The Zen of Passion
By
Terri Carnis
(c) copyright by Terri Carnis, April 2007
Published by New Concepts Publishing
Smashwords Edition
Cover art by Jenny Dixon, April 2007
New Concepts Publishing
Lake Park, GA 31636
www.newconceptspublishing.com
This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.
Disguised with a floppy sun hat and sunglasses that didn’t match her power suit from work, Angela gripped her briefcase and stood facing a weathered door with blistered yellow paint.
She wasn’t about to be recognized entering a run-down shop that displayed the sign, “Érotique, Fortune Teller of Passion & Love.”
In fact, Angela was mad at herself for even agreeing to come. Now that she’d finally caught up on multiple marketing projects at the advertising agency, she should have gone to a movie, or done something to relax. But at her last outing with the girls, her best friend, Jeanette, had sworn--after a “reading” by Érotique--that her love life had gone from sorry to sizzling.
Usually, with a spare day, Angela would have poured it into the job, working her butt off to stay on fast track for promotion. But with Jeanette swearing on her mother’s grave about her rejuvenated love life, Angela had two reasons for coming. First, Jeanette didn’t bullshit. Second, Angela had been immersed so deeply in the advertising agency, that she hadn’t been laid in who knows how long, let alone had any sex that truly satisfied her.
She took a deep breath and then blew it out. When she reached for the brass doorbell, a woman’s deep voice said, “Come in. The door, she is open.”
Angela hesitated, then opened the door, which creaked loudly, and looked without stepping inside. What greeted her was a tiny room lit by flickering candles that cast shadows from the ebony-skinned woman who sat at a small circular table. The woman wore a peasant blouse and an ankle-length skirt covered with intricate swirling patterns. Mostly, though, what Angela noticed was the woman’s air of confidence.
“Your name,” said the woman, with a Caribbean lilt, “I see that it begins with an A.”
All business, Angela sat down. “That doesn’t impress me. You’d better give this your best shot.”
The woman smiled slowly, a deep chuckle building in her chest. “Feisty, yes? Very feisty.”
Angela opened her purse. “Shall we cut to the chase? How much?”
The woman canted her head. “For others, five dollars. For you, nothing.”
Angela snapped her purse shut. “Then how am I to believe your services are worth anything? Including my time, which I only have so much of.”
The woman said, “Yes…of course. You’re in a hurry.” She reached out. “Give me your hand and I’ll be quick.”
Slightly embarrassed, but determined not to back down, Angela did as she asked.
To her surprise, Angela felt a slight jolt when their hands touched. Then the woman placed one hand on each side of hers.
“Not that you care,” said the woman, “but my name is Érotique.”
The woman leaned forward, meeting Jeanette’s gaze, and suddenly Angela felt as if she were falling--then suddenly surrounded by a blanket of darkness that--somehow--gave her a sense of comfort and safety.
“Be not afraid.”
Almost against her will, Angela relaxed. Then fragments of her life began to run through her mind. She glimpsed her grandmother, Consuelo, cooking Carnitas in a small kitchen, filling it with the aromas of pork, cilantro and onion…then saw her older brother on the used bike he had first ridden, then handed down to her…then she viewed herself as a plump little girl, growing, as her baby fat melting away, leaving her with golden skin and plenty of curves as she became a teenager, eager to date, but with her parents always cautious about who she could see.
She saw herself maturing, filling out with stunning breasts, narrow hips and a beautiful face framed by long, raven-black hair. Then quick images of every man she had ever made love to, starting with Juan Alvarez in junior high school, and ending with David Barton, from human resources at the ad agency, who wanted to be so very discreet about their time together, that she knew his true feelings. She was just sex for him in private--nothing that made him proud in public. So she had broken it off six months ago, once she passed probation, and had promptly “married herself” to the job--not wanting the additional pressure of a relationship while she tried to get ahead at the ad agency.
“But there ‘tis a price you pay,” said Érotique, “for being in such a hurry.”
Her words startled Angela, ending her trance-like state.
“Even with your ambition,” added Érotique, “that’s no reason to give up da love life. Or to abandon your own satisfaction.”
Angela wanted to pull her hand free, but Érotique held it firmly.
“My prediction,” said Érotique, “is this. The longer it takes, the more you will be satisfied. Especially in matters of the heart.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just what I said. The longer it takes, the more you will be satisfied.”
Angela found herself wanting to hear more. When Érotique didn’t continue, she said, “That’s it? My whole life’s about hustling to advance in my career, and you’re telling me to slow down?”
“Try to relax. Don’t let your ambition blind you to the happiness that awaits you.” With that, she released Angela’s hand and stood, gesturing for her to leave.
Surprised by the memories she had experienced but disappointed with Érotique ’s prediction, Angela left. She drove home, already putting the fortune teller and her prediction out of her mind. Instead, she focused on packing for the seminar she was to attend the next day in Taos, New Mexico. There, she was supposed to receive training, paid for by her employer, which would assess her management potential.
