Elizabeth's Vacation

(All rights reserved and enforced by the Guild of Assassins. All characters and events are fictional, the participants were all consenting adults, staunch churchgoers and members of the Rotaries. All appropriate safety precautions were observed at all times, social distancing was applied etc.)

This is the story of a naïve girl who embarks in a journey into a world of mysticism and sensual discovery. Join her as she reaches for higher levels or self-knowledge and pleasure.

Elizabeth Frost: An 18 year old first year student from an extremely conservative religious background. Her first experience with sex leads her to becoming a disciple or chela of a Tantra adept, and begin to discover a world of pleasure.

Dr Bill Ogden: General practitioner and eventually lover of Elizabeth's

Sunitra: Tantra adept, healer and relationship expert, Elizabeth's teacher and master.

John Wills, retired engineer, tantra adept, Elizabeth's lover and teacher.

Master Tsang: Adept in a school of martial arts you don't want to know about.

The bus left her near a winding, overgrown driveway. It clearly did not see much motor traffic, and weeds grew everywhere. Chickens clucked in the yard around the small house, a few goats were staked out in a paddock behind the house. Her knock went unanswered for a while, then a voice called, inviting her to step in.

Sandalwood incense pervaded the house, and soft pentatonic music came from somewhere. The house was small, the rooms bare. A wide veranda overlooking the goat paddock held a small stool and on it was perched a wizened asiatic man, clad in a wraparound while kimono-like garment.

He rose as Elizabeth entered, pretending to straighten a creaking back, and bowed to her, his hands linked before him.

She returned the greeting, and said: "Sunitra sent me. I am Elizabeth. I hope I am not disturbing you."

He grinned. "I was meditating on the wonder of creation. The sun makes the grass grow, the grass makes the goats grow, we eat the goats and we grow... Except that I am not growing."

She laughed politely. The little man looked like a farmer, or even a field labourer. His hands were calloused and rough, dirt was ingrained in his skin. He waited until she had finished looking at him, and asked: "So what did you see? That I have hidden beauty in me?" He cackled in laughter and said: "You want to learn from me? So let me see you. Take off the clothes."

She looked around. All was peaceful, there was nobody to be seen, but they were on the open veranda. "Here? In public?"

The old man cackled again. "Only the goats, and they won't mind."

Doubtfully she began to disrobe, and he looked at her critically, walking around her. He touched her backside. "Soft, you need strength here. Tummy too, there are your core muscles. You must harden them. You know how? Exercise. Flexibility, not strength."

He looked her up and down, appraisingly, and she felt herself getting wet. Then the old man cackled again. "You look good. Not too much fat. You may deceive an enemy. So, hit me."

She frowned. He was standing right before her. "Hit? Hit you?"

He nodded, and she aimed a blow with her fist at him. It met clean air. He was still standing there. She hit again, and he mover a millimetre to avoid the blow. "Come on, I am not running. Hit me, hard. Must I make you angry?"

She tried, but every time he dodged just a few millimetres out of the way. She tried with both fists, and eventually one flailing arm grazed his neck.

"Enough now. You are panting. Was it that hard? If you are going to be a warrior you will have to hit much harder. Look here."

He had caught one fist in mid-air. "See, if you hit me you would break this finger and that one. Now, I hold out my hand, and you hit it."

This time the hand did not move, and her fist hit it with a resounding shock as if hitting a plank. She danced around, waving the sprained hand in the air. He grinned. "Let me see. Just a bruise, easily mended. Wait."

He hopped off the veranda, agile as a grasshopper, stripped a leaf from a plant, and returned, smearing the sticky juice over the hand.

"Now, you must practise the blow. Like this. A line from the knuckle to the shoulder. Straight line. Any bend, and you break. See?"

She had forgotten that she was naked, an unknown man holding her arm, tracing the line of force along the arm, her quivering bosom just in front of his face. He smiled at her. "See why I prefer teaching girls? Added benefits." And he flicked her nipple.

She frowned, and he cackled again. "Maybe making you angry would let you make mistakes. So, hit again. And again. And again. Now the other arm."

She was dripping with perspiration when he called a halt. "So, young warrior, we have learnt how to hit, with power flowing from your toes, through your centre, through the shoulder, the elbow, the wrist, up to the knuckle. You will practise this for an hour every day. Yes, an hour, and I will know when you do not do it. Come next week, but first catch the brown spotted goat for me, he has pulled his rope loose. Then you can dress."

* * * * *

She sat with Sunitra after their yoga session. "What a crazy little man. Where am I going to get an hour a day to practise hitting things? I have three tests next week, my workload is just out of this world."

Sunitra smiled. "My

chela

, do not ask, do. When you understand you may ask, if you still want to. Tell me your daily schedule, let us see where we can make time."

"But what is the sense of learning to hit if everyone tells me I should not confront force with force."

Sunitra lifted an eyebrow. "And how are you going to avoid force if you do not know what it looks like?"

* * * * *

Elizabeth had begun to think the brown goat had a plan for her. As she fixed his picket for the tenth time she asked: "Master Tsang, why not build a pen for him? Or get a longer peg for the line?"

