Finding Goddess

Breakfast was always best when it was eaten with Carol. Not because she was the best cook or anything, but for the simple reason that Katherine was being served by her surrogate mommy! Seeing the older woman roam around the kitchen, pulling various things out of the fridge and cupboards and mixing them together over a hot stove turned her on in more ways than one. Especially since Carol did it wearing nothing but an apron. Seeing her breasts jiggle against the cloth like they were trying to break free while the raven-headed woman's bare butt peaked out adorably from behind was unbelievably sexy. Katherine couldn't imagine anything more mom-like if she tried!

It was enough to make her sigh as she stepped out of the apartment and into her car. She didn't want to go to work. She wanted to stay with her naked mommy, have some more fun with her, marvel at her beautiful body, just for a little while longer. Fate robbed her of the opportunity to spend any quality time with her biological mother; why couldn't she spend all the time she wanted to with her sexy fake mother?

Speaking of which, said sexy fake mother was exiting the apartment, no doubt to head out for work herself. She looked the part; her hair was neatly combed, her face was done up, and she had her purse and her briefcase in her hands. The only thing she didn't have were her clothes. She had walked outside stark naked!

Katherine completely blanched.

What is she...how did...her naked problem! It must be kicking in again!

"Mom, Carol, wait!" Katherine shouted as she flung her door open. It was too late. Carol had already slammed her own shut and was pulling out of her building's meager parking lot. Katherine had to act fast! She was parked on the other side of the street opposite her lover's place. If she ran quick enough, maybe, just maybe she could slam into Carol's car and get her attention.

Unfortunately, she wasn't quick enough. By the time the black girl's foot hit the sidewalk, Carol was already on the road and zooming away, her car rapidly disappearing over the horizon. Putting more and more distance between her and her clothes.

Katherine had to admit, the idea of Carol driving around town and going to work in the buff was really hot! Who knows just how many people's days she would make stepping into the office bouncing breasts first? But...more likely than not, she would just get arrested if she did that. And fired! And Katherine couldn't let that happen, not to her mommy!

She whipped out her phone and began texting furiously. She had to tell Carol, had to warn her! Calling her would be better, but knowing the nudist woman, she wouldn't answer it in the car. She was too responsible like that. So Katy did the next best thing: she spammed her girlfriend with messages!

'mom ur naked'

'get dressed'

'hurry'

'gr8 ass btw'

Hopefully, the constant stream of alerts would get Carol's attention before she got out of her car and exposed herself to everyone. Because if they didn't...

Katherine jumped. She thought she heard a loud screech off in the distance. It sounded like some kind of screaming machine. Or some kind of screaming

person

. She couldn't be sure. Maybe it was both; a screaming robot person. That would be something.

The roaring hum of rolling tires and panicked machinery grew louder as a familiar-looking car suddenly appeared and started to zoom its way in her direction. But before Katherine could utter a sigh of relief over her message to Carol coming through, she was forced to jump back as the car came to a very sudden and very dangerous

halt

, spinning a near 180 degrees on the road as a certain someone slammed on the brakes a little too hard.

SCRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

The tires screamed as they grinded on the pavement, no doubt leaving rubber skids marks behind.

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" The tires' screams turned into Carol's as she flew out of her car in a mad panic, nearly knocking Katherine over as she blazed past her, naked and barefoot as the day she was born.

Katherine was amazed the apartment building didn't get itself a new Carol-shaped window.

***

The blush didn't fade from either Carol's face or her body. Not while she dressed herself. Not while she got back in her car. Not while she drove to work. Not while she entered the building, rode the elevator, and walked into the office. And it still didn't fade as gravity all but kicked her into her chair with a steel-toed boot. It still burned her every inch of skin, making her look and feel like a lobster in a pot of boiling water. Red, hot, cramped, and ready to blow up at a moment's notice.

She thought she was going to get better, but she wasn't. She was getting worse. The thought to put her clothes on didn't cross her mind at all this morning. If Katherine hadn't been there, if Katherine hadn't warned her in time, if Carol's phone had been muted...she would never have realized that she had gone to work butt-naked until it was too late!

