Recipe for the Beast

Sometimes she hated Rachel; like right now. Only someone so happy with life would want to go to a fortune teller. Rachel had Julie by the hand and was literally dragging her into the shop. Rachel was her best friend, so she did not put up too much of a fight, and she certainly did not wish to ruin her friend's good mood. She so enjoyed these shopping trips together; they were an escape from the drudgery that was her life.

Rachel went in first, and Julie sat quietly in the waiting room. The place was cluttered with old books, unusual objects, and mostly dust. It looked like a flea market shop that no one patronized. She had never even noticed a sign advertising the presence of a fortune teller. Rachel had heard about the fortune teller from her sister, and she had been excited about the prospect of coming here for nearly two weeks. Julie looked at her watch, then glanced at the walls again. She stood up, and walked about the confines of the small shop, looking in vain out into the real world through the cluttered windows. She didn't hear Rachel emerge from the back, and jumped when she said, "Your future awaits."

Rachel laughed at her for jumping, and from the look on her face, Julie knew she had heard good news. She would have left then, but Rachel was gently guiding her to the entrance of the back room. She parted the beads, and stepped into the presence of the gypsy woman. No other way to describe her, her dress made of several layers of colored fabrics, scarves tied in her long black hair, and more rings on her fingers than Julie had in her jewelry box. The scent of incense hung in the air, though she could not find its source.

"Sit down Julie," the woman said.

Julie pulled the wooden chair back from the table, and seated herself. She did not say a word. She did not need to. The gypsy woman began laying out cards on the table. Julie massaged her right hand with her left as she waited for the verdict. The gypsy woman was silent, studying the cards. Julie tried to guess her age, but could not settle on anything better than between 30 and 50. The woman's face showed lines of wisdom, her hands a softness that she envied. She was startled out of her thoughts when the gypsy woman finally spoke.

"You did not want to come here."

It was more a pronouncement than a question. Julie answered, "No offense, but I don't believe in this."

"Then why do you fear what I have to say?"

All Julie could do was swallow, the words would not come.

"You are not happy with life, unlike your friend."

Julie had known that well before coming here. "My friend has had better luck in life than I."

The gypsy woman shook her head, "No she has not. She is merely accepting of her fate. She believes in destiny, in fate, and that she can not change her stars. She is happily resigned to what she has been given. You, on the other hand, do not believe things are written in stone. You were an optimist, though circumstances have beaten that from you."

Julie looked into the gypsy's eyes.

"You believe you can change your fate, and this brings misery. Knowing a better world awaits, but unable to find it."

Julie stammered, "My marriage has not been what I hoped."

"They seldom are."

"My husband doesn't look at me like a woman anymore, I don't feel the heat I used to from him."

"You are an attractive woman, yet you do not inspire the beast in men. What else do you expect?"

Julie looked puzzled, "The beast? What do you mean?"

"That feeling of being a woman that you miss, that is from the fight with the beast. The feeling that a man is focused on you, that he will do things against his better judgment, just to get his hands on your body. That is what you miss."

"Yes."

"Why don't you change that?"

"How?"

The gypsy woman looked at Julie for a time, staring at her, then turned, and reached into a shelf behind her. She took a stack of envelopes from the shelf, five envelopes to be precise, tied into a bundle by a single red ribbon. She handed the package to Julie.

"This is the recipe for the beast. Each envelope contains an instruction. Carry out the instructions in order, one at a time. Wait two weeks between each instruction. If you are not satisfied, proceed with the next instruction. Most importantly, however, stop when you have achieved the desired effect. Men are different, some respond more quickly than others. If you go too far, there is no way back."

Julie looked at the envelopes, then at the gypsy woman. She was already clearing the cards from the table, dismissing her without a word. Julie stood, putting the cards safely in her purse. She turned and parted the beads to exit.

"There is no way back."

Rachel stood there smiling, that look of expectant happiness, a look Julie now better understood on her friend.

"Well?"

Julie replied, "We'll see." They left the shop together, though their minds couldn't have been further apart.

