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From: tooshoes@concentric.net (tooshoes)
Subject: Celestial RP 10:10:10 : "SG7 -- Somewhere on the Circle of Life " - supergirl7.txt [1/1]
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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
---------------------------------------------------

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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