Sinderella

Once upon a time, not very long ago and not so far away, there lived a girl named Sinderella. Her home was a five-steepled castle that was once a church of a long forgotten religion. It sat on an island that divided a river running with winter's melting snow. All secluded, she lived there with her mother and two sisters. . . . . so she thought. The supposed siblings and mock matriarch were really re-born evangelists who discovered the baby Sin all alone in the white marbled temple, encrusted with flowering ivy. Years ago, as they went door to door, interrupting meals and passing out brochures on chastity, there was a terrible drought and the rivers flow was low. The three crossed over to grand estate, through myriad gardens and rose encrusted arches. They knocked, rang and hooted at the portal but not thwarted at the no-one-is-home ploy, they broke in. Echoes were their only reply in the vast, empty chambers of the castle. Determined to recruit, they searched each room and checked every closet, marveling at the treasures they discovered. Way up in the tippy top attic of the tallest turret, they came upon the abandoned babe. Happy that they found an audience, they thumped, preached and pouted but to no avail, Sin just gurgled in response. Since the accommodations were so appealing, they decided to wait till she was old enough to make them tea and read their pamphlets.

The seasons revolved and Sinderella grew into a fine, strapping young woman with a viral heart and a curious mind. Her long, blond locks curled over supple shoulders and curves swelled the rags that they kept her in. Never knowing her true heritage, she had become the maid of the vast estate, polishing the exotic armor and serving the meals on platinum platters that bore her family name. All through childhood, at any spare moment, the three posing preachers expounded their doctrine, trying to develop in her the perfect discipline, the very model of chastity, purity and piety. But every sermon met with questions and she was only interested in the nasty bits in the Old Testament with all the harems and adulterers. Despite such obstacles to her renunciation of worldly desires, they never gave up. After all, for the oldest of the three women, there was plenty of sacramental wine in the cellar. The middle age woman was content; she had her own bathroom. And the youngest even liked it there; they got cable.

Like veils from an exotic dancer, the years slipped by and to keep idle hands out of the devil's playpen, the three women kept Sin busy with chores. She was never allowed to leave the cathedral and the raging river that flowed on either side kept that edict intact. One would think that Sinderella would be bored cooped up with the three god freaks but fortunately, she had a plethora of little friends that frolicked among her toes as she hung the laundry and wrinkled their noses in sympathetic affection as she sung the blues. There were rabbits and rats, monitors and minks, snakes and snipes, frogs and fraggles (this is a fairy tale, right?). She would feed them by hand, sleep with them at night and watch them copulate with fascination. These acts woke strange but warm feelings deep down inside of Sin. Way up in her loft which looked over the range of her ancestral home, surrendered by exotic and arousing tapestries that she found hidden chests, she would dust covered journal of parties and passions that reveled with in the same castle ages ago. Where as her sisters vaguely admonished her never to do certain things, these texts told her exactly how to do it.

With the door bolted tight, she would strip and nestle under the furs. Graphic illustrations and vivid description soon made it too hot for the furs to cover her as she threw them back, revealing long, creamy thighs that just started to sweat. Hands roamed, trying to sooth her skin that tingled like burning ice. When they found the source of her flames, she could no longer keep her eyes on the pages but she shut them to see a dim vision of what she has been missing. Fortunately, her abode was far from the other inhabitants and even the snakes covered their ears in chagrin from her eruptions of passion. Pleasant as her secret games were, she always felt lonely and missing a vital participant. And as if in answer to her yearning, occasionally a sweet, gentle breeze would whisper in and coolly caresses her steaming body. And in all this time, she never saw a man.

Then one magic day, notice came by means of a homing balloons that there was to be a ball: a gala, a party, a festival, a brew-ha-ha, a dance, a rave, a hoopla, a wing-ding, a jamboree of XTC. When the missionaries read the note, they knew it was time to leave the castle. If there was going to be gathering of sin, the women need to be there to convert the heathens in their dancing, wicked ways and show the light of drab peity. It was their duty, a divine obligation and after all, they have been dying for an occasion to wear all these gorgeous dresses they found in various chests and wardrobes.