Waiting out whatever condition was afflicting her wasn't going to do it. Carol had to...had to...had to do

something

to put an end to it! Because if she didn't, then she'd...

"Hey, Carol! Working hard, or hardly working?"

Carol stifled both a groan and the urge to bang her head on her desk. A talk with the office clown was the last thing she needed right now.

"Not now, Harold," she mumbled. "I'm not having the best day right now."

"Sorry to hear that," said her well-meaning co-worker. "What's been going on? Anything I can do to help?"

"No there isn't. And I don't wanna talk about it," Carol muttered, too tired and surly to think up a proper excuse.

Harold looked like he had more to say, but before he could so much as get another word in, a new voice suddenly spoke up. "Um, Miss...Connors is it?"

Carol looked up to see who else decided it was their goddess-given duty to aggravate her and once more resisted the urge to bang her head on the her desk. Of all the people who had to approach her at this bitter hour, it had to be none other than the new intern. The cute, innocent-looking, bespectacled one she nearly bumped into yesterday, and who put all kinds of dirty thoughts into her head.

"Yes?" she snapped, not bothering to hide her annoyance. She regretted it immediately when she saw the girl wilt behind the stacks of papers and folders she was holding.

"I-I've been told to pass this onto you," the intern stammered. "Elaine Cassidy will be coming in today. They want you to speak to her about her work-in-progress."

The blood finally drained from Carol's face. "Elaine...Cassidy? Oh Goddess, no..."

The intern wasn't done talking. "And, since they don't know when she'll be here, they want you stationed in Writer's Room 3 for the day so she can have her meeting with you as soon as she gets here."

Carol didn't bang her head on her desk, but she did lower her head onto it, burying it in her arms if only to give herself the illusion that she was actually hiding. Because the Goddess only knew how much she really needed to hide!

She couldn't see the intern's face, but she was certain the poor girl was likely confused. "And, uh...they suggested you read over her manuscript while you wait for her. To review what you think needs to be revised and all."

"Noooooooooooo," Carol moaned into her arms, really wanting to cry right now.

"Um, that's all I had to say, so...bye!" said the intern. The rapid padding of her feet indicated she was scurrying away as fast as she could. No doubt she wasn't very comfortable speaking to Carol either.

"Goddess damn son of a..." Carol muttered as she pushed herself up, pausing only to meet the baffled gaze of Harold. "Why are you looking at me like that? And what are you still doing here?"

"Elaine...Cassidy?" he said. "Is she by any chance related to Jay Elliot Cassidy?"

"Yes. She's the daughter of our company's bestselling author," said Carol. "And honestly, that's the only reason she's given the time of day here."

"I take it she's a difficult person to work with?"

"Difficult, annoying, immature, unprofessional, and very pretentious," said Carol giving her head a rub to soothe the headache that was starting to make itself known. "She thinks she's the Goddess' gift to writing, but she's not. She's terrible! She feels the need to describe every goddesss-damn little thing and action. She spent five whole pages describing a woman putting groceries away! Five pages! Of 'she put this in the fridge and that in the fridge and this in the fridge.' And three whole paragraphs talking about how handsome a man's chin was! I have never read anything more grueling and tedious in my life! And if you try to tell her what's wrong, she gets snippy and accuses you of just not getting her 'art!' It's just...AGGGHHHHH!"

"Sounds...difficult," said Harold unhelpfully. "Any idea why they're having you talk to her?"

"No clue at all," said Carol. "Maybe I'm the only person here she'll kind of sort of listen to? Or maybe this whole universe just hates me? I don't know!"

"I see," said Harold. "By the way, what is this goddess you keep mentioning?"

Carol raised an eyebrow worryingly. "G-goddess?"

"Yeah, you keep saying 'goddess.' Often wherever most people would say 'god.' Is this some kind of new expression going around? Or did you convert to a new religion?"

"I...haven't converted to anything," stammered Carol, who was starting to feel awfully hot again. Hot...and sweaty. "I...I have to go to the Writer's Room right now."

"Yeah, I guess you should," said Harold. "Good luck! May the Goddess, whoever she is, be with you for your meeting with Miss Cassidy!"

Carol grumbled at his quip as she grabbed her things and got a move on, though she couldn't help but wish it would actually be true. Goddess knew she could really use a...goddess.

