by Zoe Constantin
(10/17/01)

The afternoon rain had long since evaporated and summer's heat had rolled back over the city like a tide. Amy pushed her damp hair from her forehead. Once again, her wiry bangs collapsed over her eyes.

Across the room, Madeleine stretched lazily, her dark hair and clothes an indigo rill against the couch's ivory cloth. There had been a time when Madeleine's curves made light crackle inside her. Not now, she thought. Not ever again.

Keeping her voice neutral, she said, "So, you don't want to rent a movie. What else then?"

Madeleine yawned. "I don't know. Let's do something--" Another yawn interrupted her.

In the sweltering heat, everything seemed too hot, too far, or too complicated. Even without that excuse, they were avoiding anything but the safest choices.

"Let's do something different, fun..."

"Fun can dangerous," Amy said softly. "Remember sunlight and cancer, sex and AIDS?" Remember breaking my heart?

Cold-hearted, Madeleine had called her. Boring.

No, just careful, Amy had snapped back. Their argument had rushed from biting, to angry, and then into irretrievable nastiness.

Madeleine was staring at the ceiling blank-eyed. Her chest fell in a soundless sigh. "What about the new casino?" she said.

Amy's self-control wavered. "You go ahead," she said carefully. "I don't feel like getting dressed up." She glanced at Madeleine, pixie face and tumbling midnight hair, and felt a tiny crackling at the base of her spine. No, she told herself. This is Madeline my friend. Madeleine my lover left ten months ago.

And after ten months of silence, Madeleine had called to ask if she could visit this evening. She wanted to be friends, she'd said. For a moment, Amy had been too astonished to answer, even with Madeleine saying, "Amy, Amy, are you there?" her voice rising alarm. Then, even more surprising, Amy heard the words, "I'm sorry."

So before Madeleine could disappear again, Amy had said yes.

Maybe they could be friends.

Now, looking at Madeleine's honey-gold face, her cheeks flushed with unwanted desire, Amy forced her gaze from Madeleine to the window, now silvery in the twilight.

"I meant what I said this afternoon," Madeleine said. "I want us to be friends." Her voice disappeared on the last word.

Amy said nothing.

"Do you want me to go?"

"No, of course not." Even after ten months apart, she still wanted Madeleine to kiss her. "It's just..."

"It's just that we were lovers, and I left you."

"You left..." Stop. Be fair. "...after we had a fight."

"Six fights." Madeleine drew a deep breath. "I know it won't be easy, but I want to try. Honest."

"Sure." Amy poured another glass of wine. Oh Madeleine, Madeleine. You've got twenty ex-lovers and you're still friends with all of them. Amazing that no one quarreled with her, no matter how tearful the breakup. I can't hate her. I can't even blame her.

She shrugged, more to herself than to Madeleine. "We could play cards," Madeleine said. "Do you still like poker?"

"I don't feel ruthless enough."

"How about television? No, scratch that -- bad idea." Madeleine picked up a book from the coffee table, riffled through it, tossed it back. "We should try something weird," she said. "Something crazy."

Something dangerous, Amy thought. Her stomach fluttered. It was the same sensation she'd had when Madeleine had first kissed her, three years ago.

Madeleine walked over to Amy's bookcase. Standing, her curves melted into slim lines beneath silk T-shirt and baggy pants. She'd been exquisite at twenty, then seductive at thirty, gathering charm and poise with every decade. Amy had a sudden vision of Madeleine at seventy with a circle of all her lovers at her feet.

"We could play Monopoly," Madeleine said. "Or Sorry." She gave a fleeting smile. "I'm good at that." Then she held up a tattered box marked Séance. "When did you get this?"

"Years ago. My brother gave it to me for Christmas."

"Have you tried it? Is it any good?"

"Just once, for laughs. My brother and his wife came over for Halloween, and we tried to contact their pet turtle. Nothing happened."

"Maybe you didn't use the right props. Let's try it."

The old injunction against summoning spirits gave Amy a momentary chill. Monsters from childhood, she thought. But they'd just be playing a game -- different without being dangerous. She got to her feet. "I'll get some candles."

"Then you'll do it?"

"Sure," said Amy. She took a deep breath, and daring herself, said, "What questions are you going to ask it?"

"Maybe we can summon up a demon lover."

Amy's heart lurched.

