Every few pages, she would suck in a deep breath, reminding herself that they hadchosenthis book. It was an excellent selection. She was enjoying it quite a bit . . . but in all honesty, she would have preferred to be enjoying it in the privacy of her bed with a vibrator held to her clit, not rhythmically pulsing her thighs together in public, wishing her chair had a saddle horn she could grind against in her little nook between a cracked bell and a collection of cursed brooches.
A temple priestess giving herself in service, hardly an original archetype, Harper told herself, the jumping muscles in her thighs exciting the tingle between them. The priestess stripped bare before the altar, two of the lesser temple attendants anointing her with oil. There was probably a draft in the tearoom that day, she told herself as her nipples pebbled, the priestess on the page moaning in ecstasy as her attendants pinched her nipples to hardness, her oil-slickened breasts shining in the firelight. The priestess began her ritual, slicing a cut into her hand and letting it drip into a chalice. Behind her, the temple attendants began to pleasure each other, hips straddled, pelvis grinding, and Harper snapped shut the book.
It was impossible not to be reminded of the last time she’d been this publicly aroused and howthatsituation had played out.
Her study partner had been in several of her classes. They’d been in the library on campus late one evening, the building itself mostly empty and their upper floor completely deserted. Normally, being in the library alone had creeped her out, butthatevening, the solitude had provided the perfect backdrop for their actions.
“This is making me so horny.” It wasn’t the first time the other girl had announced it. They were reviewing a chapter on sex magick and sustained pleasure, and Kel had informed Harper that she was turned on only a few minutes into their study session that night. “If they really want us to learn anything from this chapter, we’d be going down on each other as we read. I would pay to have someone lick my clit. Seriously, I’m so wet right now.”
“Will youstop,“ Harper had protested laughingly. The subject matter on its own was not enough to arouse her, but she had always been suggestible, and the other girl’s constant prattle over how horny she was had Harper squirming in her seat, panties drenched. “Do you have enough to pay someone to lick my clit too? Because you’re makingmehorny.”
The other girl had perked up. They continued to read. The silence only lasted a few more pages before the other girl, Kel, opened her legs, lifting her foot to the table. The gusset of her purple thong beneath her uniform skirt was soaked nearly black.
“Seriously, if we both have wet pussies, then why aren’t we doing something about it? You lick me, and I’ll lick you.”
She had never been touched by another woman at that point. She’d covered her mouth to keep from gasping when Kel dragged her hand up Harper’s thigh, slipping a hand into her panties and stroking through her slick folds. The first touch of her tongue to the other girl’s clit had Kel moaning, her eyes closed as she gave Harper instruction on where to lick and suck. When it was her turn, Harper was mortified over how fast she orgasmed against Kel’s tongue, but as she was told afterward, “Don’t worry, I lick pussy like a pro.”
She’d wound up sitting on the edge of the table with Kel standing between her legs, rubbing their swollen clits together, grinding against each other. Their moans were soft and their pistoning hips provided a wet squelch where their bodies met, the knowledge that another student or professor might come up the staircase at any moment adding to the frenzy and heightening their arousal. Harper had come first, gripping the other girl’s hips and bucking wildly against her, the slide of her clit against Kel’s providing her enough friction to tip over the edge.
They’d had sex several times more that term, and it was never as good as it was in the library. Being in public now, reading about the soft moans of the temple attendants as they moved against each other in the same way she had, the priestess preparing to summon the dark god she served . . . it was too much. Harper escaped her table, making her way down the short hallway at the back of the dining room to the restroom. She could feel her heart thudding behind her lips, behind her eyes, between her thighs. The cold water she splashed on her face did little to cool the heat beneath her skin, but it was the best she could do.
When she returned to her table, she discovered her tea had been delivered. Azathé had not come by as she read, and at the time, Harper had assumed it was because the tearoom was crowded, but it was clear they had taken note of her reading material.Well, they should. They picked it out.A small card rested before the tray, listing the items contained therein — a black tea with satsuma and ginger. The fruity-spicy zing of it heated her cheeks at first sip, a clear complement to the spicier reading material before her.
The savories continued the trend — a ham and brie round, the meat crusted with black pepper, a phyllo cup of jalapeno-studded pimento cheese, and a sriracha-braised pork bun. The dessert was a decadent dark chocolate mousse, and Harper wondered how long they had been planning this menu.Just waiting to spring the dirty books on you and feed you all the spicy food. Is this what heaven is like?
The dining room had cleared out some. The large party of laughing goblins and trolls and orcs had left, some neighborhood get-together, she overheard. In their place were two older satyresses and the same green-haired girl who had been studying the very first time Harper had entered Azathé tearoom. The few tables on the other side of the parlor were the same groups that had been there before she had fled to the restroom and would likely be leaving soon.
