The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“My Lady!” I might as well be skipping as I make my way to the pondside hut of my true love. “My Lady Elizabeth!”

My Lady is outside this evening, tending to a campfire, its smoke rising swift into the muted twilight. The sight of her makes my heart pound as if I were fifteen again. But no woman I knew as a lad could compare to my Lady, with her splendid red-brown hair speaking of autumn, her keen intelligence, but above all, her lovely blue eyes. I pray that she’ll favor me a peek into those eyes soon.

Yet, tonight I notice a pensiveness thoroughly uncharacteristic of my Lady. She is staring into the fire, resting her chin on her palms. She wears the black gown I have gifted her, as well as my gifts of a gold trimmed bracelet, a silver ring that might as well mean that we were married — would that life had been so kind. Yet Elizabeth is wearing her old cloak, as when we first met, the brown garment tattered and riddled with holes. Might she just be cold? No, it can’t be, for she has coats now. And she is not shivering. I am rather surprised to see that she has barely moved at all. After five years, I have learned each nuance of her thoughts well, anticipated her every need. Tonight, though, I am mystified. I have come to expect Isabelle to have her sullen moments, and they are frequent, but surely my Lady is too wise and spirited for that.

Ah, now she looks at me, with a light grin and a spark of life in her blue eyes. I smile broadly and kneel next to Elizabeth. I bow my head. “My Lady.”

She thrusts her hand down before my face. I kiss it lovingly. “My Lady,” I sigh again. Rather than being delighted, though, she pouts. I cringe for a moment at her distress, until I realize what she really wants. I close my hand around hers, squeezing it. Her smile returns momentarily before fading, a forced, polite smile only.

“Rise,” she says. I do.

“My Lady—”

“Arthur—” her mention of my name thrills me, “You may call me Elizabeth. For tonight at least.”

“I am happy to honor you with ‘My Lady’.”

She will not look at me, even as her arm folds around me. “Please. Call me Elizabeth, just for tonight.”

“If that’s what you wish, dearest Elizabeth.”

She sighs. With a step forward, she tells me to walk with her, and we move towards the pond’s edge, she on water’s side.

“How is Isabelle?” she asks.

What’s this? I had scarcely given her any thought at all in the past week. “Well, I suppose.”

“You suppose?”

“I mean — she has been acting normally. She still occasionally smiles and sings to herself during her morning walks. She had an audience of ladyfriends Wednesday afternoon...” I turn to Elizabeth, but find that she’s looking across the pond. “What should it matter?”

“It’s been mattering a lot to me lately.”

“Then she is fine, as far as I can tell. But why?”

She stares at me now, her dark blue eyes merely hinting of their power. I lean just a bit closer to her face. “What we did with her — I mean, I’ve been wondering lately. Doesn’t she ever mind?”

I almost would laugh, if it were not for the vulnerable sincerity in my Lady’s expression. “Mind? Elizabeth, why would she—” I sputter as it sinks in that she is serious. “Of course not, Elizabeth. Isabelle is delighted by what we did for her. You have met her — she loves you almost as much as I do. Why— would you ever believe that I mind?”

My Lady does open her mouth, and I am chilled by the sudden realization that she does have doubts. She bites her lip, though, and the moment passes. She looks away, turning her eyes just off my face. “No, Arthur. No. I know what I did...all too well.”

“What is bothering you, Elizabeth?” She says nothing, still watching the water. “...Because it matters to me if you are sad.” At last, my Lady turns back to me, her eyes glistening just a little but far too much. “Because I love you.”

Elizabeth steps close to me and after a hesitation, a time when I hold still as well, not even breathing, she kisses me. She closes her sleepy eyes, while mine remain wide. My Lady lingers, her breath warm against my face. And then, as I have been hoping since I have arrived, she opens her eyes, staring at me. Her lovely eyes are now glowing, and how they swirl! — her Spirals snaring me here and now. The Spirals swirl through my mind, the blue and indigo and violet and black drawing me further and further in. They shine with all the colors of night, as pretty, as subtle, as deep. As each of my eyes lock with hers, I can now see only the endless tunnel that I am falling into, leading me from doubts and towards the infinity that lies inside my Lady. She is all that I live for, all that I care for. I must be smiling, and I hope it pleases my Lady, for I have lost myself, for all that I see now is the Spiral.

I hear my Lady’s voice, sweet and charming and utterly commanding, as I see only the Spiral in her eyes.

“Arthur...tell me what you remember of how we met.”

