The Second Coming of Christa

Her aunt kissed her all over, lingering over the pertness of her nipples and the smooth roundness of her shoulders, all the while her strong hands massaged Christa's naked thighs and laid them open. The smoky room seemed to spin around her, and every now and then she let loose another little cry of affection, which mingled with those of Andrew, Patty, and Sharon.

"The flesh prevails," Aunt Ann whispered in the dark, and Christa nodded automatically, breathing in sharply and then reciting back in a sharp whisper:

"We are Babylon the Great, Scarlet One, come to drink the fornications of all the wo—OHHH!"

Her body lit up from head to toe like a string of lights when Aunt Ann's mouth finally reached the place between her legs. Without realizing it she'd grown furiously wet—ever since she began watching Andrew and the cousins, if she was to be honest with herself—and now she felt it begin to run right down her legs even as Aunt Ann's sharp tongue explored her folds and curves down there.

Bitter passion replaced the ember of jealousy in her heart as she watched her brother again; this time he had mounted Patty from behind, and Christa had a generous view of her thighs and ass swiveling back and forth every time he thrust against her.

Sharon lay on the cushions nearby, her posture suggesting that she'd meant to take a moment to recuperate but finding instead that her sister had buried her face between her thighs too and, almost mindless with ecstasy, was drinking in all of the wet pleasure she found there.

"The flesh prevails," Christa said again, letting Aunt Ann continue, wrapping the older woman's hair around her fingers and pushing her down into Christa's own body. She remembered what Abbra had said before about her dream, and seeing someone made of fire. Now Christa felt that was her, and she imagined that the candle flames burned higher as she released her own ragged moans to join the room's unholy chorus.

The perfumed scent of the room became an easy cloud of bliss. Christa's body overflowed with pleasure. She pulled Aunt Ann back up to kiss her again, tasting her own wetness on her aunt's mouth.

Aunt Ann smiled into the kiss. "Why can't you be this Christa for us all the time?" she said.

Christa felt pins and needles prick her breasts, but the heat of the moment was too much to be spoiled now. "I can only be who I really am," she said. "I won't be anyone else for anyone."

And then, before she quite knew what she was doing, she stood and walked across the room, standing over Andrew and putting her hands on his bare back. He responded by rising and turning toward her immediately; his body was a sheen of sweat and his hair was damp and mussed. She pushed a little of it out of his face.

She expected Patty and Sharon to say something or even try to get between them, but instead the cousins stood up too and reached out, putting their hands on Christa's body and even wrapping their arms around her.

Giving into the overtures of their touch, she kissed them one at a time, tasting their lips and tongues. The silky feeling of so many naked bodies pressed to hers all at once stoked her excitement again. Eventually both Sharon and Patty broke off from her and, their eye gleaming with feral anticipation, all but pushed her into Andrew's arms.

He half caught her so that she didn't stumble, and for a second they stood there looking at each other, neither daring to move. The candles had burned low and one had gone out, but there was still more light to be had.

Licking her lips, Christa said, "I hope you didn't tire yourself out already."

Shaking his head, Andrew brushed a little of her hair back, the same way she had for him a second ago. Then he said, "I'm always just waiting for you. What took you so long?"

She threw herself on him and kissed him as hard as she could. He pulled her against him and, so hard and fast it took her breath away, spun her around and pressed her back against the altar.

The smooth, hard feeling of the wood was cold on her naked body and she gasped, but then barely had time to catch her breath before Andrew's cock pressed against her and then, after a fleeting second, slid in.

Gaping, Christa cried out as a sharp knife's edge of ecstasy went through her. The cousins both made little animal noises of their own gratification as they watched; they knelt at Aunt Ann's feet, kissing and fondling one another while she stood over with an affectionate hand on top of both their heads, all three witnessing as Andrew took Christa hard across the altar, pushing the blood-dyed cloth out of the way as her arms twined tightly around his body and her fingers dug into the rippling muscles of his back.