After packing, Angela sat on her porch smelling the neighborhood gardenias, which were plentiful in Atlanta. What, she wondered, would Taos be like?
She turned in early, slept without dreaming, and made it to the airport the next morning, making sure that she was early--not wanting anything to interfere with her chance to advance her career by taking this training.
During the flight, Angela reviewed her employer’s training manuals, as well as the book her boss had given her, titled, The Art of War, by Sun Tzu. It was a fascinating book, written over two thousand years ago in China by a mastermind of strategy and war. It had a lot to say about the need for discipline and sacrifice if battles were to be won. Angela took that to mean, plan to win some fierce battles if you expect your business to come out on top. As such, she expected the seminar to test her capacity for competition, discipline and sacrifice, with her level of competence reported to her employer. In short, she felt her future was at stake and was determined to score well in every test or exercise she was given.
When her plane landed it was past midnight and a cab with a Navajo driver delivered her to the Running Water Resort. It was far out in the desert, standing by itself. From the garden lights at the entrance and its grand lobby, it conveyed an exquisite simplicity that showed a respect for nature and culture.
She was so tired by the time she unpacked and got in bed, that it was a struggle to remember what she’d read on the flight to New Mexico.
She fell into a deep but uneasy sleep. Not once did she think of the fortune teller or what she had predicted.
* * * *
The front desk phoned Angela at six, reminding her that her seminar began promptly at 7:30 a.m.
Angela rushed to get ready, grabbing a shower, picking out her best power suit to wear, and took extra care applying her makeup. Also, she chose her most expensive perfume--Lotus Blossom--to apply, because she didn’t want to sacrifice her femininity to ambition. In the corporate world, she knew that successful women had to embrace that kind of duality. Each side had to be present, without overpowering the other--the feminine and the professional.
From the courtesy tray in the lobby, she grabbed a cup of coffee and a scone, which she downed quickly. Feeling nervous, she used the rest room to recheck her make up, then hurried through the lobby toward the sign that read, Seminars, followed by an arrow.
In her haste, she failed to notice that the sign indicated “seminars,” plural. Because of that, when she got to the first fork in the hallway that exited the lobby, she didn’t realize that the business seminar, Conquer and Win, which she was supposed to attend, was further down in the left hallway. Instead, looking down the right hallway, she noticed and approached the table with a sign that read register here, next to open double-doors.
What she couldn’t tell, was that the opened doors concealed a sign that read, One-Day Tantric Training for Sexual Therapists.
An Asian woman wearing horn-rimmed glasses seated at the registration desk said to Angela, “Go in. It’s starting. You can do the paperwork when you’ve completed the course.”
Nodding her thanks, Angela hurried inside, finding only a dozen attendees who sat in a row behind narrow tables. They were being addressed by a stern-faced blonde in a Navy blue blazer at the front of the room, who was saying, “…and with that in mind, it gives me great pleasure to introduce Sensei Soo Chin Lau.”
Everyone applauded, with Angela joining in as she sized up the other attendees. It was close to an equal split between men and women, with many of them near her age. To her surprise, most of them looked fit and attractive--a combination she wasn’t used to seeing that often in the business world.
At the front of the room, a thin, short Chinese man stepped into view, wearing a tunic and pants made of green silk, along with lightweight black shoes that resembled ballet slippers.
Angela smiled. Possibly the gentleman’s costume meant the presenters would discuss Sun Tzu’s The Art of War. She wondered if he was going to discuss its history before getting down to competition in today’s business world.
“Greetings,” said Soo Chin Lau. Slowly, he bowed to the attendees, then pressed his palms and fingertips together. “What we respect, we can learn. What we learn, we can practice.” He paused. “I welcome all of you and hope that your experience here is one of great personal discovery.”
Everyone applauded so vigorously that Angela assumed the man was a leader in his field.
“Also,” said Soo Chin Lau, “don’t expect to trade many words today. As usual, our training will come from the encounter…the event that teaches us…that helps us to see clearly who you are and what talents you have.”
With that, he bowed, then left to more applause as the stern woman in the blazer returned, saying, “You have a full twenty four hours ahead of you. So please, everyone, pass through the door to my left, into the garden, where you should move about, walking past all of the personal trainers. When you find one you feel good about, stand in front of that trainer. You will be one-on-one for the next twenty four hours with whichever trainer you chose. And, of course, women attendees please choose male trainers, and men, choose female trainers.”
With that, she left and Angela got in line, moving forward with the others, wondering about the pairing of men and women. Also, she recalled the woman’s reference to “the next twenty four hours.” Was this going to be round-the-clock to test everyone’s stamina and determination? Maybe a boot camp type of training?