She was standing alone in the rain, and aspiring to be the gentlemen that my beloved Isabelle always thought me to be, I could not simply ride past her and leave a poor woman out in the cold afternoon storm.

“Would you like some shelter, madam?” I called out from my stopped carriage.

She nodded. I extended my hand and helped her up into the carriage, out of the frigid downpour. “Thank you. You’re very kind, sir,” she said. As she settled in, I glanced over to my new traveling companion. The girl was shivering while she pulled down the ragged hood of her brown cloak, revealing long auburn hair matted to her head. Clinging to her body was a wet, mud-splattered gown that seemed to me then to be made only of patches. I turned forward to afford her some privacy.

We set off then. “So, madam, where would you like me to take you?”

“I — my home is a mile down the road.”

“Well, I shall deliver you quickly. I must believe that your family is quite worried about you.”

“No, no family.”

I looked at her with pity, but her blue eyes met mine, radiating determination. My breath caught in my throat, but I overcame my hesitation. “Did they pass—”

“No,” the girl replied. “They refuse to speak with me, that’s all.”

“But surely your neighbors—”

“No. My village disowned me, my family with them.”

I opened my mouth, aghast, whether at the actions of the village or the possible disrepute of the girl, I wasn’t sure. “Why, madam?”

“They said...they didn’t like the way I looked at them.” With the last puff of condensation floating out into the rain, she softened her gaze, those eyes still sparkling with wit. I saw nothing unpleasant in her gaze then; in fact, I would have said that the young lass had fairly pretty eyes. She shrugged a little.

I knew better than to involve myself in local affairs, though. So, I said the only sensible thing: “I am sorry, madam.”

“It’s all right. I just...sometimes get caught by the storm.” My traveling companion sighed. I wished that I could offer her some more comfort, for she seemed a bright girl. In some different life, I sensed that she would be the kind of young lady that would charm Isabelle.

My course of thoughts was interrupted by the girl. “My name is Elizabeth.”

“I am Arthur.” Usually, I would have introduced myself by my family name, and perhaps my station, but with her, only my given name seemed appropriate.

“Arthur,” she repeated. She was smiling. “Arthur. A nice name... So, what are you doing out in this storm?”

Presently, I hesitated, for I was not usually in the habit of giving lectures on my activities to maidens. But I decided in the end to speak anyway: “I am on the way to the stead of my fiancée tonight.”

“Oh. Your fiancée.”

“Her name is Isabelle,” I volunteered when I noticed her smile had faded.

“Isabelle,” she repeated, her voice tainted by irony. “Should I be right in fearing it’s another arranged marriage, I suppose, with some city cow?”

“Good heavens, no!” I turned to face her in my horror. Her eyes retreated a little. “I mean, her parents approve, naturally, but I love Isabelle. She is the sweetest, fairest, most kind lady you would ever meet. She has the most beautiful golden hair and the warmest grey eyes. Why, we have been friends since childhood!”

“Isabelle,” she whispered again.

“What could possibly make you think Isabelle is a—” Yet I could not say it, and I knew that she was too lonesome and unsophisticated for me to chide her. She said nothing, and I did not bring up the subject again. Part of me, the part that Isabelle loved most, felt guilty for mortifying poor Elizabeth.

At last we reached the girl’s home, a pathetic little hovel unfit for such a bright lass. “Well then. I suppose it has been a pleasure meeting you, Elizabeth,” I said.

She lingered in her seat, though, looking at me with sad and sparkling eyes. “Arthur...I want you to stay the night with me.”

“I—” Before I could blurt out some offense or laugh, I held my tongue and thought. “I am afraid that I cannot do that,” I said at last. “I am expected by Isabelle and her family, and I could never let them down.”

“Arthur, stay with me.” Her voice was half pleading, half commanding. “I’m so lonely. Please let me have your company for a night. I’m a lot better than your blonde can be.”

“El—” I almost spat out a hundred responses in my shock, until I could restrain myself. “Really, I can’t. And I love Isabelle, and — that’s the end of it.”

Elizabeth stared at me, her blue eyes aglow. “Tell me that you love her. Look into my eyes and tell me that you do.”

I gazed firmly into her eyes, intent on letting her see my sincerity. “I—”

And I saw the Spirals.

“I d—...I...” Now, I had never seen anything like them before in my life, nothing so beautiful and enchanting, so my babbling would have to be excused. Already, I could not look away as my eyes swirled into hers. She leaned closer, and I could not help but do the same. Indeed, could not help but want to do the same. Oh, the blues and violets and blacks, spiraling, whirling off into the far distance and enticing me to come along!

