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Subject: SG7: Somewhere on the Circle of Life (*NEW Supergirl story*)
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These stories are very naughty, and since only
adults should
have naughty thoughts, you shouldn't read them if
you are
under 18 years old!

Supergirl is a trademark of DC Comics.

The entire Supergirl series and similar stories
can be found on the WWW site:

http://www.cris.com/~tooshoes/PenPartners.html
---------------------------------------------------

SG7 -- Somewhere on the Circle of Life

you come out at night
that's when the energy comes
and the dark side's light
and the vampires roam ...
oh you're so beautiful
with an edge and a charm
but so careful
when I'm in your arms

 Building a Mystery
 Sarah McLachlan


 A young witch, dressed all in black, sat inside
her
circle at the very heart of Salem, Massachusetts,
looking
up at the stars. Her name was Zatanna.
 Although Zatanna was her given name, many of her
friends assumed she chose the name at initiation,
when
she first became a witch.  Others assumed far
worse
things.
 A few years ago, when she was still in high
school,
a teacher typed "Zatanna" into a word processor.
The dumb
machine choked on her name, thinking it
misspelled, and
replaced it with the name Satan. From that moment
on, the
buzz around town was that Zatanna had named
herself after
the Christian Devil. To most people, this was
simply a
joke, but others saw it as a warning from Heaven.
She had
received three death threats so far.
 People never changed, and fear never faded away,
even in a city that today welcomed witches with
open
arms.  Someone was always ready to lash out at
anyone
different from the norm -- different even from
other
witches. Any suggestion of Satanism, no matter how
far
fetched, was as good as a conviction.
 This controversy earned her a spot on a local
talk
show. The host suggested she change her name to
something
normal, something Christian, to prove her good
will to
the people of Salem. She retorted that she would
rather
cut off her hand than disgrace her existence. "My
name is
my power."
 This mysterious statement turned out to be a
self-fulfilling prophesy. It caught fire on a slow
news
day, making the headlines of the local paper, and
sound
bites on TV news updates. To her enemies, this
statement
only proved her allegiance to the devil. To the
local
covens, it made her a hero.
 But to Zatanna, it was simply the truth. Words
and
names had power beyond what people realized.
Sometimes,
only the right word will do the trick. The
headlines. The
sound bites. They weren't just random words. They
weren't
just clever combinations. They were spells. Magic.

 Common magic, though. Like cards up a sleeve.
Like
the flicker of a candle. That kind of magic lasts
five
minutes, then it’s gone. So Zatanna had something
to
prove. She was not a show magician. She was not a
witch
only at Halloween time. Her time had not come and
gone --
she was just getting started.
 When she was done, she would command the essence
of
life and love, and she would offer it up to the
world.
Who would dare attack her name then?
 Zatanna sat alone in her circle, concentrating
her
energy, summoning the Sun's Beloved, as the modern

goddess was known in the Craft.  Zatanna would
succeed
alone where the combined energy of many covens had
failed
before.  They were all fools, Zatanna thought with
a sly
smile. They fumbled with magic like a toy. One
focused
woman could be more powerful than a dozen poorly
prepared
covens. Magic was a precise art, requiring the
right
tools and the right words. Zatanna always had the
right
words, but finally, with a little help, she had
acquired
the necessary ingredients.
 She searched all of Salem before deciding on the
most obvious place to set up her circle:  in the
pagoda,
at the center of Salem Common.  She came here
every day
for two weeks, when the sun set in the horizon,
and the
moon shined alone in the night sky. But tonight
the sky
was black, except for the stars, as the moon was
new. She
sat in the circle, surrounded by five candles, two
red,
two blue, one yellow, and stared up through the
pillars
of the pagoda at the stars. As strange as it
seemed, the
moon was the key to summoning the Sun's Beloved.
The moon
was the forgotten element, the essence that the
goddess
yearned for, and needed, to be complete.
 Zatanna placed a photograph of the goddess at the

center of the circle, the most intimate photograph
that
she could find. She touched the image with a
strand of
the goddess's own hair, and she sprinkled a few
particles
of the goddess's dried blood over the glossy
likeness of
her body. Then Zatanna closed her eyes, and
chanted in an
ancient language:  "Arak snus devoleb ot males
emoc."

 "Linda," she replied when asked her name, but
then
she hesitated.
 "Last name?" the lady behind the counter asked
impatiently.
 Linda was caught off guard. She wasn't good at
names. She should have put some thought into this
before
now, because whatever name she chose, she'd have
to stick
with it for a while, maybe even for the rest of
her life.
She wanted something credible, something
meaningful, not
something anonymous like Smith. She looked quickly
at the
wall behind the lady, where there hung an
engraving with
two lists of names, all of them victims of the
Salem
witch trials of 1692. She picked the first name.
 "Danvers, " She replied suddenly, and then she
put
the two names together, to see how it sounded.
"Linda
Danvers."
 The lady's face lit up. "Oh, like the town?
That's
an unusual name. Any history behind it?"
 Linda glanced again at the engraving. At the top
of
each list was the town or city where the victims
lived.
Oh, good one, Linda, you just named yourself after
a
town.
 "I guess you could say that."
 The lady glanced at her quizzically, then started

typing into her computer again. "And how long will
you be
staying at the Hawthorne Hotel?"
 Again, Linda paused. Even these simple questions
were more than she could handle right now. "How
long *can*
I stay?"
 This earned a frown and a sigh. "The best I can
do
is a week. Are you sure you can afford it? Any
reasonable-sized room will cost $120 per night."
 Linda nodded. Andrew's assignments had paid her
well, and she had accumulated a small nest egg in
her
savings account. She could last a year, even at
these
inflated rates. "Oh, one other thing -- do you
allow
pets?"
 The lady threw her hands in the air. "You're
kidding, right?"
 Linda leaned over. When she stood up again, she
was
holding a small patched cat in her arms. "His name
is
Calvin," Linda said with a smile.
 The lady smiled back mockingly. "Are you sure?
Listen, Ms  . . . Danvers,  this is a Hotel, not
an
apartment building."
 "But I feel like I belong here," Linda pushed,
knowing she sounded crazy. "Why can't I rent a
room with
my cat? He won't be any trouble."
 The lady was near the end of her patience, but
she
collected herself. She glanced around and said in
a soft
voice. "It's against hotel policy, but maybe if
you hid
the cat in a box or something . . ."
 Linda shook her head vehemently and turned away.
"I'm sorry. I was wrong. We don't belong here."
 The lady shook her head. "Sheesh, some people..."

she whispered, then went back to typing at her
computer.

 Linda put Calvin on the floor. Several people
watched as she exited the hotel, with Calvin at
her
heels. Apparently, it was quite uncommon to walk a
cat,
especially without a leash.
 But Calvin and Linda had a special kind of bond
you
don't often see between pets and their masters.
For one
thing, Calvin respected Linda. He knew from
experience
that he could not escape or hide from his
super-master.
He knew from the psychic connection between them
that he
could trust her. He could sense her thoughts, even
if he
couldn't understand what she was thinking. He
wanted to
follow her everywhere.
 Still, Linda had to keep an eye on him as they
entered a crowded sidewalk, alongside a busy
street. She
led him across the street to a large park near the
hotel,
which was all but deserted. It was a good place to
just
walk around and think.
 Think about what led her here.
 So much had happened in the past three weeks,
since
the incident at the football field. Incident --
that was
a comfortable choice of words. A euphemism. She
would
never get over this if she hid behind comfortable
thoughts, belittling the horror of what she had
done.
Face up to it, girl, as her college friend Mary
would
have told her. It had been three weeks since you
lost all
respect for yourself, for your friends, for the
world,
when you got up on a stage and acted like a bitch
in
heat, for all the world to see.
 Linda shivered. She couldn't swallow the guilt.
She
rationalized that she didn't take off her clothes;

someone else did that for her. And she didn't
broadcast
those images over all the world; that was the
media's
doing.
 But even if she didn't commit the crime alone,
Linda
knew that she was an accomplice. And what scared
Linda
the most was that she wasn't entirely ashamed.
Part of
her had always ached for this kind of attention.
She had
appeased this perverse hunger with small
indulgences. At
first, not wearing panties or a bra was enough.
Then she
wore tiny skirts, and tight tops. But these
indulgences
merely increased her perverse appetite, leading
her into
several sexual adventures and a secret life as an
exotic
dancer, where she had sated her passions, until
her
palate grew wilder.
 Linda felt dizzy and she leaned against a tree.
Her
shame and stress was like poison in her body. She
fell to
her knees and retched, trying to evacuate her
burdened
soul, but she could get no relief. As much as she
hated
to admit it, the poison was a part of her. She had
always
been a shy girl, afraid of attention, yet she
never hid
from it. She had always hated crowds -- unless
they were
watching her. In fact, she would probably be a
shut-in,
if not for the attention her body craved.  Now
this
hunger inside her had grown into a sex monster,
and it
was too much for her to handle the contradiction.
 It was also too much for the world to handle. For

the past several years, parents pointed to
Supergirl as a
model for their daughters. She was powerful, she
was
beautiful, she was special. Linda mistakenly
thought that
she was like a celebrity, but she didn't quite
understand
until a few weeks ago -- until Andrew explained it
to
her: Supergirl was not a person, as far as the
world was
concerned.
 Supergirl was an animal, a girl of steel, an
alien,
an angel, an icon of femininity, a demon, a Siren,
a
goddess. For several years, she and Superman were
glorified in the press as the embodiment of Truth,

Justice and the American Way.
 So when that embodiment stood before the world,
stark naked, exuding raw sexuality, America
struggled to
find meaning in her act. Was she the Whore of
Babylon or
the Goddess of Love? Was she an example to follow
or to
condemn? Would fucking her be like heaven or hell?

