Tantra

By: Florence Ann Marlowe
September 11, 2008

They sat beneath a bright yellow awning in front of the restaurant and drank thick, dark coffee. The bright, over dyed colors and American cut of their clothing set them apart from the rest of the clientele seated on benches around them. Dusky skinned men wrapped in pale cotton garments sipped chai from glasses, their dark hands rapidly illustrating their conversation. Giggling, Angela slipped her hand into Brian’s lap and slithered it across his thigh. When her fingers crept beneath his testicles, Brian flinched.

“Angie,” Brian smirked at her, his eyes scanning the cluster of people beneath the awning. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I brought the book,” she teased

Brian swung his head around and looked down at her, eyes wide. “You’re kidding.”

Angela shook her head, her large upper teeth pressing against her lower lip, lending her that cute little girl grin Brian found so disarming.

Brian fished in his shirt pocket for his glasses and chuckled to himself. “Not the book, Angela. Not the first night.”

”I smell curry,” Angela said. Her delicate bump of a nose sampled the air. “Is that curry?”

”It’s so incredibly hot,” Brian said. He flipped a page of the travel guide. “We’ve got to go someplace where there’s air conditioning.” Brian rubbed at the back of his neck. His pale skin had turned red just above his collar. Angela watched the sun glint off the orange down on the back of his hands and she immediately thought of the same fluff that crawled down his belly and over his balls.

“I’m tired, Angie.”

“How can you be tired?” Angela pouted. “We just got here.”

“I mean I’m tired of the book.”

Angela laughed. She leaned forward on one arm. “What better place to do ‘the book’ then in India, silly?”

Brian’s lips pressed together. With one finely manicured finger, Angela stroked his mustache. His nose twitched.

“Come on, Bri,” she cajoled. “Don’t you wanna do ‘the book’ no more?”

He gently shooed her hand away. “I haven’t wanted to do ‘the book’ for months now! I never did!”

”Why?” Angela’s laugh exploded on the quiet patio.

Brian sighed, folding his guide up book . “Ang, how often do we have to go over this? I can’t do those things!” His voice dropped to a whisper. “You laugh, but I really hurt myself the last time we tried. It’s like the sex Olympics!”

The waiter who had brought them their oily coffee, glided towards their table. He fixed them with his eyes, nodding silently.

Brian shook his head and the waiter took up the cups. He placed them on his little plastic tray and moved away.

”The Kama Sutra is a ‘How To’ book, Brian,” Angela said, in what she felt was her most patient tone.

”I don’t care.” Brian refused to look up at her. He opened the guide book again with a flourish and became engrossed.

Angela continued to stare at him. She knew he could feel her dark eyes boring through his pink forehead.

”I’m serious, Ang.” He turned another page. Without looking up, he said to her, “is there anything you want to see while we’re in New Delhi?”

Angela had curled into a petulant ball in her seat. She knew Brian found it maddening when she sulked. She slipped her sandals off and set her foot on the edge of the chair so she could examine her toenails. Brian let out an exasperated whistle of air.

The waiter had returned. He ripped a sheet from a small pad and presented it to Brian, his black eyes glaring at the American’s face. Brian lifted his glasses to get a better look at the scribbled figure at the bottom of the page. Shaking his head he pulled out his wallet and handed the waiter a few crumpled bills. The dark man nodded and smoothly backed away from their table.

”I’m sorry, Angie,” Brian said.

Angela stared at Brian’s sweaty face.

”I tried. I told you I’d try. Now I’m tired of trying. What’s the first one we tried called? The Ladder? Remember? You hurt me when you climbed onto my thigh! Why do you have to put your foot on my thigh to kiss me? It’s stupid! And it’s embarrassing, I don’t want to do them any more.”

Without changing her expression Angela said evenly, “lower your voice.”

”I am,” Brian said with less volume. “I don’t want to do ‘the book.’ I want to go sight seeing. Jesus! Is that why you wanted to come to India?”

Angela folded her hands in front of her and stared at the table beneath them.

”I just wanted to share this with you.”¬ Angela felt a tightness in her throat. “I thought it would be romantic - sexy.”

