Summoning Apogee

Christa tucked a loose curl of chestnut hair behind her ear. She was in her office, surrounded by the tools of her trade. Bottles of cleaning agents were in perfect rows on the shelves behind her. Book presses, paper cutters, scissors, awls, rulers, and miscellaneous tools were tucked away in clearly labeled bins. The thick blackout curtains were drawn tight and held tight together with clamps. Above her the UV filtered lights illuminated her workspace.

She set a large gray plastic tote onto her perfectly flat white work surface. With blue gloved hands, she pulled out an old dirty book that stood in sharp contrast to the clean organized space around her. With a soft bristle brush, she began to remove the dust and caked on grime from the leather cover. As she worked, a word revealed on the cover. Journal.

Christa purchased the book from as a part of a recent estate sale. The last living relative of the infamous Thomas family of Rochdale had passed away. Her estate was auctioned off and Christa knew there was an opportunity for rare finds. The Thomas family had a reputation around Rochdale for being a family of witches. It was rumored they gained their fortune by communing with demons and other evil spirits. Christa was not a believer, but books belonging to a family with that reputation would fetch a higher price when she was finished restoring them.

At the auction, the books were sold as a single item. Placed in water damaged cardboard boxes, the books were in a serious state of disrepair. The other patrons, who were more interested in silver and antique furniture, passed by the moldy pile. She was able to purchase the lot for a steal. After restoration, Christa would make an excellent profit.

While sorting through the books, she came across the journal. While Christa often handled many rare and exotic books, journals were her personal favorites. She sold most other books, but kept the journals. She told herself that she would eventually sell them and retire. However, in the back of her mind, she knew they were hers to keep. Christa felt a personal connection to the each author in her collection. She imagined each telling her their life story.

After removing most of the grime off the cover, Christa brought over a book stand. She rest the spine in the valley and opened the cover carefully. The stand kept the book from opening completely flat and damaging the binding even further. Inside of the journal in a flourishing cursive was the name Viola Thomas. Christa read the first entry in the journal, dated Aug 22nd, 1783.

In this journal I shall record the truth of my despicable pleasures. No mortal soul shall ever read the passages contained here; yet I must record the scandalous sins I have committed against God and nature. Perhaps when I am in my earthen bed this book shall remain. But until my thread is cut by the Fates, I shall guard this with my very life. Unabashed I lay out the naked truth for myself alone.

Tedium. Tedium and drudgery was my life before my fall. Mother died when I was still a child, leaving my sister, brother, and I in my father's care. We were raised with unloving distance generously provided. My father spent his time in communion with his fellows. They don their robes and hold vigil into the night. My eldest sister left with the first soldier she met. A man of good stock who had not heard the whispers whirling around our family. My brother, once of age, joined Father in his communion.

Left to my whims I would bide my days painting those small devices scattered about any home. Tables, long forgotten toys, the food on the table, all became subjects of my art. But my secret withheld is my reading after the light of the day makes my paint impossible. Into the night I would sneak to Father's library and read amongst the ancient tomes.

The folks of town whisper about my family. It is said that my father and his fellows consort with the demon and fae. These rumors speak truth. He deals with those creatures cast away from the Lord's light and learn from them truth and secrets. With these he gained his fortune and I cast out for his sins. Those nights I did sneak into his library I would pour over the catalog of those beasts with which he consorts. It was not but a few nights ago that I did come across that page of my dearest Apogee.

In the margins of his page in Father's pen was written, 'Useless'. Thus labeled my dearest was never considered of use to my father. His illustration did first attract me. Drawn as tall and handsome, it was his lobcock, hanging between his thighs, that first caught my eye. Written as a gentle spirit, he provided no use to my father's search for power. However, he provided strong use to my needs.

Within the candlelight of the cold night, I did summon my Apogee. I sat upon the floor undressed, with my legs wide to reveal the piece of Eve I share. With a finger buried within that moss I did coat my finger with desire. I drew his sigil on the floor. Three lines of an inverted triangle. Two circles at each point of the top. Then, with one final line, from the base through the whole piece I spoke his words, "Apogee, come with me."

A maelstrom did billow into my room. Wind and clouds swirled like the storm at sea and then Apogee, my love, stepped forth. I sat agog at his form. He was a stallion of a man and his tackle was greater than that crudely drawn on the pages of my father's tome. His words enchanted my spirit and tempted me into his grace. I did fall out of the Lord's favor as I sealed my contract with amorous congress.

Each night thus, when the dull soreness in my loins faded, again I would call upon my Apogee. He takes me with a passion unmatched by any man. Oh, my dearest Apogee, I will so willingly cast my soul into the pits to stay with you in union. I think I shall see you again tonight.

Christa closed her eyes shaking her head slightly. Viola's words swam in her head. Of course, it was impossible. She chuckled and thought about what most likely happened. Viola was a girl trapped under her oppressive father. She made up this wild fantasy about summoning a man to her as she needed. Although she knew the story was just a young woman's fantasy, Christa couldn't deny the effect it had on her. She shifted in her chair and felt her panties stick with arousal.

Christa placed the book back into the tote. She ran down the list of tasks ahead of her with Viola's journal. After removing more layers of grime on the outside, she will have to fumigate the book. There was some obvious water damage and mold that needed to be taken care of. The spine was separating on the back and needed to be reattached. The restoration steps formed in her mind as a bulleted list as she planned her next day.