 Andrew predicted the chaos and confusion that
followed. Hundreds of women and girls, inspired by

Supergirl, saw fit to walk the streets of
Metropolis nude
or semi-nude. Miniskirts were suddenly back in
fashion
with a vengeance, especially among teenagers, who
were
turning Supergirl's unveiling on a football field
into a
ritual. The public enthusiastically assigned to
Supergirl
blame or credit, while the media poked at the
tinder,
sending the flames higher. One newscaster
proclaimed that
Supergirl would either raise eroticism to
respectability,
or she would be destroyed by her own sexuality.
Only time
would tell.
 Linda tried to hide until the craze blew over, if
it
ever did, but the media hunted her like hungry
wolves,
following a trail that led from the Kindling Klub
to her
home.
 Linda Lee died that Tuesday, when her life story
was
told on the network news. The anchors interviewed
her
professors from college ("Linda was a quiet but
bright
student"), and some of the people she hung around
with
("Yeah, I did her").
 Now Linda felt as lost and alone as when she
first
arrived on Earth, and none of her friends could
help her.
Even worse, they actually seemed afraid of her.
 Clark called her on the phone, to give her
comfort
and forgiveness for everything she had done, but
he
wasn't out of danger himself, and he couldn't risk
being
seen with her.
 Linda moved in with Andrew for a several days,
before the SSA began pressuring him to turn her
in. He
told her: "I've done all I can do, but now you
need to
disappear for a while. Find an apartment
somewhere,
preferably outside the city. Stay away from the
media,
and eventually things will return to normal."
 She doubted things would ever seem normal again,
but
she packed up some clothes and took Calvin with
her, in
search of a new home. She didn’t even tell Andrew
or
Clark where she was going. She didn't want to be a
burden
or to seek their protection. She didn't feel she
deserved
friends like them.
 Wherever she went, she was afraid that someone
would
recognize her. No one could watch TV, buy a
magazine or
surf the net without seeing her face, or another
part of
her body. Changing her hair color wasn't enough
anymore.
For once, her shy personality won out over the
exhibitionist, and she wore a long skirt, brown
boots and
a loose sweater. A pair of sunglasses and a 70's
style
hairdo completed the disguise. Linda Danvers
looked more
like a school teacher than a sex goddess. Her
public
image was so much larger than life, yet she was in

reality a rather slight woman. A few people stared
for
more than a second or two, but no one confronted
her.
 She was feeling quite down and without hope, as
she
entered a train station. There were departures
heading
north, south, east and west. She wanted to leave
Metropolis, and she didn't care where, but she
couldn't
decide. She needed a plan. She just sat down on a
bench
inside the station, petting Calvin, while she
watched a
giant TV in the company of a hundred other people.
They
were waiting for a ride, she was waiting for
inspiration
-- a voice to tell her where to go.
 The TV was set to Cable Network News, and of
course,
Supergirl was always the lead story. Linda covered
her
face, as CNN presented a picture of herself she
hadn't
seen before. Apparently, one of Linda Lee's fans
snapped
her picture at the Kindling Klub a few months
back. Linda
was bent over, while a cop pushed his billy club
into her
pussy. The photo was quite fuzzy, and her face was
just
barely visible, but Linda was the only dancer to
ever
perform stunts like that. It was her.
 One woman sitting near Linda said: "Jeez, just
look
at that whore..."
 And everyone did look. As long as people
continued
to watch, the networks would search for new
pictures to
show, and show the old pictures again, just in
case
someone awoke from a coma and hadn't seen them
yet. The
networks had the opportunity to legally show a
naked
woman on television, and they would make the most
of it
until the law changed, or people stopped watching,
or
they ran out of pictures.
 The current segment expounded on religious
perspectives concerning Supergirl's sexuality. The
anchor
was interviewing a minister from Metropolis, a
rabbi from
Gotham, and a self-proclaimed witch from Salem.
 The rabbi was indifferent to the craze, cracking
jokes, and saying this was a non-news item. "Let’s
get
back to the real issues, like what are we gonna do
about
the raging vigilante problem?"
 The minister said that Supergirl was a lost soul
who
needed saving. "Jesus is the savior of humans and
Kryptonians alike. The real evil lies in news
shows like
this . . ."
 "Thank you Reverend," the anchor cut in. "And
now,
would you enlighten us with the Wiccan
perspective,
Zatanna?"
 The camera zoomed in on a young lady, with a
backdrop of the Hawthorne Hotel. Zatanna wore a
black
silken top; her hardened nipples peeked through
the
fabric. Her black tights were ultra sheer, with an

embedded fishnet pattern. She wasn't wearing any
underwear, but the fishnet hid the details. A
month ago,
her clothing would have been considered daring in
the
least. Today, no one raised an eyebrow.
 Zatanna spoke without a smile, and the dark eye
shadow she wore had an eerie effect. "You are all
skirting the issue, as though you are afraid of
something. You are afraid of the feelings inside
you,
because you don't know what they mean. You don't
understand that itching, that need to see more,
that hope
to feel more. You can pretend that you aren't
affected,
but you can't stop thinking about her. Kara from
Krypton
has done far more than undress before you. She has
put
the world under a spell."
 "Oh, rubbish," the woman sitting near Linda at
the
train station muttered. "I've had enough of this
filth.
Why don't they . . ." Her voice trailed off, as
she
squinted at the TV screen and shook her head.  It
was yet
another XXX picture of Linda performing at the
Kindling
Klub.
 Linda looked around her, and she saw that Zatanna

was right! All eyes were glued to the screen. All
faces,
men and women, had a blank, anxious glint in their
eyes.
They needed to see more, and Linda doubted that
the
authenticity of the photo mattered, as long as
they
thought they were seeing Supergirl.
 And Zatanna knew! She knew what was going on!
Linda's heart leaped and for the first time in
weeks, she
felt a sense of direction and hope.  She got her
ass off
the bench and bought the first ticket to Boston,
and took
the subway from there to Salem.
 Now, hours later, she felt stupid, coming here
with
nothing planned, and no place to stay. Did she get
her
hopes up for no reason? What if she couldn't even
find
this "Zatanna" woman ? What if she was just a
quack?
 She walked around Salem Common at least twice,
thinking that she would take that lady at the
Hotel up on
her offer -- to sneak Calvin in unnoticed -- when
a dim,
flickering light caught Linda’s attention. She
stood
perfectly still, caught between fear and hope. The
light
was coming from the pagoda at the center of the
park,
like a lighthouse over an ocean of darkness ...

 Zatanna sat cross-legged, and stared into the
flame
of a candle. The image of the Sun's Beloved was
etched in
her mind, and she no longer needed the photograph
to
focus her energy. She scried into the flickering
fire and
saw the future.
 The goddess was near. Zatanna could feel her.
 She rubbed her fingers together, mixing the dried

blood and strands of hair together, and touched
her lips.
"Arak emoc," she cried out, swaying her head,
exposing
her neck to the darkness, as she licked the
goddess'
seasoning from her finger tips.  Her hand fell
from her
lips to her chest and swept over her body in
clockwise
circles. Her other hand fell into her lap, and her
finger
snaked through a secret entrance in her tights.
"Oh, arak
emoc!"
 Zatanna collapsed and lay sprawled out within her

circle, sweat on her brow and a smile on her face.
Her
message had gotten through. She was sure of it.
But she
wasn't expecting an answer to her calling so soon.