Shaking his head, Brian removed his glasses and stuffed them into his shirt pocket. “Well, it’s not.”

”I never knew you were such a prude!”

Angela watched the redness creep up Brian’s neck and into his face.

”I am not a prude. I just don’t see why we have to perform all those gymnastics to have a good fuck!” he said. “Christ. It makes me feel so – inadequate.” His voice trailed off limply.

They sat in cold silence for a few minutes, staring at their hands. Angela finally shook her bare shoulders and sniffed.

“You don’t have to do it any more. I’ll just throw the book away.”

Brian startled her with a snorted laugh. ”No, you won’t. You always say that. Every time I tell you I hate that thing, you threaten to throw it away. You’re obsessed with it.”

Angela’s full lips puckered. “Maybe I should just find somebody else to share it with. Somebody more capable.”

Brian tapped on the table with his brochure. He nodded rhythmically.

“Maybe that’s a good idea.”

His answer took her by surprise.

“Bri?”

But Brian stood up. He tugged at the hems of his shirt, pulling it over his slight paunch.

“No, I think it’s a very good idea. I’m heading back to the hotel. You change your mind, you can come join me.” He quickly strode away, leaving Angela sitting alone, looking wounded.

”Excuse me, but I believe you are the right one here,” a lilting voice spoke close to her elbow. Angela turned. Not three feet from her own table, sat a thin man, his skin the dull color of a Hershey bar.”

”You are right -- the Kama Sutra is very beautiful, very romantic.” He smiled, revealing amber-stained teeth. “Are you Tantrinka?”

Angela blinked. “Who me?”

He continued to smile benevolently. “Tantrinka? A student of the Tantra?”

”No,” Angela answered him. She began to feel vulnerable in the small space of the cafe’s patio. She glanced around at the other diners, all Indian men, speaking animatedly. Angela was suddenly very aware of her American-ness.

The man nodded. His eyes studied her face. “You are interested though?”

”I’m, not sure what you’re talking about.”

The man stood up and moved to Angela’s table. She drew her long legs in, regarding him warily. He smelled strongly of spice and oils.

”You mentioned the Kama Sutra. You are interested in tantric love? It is very powerful, you know -- to make love while Pinde So Brahamande.”

”Oh, the Kama Sutra! Yes, I have the book.” She fidgeted in her seat.

He nodded, his smile a wide wedge of teeth in his brown face. “Yes, many Americans are interested in the Kama Sutra. But there is much more to learn about the Tantra.”

Angela narrowed her eyes. “Oh, and I suppose you want to teach me all about it?” Her voice was cold. No matter where you went the men thought they could pick you up, she thought.

The Indian’s smile slipped from his face suddenly. “Oh, no, no. I am not a teacher. I am only a student myself too. I have just come from the ruins of Veeshnayargar. I went to study the statues of the temple. They all are from the Kama Sutra.”

Angela sat up straight and leaned towards the stranger. “The statues are from the Kama Sutra?” A lop-sided smile slid over her face. “What do they look like?”

”Oh, yes! Very beautiful, It is one of the few temples like it that was not destroyed when Mahatma Ghandi ordered them all torn down.” The man smiled again. “You can feel their power. The temple was built for Agni, you know. Very old.”

Angela didn’t bother to ask who Agni was. “Where is this temple?”

”It is very far. Too far for rickshaws.” He stopped speaking suddenly and studied the American woman’s face. “You cannot go there by yourself. You must not, you know.”

”I didn’t say I was going!” Angela said impatiently, already looking in her bag to see if she had enough money for a cab.

”You cannot go without Nyasa! You will lose energy to Siva!” The man seemed alarmed. “There is more to Tantra then the book of Kama Sutra, you know. It is a sacred thing! It is not just the -” His skeletal like hands groped at the air for the words. “the physical pleasure. It is spiritual.”

Angela smiled at him. “Who’s Nyasa?” She laughed.

“No, no!” The Indian was very distressed. “Not who. Nyasa is not a person. Nyasa is protection. It will keep you from losing energy to Siva.”

