The Erotic Quest of Dirk and Honey (6 page)

“I’m positive I will,” she said with a yawn. “I can’t thank you enough.”

He smiled knowingly and tugged at his robes. At once they fell from him. A small cloth covered his loins, and his long, lean
brown limbs glowed in the soft light. She felt her throat tighten at his physical beauty; with his clean-shaven head, he looked
like a statue of a young saint. Carefully he placed his robes on the straw. “It is time to bathe in the holy river,” he said,
and bent further to leave the cave. He walked out of the circle of lantern-light and vanished toward the water.

For a moment she stood uncertainly, then decided that the idea of a swim was just too perfect to pass up. Not knowing whether
he was watching from the darkness—and hoping he was—she slowly undressed and
stepped out of her panties with studied nonchalance. She stretched her arms over her head, thrusting out her pelvis, and rolled
her rounded hips to work out some of the kinks, then ducked out of the cave. Her full figure silhouetted in the light from
the cave’s mouth, she stepped gingerly toward the water. Gradually her eyes became accustomed to the darkness, and she spotted
his white loincloth lying on a rock. Not wanting to disturb his holy ablutions, she did not call out, but walked into the
cool water. The bottom was smooth mud, and slippery, but the water was so refreshing that she waded out until it was over
her hips, then slipped fully into it, kicking out into a modified side stroke.

The night air was breezeless but balmy, the sky already filling with stars. In the distance, as she swam lazily about, she
could hear a flute soaring tunelessly, and farther down the river, toward the city, a line of campfires could be seen, like
a string of glowing pearls. Remembering the sight of the murky water in the daylight, she deliberately kept her head and face
out of it and eventually paddled back to the shore. Feeling deliciously renewed, she rose from the water and saw the young
holy man squatting nude near the entrance of the cave, watching her carefully. As she walked toward him, her heavy breasts
swaying, he stood, his limbs still glistening with water. He had not bothered to put on his loincloth, so she made no attempt
at covering herself. “That was lovely,” she said.

Silently he handed her a piece of clean cloth, and she patted dry her arms and rounded breasts. She glanced down at his groin,
now visible in a shaft of light, and her heart quickened. His soft, uncircumcised cock was lovely, thin, long, the color of
mahogany; his balls hanging loosely on either side, were large and potent-looking. She wondered if his priestly vows included
celibacy. Just as that thought passed through her mind, she saw his brown
shaft suddenly twitch, nodding slowly upward. She raised her eyes to his; he was staring at her breasts as if he had never
seen such a huge pair before. She questioned teasingly, “What kind of holy man are you?”

“I am a devotee of Brahma, the Creator.”

“And what beliefs does that entail?”

“Brahma began the process of creation,” he said solemnly. “Together, Brahma and Saraswati begat the whole race of mortals.

“How divine,” she purred, and patted the cloth over her thighs, pausing to wipe the fiery red of her pussy pelt. Aware of
the increased attentiveness of his cock, and also aware that his eyes followed her every move, she filled her lungs, expanding
her breasts before him. “And what else do you believe?”

“Sexual union is an auspicious Yoga, which, though involving enjoyment of all the sensual pleasures, gives release. It is
a path to liberation.”

“Now
that
is something I too believe in,” she said firmly. She dropped her eyes again to his rising shaft; it was thickening nicely
and the dark skin was tightening over the plump head, gradually pulling back, displaying more and more of the nut-brown knob.
“Is that your prayer stick?” she asked facetiously.

“It’s my holy
lingam
, the symbol of Lord Shiva, the Supreme Yogi.”

She placed a hand on her pussy, cupping it. “And what is this?”

“That is your sweet
yoni
, the symbol of Shakti, the essence of bliss. She is the love power.”

“How true, how true… do teach me more.”

Wordlessly he took her hand, tugging her gently into the small cave. “In the springtime the rounded hips of amorous women
are adorned with silken garments,” he said, as if quoting someone, and laid her down on the
cloth pallet. Kneeling beside her, he reached for a small wooden bowl. “Languid with passion, they rub sandalwood paste mixed
with sweet flowers, saffron, and musk on their breasts.” Tenderly he touched each of her nipples with a sticky orange substance
from the bowl, and instantly she felt fires burst to life on her breasts. Her nipples expanded greatly, popping up like small
telescopes searching for more pleasure. The sweet smell of exotic flowers was everywhere.