 She opened her eyes and stared through the
structure's portal at the twinkling stars hanging
over
Salem's night sky. A form climbed the pagoda's
steps,
blocking her view. Zatanna drew her legs tightly
together
and propped herself onto an elbow. For a moment,
she
doubted herself -- after all, she had never
summoned a
goddess before. The figure standing over her was
an
earthly Salemite, no doubt. A mere passerby.
Another
witch, or a friend. A police officer, who had been

alerted to her pagan rituals.
 A moment of silence passed, and Zatanna could
feel
the personal energy around the silhouette. It was
awesome. And Zatanna doubted herself. Who was she
to
contact a goddess? Who was she to command such
power? If
Zatanna hesitated any longer, the goddess might
fly away.
Who was she? How could she forget her own name!
She was
Zatanna!
 In one quick move, she was on her feet, eye to
eye
with the Sun's Beloved. Zatanna raised her chin
high. She
wasn't a tall woman, but even in bare feet, she
was two
inches taller than the goddess. Her confidence
soared.
 Linda's eyes lit up with recognition, and then
looked away in embarrassment when she considered
what
Zatanna was doing within her circle. She could
smell
Zatanna's excitement in the air, and see the
proof: a
dark stain between Zatanna's legs. "I'm sorry, I
didn't
mean to see you doing ... that. I was looking for.
. ."
Linda's voice trailed off in uncertainty.
 Zatanna put a hand on Linda's shoulder,
immobilizing
her, as Zatanna finished Linda's thought: "You
were
looking for the truth, weren't you? So why look
away now
in shame? What you saw was the truth. Passion.
Desire.
Feelings you are familiar with. Feelings you exude
with
every breath."
 "No!" Linda shook her head, trying to deny it. "I

don't want that any more."
 Zatanna smiled. "You want it, but you are afraid.

You are afraid to let the goddess in you loose.
You are
afraid of your potential. You are afraid of losing

control. But you were never in control, were you?
There
was always some amateur recklessly playing with
the fire.
But I'm no amateur. In the right hands, you'll be
very
user-friendly."
 Linda was like a computer mouse under Zatanna's
finger tips. With no force at all, Zatanna's
dragged
Linda into her circle and backed her into the
railing of
the pagoda.
 "You know me?" Linda asked, shivering under
Zatanna's fingertips, she felt her body reacting
against
her will. Was Zatanna telling the truth, and Linda
had no
will at all?
 Zatanna's fingers moved up from Linda's shoulder
to
frame her face and familiarize herself with
Linda's
software. "I know you better than you know
yourself."
 "Who am I?" Linda asked desperately, shying away
from Zatanna's probing eyes.
 Zatanna touched Linda's dyed, permed hair, and
replied, "You know who you are, but you are
hiding."
Zatanna shook her head disapprovingly as her
fingers
surfed over Linda's heavy sweater and long woolen
skirt.
 "*What* am I?" Linda pleaded, while staring into
Zatanna's hypnotic eyes. Linda felt like she was
falling,
so she grabbed the railing for support.
 "You know what you are, " Zatanna whispered as
her
hand dove beneath Linda's skirt and dragged up her
thigh.
"You can pretend you don't know, but underneath,
you
don't even try to hide. Soft, wet, hot, and naked.
You
are fire, and a fire cannot control itself. Do you
really
want to know what you are? Let me show you."
 Zatanna's finger found Linda's button and double
clicked.
 "Arak otni sannataz smra peels. Ot flesruoy
rednerrus. "

 At the Daily Planet, Clark Kent kept his office
locked. He paced around anxiously, filled with
worry,
after Andrew called about an hour ago. Linda had
left
without a trace. He mentioned that she was very
upset. He
said he would call back when his agents found her
again.
That was five hours ago.
 "Damn you, Linda," Clark muttered under his
breath,
almost as angry as he was worried. After
everything he
had done for Linda over the years, she had never
given
him a moment of peace. In his twisted state of
mind, he
could only remember the screw-ups. It was almost
like she
was trying to destroy herself. The Cuban fiasco.
The
skirt-flirting. The exhibition in Midvale. The
definitive
performance at the Kindling Klub; she almost took
Clark
down with her in that disaster.
 What if she went that final step towards self-
destruction? That's what scared him the most. She
had
been feeling terribly lost and confused lately --
who
knew what she would do?
 And how would Clark live with himself? Maybe he
should have told her something. Maybe he could
have done
more for her, if he just opened up to her, instead
of
acting like a big brother all the time.
 "Damn you Linda," he repeated, "for making me
care
so much."
 The phone rang on his desk.
 "Kent," he answered sharply.
 "I'm at the hospital," Andrew replied.
 Clark's heart stopped in fear. Then it skipped a
beat, and he fell against the desk when Andrew
finished
what he had to say.

 Linda awoke to a furry paw batting in her face
and a
worried meow.
 She opened her eyes slowly and smiled like she
might
to a crying child. "Oh, hi there, boy. What's
wrong?" she
whispered, and rubbed Calvin on the scruff.
 Then her smile dropped as she looked around her.
 "Oh, here we go again!" she exclaimed while
sitting
up, realizing that she didn't have a clue to where
she
was. She didn't even know if it was night or day.
"Why
can't I ever sleep without the whole world
changing
around me?"
 She was lying naked on a circular bed of black
furs
and black sheets. She was confused for a moment,
because
she didn't exactly feel naked. She didn't exactly
feel
clothed, either. Her body glowed like satin, and
she felt
warm, like she was lying in the sunlight. Then she

understood. Someone had anointed her body with
oils while
she had slept, and had rubbed it into her skin.
Someone
had done a very thorough job, she noted, as she
examined
between her toes and even the crack of her ass.
Her hair
was moist, but not with oil. Someone had washed
the dye
from her hair, returning it to it's natural
blonde.
 Mirrors surrounded the room, and when she looked
up
at the ceiling, she was looking down at herself.
Her body
glowed like a heavenly body against the black
background.
Like a jem on display. Like a fire in the night.
 Ok, she decided, this is just a little too
strange.
She stepped out of bed and looked around for her
clothes.
No such luck. The small room didn't even have a
bureau or
a closet. The room was empty, except for the
circular
bed, a fold-up chair, and a small bedside table,
covered
with vials, bowls, candles and a well-worn leather
bound
book titled: Book of Shadows.
 Linda leafed through the pages briefly, finding
various references to oils and magical stones, and
a
whole section handwritten in a language she
couldn't
understand. She carefully closed the book and
positioned
it exactly as she found it.
 She turned her attention to the vials, which
contained clear liquids with the slightest hint of
color
and strong scents. Each vial was identified by a
small
white label. Some labels were falling off. Others
were
discolored, so the words penciled on them were
almost
unreadable. Linda squinted and sounded out the
words
aloud. "Vanilla . . . Musk . . . Dragon's blood?"
 "Oils," a voice said, startling her. Zatanna was
standing at the entrance to the room, which was
merely a
curtain. "It's just an exotic name. We didn’t kill
a
dragon to get it. What are you doing out of bed?"
Zatanna
made a subtle hand gesture and said. "Arak no
elcric yal.
Ot flesruoy rednerrus."
 Calvin lept from the bed, as Linda settled on the

furs and lay on her back. Unconsciously, she
parted her
legs and showcased her body. Consciously, she
asked,
"Where are my clothes?"
 Zatanna shrugged, as she moved closer. "They
didn't
suit you. You've spent so much time hiding behind
clothes
and costumes, while the goddess within you wanted
to get
out. This is all you'll want for clothing and a
costume
from now on."
 Zatanna held a stunning necklace in her hand. The

chain of delicate gold links led to an ornament
with a
golden pentagram shaped base. A single tiny
diamond
accented each of the five corners, and the red
sunstones
mounted within formed a pattern. It was a
variation on
her costume's S-symbol.
 Linda lifted her head from the bed and shivered,
as
Zatanna put the gift around her neck. Her whole
body
reacted, and she couldn't understand why. She felt
very
warm inside. Maybe she was feeling gratitude?
"Thank
you," she replied. "But I can't accept this. It's
too
expensive."
 "You have already accepted it," Zatanna said with
a
smile and an admiring glance. "Cost doesn't
matter, as
long as it's the right gift. The right gift to the
right
goddess."
 Linda giggled, feeling like this was a game.
"Goddess? Why did you call me that? I am not a
goddess.
You are the one with all the power. I'm just
laying here.
What kind of goddess does that make me?"
 "The reluctant kind." Zatanna moved closer to
Linda,
and she felt her confidence waver. "The kind that
stumbles into her own fate."
 Linda bit her lip in anticipation, as Zatanna
dipped
her hand into a bowl of oil and drew tiny circles
around
Linda's nipples with her dripping fingertips.
Linda held
her breath. Weakly, in the back of her mind, she
argued
with herself. She sensed that she was a prisoner
here, if
not by force then by mind control. Maybe she
should
resist. But there was something in these oils that

excited her skin, awakening her passion, stealing
her
will; Linda reached out to push Zatanna away,
before her
will was completely gone. But rather than pushing
her
away, Linda found herself feeling Zatanna's body
through
her silk blouse. She urged Zatanna closer. Linda
wasn't
losing her will at all; she was losing her
resistance.
 Zatanna's hands were shaking. Linda could see the