Again Angela laughed. “A lucky rabbit’s foot? Please. I just want to see the temple.” She stood up, slinging her bag over one shoulder.

Her companion stood also, his hands extended in front of him, pleading. “But you cannot go without Nyasa. It is very dangerous. You are not a Tantrinka.”

Angela was already flitting past him, headed towards the hotel. She smiled and called back without looking over her shoulder. “I won’t need Nyasa! I’ll have my husband.”

#

Brian had peeled his shirt off and sat listlessly on the bed in their hotel room. A battered looking table fan noisily whipped the air, oscillating a light breeze in the close room.

”I don’t want to see this temple, Angie. Not if it has anything to do with that book.”

”Oh, come on, Bri!” Angel whined in what she felt was her most winsome voice. She plopped down next to him on the bed, and tickled his chest hairs with her fingers. “This could be very sexy - to see all those statues doing all those nasty things like in the book...”

”No,” Brian sighed. “I’m not going anywhere. It’s too damn hot. We should have gone to Disney World like I wanted to do.” He ran his hand over his mouth. “I just want to sit here and drink cold bottled water.”

Angela pouted. “I’m gonna go without you then.” She tilted her chin down and looked up at him from her chocolate-brown eyes. “You sure you want me to go without you?”

Brian seemed more distressed by the heat. He wiped the sweat off his face and nodded. “Where is this place anyway?”

Angela shrugged. “He said it was the ruins of Veeshnayargar. I guess that’s where it is. It’s probably in one of those travel guides you love so much.” She checked her makeup in the dresser mirror. The heat had left her skin shiny and slick. She rifled through her bag for her cosmetic case.

Brian flipped through the guide book. “There’s nothing in here about Veeshnayargar.” He glanced at his wife’s image in the mirror. “You’re not taking one of those rickshaws, are you?”

Angela shook her head as she patted her forehead with powder. “Nope. He said it was too far for a rickshaw.” She snapped her compact closed and dropped it into her bag. “I’ll take a cab from downstairs.”

Brian was tracing the text in the guidebook with his finger, his lips quickly mouthing the words. Angela straddled his knees and threw her slender arms around his neck. “Are you sure you don’t want to come along? I could give you a special, secret massage in the cab,” She wheedled, catching the flesh of his cheek between her lips.

”Here,” Brian said. “This has got to be it. ‘The Ruins of the Temple of Agni in Veeshnayargar.’ And it’s been closed to the public.” Angela slid off his lap and grabbed her purse. She smiled and blew him a kiss.

”Angie? It’s closed.”

Angela shrugged. “So I can’t go to the gift shop.” As her hand turned the doorknob, Brian lumbered to his feet. “Wait a minute. You’re not going on your own.”

The cab ride up the mountain was bumpy and hectic. Angela was jostled along the sticky vinyl seats in the back of the cab like a sack of groceries. The driver seemed to swerve to meet the bumps and ruts in the road as he barreled up the mountain. Brian was sullen and unhappy. He gazed out the window, wiping constantly at his sweaty hair and neck.

The cab driver didn’t speak once until they had passed from view of the city below them.

“How far you go, sir?” he asked without looking back at his passengers.

“Right up to the temple if you can, please.” Angela adjusted her tank top. The sweat had adhered the thin material to her moistened skin.

“Which temple you go, Miss?” The driver glanced into the rear view mirror, his black eyes searching for hers.

“The one in Veeshnayargar.” Brian answered. “Is there more than just one there?”

The driver shook his head and returned his gaze to the road. “Is only one there. But is no business there.”

At first Angela thought he was telling her she had no business going to the temple. Her temper flared for a second. The driver repeated himself.

“Is no business, Miss. Is closed. The temple is very old. Falling down.”

Angela sighed. “I just want to look at the place, I don’t want to buy it.”

The driver shook his head again. “I can drive to the path, Miss. I cannot drive up the path. Is for foot only.”

“Oh, for crying out loud,” Brian started, but Angela said, “Fine.”

The cab rolled along more slowly as it bent around the side of the mountain and Angela could see the tip of a spire just beyond the craggy rocks.