But Sinderella, of course, was not allowed to go. They thought that all the debauchery would be too much for her tender years and besides, her left elbow was cuter than their combined cleavage and they would never get asked to dance. The sight of men would be too exciting for one of her years and most importantly, the Prince was going to be there. Thee prince, the one with the pierced nipples, seven chamber bong and who bore the legendary, royal scepter of mastery. The three women, each of whom desperately wanted to get him in a baptismal pool, just drooled at the thought of him in a cassock.

The night of the ball drew nearer and every day Sin begged them to go but she might as well tried asking the statue of St. Abstinence. They only gave her a longer than usual to-do list and told her not to wait up. They pole vaulted over the river, grabbed a cab and zoomed off to the dance with hopes of a good buffet table and getting into a confessional with the Prince.

Poor Sin was left all alone in the palace cathedral of her ancestors, left to scrub table legs and water the cactus. When finally finished, she gathered all of her scaly, furry and feathered friends and did what all discouraged women do when stuck at home on Prom Night. She grabbed a pint of ice cream and drew water for a hot bath. Lighting some curiously shaped candles she found in the cellar and burning aged Jasmine incense, she slowly sank into the bubbles as she fought hard not to think about the dance and Prince for whom it was thrown. But trying not to think about it only made her dwell on it more. The situation was hopeless. She had nothing to wear and no way of getting there. Oh how she wished she could go! she asked in a silent prayer as she was enveloped by the warm, liquid sanctuary of bubbles.

Suddenly there was a whirl, a fizz and a pop! and with wide open eyes, Sin beheld a quirky old lady with a bird cage top hat and clad from head to foot in a white leather biker attire, with one foot propped up on the rim of the tub. Before Sin could even react, the visitor was asking, "Are you gonna soak in there all night till you’re a raisin or are you going to get your man?"

"Who are you? How did you get in here?" Sin replied as she sunk further into the tub. Although this was the first person she ever met beside her step-family, she was still more amazed than frightened.

"Oh details, details. Aren't you gonna offer me a drink? A whiskey and rainwater would do just fine. With a slice of kiwi," she added. Sin opened her mouth as if to persist in her questioning but then thought about how good that sounded. She returned with the drinks, ready with her barrage of questions, but wily witch beat her to it. You see, she only spoke in questions. She asked, “Say, aren't you gonna be late for the ball?"

This reminder erased any further curiosity Sin had about the Acid Queen's arrival. "There is no way I can get there and besides all I have to wear is this tattered old dress made from sewn together rags," she said.

"Don’t cha like it? You know, the anti-material but elitist, punker-than-thou look? But you want something else, huh?” said the old witch, pulling Sin’s chin up to look into her eyes. "Do you really want to go?"

"Yes," Sin replied.

"Do you really, really want to go?" she asked again.

"Yes!" Sin exclaimed.

"Do you really, really, really-"

"HELL YES!!!!!"

"Okay, Okay, where can I find a few materials to make a new dress?" said the Funky Godmother as her eyes bounced about and finally rested on the little critters that pranced among her feet. "Do you think they would mind?" she said as she scooped up a ferret.

She pulled a full sized magic pool stick out of her pocket and waived it over the scuttling creatures and suddenly they all dropped as if their very insides had disappeared. All that was left was a pile of hides, pelts and skins. Sin was about to say something but the old witch just gave her a wink and chalked up her cue. Another wave over the pile and all the feathers, furs and scales bound together to make a tantalizing dress. As Sinderella slipped it on, all of the candles melted in her glow.

So I have a dress now but how can I get there?, was the plea that came out of her eyes. The weird old witch merely smiled, poked her stick into the bath and popped the plug. As the water drained, it warped and wiggled, seats propping out and a feline head sprouted from the end. The claws on the stands stretched and pawed at the floor, eager to be off.