She collected matches and three votive candles from the kitchen, while Madeleine arranged the Ouija board on the coffee table, then uncorked a fresh bottle of wine and set their glasses on the table.

"We need incense."

Amy fetched incense. She lit the candles and dropped the match into the incense bowl, releasing a cloud of perfume into the room. "What are you planning to do?"

Madeleine winked. "What I said before...We're gonna find us a demon lover, honey."

She knelt in front of the Ouija board, head bowed, almost reverent except for the wrinkle of a smile. Amy dimmed the lights and sat across from her.

Madeleine, raised her wineglass in toast. With a flourish, she drank a hearty mouthful, waited until Amy did the same, then refilled their glasses. "Did I ever tell you about my multi-great grandmother?" she said. "The one hanged for witchcraft?"

"Oh, great. Now you tell me. I thought it was a game."

Madeleine closed her eyes and placed her hands on the Ouija board's disc. "Spirits," she intoned. "We have an unbeliever here. Send us a sign. Send us a demon lover."

The votive candles made three pale moons in the semi-darkness. In their flickering half-light, Madeleine looked older, more exotic -- nearly alien. Amy shivered again, her skin prickling despite the warmth of the evening. For three long minutes, she held motionless, watching Madeleine's slim fingers hover over the wooden disc. The instructions said that spirits would guide the disc to letters on the board. Any question would yield an answer if the questioner wanted the answer strongly enough.

Nothing happened.

Amy let out her breath, silly and giddy from the wine. "What now?" she said. "Do we have to do something...sinful?" She paused, giggling. "How on earth do you call a demon?"

Madeleine drank more wine. Her eyes had turned dark, and she looked at Amy with an unreadable expression. "I have an idea."

Slowly, as if giving Amy the chance to refuse, she leaned across the table and kissed her.

Amy held herself still, except for a trembling deep inside. No, she thought. I'm not ready for this kind of game. Not yet. Not ever. And yet she couldn't move, couldn't push Madeleine away.

"We need desire to summon a demon lover," Madeline whispered.

They tried the board again. This time, the board trembled, the pointer wavering over the letters before going still.

"It's working."

Madeleine moved next to her, kissed her again, and Amy forgot the Ouija board, the room, and all her defenses. She swept aside Madeleine's wonderful, brush-thick hair, smelled her familiar cinnamon perfume mixed with salt and sweat from the humid summer night. She kissed her throat and pressed her lips against the pulse below Madeleine's ear. Desire, she thought. I don't need a demon for that. Just Madeleine.

Amy heard something rattle against the tabletop. The Ouija disc, she thought, then dismissed it from her mind. Madeleine was nibbling on her cheeks with quick, soft bites, first with her lips, then harder, grazing the skin with her teeth. Mistake, Amy thought. Bad, wrong, stupid, and guaranteed to cause torment in the days to come. But she didn't resist. She didn't want to. Instead, she pressed for another greedy kiss, sucking her plum-soft lips. I want, she thought. I want Madeleine.

The disc rattled again, insistent. From the corner of her eye, Amy saw it skitter over the board as if it had come to life. She reached to grab it.

The disc exploded. A scorching wave rolled over them and a fist of wind hurled Amy against the far wall.

"Amy!"

Madeleine was screaming, but Amy couldn't see her. A sulfurous cloud filled the room. She rubbed soot from her eyes, but couldn't see more than vague shadows, inky blue against a dirty yellow haze. "Madeleine," she called. "We have to get out. It might be a fire." Or a gas explosion, she thought with a shiver, or something else that made sense.

"Where are you?" Madeleine shouted. "I can't find the door."

"I'll find you. Keep talking."

Keeping low, she crept along the wall, past her overturned bookcase, while Madeleine chattered hysterically. An eerie blue light from the chandelier lit her way. Now she could make out her couch and coffee table, both shattered, then her television set, reduced to shards. Finally, her fingers closed over Madeleine's wrist. "Come," she said. "We've got to call the fire department."

They stumbled to the door of Amy's apartment. Forcing herself to be methodical, Amy felt her way through the locks and chains. She had reached the last one, her prized combination lock, when Madeleine tugged at her arm. "Look at the wall."

The smoke had cleared to a dull haze, and she could see the devastation, lit by that extraordinary blue light. Fire had scorched the opposite wall black, but just above the couch, a white circle remained untouched.

