Smoke from the sandalwood incense swirled toward the ceiling like sooty, unfurling serpents. Her golden bracelets jingled subtly as she shuffled the cards. They were the only other sound in the stuffy tent aside from his anxious breath.
Outside, the occasional roar of a roller-coaster, accompanied by the delighted shrieks of the passengers, vied for the ear's attention as the barkers enticed passers by to "Win a bear for the lady, sir!" or "Let me guess your age. You! Ma'am! I bet I can guess your exact age! Right this way!"
He was a handsome young man of moderate means. His father and mother had worked in academia and brought him up well . A fine education, family vacations to all the prime resorts and getaways, and all the intelligent discussion he could ask for ever since he could remember. But he had a love for that which couldn't always be explained. Novels on the occult, horror stories that made his skin crawl, and the simple thrill of indulging in activities such as a tarot reading could bring a smile to his skeptical heart once and again.
So, when he read of the coming carnival, he and his college friends decided to blow off summer classes and get lost in the spangled spectacle of the rides and treats.
The gilded stitch-work of stars, swirls, and roses surrounding her name had caught his eye at first glance: "Lilianne, Seer of the Soul's Path." A portly gentleman had been standing outside her beautifully antique-looking tent, his broad-brimmed hat sheltering a pinkish face that looked drawn and exhausted.
The sticky fragrance of funnel cakes had filled his nostrils, combined with more subtle hints of perspiration and sheer, tacky, greasy notes as he paused. His friends still lagged behind at a corner gathering of Midway games.
"How much?" he had inquired, already digging about in his pockets for the thick bundle of crimson tickets.
"Fifteen tickets and Lilianne will consult the cards for your fate, sir." The worn barker perked up at the approach and interest of the latest mark. His well-tended linen suit glowing ethereally in the hazy August afternoon light.
"Sure," the young man nodded agreeably, rapidly flipping through the banded stack to peel off fifteen, handing them to the elderly man whose pale blue eyes sparkled with good humor.
"Thank you, sir. Right this way," he had invited, sweeping one thick arm toward the tied-back flap of the tent. The shadowy depths within were too dark to allow the young man to see who lurked just inside.
He stepped into the smoky shadows and squinted. His eyes strained to become adjusted to the dark. The muffled revelry of the carnival outside these thick canvas walls lulled him slightly as he glimpsed a battered wooden chair before him. Clutching the ladder-back for support, he sat down.
She was not what he had expected. She had been nothing like what he had presumed her to be when his mind conjured up the stereotypical carnival fortune-teller. Instead of a rotund, graying older woman of unknown origin, his eyes beheld one of the most beautiful and exotic creatures he had ever seen.
The mysterious Lilianne appeared to exist in a separate dimension from the one where the rest of the world struggled or thrived. Her complexion was a combination of golden and creamy, as of milk kissed with honey, and it gave her an unusual radiance and appeal. Her hair was deepest chocolate, and the bittersweet tresses were pulled back to glossy smoothness by a perfectly neat French braid. Delicate diamond studs pierced her succulent little earlobes. Her features were fine and aristocratic. She had great, almost tawny eyes fringed with long, sweeping, luxuriant lashes; a fine, small, straight nose; beautifully sculpted cheekbones; and small, full lips darkened with rouge. And, clinging to her like a floral aura, was the most delicious perfume of dewy tea-rose and a heady blend of mysterious spices.
"Please make yourself comfortable." She greeted him in a baby-soft voice. Her immense, jewel-like eyes met his with the briefness and intensity of a tigress before she looked down to the small round table before her. "Would you prefer I read your palm, or that I perform a reading of the cards?"
"Ummmm..." He shifted nervously, swinging himself around to deposit himself tensely in the chair before her.
Her beauty was nearly incapacitating at so short a distance. And she, as if knowing his trepidation, reached out with one delicate, petal-soft hand to touch the back of his exposed right wrist, just below the mellow glimmer of his watch, in a gentle and calming gesture.
"You'll have to relax, sir," she offered a warm smile as her fingertips lingered on the smooth flesh. He inhaled a long, tremulous breath as his eyes met hers again, her expression one of earnestness. "It will be difficult for us to get an accurate reading if your mind is clouded."
"Oh. Sorry. It's been a while since I've had my cards read."
