Supernatural
2007-06-23

The Square was a pedestrian mall inhabited by every kind of street performer from jazz bands to magicians and henna tattoo artists to palm readers. They listened to some music and watched a caricature artist sketch while they rested on the stone steps outside the cathedral. Her friends began to tell her about the famous tarot card reader in the square. It was rumored that she was a descendant of the famous Voodoo Queen, Marie Laveau. They all decided that no trip to the city would be complete without a reading from the famous woman. She eagerly joined her friends even though she did not believe in such superstitions. In a far corner of the square they found an unassuming black tent under a large, sprawling oak tree. As they ducked under the canopy entrance to the small, candlelit enclosure, a voice spoke from the darkness. “I’ve been waiting on you for ages, girl. ” As their eyes adjusted to the dark, they saw an ancient black woman in the corner of the tent. The old woman seemed to stare directly at the young woman in the violet sundress. “I’ll need to talk to her alone. Ya’ll can wait outside, while we talk. ” She spoke in a quiet voice but it was understood that she would take no argument. Her friends left her alone and she took a seat across from the older woman. The woman asked to see her hands and studied her palms in silence.

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   Then she shuffled a deck of worn tarot cards and asked her to cut the deck. As she dealt the cards in an intricate and deliberate pattern, the venerable woman began to speak. “You got a powerful magic in you and I bet you don’t even know it. Do you, girl?” She was not sure what to think or how to respond, she sat silently. And the woman continued, “I don’t guess you do know or you wouldn’t just be sitting there. You ever had contact with the spirit world, the world beyond?” As the young woman explained that she did not believe in spirits, the older one shook her head. “The spirits are active in this world and in the next whether you believe it not. The spirits caught in this world are drawn to the magic in you. Now some of these spirits will need your help, but some will try to harm you. You have the blood of the Voodoo Queen in you, just the same as me. Don’t try to deny it. I can tell by all that curly hair, you got the Creole in you,” the old woman cackled. The young woman tried to explain that she really wasn’t Creole, but the other woman just raised her hand to silence her. “I know you don’t believe me right now, but you soon will. I have the gift of sight and so do you.

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   You need to accept this and let it be your guide. I see that great danger and great bliss both are seeking you here in New Orleans. Be careful of the spirits that pursue you. Take this charm and wear it close to your heart. It belonged to our ancestor, Marie Laveau, and it will protect you. ” She looked down at a beautiful lotus flower carved in amethyst hung from a black silk cord. “Go ahead and put it on, girl. The lotus is supposed to reunite estranged lovers. I knew the second I saw you that I had to give it to you. Even though it didn’t work for her, Marie wants you to have it. Now, I’ve told you all I can. Heed my warnings and be careful girl. ” The young woman left the tent more than a little confused, but amused nonetheless. Then she was completely undone by sensation of being watched again. She looked around for her friends, but saw the figure again.

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   This time he appeared to be struggling through the crowd to get closer to her. His piercing eyes caught hers in a mesmerizing stare, and she even thought her amethyst lotus began to throb with her heartbeat. Just then her friends surprised her from behind.

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They loudly asked where she had been, and she broke out of her reverie with a startled cry. Laughingly her friends wondered what the tarot reader had said to leave their logical friend so obviously unnerved. She told them it was not the superstitions that had gotten to her; it was only the humidity and heat. They were easily satisfied with her explanation, but she began to question herself. What did the old woman mean? Is someone following her? Why did she keep having the same sensation? As the sun went down over the Mississippi River, the group made their way to Bourbon Street. They joked and laughed their way through the French Quarter, but one was unusually quiet. They got a table at Pat O’Brien’s and had a round of Hurricanes. After several of those powerful drinks, her fears seemed silly and she rejoined her cohorts in the festivity. A short walk later they entered the Cat’s Meow. Women on the balcony exposing themselves for beads, wasn’t the only attraction to the boisterous bar. Dancing and drinking for several hours made the conversation with the old woman seem like a foolish dream, until she saw him again. As she stood on the balcony to get some air, she saw him in the crowd below.

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   He was gazing up into her eyes and she felt a magnetic, almost electric, force between them. It was frightening but sexually stimulating. She couldn’t look away and could feel her desire growing. She did not know how she could feel a desire so strong for a stranger in a crowd, but that didn’t stop the acceleration of her heartbeat or the moistness from growing between her legs. The jostling of the throng on the balcony tore her gaze away from his and when she looked back he was gone. She frantically searched the multitude but could find him nowhere. Thinking she might need another drink, she found her way back to her friends at the bar. To her surprise they announced that it was time to leave. The friends exclaimed they had reservations on the midnight tour of the famous New Orleans cemeteries. More than a little spooked by the events of the day she tried to persuade them to cancel, but they insisted. Eventually she did agree that her trip would not be complete without seeing the cemetery, so after buying a beer for the road they headed off for Reverend Zombie’s Voodoo shop to meet the tour group. The tour guide arrived dressed in a black Victorian suit with tails and a top hat, passed out Mardi Gras beads led them off towards St. Louis Number One, the city’s oldest and most famous graveyard. The guide explained the customs of burial in the crypts and pointed out the society tombs. He led them to the site where Easy Rider was filmed and told how that film led the Catholic Church to disallow any future filming in a Catholic cemetery.