reaction in Zatanna's eyes, mirroring her own.
"How can
you think that you don't have any power over me?"
Zatanna
whispered passionately, as she kneeled one knee on
the
bed, and drained the remaining oil from the bowl
onto
Linda's breasts. "Can't you hear it in my voice?"
 Yes, Linda could hear her passion. And that made
Linda feel weaker and burn with a growing energy.
Zatanna
had all the control, while Linda lay paralyzed. Or
so it
seemed.
 Zatanna touched Linda's cheek with one hand,
while
her other hand massaged Linda's breasts, rubbing
the oil
into her already saturated skin, sliding over her
sleek
belly, caressing down her side, pausing over her
hips,
then stroking up her thighs on the inside, towards
her
pussy. "Can't you feel it in my fingers?"
 Linda's eyes were tiny slits, as she parted her
thighs. Her pussy was already soaked, not needing
any oil
for lubrication. Zatanna's fingers hovered just
inches
from the target, before pulling away.
 Linda squirmed and arched her back in torturous
desire. "No, please don't stop..."
 But Zatanna wasn't trying to tease Linda.
Zatanna
lifted her blouse over her head, breaking eye
contact for
barely a second or two. Her hair, which was
perfectly
combed, was now in disarray. Her eyes, once
steady, now
could barely focus. She pushed her tights down to
the
floor and stepped out of them. Her pussy was
hairless and
wet, just like Linda's. "Don't you get it yet?"
 She climbed on top of Linda and kissed her lips
to
lips, breast to breast, and legs intertwined. "I'm
just
feeding the fire," Zatanna whispered, between
kisses, as
she descended down Linda's body, kissing, tasting
and
sucking along the way. The aroma and the piquancy
of the
oils excited an ancient part of Zatanna's mind.
She put
her seasoned fingers in Linda's mouth. Linda's
hips
bucked in reaction, as Zatanna led her goddess to
her
primal source.
 "You are the keeper of the fire," Zatanna
breathed
the words out, as she climbed down off the bed.
She
kneeled before Linda's burning pussy and told: "If
you
cover a fire, it will go out. But if you feed a
fire
enough..."
 Linda screamed, and her legs wrapped around
Zatanna's shoulders, pulling her in tight, as
Zatanna
stoked the fire with her tongue. The flame was
expanding
from her core. She squirmed under the heat, while
the
rest of her body ached to be touched. She was like
a
torch, covered in oil, bursting into flames.
Zatanna's
hands pushed the flames up her body, squeezing her

breasts, while fanning the fire at it's source.
 Then finally, as Linda's mind disappeared, she
understood. There was no limit to her passion. If
you
feed a fire enough, it would keep on growing and
growing,
until...
 But just before Zatanna could fan the flames
beyond
control, a voice from outside the room stunted her
magic.
 "Hello in there!" The voice yelled. "I smell sex
and
candy. Are you sneaking into the cookie jar?"
 Zatanna was shocked back into awareness, tearing
her
psyche from Linda's.
 "Oh, no! Don't stop now!" Linda cried out,
writhing
as if in pain, when Zatanna pulled away. Linda's
body was
left burning without a flame, snuffing out her
sexual
energies in a discharge of smoke.
 Zatanna struggled to collect herself. She climbed

into the bed with Linda, held her gently and
brought her
down from her sexual high. She stared into Linda's
eyes
until Linda's gaze was steady and her mind was
coherent.
Then Zatanna said: "Dnoyeb siht eripmav kool.
Enoemos wen
teem."

 Sun and moon. Life and death. Passion and
emptiness.
Whenever these opposites meet, nature succumbs to
magic.
The elements open, and akasha is set free.
 Most people today didn't believe in magic, even
when
they saw it for their own eyes. Even when humans
flew in
the air, they would not believe in magic. Instead,
they
built a science around the untapped energy in
ordinary
sunlight to explain human flight in physical
terms.  They
called her a Super-girl, rather than see the
truth.
 But a witch knew magic when she saw it. The Sun's

love energized His beloved, not the Sun's
ultra-violet
rays. And the rhythm of the moon set her passion
free.
This was common knowledge among witches since Kara
first
arrived on Earth. By mentioning her name in a
ritual or
contemplating her image in the circle, the witches

invoked Kara's passion into their own lives.
 Yet the world at large was blind to her erotic
powers, even while her sexuality had sweeping
effects on
their everyday lives. During the goddess' first
five
years, sex therapists reported a dramatic drop in
Sexual
Arousal Disorders, attributing the change to
"causes
unknown". As Supergirl's costume grew slighter and
more
revealing, popular fashion followed the same
direction,
yet the public saw Supergirl as riding a fashion
wave
rather than causing it. A recent survey done by
Her
Choices magazine ranked Supergirl the "sexiest
woman
alive" by the widest margin in the history of the
survey,
prompting some feminists to condemn Supergirl,
since she
equated a woman's power with her sex appeal.
Others
hailed her for exactly the same reason.
 The world simply didn't get it.
 Then a few weeks ago, a "mysterious event"
occurred
in the vicinity of Metropolis, with smaller
effects
vibrating world-wide. The country awoke from it's
sleep
in a sweat. Some people reported waking from a
nightmare,
while others awoke from an orgasm. A few short
hours
later, the world learned that Supergirl nearly
died at
the teeth of a vampire. That news dominated the
media,
and the psychic response was mostly ignored as
something
in league with UFO sightings, leaving it for the
radical
magazines to explore. But no one quite understood
what
had happened.
 No one except Zatanna, who immediately made the
connection. Sun and the moon. Life and death. The
ingredients to magic. And the timing couldn't be
better.
 She spent the next several nights chanting at the

moon, summoning the vampire, with no success. The
police
in Metropolis eventually reported that the vampire
was
presumed dead, and like a fool Zatanna believed
it.
 Then one night, when the moon was full, Zatanna
awoke to a dark figure standing over her bed. His
skin
was heavily tanned from exposure to sunlight, yet
the
life-giving blood he had taken from the Sun's
Beloved had
sustained him. Kara's blood was running thin in
his
veins, and his hunger for her grew day by day. He
demanded Zatanna's help.
 Zatanna first cowered in fear and suspicion of
the
power she had summoned. But the vampire, like the
goddess, couldn't comprehend his own destiny. He
felt the
power between himself and Kara, like a nuclear
reaction.
He felt the need for her flowing through his
veins. But
he didn't understand their potential. If somehow
Zatanna
could control the situation, the power and the
good she
could do would be incalculable.

 He was just a silhouette when he entered the
room,
with the sun blazing in from behind him, partially

eclipsed by his body. But when he removed his hood
and
his cloak, Linda saw his strangely familiar face.
Dark
hair. Dark hungry eyes.  Seeing him sent her
emotions
into a tailspin, spiraling down and deep. Seeing
him made
her writhe in fear and made her want to puke. This
was a
very severe reaction to seeing someone she didn't
even
know.
 Maybe it wasn’t him making her feel that way.
Maybe
she was experiencing withdrawal from the orgasm
Zatanna
had denied her. She grabbed Zatanna and held
tightly to
her. "Oh, why did you stop? I was almost..." Linda

started, and then her body shook violently.
Backing off
from an orgasm was harder for Linda than for most
people,
but it had never been *this* hard before.
Something else
was bothering her.
 "Is she OK?" the man asked Zatanna, concern in
his
eyes...
 Zatanna shrugged, "I don't know. Maybe I brought
her
down too fast. Maybe I put too much energy in
motion to
slam on the brakes like that."
 "Why were you fucking her in the first place? I
thought the plan was to wait," he spat out, his
fangs
showing.
 Linda didn't notice. In fact, she was feeling so
bad
just then, she barely noticed that they were even
talking
about her.
 "I underestimated her sexual powers," Zatanna
replied. "I didn't realize how powerful we had
made her.
I thought I could handle it, but when she got hot,
I just
lost it."
 "I warned you," the man glared at Zatanna. "You
aren't taking this seriously enough."
 "Hey, I’m sorry, but she was so hot, *no one*
could
have resisted her just then. Even her cat looked
like he
was walking in catnip," Zatanna shot back,
laughing. Then
her smile fell, and she held Linda close to her.
"Now the
passion is gone. Funny how her mood changes
everything."
 The man's eyes softened on Linda, who still felt
awful. Her brow was covered with sweat, and she
could
barely understand a word they were saying. "She
looks
like she's really suffering," he said to Zatanna.
"Linda
told me once that she needed some kind of psychic
feedback from sex. Maybe you should have removed
that
charm you gave her and finished her off."
 Zatanna shook her head vehemently. "Now, you’re
the
one who's not taking this seriously enough. We
have only
one chance to do this right. The time is near, and
she’s
at her peak energy. Her body is ready to burn, but
we
need to get her flame started again."
 "Should be a piece of cake for a super-witch like