Standing at the end of the line, Angela was the last one to pass through the door into a spacious but sparse outdoor garden beneath a fierce blue sky. Mostly, the garden was an expanse of hard-packed sand, carefully raked into decorative patterns that were divided by clusters of boulders and a narrow stream bordered by smaller stones. The combined effect reminded her of photos she had seen of Zen gardens in Buddhist temples.
Spaced equidistant at the outer perimeter of the circular garden, facing inward, were the trainers. They were dressed in green silk tunics and pants, and were all Asian--Chinese from what she could tell.
Again, with Angela being the last in line, most of the trainers had been taken by the time she and one other woman tried to decide. Of the two remaining male trainers, one was very tall and reed thin, and the other just a little taller than Angela, with a shaved head, broad shoulders, and the compact build of a gymnast. Not wanting to be seen as indecisive, Angela walked very quickly, beating the other woman to the stronger looking trainer.
The other woman blinked in surprise, but Angela offered no apology, and the other lady backed off, going to the tall trainer.
All the other trainees and trainers seemed to be sizing each other up, so Angela did the same. She squared her shoulders, determined to convey that she was skilled and ambitious. As she faced her trainer, trying to radiate an air of confidence, she couldn’t help noticing the mix of feelings his presence triggered in her. He was handsome and seemed to be forceful, but also remarkably sensitive. That was an unusual combination of traits, so she tried to decide what made him seem that way. Maybe it was the depth of his almond-shaped eyes, which were black, and seemed to stir her curiosity. Or perhaps it was his long slender fingers, which seemed at odds with the obvious strength of his forearms, biceps, and broad shoulders.
He bowed slightly, saying, “My name is Yao Tsen. I am here to serve you.”
Angela debated bowing but decided it wasn’t part of her culture and might be seen as brown-nosing.
“Angela Martinez,” she answered, extending her hand.
“Ahhh,” said Yao. “The first touch…so very important.” He took her hand in both of his but didn’t clasp her hand as much as shift his hands, so that she could feel his skin rubbing against hers.
Surprised by the nature of Yao’s touch, Angela wondered what he intended.
Yao released her hand gently, taking in the full sight of her--with black silky hair that fell to her waist, rich brown eyes, and sensuous lips that almost kept him from looking at the luscious curves of her body, nearly hidden beneath the tailored blazer and business skirt she wore.
On the outside, he saw a show of strength and determination. But in her eyes, he saw something else. Curiosity, possibly, and a hint of doubt.
Angela resisted the urge to ask more questions, knowing that speaking first was often interpreted as a sign of insecurity or weakness.
The other attendees and trainers walked off, chatting quietly, but Yao stood before her, radiating a sense of calm that seemed to transcend the whole issue of confidence.
Finally, Angela said, “Are we getting behind schedule?”
He smiled, ever so slightly. “Time and energy are relative. From a deep peace, comes great strength and wonderful energy…also a heightening of the senses that is quite stimulating.”
She forced herself to smile, hoping that this entire seminar wasn’t going to end up sounding like predictions pulled from fortune cookies.
“Come this way,” he said, heading toward the woman in horn-rimmed glasses, who had staffed the hallway registration.
The woman held up a clipboard, saying to Angela, “Please initial this liability waver and follow me into the changing room.”
“Changing room?” said Angela.
“Yes. We’ll be locking up your clothes, cell phones, pagers, and any valuables, to be returned to you at the completion of the seminar.”
Angela nodded, determined not the let anything phase her. But she couldn’t help wondering what the change in clothes involved. Again, she thought of the book her company had given her to read, The Art of War, by Sun Tzu. Maybe a military uniform would be issued to her--like fatigues and combat boots. Then maybe they’d rip through some competitive exercises, like rock climbing, or shooting paint-balls at each other.
Angela followed the woman into a locker room, where the woman gestured at a lovely green silk robe and slippers inside an open locker. “Put that on and leave all of your clothes and valuables inside the locker.” She held up a key with a tag on it. “Sign your name on this and use it to secure your locker. All keys will be kept in the hotel safe.”
Angela blinked. “When you say all clothes, I don’t suppose….”
“Yes,” she said. “Lingerie as well. Everything. I’ll wait on the other side of this privacy screen.”
She stepped around a translucent screen, and Angela could see her fold her arms…obviously waiting.
Well, thought Angela, this is the first test. Some kind of blink test to see who’s got plenty of nerve and who doesn’t. Shaking her head, Angela decided it wouldn’t be her who blinked first.
Within a minute, her clothes and personal effects were locked up and she handed the key to the woman, who led her through the garden to one of several adobe cabins. “Go inside,” she told Angela, “and good luck.” With that she departed.