"But how can I go if my family can recognize me? They would never forgive me," said Sin.

"Oh, I was saving this for Mardi Gras but I suppose you could have it," and the Acid Queen pulled a porcelain mask out of her bag of tricks. It was the color of fresh laden snow on a full-moon night. The expression it bore was one of longing and secrets.

"This is wonderful! I can't believe this is happening! How can I ever thank you?" Sinderella cried.

"What can you do, child? But is life ever that simple? How long does a miracle last? How long is a day? Would you like to be thoroughly embarrassed and make the biggest social faux pas of the century? Will you know when midnight strikes? Now get out of here and have a good time or would like to resume your raisin transformation? Now tell me, which will get you what you want? Playing hard to get or being easy to please?" said the witch and then turned her attention to her cocktail.

With that, the lion’s feet on the bath boat began to run. Sin fell back into the It leapt out of the window, landed in the river, kitty-swam over and in no time was doing a miraculous parallel parking job in a tiny space in front of the royal palace. Sinderella hiked up her dress to run up the front steps, revealing her shapely ankles and milky calves and brought all the guards standing at attention.

The dance was in full swing. There were tiers of drums along the walls, champagne water falls and archers shooting flaming arrows lit the whole place in spectacular, pyro-technical arcs. There were ballerinas moshing and Sufis with hula-hoops. The beat shivered through her body and she felt herself involuntarily doing the pogo. As she swirled and shimmied through the crowds, she spotted her stepmother who was sloshed from the spiked smart drinks and was trying to do the nasty with one of the boy-toys. Her elder-sister was stuck on a virtual reality system, making strange noises and gyrations but strangest of all was the youngest who was suspended above the dance floor in a cage, teasing a hoard of Barbary Pirates to tear at pieces of her clothing. Relieved, Sin didn't have to worry about being caught by any of them. What a party, she thought. Her head was all a whirl of razzmatazz and jazz. She started to spin in circles, faster and faster, letting the whole dance become a blur. Abruptly, she felt a pair of strong hands grab her shoulders and she came to a stop. She opened her eyes and saw no one. One more half spin and she came face to face with one of the cutest guys she ever laid eyes on.

"Love the dress. Let's boogie," was all he said and they started to move as if the music came out of their bodies. Oh how they danced till the sweat began to pour.

It became so hot they stepped outside to the balcony to find some fresh air and privacy. They pussy footed around till one of them (they never told me who) had the courage to make the first move and their very first kiss chilled their blood like a cherry Slurpee and melted their bones like candles in furnace. It was as if their lips were roses left in a drought. The kisses fell like rain, and the petals, slippery and wet, drank it all in gulps. When they stopped to catch their breadth, the Prince said, "I'm so glad that you are here. I thought this party was going to be a dud till I saw you. And the night is so young, it's only a little before midnight now."

"What! I have to go. I'm sorry, you don't know how sorry I am but I really have to go," Sin said.

"Wait, just one more kiss," he said and she couldn't refuse what she most dearly wanted to give. So they lip-dallied a bit longer and every time they made progress toward her magical vehicle, they would kiss even more passionately, desperately, trying to make each kiss last enough to sustain their impending separation but it only deepened the addiction. Finally, they were both standing in her vehicle, the beast purring and shivering nervously. Slowly, it began to move across the orchard-laden grounds. So enraptured in one of these impassioned embraces that it took awhile before Sin noticed the splashing about her feet. Looking down, she smiled at all of her little friends milling about in the bathtub in which they stood. But then her attention was quickly devoted to the fact that she was the only one not wearing clothes. The Prince, ever so compassionate, felt sympathetic to Sin's plight and swiftly did what he could to assimilate their differences. At first, she was quite distressed about her exposure in a bathtub, in a middle of field, with a man she had just met but soon this feeling was replaced with another feeling, lots of feeling. The animals watch in awe as the two splashed around so much that soon there was hardly any water left in the tub. Little matter, for the tub was kept slick with fluids of a different nature. Melting down into a singular embrace, they rolled under the stars, pressing and pushing into each other with whatever friction they could generate. They even made the animals blush when she cried out in delirious reverie.