you, right?" he said with not a little skepticism.
"You
must have brought something along to spark the
girl's
desire. Aphrodisiacs. Wine. Chocolate."
 "No chocolate for me, thank you." Linda spoke up,

laughing and wincing at the same time. She was
amused by
the way they were discussing her emotions, as
though her
feelings were as malleable as clay. Maybe they
were,
because just the thought of sickly sweet chocolate
made
her feel even sicker.
 "We can do much better than that," Zatanna said,
rolling her eyes at the man's ignorance. She
reached onto
the table behind her and produced a jar marked
'Damiana'.
She took a leaf from the jar and handed it to him.
"Try
this instead, and put a little of yourself into
it."
 He glanced at her quizzically. "What do you
mean?"
 "Do I have to spell it out for you?" Zatanna
patted
the sheets beside Linda, indicating that he should
join
the two naked women in the circle. "Feed it to
her, and
remember, the magic is in you, not in the leaf."
 Linda watched him nervously, her heart racing
with
fear, and her belly complaining angrily. Without
thinking, she shielded her throat with her
fingertips, as
the man sat on the bed beside her.
 His woolen pants rubbed against her hip, as he
leaned over her, holding the leaf to her lips.
When he
gazed into her eyes, Linda felt the rage in her
body
changing. When he touched her cheek with his free
hand,
she parted her lips. He pushed the leaf into her
mouth
with his finger, and rubbed it against her tongue.
Minty,
Linda thought, and a little bitter.
 A shiver pulsed through her body. Her heart beat
raced in excitement, and her belly ached
longingly. She
took his hand in hers, trapping his finger in her
mouth.
Her eyes half closed.  She felt his free hand
sliding
down from her cheek to her neck. Her hair fell
away from
the two scars, which even after a month, glowed
blood red
when Linda was excited. When he touched her scars,
she
moaned softly, turning her hips towards him,
parting her
legs, and offering her pink wet pussy to feed the
appetite she saw growing in his eyes.
 He was about to accept the invitation, when
Zatanna
shoved him lightly on the shoulder, smiling, "See
what I
mean? She turns on in a heartbeat, and once you
get her
going, and she's impossible to resist."
 He pulled his hand from Linda's mouth and forced
himself to look away.
 "No!" Linda cried, reaching for him, needing his
touch to keep her from falling again. "Don't
stop!"
 "Yes, don't stop," Zatanna concurred, as she
stroked
Linda's thighs and hips. "We need to keep her
excited,
but we mustn't lose control of her or ourselves in
the
process. We can't let her come for another hour,
yet."
 "Why not?" Linda objected. She wasn't bothered
that
they were talking mysteriously about her, or that
they
were making plans involving her. What bothered her
was
that those plans did not immediately lead to
orgasm. She
then bit her lip, as the  man gently squeezed her
breasts. Zatanna stroked inside Linda’s thigh and
rubbed
against her gushing pussy. Just a few minutes ago,
she
was writhing in agony; now she was squirming in
desire.
She had never been turned on so quickly before.
Was this
magic, like they said? She spread her legs,
welcoming
Zatanna's fingers inside, but Zatanna left her
hanging,
hovering near the flower like a bee, but never
exploring
inside. Linda groaned in frustration. "Oh, God,
what are
you doing to me? Why won't you let me come?"
 "Because the time isn't right, yet, " the man
replied. "Not for me. And not for you, my sweet
goddess."
 "You think I'm a goddess, too? Some kind of sex-
goddess?" Linda asked incredulously.  "I'm just a
horny
super-girl who wants to get laid."
 "And that's all you want out of life?" Zatanna
asked
her, disappointed. "You have all these powers, and
so
much to offer the world, yet all you want to do is
'get
laid'?"
 "No," Linda defended herself. "I want to use my
powers to help people and make them happy, too ...
But I
have my own needs."
 Zatanna shook her head impatiently. "You don't
understand. You think that strength and speed are
powers,
while passion and sensitivity are needs. Yet they
all
arise from the same fire inside you. What you are
calling
needs are actually your greatest powers. "
 "Well, those great powers have destroyed my
life!"
Linda cried out. She glanced at the mirror on the
ceiling
and saw the reflection of herself. The oil on her
skin
made her whole body appear as wet as her pussy.
And the
reflection was true; that was how she felt. She
felt as
though her life was taken over by her pussy. She
shut her
eyes tight. "What good is this fire you keep
talking
about? The whole world hates me because of it!"
 "That's not true, and you should never be ashamed
of
the gift you have," the man replied with
tenderness in
his eyes. He caressed her face. "I was dead before
I met
you, but you have given me life. That fire doesn't
stay
inside of you; it touches everyone you share it
with."
 "Your feelings touch the whole world," Zatanna
continued. "Haven't you read any of the
newspapers?
Haven't you noticed how the crime rate fell during
the
hours when you were dancing at the strip bar? Did
you
ever wonder why no one complained, no matter how
revealing your costume got? Or that no one, not
even gay
men, ever argues about how sexy you are? Did you
ever
wonder why the whole world squealed in delight,
when you
finally took it all off on that football field --
or why
everyone has been burning in desire ever since to
see
more?"
 "They've been burning with desire for me?" Linda
asked. "I don't know if that's good thing or a bad

thing."
 "Like any power, it depends on how you use it,"
Zatanna answered. "Your body has been sending
signals to
you all along, yet you've been fighting with
yourself,
against your body and against your destiny. And
those
negative feelings vibrate through the whole world.

Sometimes people feel frustrated, and they don’t
know
why. Sometimes they feel happy, for no good
reason. Now
they are dimly aware that you play a role in their
lives.
They may resent it, and they may envy you, but
they are
all fascinated. You have captured their
consciousness.
Isn’t that what it means to be a goddess? But with
all
this power comes responsibility. When something
feels
good, you have a special obligation to enjoy
yourself,
and share that feeling with those around you."
 Linda stared wide eyed at Zatanna, as if she was
crazy, but everything she had said rang true.
 Linda looked up again at her reflection. Was that

the image of a goddess? Her body glowed from
within, and
her pussy expressed its pleasure at Zatanna's
fingertips.
The image told the truth, and was that really
worse than
the other images she gave to the world? She
pretended to
be so many things, afraid to show the passion
inside her,
and never wanting to disappoint her friends. But
she had
never felt as at home with herself as when she
danced at
the Kindling Klub, sharing herself openly. The
passion
was all that mattered, then. The feelings of
loving and
of being loved, even if it was with a stranger.
There
were no pretenses and no conditions to that love.
Just
the pure emotion, with nothing held back and
nothing
hidden. Was that the image of a goddess?
 "Maybe you are right," Linda purred at her naked
teacher, starting to see her life in a new light
and with
a new confidence. While running a finger lightly
up
Zatanna's thigh, and then pausing to test the
waters
before dipping in. "Maybe I should enjoy myself
and share
that feeling with you right now. Won't that be a
good
thing?"
 Zatanna tensed in anticipation, yet urged Linda’s

finger away.
 "It will be a much better thing if we wait an
hour,"
the man replied.
 "Why? What happens in an hour?" Linda asked
impatiently.
 Zatanna and the man looked at each other,
surprised
she didn't know. It was the second biggest news
story,
after Supergirl herself.
 "What happens in an hour?" Zatanna repeated the
question with a look of wonder in her eyes. "Why,
something that only happens once in a very long
time."