“Look into my eyes,” she said, though I hardly needed any encouragement. “...My eyes, Arthur.”

“Your eyes.” I was sinking into the Spirals, and how I loved that. “They’re so lovely.”

I sensed she was smiling, though it must have been out of the corners of my eyes. “Ever see any more pretty?”

“No—no. Nothing like them. Nothing...so lovely.”

Her voice rang with mischievousness. “Not even Isabelle’s?”

Isabelle? I didn’t want to think of any Isabelle, not when I could relax into the sight of lovely Elizabeth, radiant Elizabeth.

Isabelle, my — well, I had never seen any Spiral in her eyes. To think that I had ever seen anything in such plain greyness, when Elizabeth shone with all the colors of night. And yet, I paused for a second, for some foolish reason of one kind or another. Then Elizabeth’s Spirals snapped me back into enchantment. I barely managed the effort to eke out a “No.”

Elizabeth leaned closer and rested her forehead on mine. Now her Spirals were intoxicating, as if I was in a feverish dream of a summer evening, alone with her. The vision filled my blood with longing, even despite some feeble pangs from my heart for Isabelle, Isabelle of the plain eyes. “What would you do to look into my eyes again?”

To see her eyes again? What wouldn’t I do? I knew that was her point, and I knew my answer. “Anything.”

She moved nearer still, and pressed her lips against mine. We kissed, my tongue melting with hers, my tenseness fading. She closed her eyes, and I stared in expectation. At last, Elizabeth pulled back, and her Spirals were still there. I knew then and there that I belonged to her. I sighed.

“Leaving me alone, never to see me again. Is that any way to treat your Lady?” she asked. She extended her hand.

“No, my Lady,” I said, taking her hand with tenderness once reserved for that lass, Isabelle. We stepped out into the rain. “...Such lovely blue,” I said each time she looked at me after glancing around. “Lovely blue.” Was she a fairy, an angel? It mattered not, I simply surrendered to her. Elizabeth, my Lady, turned with a grin and stared. The Spirals led me deep within her soul’s embrace, and while I was there, I saw that she knew me, for everything that I loved was there. The cerulean pond in the forest I used to play in. The black of the night I stole a kiss with the schoolgirl when I was eleven. The bold turquoise of the cover of my favorite copy of Shakespeare. The pale violet of the flowers of the secret admirer, whom I never told anyone of, and whose identity I never found out. It might as well have been Elizabeth, it should have been. My Lady knew of them all, and I loved them all.

But Isabelle...

With a tug of her hand, I stumbled towards my Lady, into a hug, and we kissed again in the rain. Her eyes remained wonderfully open. It had been the most delightful kiss of my life yet, for within it was all the passion that a man feels for his Lady. Isabelle, she had always been so shy, and I had always been lucky if I had received a chaste peck from her.

I gazed into my Lady Elizabeth’s whirling eyes. And as the blueness bade me further, I saw what I thought had distinguished Isabelle over all other ladies. Everything that I had once loved about her: the lavender of her favorite gown; the cobalt of the broach for her wedding dress; the indigo of the evenings we walked together, arm in arm, on my estate; the azure skies of the autumn mornings she loved so much; the black charcoal of the sketches of my stead she had drawn for me; the blue of the poem she had slipped into my hand on the first day of our romance; the smiles; the warmth; the kindness; the brilliance; the love. My Lady contained them all. All that I thought I had seen in Isabelle and loved her for, I saw now in the depths of Elizabeth’s eyes, so that I adored my Lady all the more. Elizabeth was all that I cared for, all that I loved. Isabelle had only ever been a dim reflection.

She led me inside, where we kissed and caressed one another, my body holding hers, her mind holding mine. I barely noticed as she undressed me, not when all I could see were the Spirals. With a word, I lay down, she on top of me, and we sank into one another. “Lovely blue eyes,” I sighed as her face rested against mine. In my ever-deepening trance, I could think of nothing more. “Lovely blue.” She sighed as well as she pressed into me. “Lovely blue,” I repeated. The Spirals stretched out forever. My Lady beckoned to me from infinity; to hear her call was to heed it. The rapture of my body was lost in the deeper rapture as I submitted to my Lady’s radiance.

