Chapter 8: Dance in a Dream (India)

John lay on the fabric by the altar, feeling the coolness of the stone floor seep through the thin material. Nalini’s voice, low and hypnotic, filled the room like a wave enveloping his consciousness. Her mantra pulsed in the air, mingling with the heavy scent of incense — sandalwood, jasmine, and something deeper, almost primal. His eyelids grew heavy, and he felt his body relax, as if yielding to an invisible force. The images of Lucy and Kate, still buzzing in his mind, began to dissolve, giving way to something else — a warm, enveloping darkness that pulled him deeper.

He didn’t notice when he fell asleep. His consciousness drifted, and the world around him changed. John found himself in a boundless space — a soft, golden glow surrounded him, as if he were floating in a river of light. The air was warm, imbued with the scent of flowers and spices, and in the distance, faint bell chimes vibrated in his chest. This place was impossibly serene, as if designed to dissolve all worries, all doubts. John felt his body lighten, freed from the weight of reality, yet alive, pulsing with an energy that made his skin tremble.

Suddenly, he saw her. Lucy. Her auburn hair cascaded in waves over her bare shoulders, her green eyes, deep and intense, gazing at him with the same mix of pain and desire he’d seen in London. She wore a thin fabric that clung to her body, accentuating the curves of her breasts and hips. She stepped closer, her movements silent but radiating a magnetism that made John’s blood pulse faster.

“John,” she whispered, her voice familiar yet tinged with a tone he hadn’t heard before — low, sensual, like a call. She extended her hand, her fingers barely brushing his chest, and John felt a surge of heat race through his skin, like an electric jolt. Her touch was familiar yet foreign, as if there was something more to her than just Lucy.

She drew nearer, her lips hovering inches from his, and John felt the warmth of her breath. His hands instinctively reached for her, wrapping around her waist, and the fabric of her clothing slipped under his fingers, revealing her skin. She let out a soft moan as his hands glided over her hips, and John felt his body respond, his erection straining at her closeness. But suddenly, her image shimmered, like a reflection in water, and Kate appeared before him.

Her blonde hair gleamed in the golden glow, her eyes filled with shame and passion, looking at him with the same tenderness he’d seen in the office. She was naked, her skin glistening as if lit by an inner fire, and John couldn’t tear his gaze from her breasts, rising heavily with each breath, or her hips, beckoning him closer.

“John,” Kate whispered, her voice soft but laced with desire. She pressed herself against him, her breasts brushing his chest, and John felt his body ignite, his erection pulsing from the heat of her skin. Her hands slid down his back, unbuttoning his shirt, and he felt her nails lightly scrape his skin, sending a wave of pleasure bordering on pain.

But Kate’s image wavered, and suddenly both Lucy and Kate stood before him — two figures, split yet moving as one. Their hands intertwined, touching him, their lips alternating, kissing his neck, his chest, moving lower. John felt his mind dissolve in the flood of sensations. Lucy, with her bold passion, knelt lower, her lips brushing his erection, and he felt her tongue glide over him, hot and wet, sending waves of pleasure that made him tremble. Kate, more restrained but no less fervent, kissed his chest, her fingers gripping his buttocks as if guiding his movements. Their vaginas, wet and hot, beckoned him, and John felt his own desire become uncontrollable, animalistic, like a beast unleashed.

Lucy and Kate, moving in a synchronized dance of passion, knelt before him, their bodies swaying in a rhythm that echoed the temple’s mantras. Lucy, with her bold energy, gripped his erection with her hand, her fingers moving confidently, drawing a moan from John’s throat. Her vagina, wet and warm, was so close he could feel its heat as she pressed against him, her hips gliding against his, inviting him inside. Kate, with tender persistence, pressed against his back, her breasts hot against his skin, her arms encircling his waist, guiding him toward Lucy. She kissed his neck, her tongue lightly tracing his skin, leaving wet trails that made him shudder with anticipation. John felt his erection enter Lucy, her vagina clenching around him, hot and pulsing, and she let out a low moan, her eyes closing in pleasure as she began to move, her hips swaying in a slow but insistent rhythm. Kate, never breaking away, whispered his name, her fingers gliding over his chest, pinching his nipples, and her own vagina, wet and hot, rubbed against his thigh, as if sharing in his ecstasy. Their bodies merged in a single motion, Lucy in front, Kate behind, and John felt his consciousness melt in this torrent of sensations, where every touch, every moan was part of a ritual pulling him deeper. Lucy gripped him tighter, her vagina pulsing around him, while Kate, pressing close, breathed hotly against his neck, her own pleasure evident in her ragged breaths. John was losing himself, his hands clutching Lucy’s hips, his body responding to every movement of Kate, as if they were one entity, a single being dancing in this golden glow.

But suddenly, the space around them trembled, and Lucy and Kate dissolved like smoke. In their place appeared her — Shri Devi. Her image was more real than in the photograph, yet ethereal, as if she were part of this dream and something greater. Her skin gleamed like bronze, her eyes, dark and bottomless, gazing at him with commanding certainty. She was naked, her breasts full, her hips seductively rounded, and John felt his heart stop for a moment at her beauty. But her gaze held a power that made him feel subdued, as if he were merely an instrument in her ritual.

“John,” she said, her voice deep, like the voice of the earth itself, yet laced with a sensuality that made his blood boil. “You came to me. Are you ready?”

She approached, her movements slow but commanding, and John felt her fingers brush his chest, sliding down to his erection, still pulsing from her presence. She gripped him, her touch both tender and demanding, and John felt his body yield to her. Shri Devi lowered herself over him, her vagina hot and wet as she slowly descended onto him, and John let out a moan, feeling her envelop him, her hips moving in a rhythm that was both ritualistic and wildly passionate.

Her pleasure was evident — her eyes closed, her lips parted, releasing soft moans that mingled with his own. Her breasts swayed with her movements, and her vagina gripped him, as if demanding complete submission. John felt her nails dig into his shoulders, leaving hot marks, and her breath grew ragged, as if she too were drowning in ecstasy. Yet even in this, she dominated, her movements confident, as if guiding him through this ritual, through this dream, toward something greater. Her vagina pulsed around him, and John felt his own pleasure building, like a wave ready to sweep everything away.

“Let go,” she whispered, her voice like a spell, and John felt his body obey, his erection pulsing inside her as her moans grew louder, filled with overwhelming pleasure. She moved faster, her hips swaying as if dancing, and John felt his consciousness dissolve in this act, in this union that was both physical and divine.

Suddenly, the space around them flared with brighter light, and John felt his body shudder in a climax that made him cry out her name. Shri Devi gripped him tighter, her vagina pulsing in sync with his orgasm, and her own cry of pleasure filled the space, like a mantra completing the ritual. She threw her head back, her hair swaying, her eyes gleaming as if she were a goddess accepting his offering.

The light began to dim, and Shri Devi dissolved like smoke. John felt his consciousness return, and he opened his eyes. He was lying on the fabric by the altar, his breath heavy, his body still trembling from what he had just experienced. Nalini stood over him, her face impassive, but a shadow of a smile flickered in her eyes, as if she knew what he had seen.

“The ritual is complete,” she said, her voice cold but tinged with satisfaction. “Shri Devi has given you a part of her knowledge. But what will you do with it?”

John sat up, his legs trembling, his thoughts tangled. Awake, he still lingered in the dream. In the ritual.

“Was it all real…?”
“What do you think…?”

John couldn’t think clearly now, but he felt as never before. It was as if his body were channeling the entire world — endless, boundless, breathtakingly beautiful.
He knew what he had to do.