***

It was called the Writer's Room not because it was where people went to write, but because it was typically where writers would go to talk business with the good people of the Trilo Publishing Company. It and its sister rooms were cozy little places that offered plenty of privacy not found in the rest of the office, making them especially ideal for an author to learn from a copy editor like Carol why their book was trash and why they were trash for writing it.

That's what Carol wanted to tell Elaine the second the little bitch set foot inside anyway. Going over her text like she had been for the past 30 minutes was darkening the mother's already foul mood.

'First she pulled out the milk and she put that in the fridge. Then she pulled out the juice and she put that in the fridge. Then she pulled out the bananas and she put those in the fridge...'

"For fuck's sake, you don't put bananas in the fridge!" she roared, resisting her every urge to hurl the computer monitor at the wall. "This idiot knows nothing! How much longer does this go for? Goddess...did she jot down her grocery list during a bad case of writer's block or what? No, I doubt she's ever had to go grocery-shopping in her life. Damn it, my daughters wrote more engaging shit in first grade!"

Carol took an angry sip of her coffee, all the while secretly wishing it was wine. Being drunk was the only thing that would make reading this crap bearable. Her wish intensified the moment the bitter-tasting liquid hit her lips. "Gah! Too hot! Too hot!" she sputtered, hastily stowing the mug on the edge of her desk.

"Looks like it's going to be another rotten day," she grumbled, dropping her head despondently into her hand. It was bad enough she'd have to talk to someone as irritating as Elaine, but did the wait have to be so grueling too? She scrolled ahead into the document. Maybe there was a better, more engaging passage later on. Stories tended to be a lot more iffy on the early parts after all. Perhaps Elaine found her voice on page 100 or so?

'Like a billion rays of brilliant gilded sunshine did his hair flutter and fly in the breeze, twirling like the spinning whirlpools that were likely spinning somewhere in the azul-coloured ocean from which the waves crashed on the beach they were both standing on like two tall statues standing in the dawn. She loved his hair. She loved that about him. She would jump in and dive in it if she could, she would paddle, swim, and kick in it like it was the cerulean ocean that was meeting the beach they were both standing on, she would wear it on her body like a new dress bought at the store. That was how much she loved his hair. That was how much she loved Jones, but which she could never find the lexemes or vocables to inform him of that emotion she felt. Just like how she loved his chin. It was magnificently square, it kind of reminded her of a big rock and it...'

"Ohhhhh Goooooooodeeeeesssssssss," Carol groaned, rubbing her head. This hurt so much that she swore her brain was trying to break out of her skull just to be free of this madness. Reading this text couldn't be good for anybody's health, and she was expected to pore over it for possibly HOURS?

"I can't do this," she breathed as she minimized the document on the computer screen. "I need to read something better. Something more engaging. Something..."

Her eyes fell down to her purse, where the Scripture of Zenriah was peering out at her like a mischievous kitten just begging to be petted.

"Something...erotic," she whispered before snatching it up in her greedy hands.

***

And so the Goddess could love and be loved eternally as ever She desired, but nay, the same could not be said of Her wives. For though they ever basked in the love of their Goddess, never could they sing they their love for Her as ever as they wished. Every hour of every day and every hour of every night rang with the hymn of Zenriah and a hundred scores of Her wives, and yet in those times were hundred scores more who could not sing with Her.

It was in those periods of silence where new songs would have to be sung in ways never sung to the Goddess before.

Arnessi yearned for her Goddess in Her hours of absence, so she took to wallowing and bathing in the clay from which all Womankind was made. She let it drip and she let it seep upon her form until it enwombed her from toe tip to hair tip, and then she let it seep within her woman. For Arnessi knew that the Goddess had once touched these pools of creation and in doing so, mayhap She was touching her once more.

In her singing and her bucking and her blossoming, Arnessi learned she too could shape the clay like the Goddess had before. By embracing it with her arms and kneading it in her hands, by smothering it in her chest, and enclosing it in her bloom, Arnessi was able to create a still being in the image of Zenriah.