*

Julie sat at her writing table and reached for the bundle; she had waited till the house was empty to pull it from her purse. She felt a little silly, but curious nonetheless. She undid the knot that held the bundle together, and spread the envelopes out on her writing table. Each of the envelopes had a number, one through five. She inserted the letter opener into the envelope labeled "1," and slit it along the top. She pulled the card, and glanced at the cover.

"Discretion"

She opened the card, and began reading.

"First, you must know that to properly engage the beast you must not let it know what you are doing. The beast must feel it is the aggressor, and any indication on your part that you desire it may cause it to lose interest."

Julie closed the card, unsure exactly what she was supposed to do. She had no intention of telling her husband what she was up to. He had spurned her efforts at igniting their passion before. She put the card into its envelope, then looked at the second one. She began to reach for it, but the image of the gypsy woman in her mind was enough to dissuade her. She would wait the two weeks as instructed.

"Dress"

Julie looked on the cover of the second card. She was glad it had been a Tuesday when she had seen the gypsy; her husband was always out on Tuesday nights. She opened the card, the anticipation of the last two weeks fostering a building excitement within her. She read.

"Second, you must tempt the beast, show it enough to titillate it, lead its mind to the place you want it to go. Do not overpower it, but you must seduce the mind of the beast. Let the beast's sense of sight awaken it from its slumber."

She had kept quiet these past two weeks, not even telling her friend Rachel what she was up to. Now it was good to have something concrete she could do. She had been less and less often considering the sexiness of her clothes; she felt a little rusty. She looked through her closet, but could find nothing there that seemed to fit the bill. She almost stumbled over the answer; her husband's shirt was laying in a pile on the floor. She stripped down to her panties, and put his shirt on, buttoning it up halfway. She looked at herself in the mirror. She messed her hair a bit, to give it that impromptu look, and smiled.

She spent the next few hours in an agitated state, trying to do the housework she normally completed at night, alternately stealing glances at herself in the mirrors. She was in the kitchen, washing those dishes not destined for the dishwasher when her husband came home. She wanted to run to him, show him herself, but she remembered the first step - discretion. She held her breath for a moment .. and went on with the dishes. She heard her husband walk by in the hallway outside the kitchen. Perhaps he had not noticed. Maybe he had, and didn't care. The disappointment tried to well up in her, but she resisted. She bowed her head slightly, her eyes scanning her hands as she rested them on the counter. She caught a glimpse of her cleavage, courtesy of the half-buttoned shirt. Just as her disappointment was making a renewed assault, she heard footsteps behind her, then felt the hands on her hips.

"Interesting garb for a dishwasher, is this how they dress in the kitchens of the finer restaurants?"

She felt his head take its place between her head and shoulder, heard him inhale, then felt the touch of his lips. His hands moved from her hips to her waist, encircling her, squeezing her. She smiled. She gasped as he suddenly picked her up, and carried her away from the sink and on into their bedroom. He tossed her lovingly on to the bed, then turned around and walked to the door. He pulled his shirt from his pants with a vigor she had not seen in some time. She lay there, waiting, watching as his hand reached for the switch. The lights went off, and she felt his weight join her on the bed.

*

Julie parted the curtains to watch her husband pull out of the driveway; any other night of the past two weeks she would be sad to see him go. But it was Tuesday, and the success she had seen because of the gypsy woman's instructions made her anxious to move to step number three. She let the curtains slide back in place, and took her seat at her writing table. She pulled the envelopes from her purse, and quickly found the one labeled "3." The past two weeks had returned to her some of the sexy feelings she had when younger; her husband had paid her loving attention that she so desperately had needed. As she started to open the third envelope she remembered the gypsy's warning, about stopping when things had gone far enough. This was not that time, she convinced herself; the loving of the past several days had only aroused her more. She pulled the card from the envelope.

"Deception"

"Third, to reach the baser instincts of the beast you must arouse its suspicion. It is already alert to you, questioning whether its recent journeys have been due to good fortune, or something less comforting. Find the circumstance to give the beast reason to doubt you. Wound the beast with your denial."

