Chapter 44: Saturday Morning Congress and Relaxation...

The informal congress of angels had only grown in numbers overnight. A great many of the seraphim had torn themselves away from Heaven to be there, along with no small number of the ophanim.

Angelic lords and Heavenly bureaucrats were there in attendance as well, as they had responsibilities that could be put on hold. For the guardian angels, it was somewhat the reverse; while they were greater in overall number, fewer in proportion to the other ranks of angels were able to tear themselves away from their charges to be present at the church.

An unfamiliar observer would naturally believe such a meeting to be a sign of great cosmic turmoil and crisis. Yet the mood was far less somber than that. Tremendous change to the universe was no common thing. As centuries went on and the world's spiritual shifts took place gradually over centuries, immortal beings who saw each minute and day pass no faster or slower than the mortal world learned to savor the minor things.

There was always activity, always something to talk about. Yet most often it was a matter of contending with whatever new ploys had arisen from the Pit and what could be done about them, or concern over the supernatural world bleeding too far into ordinary mortal view. The balance had been maintained for millennia and seemed as if it always would, but demons and their pawns were forever scratching away at it, never satisfied with what they were allowed. For many angels, wanting to actively do more good, the simple holding of the line was understood to be an objective of overriding importance, but it wasn't terribly satisfying. Nor was it exciting. It even became monotonous, and thus many angels attempted to punctuate their eternal existence with some news of interest.

Even in Heaven, everybody loved a good scandal. Nothing this juicy had happened since the end of the First World War.

Some, particularly the lords and ophanim, took everything seriously. Others, such as the seraphim, incessantly gossiped and speculated and made a much bigger deal of everything than was really necessary, but that was their way. The guardians were a mixed bag, but in having the greatest constant contact with human diversity, this was no great surprise. Some found the events in Seattle alarming; others found in them a great sign of hope, or at least a reaffirmation of purpose.

So many were in attendance that the meeting had been moved to St. Mark's Cathedral, a landmark building overlooking Lake Union from its position on Capitol Hill. That Saturday morning, the sun shone brightly through scattered clouds as angels stood all over the grounds in pairs and small clusters talking about both current events and their own vastly intertwined pasts.

Much of that conversation stopped, however, at the wordless arrival of a proud, triumphant beauty of a guardian angel. No one had expected to see her come in from the sky.

She flew down from the skies under her broad, glorious wings. Many angels were shocked by her appearance. The guardians, however, were at worst struck with surprise -- and many of them, by contrast, were genuinely cheering. They looked on with interest as the blonde landed and strode to the doors of the cathedral.

Rachel passed through the front doors without opening them, swaggering as she walked and waving to others inside the foyer. "What up, gangsta!" she waved to those she passed. Coming to the doors to the chapel itself, knowing full well that the main focus of the gathering would be inside and what it would concern, Rachel felt no reason to be shy or subtle on entry. Rather than passing straight through the double doors, she grabbed the handles and threw them both open wide. She was confident and had every right to be.

As she expected, conversation stopped upon walking in through the doors. Angels in her path parted like the Red Sea. Toward the altar, she could see Hannah, Lawrence, Vincent, Caleb and others all turning toward her. She threw her arms wide, calling out, "How ya like me now, bitches!?"

Eyes went wide. Jaws dropped. Hands flew over mouths.

"Aw, yeah. Y'all felt that sudden, unprecedented shift in the battle of good and evil? That motherfucker's all mine. That's my boy, that's his chica, and that is all my good judgment! What?" She looked directly at Vincent, who seemed like he was about to speak. "What? What you got to say about that?"

"Rachel, you—"

"WHAT?" Rachel bellowed over him tauntingly. Her face was dominated by a wide grin.

"I was going to—"

"WHAT?"

"Please stop—"

"WHAT?"

Vincent gave up trying to speak with a scowl. As he did, though, a taller, grander angel beyond him, facing away from the conversation at first, now turned to look upon Rachel.

She stopped taunting. "Oh," she said, straightening up. She made an awkward wave with an even more awkward, self-conscious smile. "Hello, um, Mister Archangel Michael. Um. Sir."

************

Joyful times are often over too quickly, or at least seem that way in hindsight. The moments themselves can sometimes seem like they might go on forever.

Saturday was a very, very long day for them both. There were only a scant few minutes in which Alex and Lorelei broke sexual contact, and even those minutes were merely preparatory to rejoining.

Breakfast was left outside their door by room service until Lorelei got up to retrieve it. She rode him upright with her naked majesty on display for him while she sliced pieces of fruit and other treats from the breakfast tray and placed them in his mouth. He never lifted his hands from her hips, except to slide along her legs or cup the sides of her breasts. There was no real convenience to eating like this. Were it not an act of sexual intimacy, Alex would have thought the whole thing silly. But it was sex and loving service. The ritual of that meal and the relationship it emphasized made it more than worthwhile.

Lorelei rode him fiercely after that, begging him for the release that he did absolutely nothing to deny. In the warm afterglow she asked her master if he would allow her to bathe him. He lay on the bed, lounging as she prepared the whirlpool, but the flesh that was on display and the unending sensuality in her every movement made it impossible for him to stay there.

Alex rose as she filled the tub. While she bent over to check the water, he slid his hands over her back as he came in close to take her from behind. She could read his every movement from her direct connection to his desires, of course. Lorelei very consciously presented her backside to him, offering herself with each sway and shift. When he entered her, though, she let out such a cry of unmitigated pleasure and total surrender that Alex became obsessed with drawing the noise out of her again and again.

Before long, he became utterly merciless. There was no further pretense about merely doing this until the water was ready. The ecstasy of it drove Lorelei to her knees. She begged him not to stop until he was satisfied, and he obliged... repeatedly. It was awhile before they slid into the bathtub, cuddling and lovingly stroking one another's flesh. He promised her that he would take her like that much more often in the future. She promised to ensure that he'd get more frequent encouragement.

Lorelei bathed and groomed him with sponge and brush, scissors and straight-edge razors, and then reclined and watched him with a smoldering smile as he did the same for her. The succubus had little real need for such attentions, but it gave him a new premise for exploring and toying with her body. Lorelei's breath grew heavier and hotter as he finished, knowing his plans as she read his mind. Alex dried her off, then lifted her up into his arms and carried her to the bed. He spread her out and reciprocated for the morning's oral attentions with his own for what may well have been a much longer time.

That was just their morning.