It was with some trepidation that I knocked on Isabelle’s door late the next morning, for I was in no particular hurry to face my infidelity, and her faith. I was in no particular hurry to face this woman who once meant the world to me, when the world had just been the twenty miles from my home to hers. But my Lady had insisted, and I obeyed her like any man should.

The door opened instantly, the blonde lady inside taking in a sharp breath. “Arthur?” She stared at me, a gesture that could mean nothing to me now. “Oh, Arthur, thank heavens!” Isabelle realized that she had, from habit, thrust her hand out for me to kiss. The very idea made me want to take a step back, but I said nothing. Isabelle, though, squeezed me with a hunger that I’d never known from her. “Arthur, I’ve been so worried about you.” Her naturally quiet voice was muffled as she buried her face in my shoulder. I tried not to cringe.

“Oh, but come in,” Isabelle said. She led me inside, and I followed limply. Isabelle turned to me, beholding me, a pale smile dimly lighting her face. She was wearing a green dress, not even an echo of my Lady’s eyes. I tried to look into her grey eyes, to conjure my previous admiration for them, to understand what I had once seen in her. There was some of the old politeness, I suppose, a warmth, such as she could manage. Isabelle did have some wit, unlike some ladies. Yet there was nothing to compare with what shone from my Lady. Isabelle’s gaze was lukewarm. Tepid.

Isabelle looked at me, until I realized that she was expecting a kiss. I obliged her, chastely planting one on her cheek. She blushed — how could I expect her, so timid, to understand the passion I felt for my Lady, then?

“Arthur,” she sighed. “Where were you? I spent all night hoping and praying that you were all right, and my parents too — they’re at church right now. I’m glad that I stayed home, now,” the words were bubbling out of her. I had never known her like this, though I could not bring myself to care. “Well, I suppose we can still have lunch and dinner together before you have to leave, and we have the wedding plans, and—” Her gaze locked onto mine. “Arthur...what’s wrong? You haven’t said anything...even when I’m saying a novel.” She covered her mouth as she let out a giggle. But her gaze softened, and her smile faded. “Arthur...please tell me. What is wrong? Was it — are you...are you angry with me?” I answered with silence.

“Arthur, please...” Her eyes narrowed. “Where were you last night?”

“Elsewhere,” I said in a hoarse voice. I truly did not want to speak with her, and I had no idea how I would manage what my Lady had asked of me.

“Elsewhere?”

“I had to stay the night. At a local girl’s home.”

Isabelle looked fully perplexed now. “Was it the storm?”

I shook my head.

“Arthur...I mean, I suppose you were not able to reach here—”

“I love her.”

Her face broke. Though I had not cared before, this did stir pity in my heart. “You... what?”

“I love her, Isabelle. She has the most lovely eyes. I...knew her, and we spent the night together.”

“You...” Her mouth trembled, her eyes twitching in private, lonesome agony. “Wha — Please, Arthur, tell me this is a trick, I won’t hold it against you. Or...Please — please tell me that you love me too.” Isabelle let out a sob.

But what she wanted, I could not give her. I shook my head.

She stood frozen, as it sank in, before dissolving into sobs. She turned to me to hug me, then away in horror, to and fro, burying her face in her hands. At last, Isabelle shuffled off. I simply listened until I heard her door slam shut, her cries ringing out from a couple of rooms down the hall.

So, one task of my Lady had been completed, yet another remained. I pulled out the vial from my coat pocket, opened it, and drank the blue potion. Its vapors almost scalded me, for I felt as if I was drinking the Sun. In a way, that would be easier, for now I would have to channel my Lady. I swayed, dizzy that minute as Lady Elizabeth had said that I would be. The vapors swirled into my head, spiraling into my eyes. I was ready.

I walked deliberately down the hall. Without bothering to knock, I opened Isabelle’s door. She was curled up in the bed, weeping, so undignified compared to her prim fashion.

“Why, Arthur?” she cried. “Why?” Her mouth twisted in hurt, then into anger. “Why?” Isabelle’s bloodshot eyes fixed onto mine. There was a fury in them that I had never seen in her. Even as she sputtered and shivered, her eyes softened. I knew then that she still loved me, and betrayed as she had been, Isabelle could not find it in herself to send me away.

Isabelle let out a sob. “Arthur, why? ...What did you see in her?”

“As I said: she had the most lovely eyes,” I replied. I could feel my Lady’s power surging through me now. Isabelle stared at me in bewildered hesitation. “Look,” I said when I saw the Spiral in my mind, and Isabelle did.