"What is it?" she whispered. "What did you see?"

"There, in the middle."

It might have been a trick of the light and smoke, but when she squinted, Amy saw a tangle of lines, silver against the unsullied cream wall. Lines that wavered.

Lines that moved.

Amy froze. She tried turn around, tried to make herself open the final lock and twist the doorknob open, but she couldn't. As she watched, disbelieving, the lines coalesced into a figure that set one foot, then another, into her living room.

My demon lover, she thought. It's real.

The creature was tall and angular, with amber skin stretched over an impossibly long body. Though it looked almost human -- with two arms, two legs, and a face with eyes and mouth -- Amy felt a worm of terror crawl up her spine. Flat, silver eyes glinted from an elliptical face; the forehead bulged high, then split into two sharp spirals.

It lowered itself to all fours and stalked toward them.

Madeleine was whispering, "Amy, Amy. Stay with me, Amy." Her voice faded to terrified silence as the demon reached for her knees. It slid three-fingered hands up her thigh and between her legs in a blunt caress. Madeleine moaned.

It was a moan of desire, not fear. Amy knew that breathy sound.

The demon stroked Madeleine's vulva with one hand. With the other it gathered her breasts together, its fingers pinching, massaging, until Madeleine collapsed.

Amy watched, horrified, as a third hand grew from the demon's body and gripped her own blouse. It ripped her overalls from her body. Magic. Another pull shredded her T-shirt. Impossible magic. Amy heard herself babbling, begging the monster to spare her. No, to caress her as it had Madeleine.

Rising to its full height, the demon creature swiveled its head to face her. She saw no expression in those bright eyes, no compassion, no pity.

No anger. No bitterness.

The terror drained from Amy. Trembling, she touched the demon's skin. It felt slick, with thick muscles that rippled underneath.

The demon lowered its face to hers. It kissed her, probed her mouth with its thick, formless tongue. Amy tasted salt and ash, and the tinny flavor of something not human. Once, twice. The tongue thickened with every kiss, the tip swelling, until a human penis filled Amy's mouth.

No, no, that's not right.

The demon withdrew, then kissed her again. Its mouth had softened into a vulva that tasted of cinnamon and peaches. From inside silk-smooth lips, a tongue reached out to lick her mouth.

She was hardly able to do more than submit to its caresses. One hand ran the length of her back, another flickered between her legs. In and out, soft and hard. It lingered then withdrew. Dimly she heard Madeleine's familiar whimpers.

"Madeleine?" she whispered.

"Madeleine?" The demon echoed her voice.

Its features blurred. Amy blinked, stared hard, and found herself staring into Madeleine's face. The eyes were silver discs, the lips and throat androgynous. But it was Madeleine.

"Kiss me," said the demon with Madeleine's voice.

It crushed its face -- Madeleine's face -- against hers, until Amy surrendered once more. The mouth softened into a woman's vulva again. She sucked at it, licking the honeyed juice from its crimson lips. Her belly tightened.

Again the demon withdrew. It stared, its features shifting like shadows in a fog until another familiar face confronted her.

It was an angled face with black hair floating like a cloud around it. Dark brown eyes, that stared at her warily. Full lips.

Her face.

She realized she no longer heard Madeleine's whimpers of pleasure. The apartment had vanished. She and the demon stood alone in a circle of white light. Shadows flickered around its edge, and beyond, Amy could make out doors and hallways leading in all directions.

The demon had clothed itself completely in a human shape. It was Amy's own thin, spare figure, wearing her blue denim overalls and white silk T-shirt.

She stepped toward it.

The demon retreated a step; at the same time, it beckoned.

Again, it retreated. Approach, withdraw; approach, withdraw. They had left the lighted circle for its shadowy edge. A tunnel loomed a few steps beyond.

The demon smiled, a wintry bitter smile. It was enough to quench passion, Amy thought. Except that her blood still raced from their last kiss. Was that her? Was that the face Madeleine had seen, just before leaving?

"Ravish me," the demon whispered.

She closed the final distance, circled the demon with her arms, and gathered it into a kiss. No retreat. No remote smile. This mouth was soft, abundant.