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   Even the city’s most famous author, Anne Rice, could not get permission to film Interview With a Vampire within the gates of St. Louis Number One. The tour group was finally led to the most famous gravesite in New Orleans, the grave of the Voodoo Queen, Marie Laveau. Offerings to the Queen, from pocket change to cigars and Diet Coke, littered the front of the crypt and graffiti covered its surface. Their guide gave a brief history of the life of the legendary woman and how she became know as the Voodoo Queen. Then he told the group of the ghost that still haunts her grave. After Marie’s husband died in 1826, she enchanted a young man named Michael Fortier with a powerful love spell. Michael was enslaved by the powerful woman, but believed himself to be in love with her. His devotion to her was so great that her followers became jealous of him and feared his influence over her. Their envy grew so strong that they placed a curse on him and Michael disappeared without a trace. But his spirit was still spellbound to the Voodoo Queen and it is said that he lingers over her even in death. As the tour guide continued with the tales of the many sightings of the tall, dark man around the crypt, the young woman in the violet sundress felt the amethyst lotus burning between her breasts. The guide explained that only a greater magic could free Michael from his spiritual enchantment. As the tour was led out of the cemetery, the young woman lingered to gaze back toward the grave. Then she saw the familiar figure again as he emerged from between the tombs.

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   His eyes burned into her again and she felt his passion as a tangible presence. Her breath caught in her throat as her lust overwhelmed her. She tried to move toward him, but was stopped by a hand on her shoulder. It was her friend letting her know that everyone was exiting the cemetery. She tried to explain that she couldn’t leave, but when she turned back he was gone. She asked if her friend had seen him, but her friend just laughed. “I think the ghost stories or the hurricanes have gone to your head. ” Still bewitched by the hot desire she felt, she was torn between logic and passion.

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The amethyst still burned at her flesh, but she no longer felt his presence. Her friends led her back through the cemetery, assuming that she was suffering from an excess of alcohol. She no longer tried to explain because she could not find the words. She knew how the story would sound to them, but she also knew what she felt was real. They made their way back to the French Quarter and decided to call an end to the evening. After convincing them that she did not need help back to her hotel, the young woman set off alone. But instead of heading toward the ferry, she started toward Jackson Square.

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   She thought that maybe, the old tarot reader could help her find him again. But the Square was deserted at this hour. Unsure of what else to do, she vowed to come back tomorrow and ask the old woman for help. She walked toward the ferry disappointed and frustrated by her unsatisfied lust. The ferry was crowded with clusters of Bourbon Street patrons just ending their night of binging, so she walked down below to be alone on the lower deck. Usually only cars inhabited the lower deck, and at this hour most of the traffic was on foot. So she was alone with the river and her thoughts. As she leaned against the railing and watched the ebb of the muddy water, she felt her amethyst begin to heat her breasts again. Her pulse quickened in anticipation, but she dared not hope. She continued to stare at the river and remembered what the old woman had said. If she did have a magic power, maybe she could bring him to her. Her mind and her body cried out to him. Her desire began to mount as she invoked his spirit to come to her, to come within her. Suddenly she gasped as she felt strong hands encircle her waist. His hands reached up to cup her breasts, as he nuzzled the skin on the back of her neck.

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   She held the railing even tighter, unable to break free. His hand crept beneath her dress and caressed the responsive flesh already dripping with her arousal. She murmured unintelligible words of encouragement with all the breath she could spare. She could feel him strong and hard behind her, but she was afraid he would disappear again. Just as she thought she would not be able to withstand the powerful urges coursing through her for a moment longer, she felt him grab her hips as he thrust himself inside her eager body. She felt lightening strike as he entered her, and was overcome by the dynamic forces that brought their bodies together. He used her body with a rigorousness that was almost painful, but she only wanted more. He made love to her entire being with his hands, his mouth, and his mind as they floated across the river. His hands roamed over her as his thrusts got stronger. She felt the tidal wave of climax rising in them both. He felt like he was meant to be inside her body as they exploded together in complete ecstasy. In the second that their bodies became one and their minds joined together, a curse was broken. She was able to turn to face her lover and he did not vanish this time. He held her in his arms and thanked her for saving him from his centuries old curse, but she shook her head. “You saved me, Michael,” she whispered.

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   These were the only words they needed. He bent down to kiss her lips and she grabbed the back of his neck with a strength that surprised him. He was already becoming engorged with passion again, as she lifted up her skirt and wrapped her legs around him. He impaled her body yet again, and this time the magic was even more powerful and they lost themselves in each other forever. Be sure to check out the forums for more great stories http://www. sexstoriespost. com/forums/index. phpor our new story site http://www. bluestories. com/forums/index. php.