Feather

M.A. Mohanraj
from rec.arts.erotica
Date: 16 Nov 1994 10:42:40 -0500

     There was an angel on my bed.  No, really.  An incandescent,
feathery white-winged, ten-foot-tall angel.  Don't ask *me* how
it got there.  I don't even go to Mass.  I left the Church when I
was twelve.  In any case, no nun I ever talked to mentioned the
possibility of vaguely-gendered, stark naked, holy visitations.
Not even the saints got naked angels.

     What did I do?  What would any sane person do in that
situation?  I don't know.  I shut the bedroom door, scant moments
after the cat fled, squealing as if all the legions of hell were
after it.  Perhaps the Inquisitors had been right about black
cats.  I leaned against the door, and waited.  Then it beckoned.

     It was definitely an "it."  When it wasn't definitely a
"he," or a "she."  Have you ever on a melting August afternoon
ignored your mom's yells to open the fridge door and just stand
there, basking in the tingle?  The angel, it glowed.  Only it
glowed heat so hot it froze you -- or maybe it was cold so cold
it burned.

     I stepped over to the bed, noticing the sheets weren't on
fire, or covered in ice.  Just me.  The angel never said a word,
although later I would have sworn it was singing hallelujahs the
whole time.  My roommate never heard a thing.  The angel drew me
down to her breasts, the long white feathers dissolving into
rose-pink skin.  No pores.  Nipples hard as the proverbial rocks.

     Later, when my clothes had gone to never-never-land with a
brush of angel wings (they never did come back), I brushed my
nipples against hers, only to find the feathers had come back.
It wasn't until I sat, impaled, that I noticed he had pointed
teeth.

     The roommate didn't even hear my screams, as I rode the
angel's hard body, locked in an embrace of biting teeth and
engulfing wings.  I don't know what angel semen does to human
flesh -- the angel shifted right after my orgasm, gone out of me
as if it had never been there at all.  The breasts reappeared and
disappeared at will.  The wings never changed, though.

     Tired, I struggled not to fall asleep, and it grinned its
first grin as I watched it slowly dissolve into a tacky plastic
crucifix on a blue-bead rosary.  Then the rosary dissolved too.

     You figure out why it came.  Maybe it fell in love, or it's
a new kind of ad campaign, or I'm going crazy, or Lucifer's gonna
approach me with a real sweet deal and all the angel slaves I
want thrown into the bargain.  Me, I have to go to work in the
morning, and if it weren't for the feather-shaped burn mark
between my breasts, I'd put it all down to a momentary psychotic
episode and try not to stress too much.  As is, I'm just waiting
for the men in the white coats or some clearer instructions.

     If there's a God watching over me, wanting something from
me, then It's gonna have to be a lot more convincing to talk me
into joining Its side.  But if you see Sister Agnes anytime soon,
tell her for me.... nah, don't tell her anything.  I don't think
her universe could hold an angel like that one.  I do have a bit
more hope for a God who'd create a universe that can.  Maybe
that's all It wanted.

*****
M.A. Mohanraj
November 12, 1994
--
Some say the world will end in fire, / Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire / I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice, / I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice / Is also great / And would suffice. - Frost