 Clark was sitting at his desk, staring at a book
called "Legends of the Sun and the Moon."
 It was almost the middle of the day, yet the
offices
of the Daily Planet were mostly empty. Many
reporters
were scouring about looking for more dirt to print
on
Supergirl. Others were preparing for the solar
eclipse
that would begin in less than an hour, and which
was
generating more public interest than expected.
 Eclipses, especially total solar eclipses, where
the
moon blocks the light of the sun, were extremely
rare.
Most people never see more than one in their
lifetime.
And the climax, when the eclipse reaches totality,
lasts
only five minutes. That made it a very special
astronomical event.
 And that was also where the media dropped the
ball -
- by assuming that the phenomenon's appeal was
related to
science. They underestimated society's
superstitious
nature.  Solar eclipses played major roles in
almost
every religion. Many faiths prophesied that an
eclipse
near the millenium would mark the end of the
world. Even
the darkness that swept the land when Jesus died
was
presumed to be a solar eclipse. Eclipses always
seemed to
accompany amazing events. Often amazing and
terrible
events.
 Clark closed the book, and rubbed his eyes.
Although
the subject matter was fascinating, his mind was
elsewhere. He had real problems to deal with. He
eyes
were tired from lack of sleep, as he waited for a
call
from Andrew or from *anyone,* telling him where
Linda was.
Telling him that Linda was alright.
 She had caused him a world of grief, but he
couldn't
turn his back on her now. He had felt responsible
for her
since the day she had first arrived on Earth as a
refugee
and as an orphan from a dead planet. He had never
met
anyone who felt so lost and alone. Clark did
everything
he could to help her and to guide her way, but
life had
dealt her a particularly cruel hand. She was
always
struggling just to find some meaning and purpose
for her
existence, and if she created a little havoc here
and
there while she searched, Clark couldn't blame her
for
that.
 And of course, he couldn't blame her for the
things
*he* did to cause havoc. The disaster at the
Kindling Klub
was as much his fault as hers. He needed to tell
her
that. He needed to tell her a lot of things.
 Across the office, at the main desk, a phone
rang.
Clark transferred the call to his desk, since the
clerk
who usually answered the phone was away.
 "Daily Planet," Clark greeted.
 A woman's voice spoke through static on the other

end. Clark picked up on her New England accent. "A
major
story is about to break in old Salem," the voice
spoke
quickly, as if by rote. "Send a crew with a
camera."
 Clark replied casually. "We don't respond to
crank
calls. What is this story about, anyway?"
 The voice said something quickly that Clark
couldn't
understand. The words didn't even sound like
English.
Then she said, "Let's just say it involves both of

today's headlines. This is a message from the
Witches of
Salem to the world."
 Then the line went dead.
 Clark didn't know what to think, but somehow he
knew
the call was for real. He looked at today's Daily
Planet
neatly folded on his desk, and on the first page
was a
picture of Supergirl.
 Clark touched his brow and shook his head. "Oh,
dear
Linda, what are you getting into now..."

 "Tell me your most secret fantasy," the man
demanded, while torturing Linda with his
fingertips,
keeping her on the edge. "Tell me what is still
taboo and
terrifying and virgin. Tell me what you don't want

anyone, anywhere to know."
 Linda shook her head, as if fighting the torture.

How could he even ask a question like that? But
she
wanted to tell him. There was something in his
eyes and
his touch. Something familiar. Something ravenous.
"You
promise not to tell anyone?"
 "I won't tell a soul," he replied, then he sucked
on
her nipple, grazing it with his teeth.
 Linda closed her eyes and pulled him in tight.
She
was too excited to feel fear or caution. "I want
to be
fucked up the ass," she said with a wicked smile.
 "Oh, you little minx!" he teased, rubbing her
asshole with his fingertip. Linda moaned, while
trying to
explain. "No one's ever fucked me up the ass
before,
because, well, it's so tight. But it feels so
empty, too.
Nothing ever goes in, and nothing ever comes out."

 "Nothing?"
 "There are some private things about my powers I
don't like to talk about," Linda replied
evasively,
trying to think of a gentle way to put it. "My
body
doesn't make any waste."
 "Oh, no shit?" He replied, startled.
 Linda shrugged, thinking she just weirded him
out.
 But she had only made him curious. He climbed
between her legs for a better look at this tiny
wonder,
but with the feast laid out before him, he could
barely
decide what to taste first. When in doubt, go for
the
desert, which was melting all over the main
course. He
licked off the excess. "Mmm, tastes just like
peach pie,
and your nipples are like strawberries. You smell
like .
. . I don't know. Damn good! Is there anything
about your
body that isn't perfect?"
 Linda licked her lips in anticipation. "You tell
me."
 "Tell her later," Zatanna said at the door. She
had
left them alone for just a few minutes, while she
made
phone calls. She dropped the cellular on the
table, and
sat beside Linda on the bed. "I knew I couldn't
trust the
two of you together, especially at a time like
this."
 "Oh, please, let him finish me!" Linda cried.
They
had been torturing her with their restraint for
what
seemed like an eternity, and she didn't think she
could
take it much longer.
 "Just hold on a few minutes longer," Zatanna
replied, while fondling Linda's breasts and
thighs,
keeping Linda's sexual energy high. Zatanna was
wearing
her clothes again, but to very little effect. Her
blouse
clung to her sweaty body, and her wet pussy glowed
behind
the fishnets. "Everything is in place. It's almost
time."
 Zatanna stared at Linda with an almost crazed
look
in her eyes. Zatanna's excitement was more than
sexual.
She was about to get her five minutes of fame.
 Linda's fame would last much longer. She didn't
understand it all, but she knew that much. She bit
her
lip and closed her eyes, and she thought about
what
Zatanna had told her. Linda wished she had more
time to
decide. She usually regretted decisions made in
the heat
of passion, but as Zatanna had said, these
eclipses occur
only once in a very long time.
 "What happens next?" Linda asked, needing
reassurance.
 Zatanna closed her eyes and orated, mostly
reinforcing what she had said before. "Your body
vibrates
with the power of the Sun and the passion of the
Moon.
When those two forces combine, vibrating together,
Sun
into the Moon, all of that passion and power that
has
been building up inside you will be set free. Your

consciousness will bind the consciousness of the
world.
Your passion will ignite the passion in us all.
Your
image will fill our minds. And your sacrifice will
make
that bond eternal."
 "My image? What sacrifice?" Linda asked, when
suddenly she gasped. Her body squirmed
involuntarily, as
though consumed by a fever, and she felt a dull,
throbbing need in the void of her belly. "What's
happening?"
 "The Sun and the Moon are touching. It is time to

begin."
 Zatanna took her Book Of Shadows from the table,
then walked toward the curtain to leave the room.
The man
donned his cloak and hood, and he followed her.
 "Why are you putting those clothes on? Where are
you
going?" Linda complained. "Oh, please! Don't leave
me
alone! Not now!"
 "I would never dream of leaving you alone,"
Zatanna
said, and then she yelled out the door, "OK, take
them
away!"
 Linda sat up quickly, as sunlight poured into the

room, and the walls began to move. If Linda had
looked
closely at the walls, she would have seen the
mirrors
were on wheels. In fact, the room wasn't a room at
all.
It was more like a stall used in a market, or
something
fortune tellers might use in at a carnival. Within

seconds, two large men, each wearing witchcraft
symbols,
pushed the walls and the ceiling away, and Linda
found
herself lying naked on the black circle in the
middle of
Salem Common. Just a few feet behind her were the
steps
to the pagoda, where she met Zatanna last night.
Everywhere else she looked were cameras and hungry
eyes.

 For a moment, the crowd was silent. No one had
expected this. The witches merely said that
Supergirl
would make an appearance, and the reporters
thought she
would just read a prepared statement, expressing
her
regret over the way she had behaved in recent
weeks. That
would have been news all by itself, since
Supergirl
hadn't been seen or heard from in weeks.
 But they wondered about that mysterious black
stall,
just sitting there in the empty park. Only the
witches
seemed to know anything about it, and they weren't

talking. Nor were they letting anyone get close.
Until
finally the word was given, and the box opened up,

revealing the glistening body of well-oiled
Supergirl
inside, gleaming like a diamond on a bed of black.
An
offering to the world.
 The police argued with each other, unsure if they

should do anything, as the blonde bombshell
explosively
disturbed the peace.
 The reporters were much better prepared.
 "Get in closer!" yelled one, determined to get
the
best photos.
 "I don't care about the fucking eclipse!" yelled
another, "Just feed me in live!"
 Antennae pointed at the sky, where the Sun was
connecting with the Moon, and satellites were
connecting
Salem with the rest of the world.
 Clark, dressed as Superman, had just arrived at
the
scene, and he watched in stunned disbelief.  He
didn't
know what to think or how to feel. What was going
on?
Linda had felt so ashamed and apologetic the last
time he
saw her, yet here she was, redefining the term
exhibitionist, relishing in fame or notoriety,
whatever
may be . He wondered how could it get any worse.
But with
Linda, anything was possible. He had to save her
from
herself.
 He marched towards the circle, pushing reporters
out
of his way, where he was met by Zatanna.
"Superman! What
are you doing?" she asked him urgently.
 "I'm gonna put a stop to this," he said, never
slowing his pace as he answered her.
 But Zatanna forced herself in front of him,
catching
his attention for just an instant, which was all
she
needed. "Tiaw thgir ereh! Soon she will
understand. The
Sun's Beloved must decide her own destiny."
 Superman stopped in his tracks and considered. He

didn't have a right to interfere. Maybe Linda
would even
be upset with him if he tried. Maybe she really
wanted
this. His shoulders slumped. He felt confused. He
felt
powerless.