Lilianne smiled sympathetically, and leaned back to retrieve a fraying, dusty, ebony cloth, which she reverently spread across the well-polished tabletop. Her darkly lacquered nails glimmered jewel-like in the soft warmth of the milky afternoon sky. Her eyes flitted up to meet his. She stretched one naked, slender arm over to a nearby shelf to retrieve a hinged rosewood box lined in crimson velvet.
"I'm going to shuffle the deck," Lilianne began. His eyes caught a soft gleam of pearly teeth within that succulent little mouth as she spoke. "And, when I'm done, I need you to cut the deck and think of what you'd like to ask the cards. Then, I will shuffle again and you'll need to select ten cards."
"All right," the young man nodded, his mouth suddenly feeling dry as a vague memory of this same ritual at a sorority party floated back to him. It was a beer-clouded vision where the only clear images had been those of the pretty girls gathered around in mock fascination as one of the more New Age sisters had brought out her "Tarot in a Box" that she had bought at a department store.
A defiant wind whipped at the open tent flap, fluttering it like a bird's wing as a great, gray cloud began to creep in from the western sky. The man outside the tent rose and hobbled around to secure the flap more tightly as a burst of screams and giggles erupted from a ride further down the Midway.
Lilianne's hand gently settled over his, bringing him back to the present task. Returning his attention to the table, he reached down, carefully running slightly callused fingertips up along the slightly bent edges of the traditionally illustrated Rider-Waite deck, estimating roughly half the cards, and lifting them, offering his reader a questioning lift of his brows.
"Yes. Keep them face down and place them here," she nodded. She reclined slightly so that her small, well-formed breasts strained against the scarlet of her sleeveless blouse as she indicated the area of the cloth immediately to the left of the remaining stack of cards. "Right. Now I'll shuffle them, and you need to think on what you want to know."
How soft her hands were. How sweet her smile. And those spellbinding eyes with such luxuriant, long lashes that curled up at the edges... What must it be like to have someone so luscious lying beneath you? Or on top of you, for that matter? All that silken hair kissed with exotic perfume and that golden, enticing flesh...
"Are you thinking of your question?" Her voice came just above a whisper as she fanned out the deck with one practiced flick of a couple long, elegant fingers.
"Oh, yes, Lilianne: I have a question in mind." With a knowing nod, she offered a tempting smile.
"Then let's start drawing cards."
The light within the tent grew more feeble, and he paused, hand hovering above the intricately patterned backs of the cards, to glimpse the more abundant gathering of dove gray clouds interspersed with ones of a more slate hue, the wind picking up strength. A discarded plastic bag with the mashed remnants of lilac-colored cotton-candy surfed upon the unseen gust, hurrying off toward parts unknown as people came and went, heedless of the darkening skies.
"The three of cups," Lilianne noted, lips pursed slightly in kissable contemplation as he watched her face for the slightest trace of concern regarding his future. "This represents your present state of mind. Your main occupation right now, and cups is the suit of relationships."
"Like about a relationship I have right now?"
"Not necessarily. It might be a relationship you wish you had."
The smile she gave him made his nerves tingle. As if she read his thoughts—which, he knew, must be fairly easy with the way he was all but drooling over her. But how could she expect him to act otherwise? His cock had begun to swell within his jeans from the first moment he beheld her, and it showed no sign of dwindling from her careful scrutiny of his expression.
"Draw another card, please," Lilianne invited, narrowing her eyes to cast a fleeting look out at the now uniformly gray skies. The distant rumble of thunder distracted them both as he tentatively slid a second card from the fanned-out deck for her to add to the spread.
"The Hanged Man," she observed, arching one fine brow. "This card represents surrender to gain what you desire. Acquiescence for the ability to move forward. Sacrificing control to gain it. It's..."
A rather loud burst of thunder made him jump as the light grew more diffuse. Lilianne paused, rising from her chair. Moving around from behind the table, he felt the hem of her flowing, knee-length skirt brush his leg as she moved beside him. She turned on a small accent lamp with a fringed damask shade, and then slipped behind him to peer out through the open flap as fat, weighty drops of rain began to fall from the low clouds.
"Nathaniel?" she called to the barker in the suit. "I'm already in the middle of a reading. I'm going to close the flap so the rain doesn't ruin my cards, all right?"
"Sure, darlin'!" Nathaniel called back, hurrying across the darkening concrete of the fairground to talk anxiously with a woman running a deep-fried concessions stand.