Julie was taken aback. Was the gypsy woman telling her to cheat on her husband? She had never been unfaithful to him in their eight years of marriage. She read the card again, and again once more. Her mind turned over the sentences. She wasn't telling her to cheat, just make her husband think she might be cheating. She sat back and thought of how to satisfy step three.

*

On Wednesday Julie called her husband at his office, and explained that she would not be home when he got off work, that an old girlfriend had called her out of the blue, and that she would be going out with her for a few drinks. She was not sure over the phone how to gauge the effect of the news on him; he did become somewhat abrupt, telling her to do as she pleased. She wanted to take it back, and tell him what she was up to, but the word "discretion" came into her mind. She hung up the phone, and continued dressing. In reality she had called her old friend, who was somewhat shocked to be hearing from her. Julie chose one of her new dresses, an emerald one, of somewhat sheer fabric, one that came down about a third of the way between her hips and knees. Bright red thong and lacy bra. A strand of pearls to rest on, and draw attention to, her exposed chest. A pair of fuck-me pumps.

She applied the matching red lip gloss, that contrasted with her white skin, and tended to direct any man's thoughts to uses other than conversation for her mouth. She looked at herself in the mirror for a minute, a different woman from a few weeks before, happier. Sexier. The butterflies in her stomach told of her excitement and anticipation for her return home.

*

Julie held the glass of wine tightly in her hand; it seemed to give her comfort. It had been sometime since she had been in a bar without her husband, and since Katherine was divorced she was playing to the men around them. Kat was still as wild as she remembered, and was at this moment on the dance floor for the fifth time, and with the fifth different guy. She always seemed to have the knack for stringing along several guys at once. Julie was a different story. Her husband was her first and only boyfriend at college. Even now, the same guy was hitting on her that first approached her. She couldn't seem to get him to go away, and she was not the mean sort to tell him to get lost. Anyway, she was just biding her time, waiting for an appropriately late hour to go home and see what state her husband was in. Suddenly she felt a hand on her arm.

"Would you care to dance, Julie?"

It was Brad, one of the guys Kat had danced with earlier, definitely a player. Her first reaction was to politely decline, but she was so ready to escape her pursuer that she reconsidered and said that she would. Brad grabbed her arm, persuasively pulling her from the stool and led her onto the dance floor. The song upbeat, they both began to move with energy, and made what small talk they could above the din of the music. It felt good to move her body, after sitting on the sidelines for so long. It felt good to feel Brad's eyes on her body. She danced for him, wicked as it made her feel. She danced for him because the alcohol had relaxed her and his eyes were drinking her in, and she could barely stand it. She felt slightly out of control, and was a little relieved that the song was finally ending. A little disappointed as well.

She began to make her way back to the stool when she felt his grip on her shoulder. The next song had begun, and he would not be denied a second dance. She wasn't really up to denying him anyway. The music slower, more intimate, Brad naturally pulled her close. She naturally let him do it. No small talk, she leaned her head against his chest so as not to look into his eyes. His cologne seemed intoxicating. She was losing control, gradually, and looking away from him seemed to restore some of her strength. Not enough to pull away. She felt her breasts flattened against his body. The warmth radiating to her. His hands slowly progressing downward, until they held her just below the top of her hips. They swayed to the music together.

His hands moved further downward, opening up, planting themselves firmly on her ass. The feel of his hands on her ass seemed to make her more aware of her own sensual movements, hips gyrating with the music. Her silence implying consent, Brad began alternately caressing and squeezing. Julie held her breath, afraid to exhale, afraid of what might happen next.

The song ended, she breathed, then breathed again. She dared look up, and saw his lust-filled eyes devouring her. Caught in his headlights, she could not move. His hands pressing against the fabric of her dress, she felt it inch higher, exposing more of her to the crowd. She felt a sudden pain in her foot as someone slightly more inebriated than her stumbled into the two of them. He apologized, mumbling, then went on his way. Julie saw her chance and quickly returned to the safety of the stool. She sat there, disturbed by her feelings, and slowly regained her resolve. Katherine noticed the change in her friend's manner, and it was not too long before they left the bar. Katherine took her home, and watched her as she walked up the sidewalk to her door, stumbling once. She was not sure if it was the alcohol, or the fact that her friend was not yet reaccustomed to walking in those heels.