Enraptured by her creation, Arnessi sought to create more. Statue after statue of the Goddess did she create, each more beautiful and more perfect than the last. More came to look upon what Arnessi had made and like her, they too were struck with love by the image of their Goddess. And so they joined Arnessi in her creation. Through smothering of lips and licking of tongues and of blooming of flowers and quaking of yoni, they sent ripples through the lakes of mud, they pushed rock and stone, they reshaped earth, erected mountains, split canyons, sprinkled dust, and cooled lava. When they were done, they made the first and greatest sculpture in all the history of Womankind. A home fit for a Goddess, Her Wives, Her consorts, and Her children. She made the Temple of Zenriah.

And so she became known as Arnessi the Builder...

...

The Goddess and the fire. For Kinuse, these were the only passions that mattered. When with the fire, she yearned for the Goddess. When with the Goddess, she yearned for the fire. For though Woman was a creature prone to dripping and flowing and running as water dripped and flowed and ran, was she not also fire given physical form?

Did Woman not dance as fire danced?

Did Woman not warm as fire warmed?

Did Woman not tremble in the throes of passion as fire trembled?

Did Woman not lick the petals of her being as fire licked?

When Kinuse did not lay with Zenriah, when Kinuse did not lay with Woman, then Kinuse did lay with fire. And she loved it in all the ways that she loved Goddess and Woman! If fire could love Kinuse as Woman loved her, then could it not love the Goddess as Woman loved Her as well?

So Kinuse bathed in only the purest of oils, shorn of the blood of fallen trees and leviathans. She spread it across her flesh, soaked it into her hair, and let it flow into the valleys of her posterior and of her labia until it became that of another skin over her form. And then she set herself aflame.

Wreathed in fire and ensconced in flame and embroiled in light and emanating of heat, Kinuse presented herself to the Goddess in all her fiery glory and she began to dance. She thrust her breasts into the air, she twirled her hair round in circles, she splayed her legs and kicked them skyward to show her Goddess the glowing embers of her womanhood. And she burned all throughout. From her hair and from her hand and from her feet and from her nips, the flames danced and they dazzled and cast wondrous shadows all around Kinuse as the sun sank and the moon rose.

All looked upon Kinuse as she danced with stars in their eyes, enchanted by the lights that never illuminated their nights in all the centuries they had lived through before. And none were more delighted than Zenriah. No longer able to contain Herself, the Goddess took to a lioness stalking her prey and pounced upon Her fiery lover with a hunger never known before. Licking the rosebud of the Goddess with her tongue and her hands and her breasts and her body and her flames, Kinuse proved that Woman was indeed a creature of fire as much as she was a being of water. For four days she burned until finally the Goddess' pleasure quenched her with a wave of infinite love, and with it went Kinuse's wakefulness. She laid happily in the pool of her Beloved's loving essence, completely unburned and unscorched by a force fatal to lesser beings made not by divine hands.

...

And so Kinuse the Unburned became a holy flame to illuminate the Goddess's Temple and Her growing city forevermore.

...

Enamored by the flowers, Lila...

***

"Hey, old lady! Old ladyyyyyy? Wake up! I'm right here! HellOOOOOOO? Is anyone home?"

Old lady?

Looking up from her book with an indignant scowl, Carol growled: "Who are you calling—"

Oh. It was

her

. She recognized that bleached blond hair and that snooty glare any day of the week. It was Elaine Cassidy, looking like she always did: like she owned the place and that the world revolved around her. Just seeing her made Carol want to wretch. Sadly, that was just another one of many things Carol couldn't do thanks to the demands of life and especially of her job. The only thing she could do was put on her biggest fake smile and pretend that everything was just dandy right now. No matter how much it hurt her soul or her face.

"Oh, Miss Cassidy, what a

pleasure

it is to

see

you a...see you a..."

Her voice trailed off. Her fake smile flickered and a cold chill fell over her whole body. Not a metaphorical chill used to illustrate a sudden sense of unease, but a very literal chill that blew all over her skin from the office's air conditioning, causing goose bumps to rise over nearly every inch of her exposed flesh. It hit all the parts of her that it normally did, like her face and her neck and her hands. And it hit all the parts of her that it normally didn't as well. Like her shoulders, her back, her stomach, her thighs, her feet, and especially her breasts.