“Where there is only worldly enjoyment, there is no release,” he said softly, and touched the sticky residue to the opening
of her “sweet
yoni
.” “And where there is only release, there is no worldly enjoyment. But both worldly enjoyment and release are in the palm
of the hand of one who is devoted to the higher being.”

From the spot on her labia where he had lightly touched her, the fire of lust broke out like a sudden rash. It quickly spread
deep up her love channel, heating the very core of her sexual appetite. She rolled to one hip, facing him. Between his kneeling
legs, his shaft now rose straight out from him, pointing its insistent head at her. He handed her the small bowl of exotic
aphrodisiac and leaned back on his hands. “Worship my Shiva
lingam
.”

She knelt and dipped her fingers into the sweet, warm substance. Delicately she dabbed the stuff on the head of his throbbing
cock, smoothing it into the under-ridges and down the length. She noticed that his eyes were closed and that he was breathing
deeply and slowly in through his nostrils, exhaling fully from his mouth. She clasped both hands firmly on his holy tool and
pulled the foreskin over the shiny brown head, then pushed it back tightly, squeezing until the knob began to turn a deep
purple. Back and forth she tugged, feeling the intense heat emanating from the entire length of his shaft.

Eyes still closed, he chanted softly, “Where there is
ecstasy, there is Creation. Where there is no ecstasy, there is no Creation. In the Infinite, there is ecstasy. There is no
ecstasy in the finite.”

“Amen to that,” she intoned, and slowly lowered her mouth to his straining organ. Her tongue darted out, licking the sweet-tasting
substance she had applied. His whole body jerked with a spasm of surprise, and she sucked the head deep into her mouth. Worshipfully
she took it in, wiping it clean with her tongue. She teased the small slit, scrubbed the bulbous ridges, and traced his length
with her lips. When she pulled back to look at his face, he was staring openmouthed, as if unfamiliar with such forms of worship.
She winked and lay back on the scratchy bed of cloth covered with straw. Flinging wide her legs, she explored with her fingers
the furled edges of her love temple. She was already wet with desire and could feel a demanding urgency building within her.

With the fluidity of a dancer, he moved gracefully between her legs and sat facing her, his long limbs stretched out on either
side of her buttocks. She looked over the pale mountains of her breasts and watched him position his brown stick, pushing
it down to the very portals of her pussy. He nudged its head slowly up and down along her trembling labia, increasing the
size of her heated opening. Gently he eased only the head of his cock into her, and pulled her legs over the tops of his thighs.
Scooting his hips toward her, he pushed deeper inside until he was buried to the hilt. For a long while she waited with growing
impatience for him to begin moving. She could feel the walls of her vagina undulating over his hardness, and still he did
not move.

Raising herself on her elbows, she looked at him. He too was lying flat on his back, eyes closed, a look of such beatific
bliss on his handsome, young face that he appeared to be experiencing a profound spiritual union.
Not wanting to disturb any religious ritual, she slowly began rocking her hips, driving his holy hard-on in and out, and suddenly
she felt his cock spring to life within her.

Deep, satisfying strokes propelled her into an ecstasy so intense that she felt she was indeed making it with a very holy
man. The feelings of pleasure were so all-encompassing that all sense of time and place faded away, all sense of her own body
and mind disappeared. She could not separate where she ended and he began, or which one of them was male, which female. All
of her was joined to all of him, and the sensation was so overpowering that she felt a unique mystical uplifting, transporting
her into a golden haze, a blurring of all her most primal emotions. Soon, waves of climaxes racked their bodies and still
they fucked on and on, ever lifting her higher until she exploded beyond consciousness, into the realms of erotic nirvana.

She drifted back to earth on a fluffy cloud, gradually becoming aware of her surroundings and the still-moist warmth glowing
like a hot ember between her legs. White-hot sunlight bounced off the red clay of the cave’s walls, and through the arched
opening she could see the Ganges flowing from the Himalayas, moving steadily, but with a stately dignity. She summoned the
energy to roll over, and discovered that she was alone in the cramped confines. Beside the pallet, a wooden bowl held a few
dates, a chunk of flat bread, and a brilliantly red tropical flower of a sort she had never seen before. Ravenously she began
eating a date, but the river sparkled below her too invitingly.