Her eyes narrowed in concentration as the Spiral snared her mind. Isabelle’s arms went limp, her face slackening, as she leaned closer in perplexity. “Look, Isabelle.” Now her eyes widened, my erstwhile lover dazzled, shocked by the beautiful Spiral that would soon put her mind to sleep. Isabelle silently mouthed something, her mouth remaining open afterwards.

“Isabelle, look into my eyes and listen. I am sure you would like to do that, to simply lose your troubles as you stare in my eyes, yes?” Her head bobbed a little to my pleasure, my delight in that all was proceeding as my Lady said it would. “I really am sorry about this. But I love my Lady. She really does have the prettiest eyes. I think you can see now.”

“Yes,” she said, entranced. Her mouth was moving again.

“This feels so good, doesn’t it?” She nodded sleepily, her eyes never leaving mine. “What would you do to see the Spiral?” Isabelle stopped her silent chant, as if to ponder the question. “Anything?” At last, she nodded again. “That’s what we must do, Isabelle. I must obey my Lady Elizabeth, who showed me the Spiral. Now you must obey me, if you want to see the Spiral. I will be your Master, who tells you what our Lady asks.”

“...Yes, Master,” Isabelle whispered. I smiled weakly.

“We must follow our Lady’s instructions.” She was speaking to herself again. What was she saying? Some chant of obedience, I hoped. Now came the part that I had been dreading the most, though I’d never have dreamed of questioning the need for it. “I can’t live with our Lady, much as I would like to, Isabelle. She says it would be too suspicious, just as it would be if others knew that I did not love you...” I faltered, but Isabelle never did. She just continued to stare into my eyes and the Spirals they held, drawing unconsciously closer as it pulled her mind in, still mouthing her refrain. “So we must put on an act, Isabelle,” I said. “We must pretend to love each other, even though I love her, even as I visit her each week. We must do this, and our Lady will show us the Spiral again.” Isabelle nodded, her glazed grey eyes still locked on mine.

I sat down on the bed next to her, reaching over towards her gown. Isabelle understood, and she helped me to take off the dress, though she’d never have dared to do that before. Then came her petticoat, then my clothing, both of us moving mechanically, save for a spark of wistful enthusiasm in her. We lay down on the bed, side by side, and she snuggled her face against mine, the better to fall into the Spirals. How I would endure this night after night, how— Now I saw it. Reflected in her dim, glassy eyes was the Spiral. How beautiful it was! I was pulled into Isabelle’s eyes as she was pulled into mine. It looked so lovely, when Isabelle’s faint glow had receded from her gaze, my Lady’s shining from it instead.

I submitted to my Lady once again, living the lie that she needed of me, in exchange for the rapture that Elizabeth would nonetheless bring to me. My Lady beckoned to me from the infinity behind Isabelle’s eyes. Isabelle saw it too, her mouth forming into a grin. As her body shuddered against mine, her chant became audible. “Pretty blue,” she said. And then it came, so that I knew Isabelle as I had only known my Lady. A most generous gift from Elizabeth.

“...Pretty blue,” Isabelle sighed.

“Lovely blue,” I whispered, though I never knew if she was listening.

As the Spirals faded from my eyes, my exhaustion lulled me into sleep, Isabelle pulled along with me into it. “...Pretty, pretty blue.”

I walk, hand in hand with Elizabeth beside the pond. It’s getting to be night out now, the brighter and the dimmer stars coming out, the crickets and frogs singing. Her red hair appears almost black in the evening light. The dark fabric of her gown ripples as she steps alongside me. She is not wearing her cloak anymore, though she is shivering, despite my pleas that she take my coat.

“Please, Elizabeth. Tell me what is bothering you,” I say once more. Her melancholy wretches my heart.

“I don’t think you would understand. Not anymore.”

“But why not?” Elizabeth says nothing, her blue eyes lost and dim. We spend the next minutes in silence.

She sighs, looking out over the pond. I touch her shoulder; my Lady flinches slightly, but does not face me. “Please,” I whisper.

“I’m...so lonely.”

“What—But how?” She shakes her head, the gesture saying that I really don’t understand. “Was it something I did?”

“No, Arthur.”

“Isabelle, then—”

My Lady has turned back to face me now. “No, Arthur.” Her eyes sparkle with the frustration that is more familiar, when she is impatient with my faltering attempts to serve her.