"Ohh yes," she whispered, breathless and gasping, "Oh fuck, oh yes, oh fuck oh yes oh fuck..."

Christa couldn't believe how hard he felt. Not just part of him but his entire body, and his movements, and the expression on his face as he thrust in and out, in and out. "What took you so long?" he'd asked, and now he made her feel the effects of every second of her delay.

While he seemed infinitely hard she felt perpetually yielding, her body clinging to his, giving a counter touch for every touch, springing back every time he pressed her down. Christa devoured her brother's mouth with kisses and gave her hands abandon to touch every part of him, chronicling the mechanical force of each and every muscle as he fucked her.

She felt like nothing but wetness and heat, as if the rest of Christabella had been burned away and left only that much behind, the truest and last part of her. The wetness from her body pooled underneath her, spilling across the altar, sanctifying it.

The sighs, moans, and cries of the room—not just the ones they made now but the echoes of a hundred, hundred generations of family who had complete the same rites on this night for longer than anyone could remember, glorifying the world, the flesh, and the devil for one and all, blocked out almost everything.

Christa and her twin created the holiness of the night and the day together with their bodies; when he finally came in her the feeling of shock was so intense she worried she might expire.

When she didn't she collapsed in his arms, kissing him and murmuring over and over, "I love you, I love you, I love you..."

Hse whispered back, "I love you too.'

And also: "Merry Christmas."

***

Christa woke with a start, hard enough to wake Andrew too. Only the feeling of his arms around her kept her from crying out, and she sank back down into his embrace and laid her head on his chest until her heartbeat slowed.

"Shhh," he said, until she'd stopped panicking. And then, gently, "What's wrong?"

They all lay together in the ritual chamber still, Christa and Andrew closest together. The candles were gone and the incense had burned low, replaced by the soft glow of a single strand of Christmas lights, left on to make sure nobody who rose in the night would be blind in the dark.

When Christa's heart rate eventually slowed, she found her voice again. "I just had the most horrible dream," she said. "It was a dream about Abbra, and the baby. I've had it before. I dreamt..."

And she sucked in a shuddering breath as the details came back to her, and she described the vision of that horrid reptilian birth all over again.

"When I woke up it was wrapping its body around me and starting to squeeze, like one of those big ones that live in the jungles and can crush a deer," she said, finishing, and shuddered.

Stroking her hair, Andrew said, "You're awake now." Nearby, one of the cousins murmured in her sleep, but didn't wake.

"I know," Christa said. "I just didn't think I'd have that dream again. Somehow I thought that after we..." She trailed off, then: "But Andrew, the baby is going to be...normal, right? It's not going to come out, I don't know. Like that?"

"Is that what you've been worried about?"

"No. I mean, not that exactly, in those words. I don't know what I'm afraid of."

"I do."

Sitting up slightly, Christa cocked an eyebrow. "Oh really? Tell me then, if you're so smart."

"You're afraid that the baby means you won't get to have a normal life like you want. That if the miracle is true then you'll have to believe like the rest of us, and you never really wanted to be like us at all."

"That's not true."

"But it is," Andrew said, and squeezed her tighter. "I'm not saying that's a bad thing. It's what I love about you. I wish I was brave enough to do what makes me happy and not care about pleasing everybody.

"But the outsider world scares me too much. It scares everyone. You can handle it. That's why you're out there and we're not. Mom thinks so too; that's why she keeps sticking up for you."

"But she was furious when I told her I wanted to go!"

"She was trying to protect you. She assumed you couldn't take it, because she knows she couldn't. People like Mom and Aunt Ann and even Abbra, the church is all they know. She just made the mistake of thinking you were like her; it's what she's always done."

They lapsed into cozy twilight silence for a few seconds more. The snow had stopped but was piled up so high outside that it touched the bottoms of the windowpanes.

"Anyway, I'm sure the baby is going to be just fine" Andrew continued. "And you're going to be just fine. And Abbra is—"

And then they all heard it, loud enough to rattle the walls and shake everyone awake, Aunt Ann and Sharon and Patty springing up and blinking away confusion and fitful Christmas Eve dreams.

