She thought back to the night of the charity dinner, conjured up the feeling of serene happiness, of belonging she’d had while they were both getting ready.

“Olivia?  Have you seen my cuff links?  The gold ones with my initial on …”  His voice trailed off when he saw her, standing on tiptoe, already rummaging in the top drawer of his dresser.

“Yes, Sir … i moved them and all my jewelry when we had to fire that maid.  i meant to put them back, but i was waiting for the locks to be changed and i’m really, really sorry i didn’t tell you.”  She pulled out the box and turned to face him, then yelped when she discovered him standing right behind her.

“Settle down, pet.”  His voice was warm.  “I’m not angry.  You look beautiful.”

And really, that was all it took.  She opened her eyes, wistful.  Every tiny ounce of happiness could wash out gallons of unhappiness.  She heard the door open and looked at Sera.  “You’re wrong about Jason,” she said quietly.  “Your research turns up only the damning evidence, but there’s so much more you haven’t seen.”

Sera looked dubious.  Her research had included footage of Olivia, broken and bleeding while Jason sneered at her; Olivia, pleading for mercy over and over, while none seemed forthcoming.  She couldn’t wrap her mind around Olivia actually caring for someone like that, so she simply ignored the statement.

“I figured you might have questions about why you’re not being tried for the third Commandment.”  Her tone was brisk, almost irritable.  “People are really stupid about this commandment.  They tend to think that every uttered “Oh my God” is taking the Lord’s name in vain, but if that were the case, saying “God bless you” when someone sneezes would also be a violation.  It’s a little more complicated than that, and you’ve never even come close.”

Olivia just looked at her steadily. 

Sera scowled.  “Okay, then.  I’ll explain it to you.  For one thing, the Lord’s name is not “God.”  It’s “Yahweh.”  And it’s really only bad if you use it with false authority.  Like … say … if you were to charge into battle with the claim that you’re fighting to win this land in the name of Yahweh.  Or if you were to tell someone they are required to wear two different color socks because God said so.”  She waited for some sort of response from Olivia, then threw up her hands in exasperation.  “Why are you staring at me?”

“Because you won’t listen.  i’m telling you, you’re wrong.  And you’re not going to be able to properly defend me if you don’t understand.”

“Ohfergawdsake!  Fine.” 

Olivia stifled a giggle at the irony of Sera’s outburst, given her new perspective on taking the Lord’s name in vain.  “Do i seem like an unreasonable person, Sera?  Like a person who would willingly remain with someone who only ever hurt me?”

Sera sighed.  “No.  And there must be something to what you have said, because Jason’s case is being heard in claims court.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well.  There’s a difference between defending your life, which is what I’m doing for you, and earning the right to defend your life.  Jason’s soul wasn’t even up for selection by a Life Defense Counselor until almost a year ago.  Around Christmas.”

Olivia paled.  “Christmas?”

Sera nodded.

“Christmas is when Jason asked me to move in with him.”

“Hmm.”  Sera tilted her head, gave Oliva a long, assessing look, then plunked down on the end of the bed and crossed her legs.  “Okay.  Here’s how it works.  Some souls go straight to Heaven.  Your children, people who have lived an exemplary life, most nuns, a few priests.  You get the idea.  And then there are souls that go straight to Hell.  Your standard hypocrites, criminals, televangelists, and a good cross section of politicians.  The vast majority of souls end up here, defending their lives with the help of people like me.”

“And Jason?”

“Apparently earmarked for either Heaven or Hell before you came along.  i think it’s safe to assume, given the fact that he’s in claims court, that it wasn’t an impending ascent to sitteth at the right hand that kept his name off the soul defense docket.”

Olivia looked stricken.  “If only i’d had more time,” she murmured, then met Sera’s eyes.  “i should have worked harder.  i could have saved him.”

“Oh, Olivia.”  The younger girl shook her head.  “At what cost?  You weren’t on the list, either, before last Christmas.  Had it not been for Jason, you’d have no need for me.”

Olivia heard her, absorbed that, and smiled.  “i can fight for myself.  He needed me to fight for him, too.  i think he still does.”

“Well, if it will make you feel better, I can assure you he’s in the best hands.  Micah’s got him, and he doesn’t lose.  He has more experience than any other Life Defense Counselor, and he’s passionate about his work.”  She smiled encouragingly.  “Would you like to go see?”

“See Jason?”  Olivia bit her lip, hardly daring to hope.  “Right now?”

Sera nodded and stood.  “You’ll have to keep quiet, of course.  We’ll sit at the back, and I’ll try to explain things as they go along.  It’s a little different from your experiences.”  She took Olivia’s hand and they left the room, walking down the long, white corridor just as they did every time they went to trial.

This time, however, when they entered the courtroom, it was packed.  There was a steady buzzing from the spectators whispering in the stands.  Both tables on the courtroom floor were covered with papers, the chairs behind them completely occupied.  At the table to the right were three large men in black suits.  And at the table to the left, Olivia saw Jason, seated next to a man dressed in the same sort of flowing white gown as Sera.  She sat quickly, holding her breath, until Sera squeezed her hand.  Slowly, she exhaled and closed her eyes, then opened them again. 

Jason hadn’t moved.  He sat in that way he had, legs stretched before him, crossed at the ankles, one arm across his chest.  He held his chin in the other hand, one finger idly stroking across his lower lip, his eyes hooded, but not closed, taking it all in.  It was a pose, she knew, intended to disarm, to lull one into believing him complacent.  Olivia had seen it often, both in his dealings with her, and on the rare occasion he had a business dinner and drinks at home.

Just then, the four familiar angels filed in and everyone stood.  Sera took the opportunity to explain the proceedings.  “That was Micah.”  Her voice was reverent, and Olivia looked at her in surprise.   She’d hardly glanced at the Life Defense Counselor, had only a brief impression of longish dark curly hair, and glasses.  Small, wire rimmed glasses.  “When Jason died, Micah snatched up his soul, said it was exactly the sort of case for which he’d been waiting.  But the second he filed suit, Lucifer and his crew countered, claiming prior ownership.”  She pointed at the table on the right.  “That’s Lucifer in the middle.”

Everyone was sitting down again, and Olivia did her best to see what the fallen angel looked like.  But he was almost directly below them and had his back completely turned, so she gave up, and decided to wait until he stood to address the dias.  She looked again at Sera, and saw her eyes were fixed on the defense table, a rapt, adoring expression on her face.  With a smile, she followed the direction of the girl’s gaze.  Micah scribbled something on the pad in front of him, then leaned over to whisper something to Jason.  While he was listening, Jason’s eyes lifted to the gallery and skipped over the rows of faces without really seeing them.

And then, they collided with Olivia’s.

four