The fragrance of steamed herbs filled the room and the flickering light seemed to dim, leaving us in a bright spot of light with anonymous voices singing or humming in a low tone. My head was swimming, my senses were overwhelmed, but I tried to concentrate on my bizarre surroundings. Goblets of a strong mead were passed around and the air became stifling with intoxicating smoke.
Lamentations were offered and the Queen advised me to just sit quietly and observe. I was feeling abit light-headed and extremely nervous, and my eyes and ears started at every odd sound in the darkness. After the lights were mostly extinguished and the attendants were swaying and moaning in a sort of trance; the leader, swathed in crimson, stepped lightly down and strode to a small, woven rug at my feet. Though camouflaged behind layers of red silk, I knew instantly by her curvy physique that it was my mom.
My mother was a young woman though she took-on more responsibility than an ordinary woman of 34 years. Heck, her mom, Queen Brea was not even fifty. She was not Samantha from TV and did not just twitch her cute nose to levitate objects. She had long, crow-black hair worn parted in the middle and down almost to her waist. Full red lips were centered under liquidy, brown eyes, and a sharp, prominent nose. She had a shapely figure which I had seen often, but was now noticing for the first time in a non-maternal way. I had never seen her completely naked, but she often flitted around in sheer gowns or other forms of flimsy dress. Her ponderous breasts were heavy and full, probably a double-D. With every step they bounced and wobbled, and the dark nipples were constantly firm and projected through all the thin materials. She had a rounded, jiggly belly though she was not fat, and solid legs with a tinkling anklet that highlighted her every movement. She shaved her legs and underarms but there was always a trace of lip hair, and her thick, black bush showed, even through the dark, red fabric of her gown.
Soon I too, fell under her “spell” like all the others, I sat loose-limbed, nearly unable to speak or move. I watched enthralled as she sipped deeply from her golden chalice, the fiery liquid brought a glow to her usual pallor. She offered the remainder to me, with a warm, wet kiss on the lips. After I emptied the cup, she smiled seductively with a twinkle from her sparkling, rich brown orbs. She rarely wore any make-up in the house, but this evening her dark brows were waxed, lashes curled and her dusky eyes were backlit in a purplish-blue shade. Her pearly teeth shined bright against her lips, painted to match the scarlet red of her cape and dripping wet. Or was that actual blood, I could swear that she took my tongue in her mouth with that kiss and bit the tip. Or maybe I bit my own cheek, but I was definitely tasting blood, and seeing my mom in a strange, new light.
As I watched her dance rhythmically to a background heartbeat of drumming, the crowd eased-in closer, and my vision narrowed. In a minute all I could see was this raven-haired woman, softly writhing and moaning, within inches of me. Her long tresses swept across her face and her doey eyes rolled back in her head as her voluptuous torso swayed back and forth. I could see her pendulous, tear-drop shaped breasts, swaying freely under the gown. The little bell on her anklet kept a sexy, sultry beat. Her enlarged nipples pointed enticingly in my direction. This was the first time I recall seeing her as such a sensuous soul. Her arms were only exposed to the elbow, but her stubby fingers caressed my chest and legs. She sent tremors through my young body as she slid seductively onto my lap and planted long, moist kisses on my flustered cheeks, lips, neck and chest. My body twitched and squirmed with her exhortations, all the while she moaned and mumbled strange enchantments.