Julie walked into her home, and walked straight to her bedroom. She had planned to do this to arouse suspicion, but the nights events seemed to make her feel like she should sneak in. Her husband noticed, and followed her into the bedroom, having waited for her. She saw his eyes widen at the sight of her dress. He started to say something, then caught himself, then spoke.

"Did you have a good time?"

"It was OK. It was good to catch up with Kat," she lied.

"Where did you go?"

"To Horizon's, downtown. Kat seems to be a regular there and suggested it," she lied again. She knew the reputation of the club as a meat market.

"Dressed like that?"

She heard the desperation in his voice. "Yes, I couldn't go out looking like an old housewife, now could I? It would have embarrassed Kat." He started to say something else, but she cut him off. "I am going to take a bath, I need to get clean." She went into the bathroom, closed the door, and left him to consider those words.

When she emerged an hour later he was already in bed. She quietly crawled in next to him. After a moment he turned to her and said, "I don't think you should go out dressed like that without me. Men get ideas."

She kept her back to him. "Relax, dear, there was no harm. Nothing happened. Good night." She could feel him breathing heavily.

"Why did she call you all of a sudden, she doesn't have the best reputation, you know."

"I really am tired, honey, it was a long night, can't we talk about this in the morning?" Julie held her breath, she felt this was all or nothing. He grabbed her on the shoulder and forced her to face him. She could not hide the smile on her face, happy to have aroused the beast in him. The smile to him appeared a mock and it enraged him.

"I will not have you going out of this house dressed like a common whore!" He grabbed her arm and tightly held it.

"I don't know what you are talking about!" Her breath was quickening.

"Yes you do!" He glared at her, losing control for possibly the first time in his life. "Yes you do"

She tried to pull back from him; he grabbed her other arm and rolled over on top of her.

"This is what men think when they see women dressed like you did tonight." He stretched her arms out wide, and buried his head in her neck. He moved down and put his mouth on her achingly stiff nipple, ignoring the fabric of her teddy that separated him from her skin. She pushed against him, not fighting, but transferring her own energy to him, encouraging the aggressor in him. She felt his hand between them, moving downward to move her panties aside to make room for his cock. She could literally feel the expression on his face when he realized she wasn't wearing panties. "You fucking whore," he mumbled angrily just before he inserted himself into her.

She felt his roughness, his anger as he began to pound her. She reveled in this. She wrapped her legs around him, and felt like a bitch in heat. Their actions and reactions served to aggravate each other's condition. Her cunt wetter than it had been in ages, her pussy tightening on him more so than she ever had, he raged until his cum shot into her. Their bodies' motion continued long after their minds had climaxed; he came to a slow stop on top of her. Panting. She was still holding him tight to her. He rolled out of her embrace and over into the darkness and then remained motionless. He silently contemplated what came over him. She silently contemplated her next move, still aglow from the heat rapidly fading from what had been her most intense orgasm.

*

The colors of the leaves visible through the window had peaked. The view from her table had always served to comfort her, relax her. Her mind was elsewhere, though. Julie sat at her writing desk a woman transformed. Her clothes exuded a teasing sexuality, though it was not her intent to tease tonight. She had become uncharacteristically silent about her love life with her friends, though she now more than ever was concentrating on escalating it. The phone was ringing but she was not answering, satisfied to let her husband wonder rather than reassure him she was at home. She smiled as she excitedly opened the fourth envelope.

"Dialogue"

"Fourth, the beast by now is reeling, in a frenzy. Now there is much to gain. So much to the beast has been unspoken; now is the time to verbalize. Tell it in excruciating detail what you want from it. Direct its actions with the most coarse language. Where there was titillation before let it drink from your words tonight."