Amy nibbled the demon's mouth. Her own mouth. Their breath came faster. With a flick of fingers, she unbuckled the overalls. Tugging them down, Amy ran her palm over the demon's breast. Small, round, and perfect. She had never thought so before. She bent to kiss the nipple through the silky cloth, and drew it to a point. Her breast, its breast. With every caress, she felt the sensation mirrored in herself.

"Afraid?" the demon murmured.

"Not now."

She was Madeleine, the demon was her. Amy pulled the shirt higher to suck on the bare breast. It wasn't enough. She drew the demon's T-shirt over its head. For a moment, the face disappeared. When Amy pulled the T-shirt free, she gasped.

Madeleine.

No, it was still the demon. But it stared at Amy with Madelein's eyes.

"Ravish me," said the demon.

Oh yes.

Amy kissed her, gently at first. Skin against warm skin, she suckled the full mouth, human now, while she skimmed her hands over the small perfect breasts, around the sleek hips, to clasp Madeleine's sweet warm mons within her hand.

Madeleine.

They collapsed to their knees, then falling onto the dreamscape's floor, they rolled over and over, legs and arms entangled, until Amy straddled Madeleine. Demon, she reminded herself. She paused a moment, staring down at her demon lover before bending for another kiss.

She lingered, lips to lips. Then she began a long, unhurried journey, from cheek to chin, from throat to breast, over the taut belly. Madeleine tasted of spun sugar and salt, smelled of cinnamon and sweat. How had Amy ever thought to forget her?

Madeleine moaned and whispered her pleasure, but offered no touch in return. Amy didn't care. It was her turn to offer pleasure, her delight to bring her lover to climax. She continued, nibbling and kissing, moving downward, until at last, crouching between her lover's legs, Amy buried her face in the tangled nest of hair and began to lap the swollen lips.

"Harder."

So like Madeleine. Always wanting more. But Amy obeyed, plunging her tongue deeper into Madeleine's vagina, nibbling harder, biting tenderly at her stiff clitoris, feasting as she never had before. Madeleine's breath came harsh and ragged now. Her belly rippled and she arched her back, making it nearly impossible for Amy to continue. Amy gripped her hips, pushed her tongue harder, deeper, into that wet and musky passage.

With a cry, Madeleine stiffened. A warm salty flow washed Amy's mouth and chin. Even as she drank it she felt Madeleine relax. Her own passion was ebbing, leaving contentment in its wake.

Madeleine pulled Amy into her arms. The air was thick from lovemaking. Intoxicating, Amy thought, burying her face against Madeleine's shoulder. Her lover's breath stirred her hair. All boundaries broken, she thought. Except one.

"Love me," whispered the demon.

"I do."

An immeasurable time later, she woke.

She lay in the center of the ruined living room. Warmth still billowed from the Ouija board and carried with it the scent of wood smoke. Madeleine lay three feet away, a smile twitching at her mouth.

"You okay?" Amy asked.

Madeleine giggled. "What about you?"

"I don't know." Amy tried to sit up, but fell over. Her mouth had curled into a smile, too.

Madeleine pushed upright. "God, it's morning already." Her voice sounded hoarse. She stretched, then winced. "I think I have a few bruises."

"Same here. Good thing it's Saturday. We probably shouldn't drive after that." Amy touched the candles. Their black wicks had guttered then curled into the wax. The crumbling incense was cold. How long had they been asleep?

"Was it real?" Madeleine asked.

"Does it matter?"

Madeleine laughed weakly. Amy tried, but her laughter veered unexpectedly into sobs.

"Hey." Madeleine stumbled over to Amy, wrapped her arms around her and stroked her hair, trying to calm her. "Hey, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..."

"No, it's all right." Amy forced herself to breathe steadily. Her sobs become hiccups, then stopped altogether. "It was just a game. At least . . . we thought it was."

Madeleine was quiet a moment. Her hands were gentle, almost impersonal, but her face had turned red. "It wasn't a game," she said. "That's why I'm sorry."

She started to withdraw, but Amy held fast until Madeleine relaxed. Amy brushed the tears from her eyes, kissed the edge of her lips.

No guarantees, Amy thought. No surety except the soft and wondering look in Madeleine's eyes. Staring into those eyes, Amy saw the doubled reflection of her own face -- no longer cautious, no longer remote. They had a chance...a second chance.

"I tried to seduce you," Madeleine said.

"I know." Amy kissed her again, felt Madeleine's breath whisper warm against her cheek. "Now it's my turn."

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