“Is that it?” she asked excitedly.

The driver nodded slowly, his eyes shifting to the mirror again. “But is very old, Miss. Very old,” he murmured.

The cab stopped at the foot of a narrow dirt path that wound between the jagged walls of the mountain. The ground was clogged with weeds and small rocks that had fallen from above. It disappeared around the bend of the road, hidden by the rocky borders

“Angi, you don’t know how far a walk that is.” Brian stared up at the hill.

“Not far,” the driver said. He peered into the rear view mirror again. “But many rocks. You walk careful.”

Angela flung the door open and looked hopefully at her husband. He shook his head.

“I’ll wait for you here. I’m not interested in getting heat stroke.”

With a tight smile on her face, Angela stepped onto the rocky path and slammed the door shut.

She glanced over her shoulder at the winding road disappearing into the shadows of the mountain. Angela felt a thrill slip down her spine as she began climbing the path. The road was fairly even, despite the bramble and rocks. Her calves screamed as it became more steep and she found herself panting heavily. Angela hadn’t taken the heat into consideration. It was like a wet weight clinging to her body. Her choice in footgear, flat suede sandals, was regrettable. Her toes struck sharp rocks and pebbles. She cursed Brian for being such a spectator.

The temple came into view as she mounted the rocky path. The tip of it was a winding spire, swirling above a cracked dome the color of bleached bones. Pillars beneath the dome were eroded and crumbled. Between each pillar was an arch and framed within the arches were huge statues, three meters tall; some in pairs, some in threesomes.

Angela’s chin dropped slightly, the pain in her legs forgotten. The temple figures were massive. Their limbs were smooth and round, like logs. Once colorfully painted, the figures were nearly colorless, dark stone. Their bodies were partly naked, the polished flesh peeking through carefully draped scarves.

The sun dipped behind the mountain and burned like an ember. The temple glittered before Angela’s tired eyes. And the figures seemed to dance.

She began to circle the crumbling temple. Most of the statues were intact, the arches and pedestals supporting the structure bowing beneath their burden. Mounds of rubble blocked the entrance to the temple as well as some weatherworn sawhorses. The broad leaves of unfamiliar plants spilled out from many of the cracks and Angela spied multi-legged creatures scuttling in and out of some of the bigger fissures.

As she walked around the temple the figures formed a bizarre carrousel. The statues were decidedly either male or female, and were joined to their mates in intricate positions. She recognized the Ladder, the first position of the Karma Sutra she had tried with Brian. The female statue stood with one foot on her partner’s thigh, mounting him as she embraced him. Both statues’ oversized eyes were wide and staring, identical gazes locked as they kissed.

There was a low rumbling in the quickly darkening sky, but with the sun’s dying glare the statues seemed to glow in the dark.

The figures were electric in their frozen dance, their bodies seeming to entwine and writhe in the changing light. Angela took long strides as she followed the parade of statues. There was a woman pinned between two male figures, her mouth pressed against the crotch of one while the other entered her from behind. All three figures smiled benevolently. Another female statue held on to her male partner’s tool while a female partner manipulated her naked breast.

Angela felt a tingling between her legs. She stopped and drove both hands between her thighs, sighing.

Other figures were joined at the crotch or front to back. One showed a man holding his female mate above his head, his face buried between her legs. The female statue’s eyes seemed to dance as she gazed at the sky, her hands held up in unrestrained joy.

The figures were unreal, their etched faces flat and doll-like and yet the entire thing had a life. Angela could see the hands clutching, the arms sliding across the cold flesh, mouths puckering and sucking. A soft moan escaped Angela’s lips. One of the female figures seemed to turn her placid face from her lover’s cock and gently shush her. Angela’s knees buckled. The temple itself seemed to move and she began a slow trot around the temple.

The figures breathed life into the other, passing energy and light into each other. Angela could hear the statues moving, the rustle of their stony clothing as their gazes turned to meet hers as she rounded the continuing bow of the temple walls. Their smiles deepened, their huge eyes softening.