The sound was long and violent, and it put cold, clammy hands around Abbra's heart. It was a moment before it crystallized into a sound everyone recognized instantly:

A baby crying.

Since she and Andrew were nearest the door, Christa ended up being the first one to get to the stairs. Without thinking, she took them two at a time, following the twists of the staircase before bursting into Abbra's room with heart pounding.

The little embroidered snowflakes hanging there were all fluttering, and some had blown down. Christa stopped short in the doorway, suddenly hesitant, and the entire family piled up behind her, everyone still naked except for Mom. For a second no one said anything, and then Christa found her voice.

"Abbra," she said. "Is she...?"

"She's just fine," Uncle Sid said, turning and smiling. "More than fine. Everyone come and see."

Abbra sat up in her bed, her face a bit pale and shiny with sweat but otherwise normal. She wore big beautiful smile as she rocked a tiny thing wrapped in a red towel on her lap.

The crying was not so loud now; more like intermittent squawking. Aunt Ann ran to Abbra's side, wiping her brow with a cloth and a bowl of water Uncle Sid had set there. Abbra repeated. "Come and see. Everyone, come and see."

Mom, Andrew, Patty and Sharon practically tripped over each other running in. Only Christa lingered behind, a dread like lead weights in the pit of her stomach holding her back. She imagined her dream again, the snake's beady black eyes as it wrapped its glittering green coils around her body and squeezed until it crushed even her screams...

Looking up at her, Cousin Abbra said again, "Christa? Come and see."

Haltingly, as if sleepwalking, Christa took one step forward, then another. She held her breath as she reached the bedside, and looked away for as long as he could. Finally, when she could put off neither for any longer, she breathed in deep and opened her eyes.

"Oh," Christa said putting a hand to her mouth. "Oh, Abbra. It's...it's...

The words stuck in her throat until, finally, with violent force, she expelled them:

"It's a girl!"

And it was. A tiny baby daughter with downy hair, already dozing fitfully in her mother's arms. She looked almost like a doll. Christa's heart swelled.

"She's beautiful," Christa said, sitting on the edge of the bed, entranced.

Abbra nodded at her. "Would you like to hold her?"

Christa was too startled to answer right away. "Maybe I should take her..." Aunt Ann began, but Abbra had already proffered the baby to Christa.

She felt almost weightless in Christa's arms. When she stirred and opened her eyes, there was something patient about them, something ancient and brilliant and penetrating...

But the look was gone almost as soon as it came.

Christa cooed and the baby smiled. Uncle Sid, returning from cleaning up and disposing of the used laundry, stopped to write something in his notebook on the dresser:

"Time of birth: December 24, 11:59 PM."

He paused to wipe his brow. "As I said, I was quite certain of the due date all along. Quite certain."

"What are you going to name her?" Mom said.

"I was thinking Tiamat," said Aunt Ann. "Or Lachrymarum."

Mom tsked. "That's a little old-fashioned," she said. "What about Eve?"

"And you said MINE were old fashioned!"

"I'm going to call her Christina," Abbra said, raising her voice louder than anyone had ever heard. "Little Christa for short," she continued. "After her cousin, the first person in the world ever to touch her except for me and Uncle Sid."

If not for the fact that she was still holding the baby, Christa might have fallen over.

"I...I don't know what to say..."

Andrew sat beside Christa. "I think it's a wonderful idea too," he said. Then all of a sudden, "Hey, I just realized: It's Christmas morning."

"Of course is it. Merry Christmas everybody!" Mom said, smiling.

"Merry Christmas," Christa said. "And I guess this means it's also a new year."

"Indeed," said Uncle Sid, sounding pleased. "The Year Is One."

"The Year Is One," Christa repeated. She was still looking at the baby—little Christina—who passed from second to second between waking and dozing.

But when she was awake, she gave Christa an unmistakable look of recognition and knowing.

And with a smile on her lips, Christa found herself giving the same look back.