I try to understand how she could be lonely. I do hit upon something after some reflection. “I think I know now, Elizabeth. In all this time, only I have been visiting you, sometimes with Isabelle. So, you only have two people for companionship — fewer than we have. It is no wonder that you feel isolated.” It seems so crystal clear now. “You need ladyfriends.” My Lady appears intrigued by my suggestion. “We can help you. Give us your potion, let Isabelle show the Spiral to her friends, and soon you will be graced with six young ladies for conversation and gossip—”

But my Lady shakes her head once more, the wonder fading into frustration again. “Arthur... you don’t understand.”

“But—”

Elizabeth glances at the pond before returning to me. “I do need your help, Arthur. I need you to — try something.” And she places her left hand, clenched into a fist, in mine. Her fingers slacken against mine — I tremble at her willful caress — now, I feel the vial in my hands. Instantly, I am aware of what the vial contains, the potion that would grant me for a few minutes the Spiral that always lived behind her eyes.

“Who?”

My Lady’s voice never wavers. “Me.” I take a step back, but her hand grasps mine. How could I resist my Lady, anyway? How could I want to resist my Lady? I would do whatever she asked, anything for the Spiral.

“What do you want me to do?” I ask.

“Tell me...to be happy.” Her words are commanding, but her eyes are pleading.

Despite my grimace, I open the vial, forcing the contents down my throat. The vapors curl through my brain, and the sun shines through my eyes. I lean against my Lady while the potion dazes me. She remains steadfast. At last, I pull back, my mind focused. I envision the Spiral. I stare into my Lady’s eyes. “Look into my eyes.”

Elizabeth squints a bit even as the Spiral cascades through my will. Then her eyes widen in surprise. “Oh—”

“Look into my eyes, Elizabeth. You must do what I say. The Spiral is so lovely, let its beauty lead you deeper into it.”

Her mouth hangs open, though she is not whispering some chant, not echoing my words.

“Leave behind all of your worries as you sink into the Spiral,” I say. I am sweating now, feverishly shaking; fortunately, Elizabeth does not notice. The glimmer of life and wit that I have always loved in her, even since the day we first met, yes, even before I saw the Spiral — it is fading. Dimly, I see the blue and purple and black whirl mirrored in her eyes. It is all that I could do not to surrender to it there, letting us both fall into enchantment. “The lovely Spiral is all you need to care about.” I am frightened by this power for the first time, scared by the possibility that my Lady will be lost forever in it, ensorcelled forever. Yet I am excited as well, excited by the idea that I can share the joy and the rapture with my lover, excited by the idea that she is mine now just as I am hers, that she should surrender to me. My breathing is rapid.

“You must listen to me, Elizabeth.” Her face perks up. “Look into the Spiral, and let all of your sadness vanish.” She closes her mouth in silence. “Elizabeth, whatever sadness you have will be replaced by joy.” I await a nod, but none comes. “You will be happy, just as surely as the Spiral is too pretty to look away from.” Nothing yet. “Say it with me, Elizabeth — you will be happy.”

Her sleepy eyes are locked onto mine. “It’s just a whirl. Nothing more,” she whispers. Elizabeth blinks a few times. Before I can command her to again look into my eyes, the Spirals radiate out of her. In a second, I am too helpless to think of what I was doing before. “Stop,” she says. I am relieved. This business of ensnaring my Lady, it requires too much care, it is too demanding, too blasphemous, too...seductive. I fall into her Spirals, towards the infinite depths where she lives.

“Oh, Arthur.” She sits down, practically stumbling onto the grass. She lays there, curled a little on the ground. My poor fallen Lady, so sad and tired. I offer my hand to pull her up, gazing deep into those precious Spirals. “I’ve made you wait too long for this.” Finally, she grabs my hand, but instead of standing, she pulls me down on top of her. Elizabeth giggles a little, mischievous like the day I first met her, snuggling against me.

I please her the only way I can, for I know not what deeper trouble haunts her. So I reverently undress her, glancing into her Spirals with each garment. Sometimes she is looking at me, conveying impatience, sometimes she is simply looking above. At last, my body, aching for her touch, melts against hers; my eyes, aching for her inner light, swirl into her Spirals. My awareness contracts in the rapture that only my Lady provides.

She is not looking at me, even as it nears. Do I see a glistening in her eyes, the shimmer of tears against Spiral? I hear her speak.

“What a lovely night,” she says.

My Lady is not lost in the infinity at the heart of my Spiral as I am lost in hers, but in another infinity beyond me. My thoughts fade in the deluge of my ecstasy.

There is a moment when I see that my Lady too is enraptured. “Pretty, pretty stars,” she whispers.