Angela’s heart seemed heavy in her chest. Her eyes burned, tears streaming carelessly down her chilled cheeks. This was what the Kama Sutra promised. One partner giving energy to another, breathing life. The figures were god-like, their faces filled with heaven and light and love and sex. This is what sex should be like. Angela wondered if her face looked so full of rapture when she made love with Brian.

The darker the sky became, the brighter the temple figures glowed. Angela’s legs became heavy, her race around the temple flagged. She though she saw some of the figures step down into the dirt and reach out to her. But they were there again, mounted on the walls of the temple. And then stepping down again to meet her, arms held out, lips pursed to kiss her.

“Brian,” she hissed through dry lips. “They’re coming to make love to me.”

She plodded forward, following the curve and then stopped before the huge figure of a man standing by himself beneath a pair of great arches, facing the setting sun. His hands were held out, palms up towards her, his blue skin gleaming in the last rays of light. She swayed before him, panting heavily.

The figure was more beautiful, more life-like than any of the others. His face was round and young looking, nearly feminine. Angela’s eyes traveled down his hairless chest and stared at his crotch. Beneath his enormous phallus gaped a female organ. It seemed to glisten and quiver like a living flower. Angela had never wanted anything more than that moist and tender organ, that rigid cock floating above it.

When the figure took its first step towards Angela, she nearly lost control of her bladder. The sudden realization that this was no hallucination robbed her of all rational thought. Her heartbeat quickened as the great blue skinned man approached her, his arms extended wide, unnaturally long, snaking towards her.

His lips were moving and there was some sound, but Angela could make no sense of the words. He touched her forehead with two fingers and she felt her vision soften. His hand ran down her face gently and he touched his fingers to her lips. Angela’s breath seemed to leave her. His fingers traveled down to her chest and her heart strained against her rib cage like a trapped bird.

The temple statues had left their perches as well and were surrounding Angela and the blue skinned man. A crowd of painted faces gazed down at her. The blue man placed his hand between her legs, pressing against her crotch and to Angela’s dismay she felt herself grow moist.

Her eyes darted wildly around her. Male and female faces made of stone, identical to each other, smiled down at her. Their cold, hard hands began to caress her.

Fingers gently ran over her arms as another pair of granite hands swiftly removed her blouse. Her buttocks were gently cupped as hands like iron plates slipped beneath her skirt. She heard her underpants tear, a strident shirring sound, and the cold digits probed her ass. She was naked, her sweat soaked clothing puddled at her feet.

The blue figure graced her with a beatific smile. There was a roaring in her ears, the pounding of blood in her head as the blue man manipulated his fingers at her crotch. They were long and supple fingers. Angela’s hips hitched once and a ripple of undeniable pleasure stole through her loins. A sharp sweetness filled her and her face became flush and warm. The blue man smiled and nodded.

Huge gray hands came from behind her and caught up her breasts. Their grasp was cold at first, but then became uncomfortably warm. The stone was giving and flexible and the pillar-like fingers squeezed, allowing her nipples to peek through. Angela shuddered again.

The blue man had fallen to his knees in front of her. Even in such a position of compliance he was a head taller than Angela. He had begun to push his fingers inside her. In spite of herself, Angela forced her thighs wide. He smiled and moved his face closer so that she could see the cracks in the gold paint lining his eyes. Angela thought she smelled curry again.

The statues continued to explore her body. There was a murmur among the group. They seemed pleased with her as they groped and stroked her naked flesh. A frozen rod of marble gently forced itself past her buttocks, into her rectum. Angela screamed and then quickly quieted herself. She began to make soft cooing noises as hot liquid filled her bowels. A female face swam in front of her, lifting Angela’s chin, offering her a pebble hard nipple. Without thinking she greedily took it in her mouth.

Thoughts tumbled about in her head and she tried to latch onto one, allow it to take form, but she was unable to focus. She could not tear herself away from the onslaught of desire and sensation.

The pressure in her groin boiled, shooting up her frame and striking her mind numb. The blue man had inserted his entire hand in her vagina and was rhythmically thrusting against her pelvis. His hand seemed to be searching inside her. She could feel the fingers exploring, hunting. She gasped and shuddered. A spasm of pleasure stole over her body. She howled. The blue man’s eyes had shut and he seemed to be humming. Angela could feel it. The vibrations shook her body.