 When the witches pushed the mirrored walls away,
they knocked over the table beside the circular
bed. It
fell over with a loud crash. Then, for a brief
moment,
complete silence.
 Linda sank into the sheets, as the crowd came to
life and charged towards her. Bulbs flashed.
Cameras were
rolling. One man was leaning a television camera
out from
within the pagoda, almost directly over her.
Others stood
just a few feet away, immortalizing the moment. No
more
teasing. No more skirt flirting. She didn't even
have to
perform to feed their desire. She just had to be
who she
was. A contradiction. A jewel that burns from the
inside.
A mystery that grows when revealed. A shy woman
who would
capture the attentions of the world.
 Many of the witches in the crowd were
celebrating.
Some were tearing off their own clothes. Some were

kneeling on the ground, as if praying. Praying to
their
goddess.
 And Linda, who should have been afraid or at
least
self-conscious, had no more patience for shame.
She
closed her eyes and took it all in. Her body was
on fire.
She could feel the passion growing, both their
passion
and hers, and she wanted to join with them, just
as
Zatanna had promised. She wanted to bind their
consciousness. She wanted to fill their fantasies
with
images of her.  Her body glowed, not just from the

sunlight and the oil, but from a force inside her,

leaving her weak, while energizing those around
her.
 Zatanna stood before the crowd, holding a
microphone
in her hand like a magic wand. "Ta arak ezag dna
rednow,"
she said, her voice carrying over the loudspeakers
and
over the airwaves. "Behold! The body of the
goddess!
Feast with your eyes! Drink with your hearts!"
 As the crowd ventured closer, Linda spread her
legs,
welcoming them. She arched her back, so that her
breasts
perked up into the sunlight. She threw her head to
one
side, exposing her neck, while she gripped the
sheets
with her hands. As a stripper, she always sensed
when the
audience was excited, and that sense was never
stronger
than it was right now. She knew their eyes were
glued to
her fingertips, as they slid down her belly,
towards her
pussy. She felt her audience urging her fingers
on.
 Until she wasn't sure who was controlling her
hand
anymore.
 "Give us a look inside, Supergirl," asked one of
a
dozen photographers.
 Linda nodded breathlessly and moaned. She held
her
pussy open between trembling fingertips. Her hips
bucked,
but she was not even near a plateau, yet.
Something was
keeping her from coming.
 "Finger-fuck that cunt!" said another
breathlessly.
"Yes, that's it!"
 Then someone else touched her, very lightly, on
the
knee.
 Linda squirmed and twisted, like a fish burning
on
the beach. She was so hot, she could barely see.
"Take
me," Linda pleaded.
 "What?"
 "Eat me!" Linda cried desperately. "Please, take
my
body!"
 And they hesitated, not for lack of desire, but
they
simply weren't ready to partake of the goddess.
The world
was watching. Their bosses, coworkers, maybe even
spouses
would be watching, too.
 And everyone watching TV sets around the world
were
wishing they were in Salem and had the same
opportunity.
All the rules were thrown out the window at this
moment.
Later they would wonder if the decision was even
theirs
to make.
 Finally, someone answered Linda's call. Linda
didn't
see who it was. She didn't even look. She just
felt the
stranger's tongue fill the void between her legs,
drinking Linda's sweet wine, and setting the
celebration
in motion. Linda pulled his face in tight and
rejoiced at
the ministrations of the well trained tongue,
which drank
deeply from her chalice.
 But the wine only whetted his appetite. "Oh,
yes!"
Linda cried, as he attacked her pussy with his
whole
mouth, licking, sucking, even biting, while
squeezing her
ass. Her legs fell weakly on his shoulders as he
ate her
out. She felt like a sandwich in the hands of a
starving
laborer.
 Linda's fingers drifted up to her breasts, as the

rest of her body demanded stimulation. Then her
hands
were torn away, as others in the crowd demanded a
taste
of her as well.  Suddenly, she felt lips and
tongues
pleasing each of her breasts. Long tresses of a
woman's
hair tickled her belly. Kisses on her arms and
hands,
sucking on her fingers. Teeth biting into her
thighs.
Linda gazed up at the fading sun. The crowd was
devouring
her as if Linda would be their last supper.
 Yet still, somehow, she felt no release. The fire

just kept growing and growing . . .
 Two big hands grabbed her head and pulled her
face
over the edge of the bed. Her body was contorted,
yanked
this way and that, but all pain seemed like
pleasure to
her then. She didn't see the dick until it slammed
into
her mouth. She started to gag before it slammed in
again.
She wanted to slow him down, but she couldn't
remove her
hands from the grasp of her other lovers. She
could
barely even breathe, as he pumped her throat with
bone-
like flesh, until he erupted, invading her with
the taste
of him. His rough grasp turned gentle, and now he
held
her head carefully, as she sucked the fire out of
him.
 Linda sucked hard, as if she could suck his
release
into herself. Her eyes glazed, and her anxiety was

unbearable, as the crowd worked her into a frenzy,
yet
she still couldn't come.
 Then, as if someone was pulling a giant curtain
overhead, the blue sky faded to black, and day
faded
quickly to night. The edge of the Sun formed a
crescent
of flickering, brilliant beads, before totality.
Now, the
Sun was just a stunning, fiery halo of white and
red
around the dominating Moon. The heavens were an
awe-
inspiring mix of light and darkness.
 Linda's lovers stood back in awe, as a chill
filled
the air. The witches stopped their erotic
celebrations.
The insane festivity faded to a solemn silence.
 Calvin leapt onto the bed beside his master. He
scratched at the sheets, and then raised a clawed
paw at
the sky, caterwauling at the spectacle.
 Linda twisted on her bed quietly, feeling the
energy
change around her, as a dark figure appeared from
out of
her peripheral vision and climbed up onto the
circle with
her, kneeling between her wide-spread legs.
 His hooded head eclipsed the eclipse. He threw
off
his cloak, and all Linda could see was the
silhouette of
his naked body. His hood fell onto the sheets,
though his
face was still hidden in the darkness. Linda
didn't
recognize his shadowy face as the same man who had
teased
her and played with her emotions for nearly an
hour. For
the first time, she recognized him for who he was.

 He was Jim. The vampire. The man she had nearly
fallen in love with a month ago, during the last
new
moon. The vampire who had nearly killed her that
same
night. Adrenaline rushed through her body. Her
mind was
in a daze. A mix of overwhelming desire and
unspeakable
fear.
 Calvin hissed, then streaked away in fright.
 Linda tried to follow Calvin's example. She
rolled
out from under Jim. She fell off the bed, landing
on her
hands and knees on the paved walkway.
 Jim reached for her, but she stumbled forward,
half
crawling, half running, to the steps of the
pagoda. She
climbed the steps, making it nearly to the top,
when two
hands clamped onto her hips.
 She stopped fleeing, paralyzed by indecision.
 The hands loosened their grip, and lightly
stroked
her back and her sides, calming her fear,
reminding her
of his gentle side.
 Leaving only Linda's desire to subdue.
 Jim's hands caressed her ass, until Linda parted
her
legs slightly. He rubbed his fingers into her
pussy,
until Linda moaned, and her juices flowed freely.
Then he
spread her juices up the crack of her ass,
lubricating
her virgin anus.
 Linda tensed with fear and anticipation. She
rested
her head on the cement floor of the pagoda, and
straightened her legs on the steps, thus propping
her ass
high in the air, and flaring her buttocks. Jim
pushed a
lubricated finger into her asshole, and twisted
around
inside her, softening her entry point. Linda
squirmed in
pleasure, but she needed more stimulation. She
maneuvered
her arm under her body, and her hand between her
legs,
and fingered her dripping clit, while she looked
back at
the crowd.
 She could barely see them in the odd lighting,
but
they were gathering closer, eager to watch their
sex
goddess take it up the ass. Flashes from cameras
pierced
the darkness. When Linda squinted, she could
barely make
out several of the naked witches, bent over as she
was,
with men, maybe photographers, positioned behind
them.
She smiled bemusedly, and thought they were like
an
aerobics class following their leader.
 But there was one man, standing alone who wasn't
participating in the festivities. He looked like a
statue
in the dim light. Linda tried to see him more
clearly.
 When suddenly, her mouth and eyes opened wide in
horror and pain and wonder, as Jim's dick bored
into her
tiny, sensitive, unready anus. He penetrated
barely an
inch or two, but the pain was excruciating. Linda
moaned
like a dying animal. Tears poured from her eyes.
She had
never thought it would be this painful. Yet she
did not
struggle to get away.
 Jim withdrew his dick for a moment. He slid into
her
pussy for more lubrication, and then he thrust
deeper
into her anus.
 Linda felt like she was being ripped apart
inside.
Her wails were met by wails from her disciples in
the
crowd, whose asses were likewise crucified, as
they
followed her example.
 Again, Linda glimpsed the solitary man, who
seemed
like he wanted to do something. Maybe he wanted to
go to
her. But he kept still.
 Then Linda saw nothing at all, as Jim brutally
pushed her face into the cement, and his full
length
invaded her backside. She couldn't even scream
this time.
She couldn't even clench her teeth against the
pain. Her
energy was completely drained, having fed Jim's
passion,
and having fed the passions of the whole world,
leaving
her empty.
 The pain shot up through her belly, and then
eased
as Jim pulled out. He plunged again. Linda moaned
weakly
in anguish. He plunged again.
 This time it wasn't quite as bad. Her ass was
loosening. Or Linda was just getting used to it.
 Linda's fingers shook as they touched her clit.
She
felt dizzy. She looked back over the park. Her
vision was
spinning. With that one man anchored firmly in the