He sat still on his stool, admiring the lithe naked form tugging the bleating goat back to where he was supposed to graze. "And how will I move a pen to give him fresh grazing? The females are bad enough at breaking into my vegetables, but this one? On the other hand a pen is not the answer. And a longer peg will be harder for me to pull out and pound back in, no? Come, let us see if you can hit now."

She spent another half an hour trying to hit him, then gave up in despair. "I am just not getting it. You seem to move just as I start hitting. How do you know?"

He answered: "How does the water know when the fish is going to jump? There is no knowing, just being. You hit, I see in your eyes, your feet, your being what you are going to do and where you are going to hit. You must learn to be like water, not a fish that wants to jump, or a rock that will cause ripples. Be passive."

She was tired, frustrated, wound up by the work of the past week, the weight of the studies ahead of her. The tea he offered soothed her, and she drank deeply, drank with it the peace, the quiet growth, the bees and other insects going about their business. Somehow she felt herself dissolving into the nature around her, the peace, the business of life, the quietness. And something in her mind said: "Hit."

The smack of her fist against his chest snapped her back into awareness, shocked her peaceful meditation into a thousand shards.

Master Tsang cackled, rubbing his chest. "At last the lesson goes through. At last the thought follows the action. You did well. Now, again."

It was an hour later that she succeeded in hitting him again.

* * * * *

The healing meditation wound down. Sunitra closed the session, walked her students to the door, chatting with them while Elizabeth cleared the classroom and tidied everything away.

Sunitra looked at the younger girl and smiled. "Thanks for the support. I could feel your mental support. It was a tough one, wasn't it?"

Elizabeth nodded. "Complicated. Barry resisted, felt he knew better. I could see in his face. But in the end I think he went through the process just to please us. Let's hope it helps him."

"The men are the difficult ones. Pride, perhaps. You look troubled, my

chela

.

"I'm hot and sweaty, can I have a shower here? And I think I am taking the afternoon off. My brain is stuffed with facts, and the test series begins next week."

The small apartment welcomed her and the shower sent needle jets over her body. The stimulation helped wash away her mental fatigue. The sliding door hissed open and Sunitra handed her a glass of ice cold white wine. "Hot and cold, contrasts. Challenges the body and the mind, no?"

Elizabeth felt the coolness slide down her throat, soothing her. Fragrant aromas engaged her mind, awakening memories of the vineyards and mountains she remembered from a holiday years ago. "Aren't you joining me?"

Sunitra smiled and entered the spacious shower enclosure, put her own glass on the windowsill and soaped her hands. "You are troubled, my

chela

. Let me wash your back, rub away the tensions."

Her hands slid over the smooth muscles, the strong buttocks, the lean thighs. Then she reached around and began to soap her stomach, remarking: "You are losing weight, and gaining muscles. You used to be soft and pliant."

Elizabeth gave herself over to the reassurance of the massage, the soap, the familiarity of the body behind her. Suddenly she reached down, took Sunitra's hand and brought it up to her breast. "I need you, please, make love to me."

Sunitra complied, cupping, fondling the slick breast and sliding her other hand down, hovering over her mound, caressing, probing, teasing the hard nub of her clitoris until Elizabeth shuddered and groaned: "Now, please, I want to come now. Ohhh!"

Sunitra held the spasming body in her arms, extending the orgasm, riding the waves of pleasure and enjoying the surrender of the strong young body. When Elizabeth subsided she turned her around, kissed her and asked: "Better now, little one? Or do you need another one?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "Not just now, but thank you. I did not realise I needed it so badly."

"How long since the last one?"

She sighed as Sunitra towelled her dry. "I don't know, two, three weeks? I have been so busy, the studies, the discipline to try to get everything done, Master Tsang's classes, everything. I feel I have come up against an obstacle."

Sunitra looked around the small kitchenette. "I tell you what, let's order something to eat, and let's talk. I was planning to stay here tonight in any case, if you want to you can stay with me, since you are going to cut your studies."

They spoke for an hour or so about nothing of any importance, and it was while they were washing down the last of the pizza that Sunitra asked: "And Master Tsang?"

Elizabeth jerked. "What about him? What has that to do... I mean, what do you..."

Sunitra caressed her arm. "Relax, my

chela

. I am your teacher, I am allowed to ask questions, especially when I can see you are blocked by something. What has he been teaching you?"

Elizabeht frowned. "I think he has been teaching me to chase the bloody brown goat all over the fields, naked. And how to hit him. That's all. No, not really, he has taught me a different control of my mind and body, I think."

Sunitra giggled. "Running naked after a goat? I wish I could see that. And does he do that for kicks, does he get turned on?"

"Not that you would notice it. I mean, he just ignores me. At the beginning he made a remark, once or twice, about it being nice to teach girls, but I think he is past any interest in sex."

Sunitra rolled over and stretched like a sensuous cat. "Do not make that mistake. No man is ever really past that, and Master Tsang has special... qualities. Have you tried to seduce him?"

Elizabeth started shaking her head, then frowned. "You know, I now realise that I am incredibly turned on by his teaching, and I never realised it. But he... How..."

Sunitra giggled again. "Come here, lovely, let me caress you, then you can make me come, and I can do the same for you. Perhaps that is what Master Tsang is trying to teach you? That ignoring something is the best way to draw attention to it?"