Angela stood there, facing the entrance as a warm morning breeze tugged at her silken robe, reminding her that she was nude underneath it. She cinched the robe’s belt tighter, and beneath the morning sun, could smell sage from the surrounding brush. She also felt the heat from the flagstone walk beneath her feet, radiating up through her thin slippers. Then she smelled something else--the odor of citrus blended with something sweet, like jasmine, coming from the adobe cabin in front of her, which stood two hundred feet away from the nearest cabins on either side. She noticed that the cabin had high, narrow windows on all sides--as did the other cabins--the windows were too high for anyone standing outside to see into the cabin.
Angela drew herself up, determined not to fail at any task set before her, and knocked firmly on the door.
“Come in,” said the voice of Yao Tsen.
She entered the adobe cabin and discovered a large single room without any traditional furniture, and Yao Tsen sitting cross-legged in the center of the floor, in the lotus position, wearing a green silk robe that matched hers.
Off to her right, a bathroom held a toilet, sink, and shower.
Along the walls, there were only the high narrow windows, which guaranteed privacy, but let the desert sunlight pour in, filling the cabin with a soft but radiant illumination.
“Take your time,” he said. “Acquaint yourself with this space.”
Off to her left, she saw a good-sized hot tub, framed with redwood staves. To her right was a large futon.
Directly in front of her sat Yao Tsen. Behind him was a clutter of things. The tallest was a pedestal of some sort, holding candles and paper-wrapped packages. It also held a burning incense stick that gave off the aroma of citrus and jasmine. Next to the pedestal, she saw what looked like a low table on wheels with a hole cut through one end of it and a few white towels stacked on the other end. Then, behind the table, a door.
She took a deep breath, closed the cabin door behind her, and faced Yao Tsen, who seemed completely at ease. Again, she waited for him to make the first move. But she was prepared to punch him if he tried to grope her or look beneath her robe.
Yao was puzzled by Angela’s behavior. She seemed curious, but at the same time hostile--despite the previous training and certifications she would have needed to obtain to serve as a sex therapist or sexual surrogate. And all of that training would have been required before she could sign up for this seminar. Still, he decided to proceed with grace and caution. Indeed, he might have to improvise if the normal range of exercises were to be conducted with her in the allotted twenty four hours.
“Are you shy?” he asked.
She felt her cheeks burn but answered, “No more than the next person.”
He nodded, but her tone suggested great conflict.
As soon as she claimed not to be shy, she became aware of the robe’s slick texture of silk against her nipples and couldn’t help glancing at his lap to look for any sign of arousal on his part.
“Perhaps,” he said, “it is best to ease into things.” He opened his arms, encompassing the whole room. Find a place where you are comfortable to sit and observe.”
She debated where to sit. The futon offered the only real comfort, but that might suggest her availability. And the hot tub would require taking her robe off, so that was out. And the wheeled cot or low table, or whatever it was, looked odd. It even had metal rails, lengthwise, with what looked like a sliding stirrup on each side.
“I’ll sit right here,” she said, “by the door.” She figured at least that way, if he got fresh, she’d have an escape route.
“Very good,” he said. “Quite direct.”
To avoid exposing herself if the robe opened or rose up her legs, she sat down slowly by kneeling, tucking her feet beneath her, then the ends of the robe beneath her knees.
Sensing her tension, he realized it might be a challenge to instruct her and assess her talents.
“I will put on a blindfold,” he said, “and warm up.”
“Warm up?”
“I cannot assess energy or offer healing energy if I am not in tune with myself. Above all, that requires balance and sensitivity.”
In a single, graceful motion, he stood up, took a few steps, and reached into the box behind him, removing a black silk scarf.
It was long enough that he was able to wrap it around his head twice and wide enough that she was sure it blocked his vision.
He cinched it tight and tied it off, then moved to the center of the floor. He stood facing her squarely, then slid one foot forward at a forty-five degree angle, and raised his hands waist-high just in front of him, with his palms pressed together. Then he began to move though a series of stances, changing the position of his body as he glided from one stance to the next. Quickly, she recognized his movements as the practice of Tai Chi.
Although it was very graceful, she had no doubt as to the strength it required, moving so slowly and with such balance. With the first few moves, he reached high with both arms, sometimes balancing on one leg, and she couldn’t help watching his robe as it opened slightly above and below his belt. The open gaps revealed a hairless chest, glimpses of his muscled calves, and a hint of powerful thighs.
She nodded to herself, thinking he had first struck her as having the finesse and coordination of a gymnast. Now, as he glided through additional stances, she had a further sense of his calmness, which seemed to contradict the strength and force it would take to hold such challenging poses.
As she thought that, he extended one leg straight out, and dipped low, in a deep lunge that he made look easy. By now, he was covered with a fine sheen of perspiration and his robe had loosened further at the waist and began to open.
She couldn’t help peering at his waist, seeing his navel and washboard hard muscles. Then, as the lower half of his robe opened further, she saw the head of his cock, flushed pink with a hint of purple.