Harper gazed around the room surreptitiously, trying to spot the waver in the shadows, the darker black shape moving through them, but when she was unable to spot them, she returned, almost reluctantly, to her book.
The dark god the priestess served was demon-like in appearance, with horns and wings, skin like stone, and garnet red eyes. She wondered iftheirphysical form would be anything like this. Tail and wings, strong arms, and twisting horns. Despite what they thought, she wouldn’t be afraid. On the contrary, the very thought flooded her core.
The beast was summoned by the priestess by laying herself out across the altar stone, supine and vulnerable, her oiled skin bare to the temple. The temple attendants were in a writhing frenzy behind her, pleasuring each other without heed, noisy in their lust, the priestess twisting against her stone plinth until her dark god appeared. Harper wondered if they would hold her down the same way, splaying her out before them, small and vulnerable.
The tribute the priestess paid for her demon god’s summoning was with her body, Harper realized, biting her lip anew. Beneath the table, her thighs squeezed. There was an illustration on the following page in a woodcut art style, showing the priestess on her knees, bent over the altar stone as the demon godling rutted into her from behind. The woman’s mouth was open in a cry, whether one of pain or pleasure, it was impossible to tell, for the demon behind her showed no restraint in the way he gripped her.
Harper wondered iftheywould be able to have her in such a way, fucking her harder and deeper than she ever had been before. Shadows did not exist on a gender binary, after all, and she was certain they had no secondary sex organs . . . but they said they could assume whatever form was needed. Does that mean two cocks like a naga? She bit her lip again, closing her eyes to envision the delicious memory of sliding her sex against another woman’s.They could do that. Or give you the biggest cock you’ve ever seen. Who knows what else they might be able to do.
The temple attendants continued their frenzy, as the priest just paid homage to the one she worshiped – with her mouth, with her cunt, however the creature wanted to have her, over and over again. Harper was certain the stiffest breeze would immolate her, and when Azathé‘s dark, sinuous voice curled around her ear without warning, she yelped, sloshing her tea as she slammed the book shut.
“My sweet one, whatever is the matter? You are trembling like a newborn kitten. I only came to see how you are enjoying your pairing.”
She was breathing hard, her chest heaving. Her face whipped to the side, where she sensed they were, and she knew the look on her face was positively mutinous. “The tea is delicious, thank you. I can tell muchthoughtwent into this pairing.”
They hummed, a static-like sound that made goosebumps rise on her skin. “Only the best for you, sweetling. As always, your literature choices dictate the menu.”
Harper choked out an incredulous laugh. “Ironic that you would call themmychoices when the book was placed in front of me. But I do thank you for your excellent selection. I’m finding it quite instructive.”
“Is that so? Well, I always think that no matter how esoteric the topic, there are applications and parallels that can be found in daily life.”
“Oh, it’s not so esoteric at all. I nearly felt as if this were autobiographical at a point. There was a section between the temple attendants that reminded me of my own university experiences. The illicitness, the public aspect of it . . . It’s a shame you’re so busy today. We could discuss our favorite parts, like our own private little book club.”
Another burst of that static-like laughter, and then they left her, seeing to the other guests in the tearoom. Rather than emptying out, business remained steady, and at length, she accepted defeat. There would be no private audience that afternoon, but she did not begrudge them. She wanted her favorite tearoom to stay open and thrive, and she could not drink enough tea in her lifetime to make that happen alone. The little cat mewled at her as she left, checking out at the kiosk, not even getting a chance to say goodbye for the day.
When she got home, Harper wasted no time. It was not as satisfying as a partner, wasn’t as spine-shivering as someone else’s tongue, wasn’t as toe-curling as being filled with a thick cock, and was hardly as exciting as scissoring in the Collegium library, but her fingers were reliable, and the suction cup on her dildo was strong. She had no idea which species the shape of the phallic silicone was meant to emulate — three joined spheres, growing larger towards the base, with a thick, ribbed underside – but it was better than the alternative.
The alternative, she was certain, meant marching into the tearoom and climbing atop one of the tables, presenting herself like the priestess to her demon, and Harper could not bear the potential rejection. Far better to take care of things at home, which she did, several times throughout the evening. She would slake the lust churning within her, clear her head, get a good night’s sleep, and return after the weekend with a new resolve to master her tea leaves, to improve her tarot reading, and get back to the business of being a witch, and not allow herself to be distracted by her crush.
She was walking home from the Food Gryphon when he accosted her.