Crawling out into the sun, she felt at once on fire, her pale skin searing in the solar rays. Squinting in the brightness,
she scrambled to her knees and ran lightly to the water’s edge and into the water. She was just knee-deep
when she noticed with some surprise that she was the object of the astounded attention of a handful of farmers filling wooden
buckets with water. She laughed gaily, waving at them and feeling wonderfully alive and invigorated, then plunging into the
water to her neck. Motionless, they watched her cavorting in their holy waters and gazed in openmouthed admiration as she
boldly rose and walked, full of assurance, her white breasts held high, her hips swaying provocatively, toward the mouth of
the cave.

Inside, she had just finished drying off and had pulled on her panties when a shadow blocked the entrance. She drew back with
a start, and then relaxed as her handsome Indian holy prince of a lover bent into the cool interior. His velvety liquid eyes
held hers, and in that moment their union was as complete as it had been on the pallet the night before. Stooping, he took
the brilliant red flower from the now-empty bowl and stood up to place it in her hair, behind one ear. He smiled at her beautiful
image. “While you slept so soundly, I went to the city. I have found someone who can help you in your search for your friend.”

He stooped again and went out through the opening, reappearing shortly with a young girl in tow. “This is Leaha. She works
at the hotel Taj Ganges. And speaks good English.”

Honey stared down into the lovely, nutmeg-colored face. The child was no more than eleven, and her huge black eyes were fixed
in complete absorption on the dusky rose nipples of Honey’s breasts. “Pleased to meet you, Leaha. Thank you for coming such
a long way. My name is Honey,” she said warmly, and bent to her purse. She brought up the photo of the young blonde. “Have
you ever seen this girl before?”

The raven-black eyes locked on the photo and she
nodded slowly. “Yes,” she replied. “This last week.” Her voice was as melodious as wind chimes.

“Is she still at the hotel?”

“No. She left two days ago.”

Disappointment flooded Honey, and for a moment she stared into the child’s face, transfixed by her innocent trustfulness.
“Did you see her father?”

The child frowned and looked up questioningly at Pagala Baba. He spoke a few words in Hindi to her, and she returned her solemn
gaze to Honey. “The man is not her father.”

“He’s not? How can you be sure?”

A fragile smile graced her small mouth. “Fathers do not do such things to their daughters.”

Honey asked with trepidation. “Do what, my dear?”

Again the child looked to the young holy man, and he smiled encouragingly. She ducked her head and whispered, “I was in the
closet, folding sheets, when I saw them join in Tantric union.”

In surprise, Honey swept her gaze to Pagala Baba. He merely shrugged. Her concern began to mount, and she felt an even more
pressing urgency to find Dirk’s mysterious blonde. Quickly she rattled off several questions: “Do you know where they went?
Do you know the name they were registered under? Do you know if they were traveling with two men? Do you know what currency
they paid with?” To each of these, she received a grave shaking of the head. The child knew nothing beyond what she had said.

Hurriedly, Honey began pulling on her clothes. “Leaha, I can’t thank you enough for your help.”

“I am sorry I do not do more.”

“You are a dear, sweet child. Tell me, this young blonde girl—was she happy? Did she seem to be with this older man by choice?”

“Oh, no,” Leaha replied quickly. “She was very sad. Cried all the time. I think she was very unhappy. The man… he was not
pure.”

“Pure? What do you mean?”

She locked her eyes on Honey’s face. “He has unclean karma. He is evil man.”

In the muggy night breeze, he hurried across the grassy, parklike Plaza Bolivar, past the stone Palace of the Inquisition,
built in 1770, and ducked down a narrow, cobblestone street lit by iron lamps, searching for the small nightclub. Dirk had
been in Cartagena, on the Caribbean coast of Colombia, for only three hours, and it had taken him that long to check into
the luxurious Hilton resort out on the Boca Grande Peninsula, then shower, change his clothes, and find out where the reported
belly dancer would be performing. The oddity of a Middle Eastern club tucked deep in the center of the old Spanish-founded
city did not escape him. But since few people he had approached in the city spoke English, there was no one to tell him how
such a club came into being.