She could hear someone calling to her as if from behind a thick sheet of glass. Someone was calling, “Angela, are you all right?”

Was she all right? She pulled her mouth free from the enticing breast she suckled at and laughed aloud. She was fantastic. She was floating. She was coming.

Agony and pleasure collided in her loins and Angela clawed at the blue figure before her. She was being fucked from behind and in front and with each thrust a spasm of electrical sensation tore threw her body. The inside of her head was neon blue. She felt tears of joy and shock running down her cheeks.

She whipped her head around, her hair falling in a veil in front of her face. Her hands beat the air like the wings of a panicked bird. Her blows fell on the shoulders and chests of her rigid attendants.

“Oh, stop! Please, stop! Please, no more!” She began to shriek. She could hardly breathe. The blue man’s hand seemed to venture deeper into her. She though his hand might come out her mouth.

Angela’s eyes bolted about the group of statues as they pressed against her. The sighs and murmurs of contentment surrounded her. She felt herself being lifted by powerful arms as they sought more orifices to explore.

She could see him over the shoulders of the lusting statues. Brian stood several yards away from the bizarre orgy. Behind him stood the cab driver, gripping at the front of his shirt with both hands. His eyes were wide and frightened as he stared back. Brian’s lips moved and she could barely hear his words.

“Angela? What’s wrong?”

Angela sobbed. She looked up at Brian apologetically. If she could have spoken she would have explained that she was powerless, but the blue man had stolen her voice…

He was suddenly by her side. The statues around her didn’t seem to take notice. One forced his thumb into her mouth and Angela helplessly nibbled at it. Another pinched her nipple, shaking her tit as if it were a teabag.

“Angela? Angela?” Brian’s mouth opened and closed. His lips contorted. She knew he was shouting, but she could no longer hear him. The blue man had stolen her hearing as well.

Their faces were so close to each other. Angela could see the birth of tiny tears in Brian’s eyes. Inside, her body felt as if it was being shaken apart. Her chin trembled as she stared into his eyes. She wanted to tell him how wonderful it felt and how terrified she was. She opened her mouth to speak.

Angela placed her left foot on Brian’s right thigh. She threw her arms around his neck. Something was about to escape, tear itself loose from her body. Pain and pleasure escalated until she could feel it screaming in her head. She pressed her quivering mouth over Brian’s. The taste of his saliva was exquisite.

The moment their lips touched Angela felt the blue man release her. His hand pulled away and she felt something inside her explode. Her head rocked back and she felt the others move away. They abandoned her. The world had turned red for a moment and then suddenly Angela felt colder than any stone.

Angela’s body went limp. She slid down the length of the Brian’s frame and settled in the dust at his feet. She could hear his voice wailing, dropping down from above, as if she floated beneath a sheet of ice. He was calling her name.

Behind Brian she could see the ancient temple. The figures performed their frozen dance in the twilight as her husband bent to gather up her useless body. Her limbs felt heavy, full of liquid. Brian buried his face in her tangled hair and began to cry passionately.

The cab driver herded Brian towards the foot path, taking great pains not to touch Angela’s limp arms.

“Sir, you see? See what I tell you? It’s very old,” he was saying in a voice nearing panic. “Very old. No one come here any more!” He whispered.

Brian stumbled past the wall of statues, bleating in his fright and shame. Angela passively watched the figures go by. The temple was renewed, she thought. The carrousel of figures engaged in silent orgy seemed to vibrate in the stillness of its rocky nest. She could see seams being mended where fissures had once erupted. She could see the stone walls repairing themselves, slowly gathering crumbs of rock and sand to itself. It was alive with new energy. She tried to tell her husband what she could see, but only saliva dripped from her lips.

Angela’s head lolled on Brian’s shoulder and her eyes fixed upon the chipped face of the blue skinned god, Siva. He smiled down on her in spite of the sound of her broken- hearted husband’s sobs.