Sinderella wasn't sure how she had got back. It was a miracle enough that she returned across country and river without a stitch of clothing but bringing the bathtub too was truly impressive. Fortunately, the three re-born revelers were too hung over to notice her absence. She slipped up to her attic quarters, put her rags bag on and stared off through her portal window in the direction of her Prince’s estate. Sin, with a coy smile, asked how the ball was and how she wished she could have gone. The imposters could barely respond and groaned as Sinderella testing the temple bells for tuning. She felt warm and dreamy all week and took a bath whenever the opportunity presented itself. Never knowing anything but sermons and duties, the night’s memory seemed a life-time of joy and pleasure.

Thus, the ball seemed an unreal dream to Sin and a blur to the others when notice came from the royal post master. The Prince was looking for a special girl who was at his ball. He was going door to door, checking all those who were sent an invitation. Even though everyone was wearing a mask, he had a special way of knowing just who she was. You could imagine how the household reacted when they heard this! Well now, double it as they learned that he was to come to their house that very evening. In a fury, the all rushed to get all dolled up again. They didn't even tell poor Sin and as she was sleepy from her bath and had gone to bed early.

One would expect the Prince to have a long train of attendants but as this was a personal matter, he handled this mission alone. Weary from having to explain his dilemma over and over, you could imagine his curiosity when he finally came to ancient cathedral. He crossed the river (he was a good swimmer), rapped on the door. This time, the second visitor is so many decades, the door was flung open readily and he was soon dripping wet on the foyer floor.

"I am looking for my dream lover," he said. Tired of long explanations, he felt that this summed up his mission clearly enough.

The three women nearly exploded with excitement and elbowed their way into his face. "It was me," they cried till they sounded like ducks cackling for food.

"No, no, no. There is only one way to know for sure. You see, it has to. . . Um, fit just right," he said. The women looked at each other quizzically and then all gave blank faces to their visitor. He sighed, looked up despairingly, and explained. When the women finally understood what he meant, they fought even harder to be first to prove their authenticity. The eldest Jehovah Witness tried to pull the age before beauty trick but the other two wouldn't listen and the Prince refused; he wasn't that drunk. But the older sister was too big and when she suggested that he could stretch it, he was reluctant. The younger sister was too small and when she offered to chop some off, he prepared to leave.

Despite their most urgent pleads and best lasso throws, he made it out of the castle. As he left the cathedral grounds, depressed but determined, he was about to jump in the river when he spotted a rabbit giving him one of those, "Hey, don't I know you from somewhere" looks. He returned the same and went over to pat it between the ears. That was when he noticed and followed the rodent chasing a snake that spooked a parrot that flew up the wall into a cat sitting on the windowsill that leapt onto the bed where Sin was sleeping. The scent was unmistakable. It had to be her but he had to be sure. He peeled off his soaking clothes and climbed into the bed. Sin just thought that she was dreaming her dream again. The feel of his arms and chest, slippery and slick, was delicious as he pulled her close. She lifted her arms and he slipped off her night gown, feeling just for a moment the nights chill before the fiery warmth of his body smothered her in layers of tactile ecstasy. She shivered with a tingling itch that she wanted only him to scratch. It pulsed deep inside and there was only one way to find relief, the best way. She opened herself up, from the deepest reaches of her heart and he filled her with a heat that made her glow. They joined together and fit just right.

In the morning, the Prince kicked the three false missionaries out and turned the chastity church into a temple of temptation. All of her animal friends were the priests and the bathtub, their alter. And they lived happily ever after even if they didn't get much sleep.