middle.
 Now the pain in her ass was a dull, throbbing
ache,
and she realized the pain had turned. It wasn't
exactly
pain anymore. It was evolving, growing into
something
else. Whatever it was, it was building momentum.
 A momentum borne of pain and fear and
humiliation.
Evolving into pleasure and desire and exaltation!
 Jim pounded faster into her more receptive ass,
filling her with his potency, replacing her lost
energy
with something new. Linda's fingers rubbed at her
clit
urgently. She felt like her soul was being ripped
from
her body, like her soul was expanding, touching
everything and everyone around her.
 She opened her eyes, and all she saw was that
solitary man, looking up at her, thinking about
her. Yes,
somehow she knew what he was thinking. It was like
she
could hear his thoughts, like a deep voice rising
above
the sound of her heart beat and the roar of sex.
He was
asking her something. "When did you have your last

period?"
 Linda blinked. What a strange question to ask at
a
time like this.
 She shut her eyes and lifted her head in
expectation. She was very near now. The torture in
her
ass was sweet. The cement scratching her breasts
and
knees felt wonderful. Her eyes flooded with joyous
tears.
 Jim reached around Linda's throat, as he drove
deep
inside her one last time. He grabbed the magic
necklace
Zatanna had given Linda and, with a quick yank, he
tore
it away.
 Setting Linda free!
 She felt like the ocean crashing against a rocky
shore, with bits and pieces of her spraying into
the air.
She sang in screams with abandon. Her soul
exploded like
a supernova, enveloping the whole world, sharing
her joy
with all creation. For the first time, she felt as
though
her life had meaning. If she died right then, she
would
have died fulfilled, with no regrets.
 And then she understood her fate. She understood
the
sacrifice Zatanna had spoken of. She was meant to
die
here and now. Somehow dying would make a
difference.
Somehow dying would satisfy the abyss and make her

immortal.
 The eclipse was finally breaking, after what
seemed
like hours. The sun peaked out from behind the
moon, and
Linda opened her eyes.
 There was the solitary man again, though now
Linda
could see the cape flowing behind his back. Clark?
She
could feel his love for her, different from the
love that
the crowd was feeling. And that made her sad.
"Have you
been feeling nauseated lately?" he queried.
 Linda blinked. Again with the strange questions.
 Jim pulled out of Linda and rolled her body over
on
the pagoda's floor, so that she was facing him.
Wisps of
smoke burned his skin, as the Sun's light exploded
from
behind the Moon, striking his back. The time was
now. He
brushed the hair away from her throat. He gazed
into
Linda's peaceful eyes. He showed his fangs.
 Linda felt calm. She felt ready. But something
gnawed at her. Something was missing. Something
was
incomplete.
 Something about that solitary man's feelings.
Something about his questions.
 And then, as the sun exploded the darkness, the
truth dawned on her.
 She was pregnant.
 It didn't make sense. How could she know that?
How
could she be pregnant? It didn't make sense, but
it made
all the difference. The knowledge woke her from
whatever
dream or spell she was under.
 She turned her head, as Jim lunged for her
throat.
His teeth grazed her shoulder instead, barely
scratching
her, but giving him a taste of her blood. His skin
was
burning with a different kind of passion, and the
bloodlust in his eyes sent a chill through Linda,
returning her fear of death. She covered her
throat with
her hands, as he attacked again. He bit into her
fingers,
desperately needing just a few drops of her
Kryptonian
blood, before the renewing sunlight consumed him.
 Linda thrashed about, avoiding his attack. "Get
off
me!" she yelled, but without her powers -- without
even
an ordinary woman's strength -- she could never
win this
fight.
 Not without help, anyway.
 Suddenly, a hand grabbed Jim by the hair and
yanked
him back like he was a puppet on a string. Jim
tumbled
down the steps of the pagoda out of view, leaving
a trail
of sulfur and a puff of smoke in his wake.
 Linda didn't open her eyes right away. She kept
her
hands over her throat, as she waited for him to
resume
his attack. She had prepared herself for death.
She
needed a few moments to prepare herself for life
again.
Finally, she opened her eyes.
 Now, a super-man had taken the vampire's place,
kneeling between Linda's legs. The warmth of the
sun was
in his eyes. His only thought was for her well
being. He
sighed. "Oh, jeez, Linda, I can't believe . . ."
 Linda started to cry.
 "Shhh," Clark whispered, as he touched her face.
The
blood on her neck and her hair and her arms
alarmed him,
but she wasn't badly injured. Just a few
scratches. Her
struggles made the injuries appear worse than they
were,
and she would heal quickly when she got her powers
back.
"You're gonna be OK."
 "It's not that," Linda shook her head, smiling
through the tears. "I'm  just . . . overwhelmed!
Look at
me! Look at what I did! I don't know what came
over me. I
don't know what it all means."
 Clark looked around the park. Couples were lying
naked and in a daze. A minister was kneeling near
a tree,
praying. Photographers continued to snap pictures
with
their pants down around their knees. "A lot of
people are
sharing your feelings right now."
 "I don't understand it at all," Linda continued,
trying to focus her thoughts. "But somehow it felt
right.
I never felt so alive! And the worst part is that
I
*liked* it! Oh, please forgive me, but I *loved*
every
minute of it! ... I'm so scared!"
 "Are you insane?" Clark looked away, not
believing
his ears. "Jeez, Linda, you almost got yourself
killed
again! Is that what you wanted?"
 "Is it true?" Linda asked, collecting herself,
thinking the one thought that held her together
and tamed
her fears and passions and shames.
 "Is what true?"
 "That I'm pregnant."
 "How did ...?" Clark started, baffled, but this
wasn't the first time Linda had read his thoughts.
"I
really don't know. Maybe. The hospital did all
sorts of
tests with that blood from your visits. They seem
to
think you are pregnant, but they can't be sure,
since
your hormones were all over the map. They didn’t
need
blood tests to know that."
 Linda's face was unreadable.
 "How do you feel about having a baby?" Clark
asked
kindly, anxiously. He took one of her hands in his
and
held it gently, firmly.
 "Do you mean it?" Linda asked mysteriously with a

glow in her eyes, a glint of recognition and hope.

 "What?!" Clark asked in frustration.
 "That . . . you love me," she said, now doubting
her intuition.
 "Jeez, Linda," Clark objected, rolling his eyes.
His
hands were shaking, as he brushed the blood
stained hairs
from her cheek. "Come on, now. I never even
thought those
words. How can you even ask me that?"
 "I'm sorry," Linda looked away, stung by his
reply.
"I don't know what I was thinking. I know it's
stupid.
How could someone as warm and kind as you love a .
. .
whore like me? I don't deserve . . ."
 Then, suddenly, Linda felt her body lifted from
the
ground, and Clark kissed her hard on the mouth.
She
didn't react instantly. It wasn't an earth
shattering
kiss. It didn't even get her juices going. But God
did it
feel nice! She put her arms around him and
returned his
kiss.
 Superman looked up, just as cameras started
flashing
around them. The reporters were already looking
for a new
angle on the story of the century.
 He scooped Linda in his arms, stepped outside the

pagoda, and leaped up into the sky.
 Linda kept looking at his face, as they flew,
wondering what he was feeling. "Tell me," she
said,
teasing his hard body with her fingertips. His
muscles
were like steel cables.  "Why were you just
standing
there watching me make love to the world? Why
didn't you
stop it? Why didn't you join in?"
 He didn't say a word. But he didn't have to. She
knew.
 She whispered in his ear. "Do you ever dream of
making love to a goddess?"
 Clark's face turned red. He shook his head and
smiled. "Jeez, Linda, get over yourself."

 Calvin meowed after his master, as the
super-couple
took to the sky.
 "Poor kitty," Zatanna said, lifting him into her
arms. "Looks like she's left something behind."
 Zatanna sighed. Things didn't quite go the way
she
had planned. The Sun's Beloved did not live up to
her
part of the bargain. She gave the world a taste of

paradise, and then snatched it away. But wasn't
that
taste glorious?
 And how could the goddess ever forget that taste
of
pure joy. What earthly pleasures could ever
compare to
it? Maybe she'll get another chance at paradise
next
year, at the eclipse in Europe.
 "Don't worry, kitty, she'll be back."


by tooshoes@cris.com

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