Christa interlaced her fingers and stretched her arms over head. Her muscles were tight between her shoulder blades. She reached behind and pressed her knuckles into her lower back. Pops crackled up her spine. She let out an involuntary sigh as the tension slowly released. The sharp pains subsided, but a dull ache remained.

Christa's phone buzzed on the table. She quickly dismissed her alarm. With her office sealed away from the sun, she lost her sense of time. She knew outside of the thick curtains the sun was setting on the horizon. Each tool was placed away in its particular home. She ended her day by rolling her chair underneath her workstation. She stepped through the door of her office and into the hallway of her home.

The typical problem of working from home was separating work life from home life. Christa made a point to keep a clear distinction. She closed the door and sealed away her job with the smell of cleaning agents and old books. This clear distinction kept her sane.

Her socked feet padded across the wooden floor of her hall. Boards occasionally creaked underneath a step. It was one of the features of living in an old house. Christa was always attracted to an older style. While searching for a new home, she settled on a large Queen Anne, built at the turn of the 20th century. The house was falling in when she bought it, but she was patient. With research and hiring skilled contractors the house was restored. Just as she began to finish, the neighborhood began to gentrify. She soon owned a large, historic home in the middle of new developments.

The hardwood floor transitioned to cold tile as Christa stepped into her bathroom. She loved the history and style of her home, but it the bathtub really sold her. The iron of the clawfoot tub warmed, and steam rose from the spigot as the water slowly heated. A bath is exactly what Christa needed to melt away the knots and aches.

As the tub filled, she undressed. She pulled the old sweater over her head and threw it unceremoniously to the floor. Her bra was simple, padded and nude colored. As she undid the hooks behind her back, her breasts fell. Taking off her bra at the end of a long day was one of her favorite simple pleasures. She lifted her breasts, letting the air cool the perspiration gathered underneath.

She peeled off her yoga pants and panties in one motion and then pulled off her socks. She sat on the edge of the tub and dipped her fingers in the water. With a few twists of the knobs, she perfected the temperature as the water level slowly rose.

Christa's mind drifted back to Viola's story as she waited. She grinned at the thought of having a lover she could summon whenever she wanted. As she fantasized, she felt the warmth slowly spread between her legs. She bit her bottom lip and made a quick decision. She darted naked down the hall, holding on to her breasts as they bounced with each step.

Pushing aside trashy romance novels and lotions, she fished the vibrator out of her bedside drawer. When she bought the pink device, she looked for two features: a silicone covering that felt soft and silky to the touch and waterproofing so she could use it in the bath. With toy in hand, she bounced back to her bath.

Grabbing the edge of the tub, she began to dip into the water. Her baths were hotter than most. She stuck her foot in slowly, feeling the water lightly scald her. She sank in her long leg, tensing each inch of her skin as it lightly burned. Her flesh underneath clear water turned a rosy pink. With both feet on the bottom, she slowly lowered her ass to the water. The heat spread over her cheeks. The hot water was almost overwhelming on her most sensitive parts. With a quick inhale and then a slow exhale, she carefully dropped and rested her back against the warm iron. Her body acclimated to the heat. The tension in her muscles slowly melted. Submerged up to her neck, she let the water work its magic.

Christa soaked in the warmth of the bath and continued to think about Viola's story. She was envious of her imagination. Christa shared in her fantasy, and began to picture having the same power. As she daydreamed, she held her pink vibrator in her hand above the water and pressed the soft button. The toy buzzed to life. She lowered it into the water, muffling the tinny sound into a deep rumble.

Running the toy on the inside of her thighs, she teased herself as she thought of the imaginary Apogee. She imagined a tall handsome man dragging his cock along her flesh. In her mind he was a deep cobalt blue with long black hair. A wicked set of horns sprouted out of his head. She moved the toy closer to her eager loins with each slow stroke. The water swished and rippled around her.

She rested the toy just where her thigh met her mound. The powerful vibrations waved across her outer lips. The hunger inside of her grew as she yearned for the toy to be inside of her. She imagined Apogee with his strong hands gripping her waist as he teased his cock around her hole. In her mind he was strong and powerful. Veins coarsed down his arms like rivers.

Pulling the vibrator away, she rest the tip just on the outside of her opening. As much as her body screamed at her to be filled, she enjoyed the game too much to rush. The tip danced across her blushed lips. Splashes of pleasure washed down her legs and up her stomach. She imagined Apogee placing his cock just underneath her clit. She rocked her hips, running his tip across her folds. Her breath quickened as she filled with the need for release.

She traced the vibrator between her lips. With another press of the soft button the toy picked up speed and power. Christa clamped her legs on either side of the toy. She imagined wrapping her legs around the dark blue of Apogee's thighs as he prepared himself to enter her.

Unable to resist, she plunged the toy deep inside her grotto. The heavy vibrators rippled through her body. Waves washed over her. She withdrew the toy, leaving an expanse of sensation and desire. Another crash came as she plunged the toy deep inside of her. In and out she worked. Her back arched and her breath came in time with the passionate waves.

Christa's thoughts were swimming in fantasy. She imagined herself back in the 18th century. Wearing an ornate dress she lounged on a four poster bed. Apogee pulled up her skirts and ripped open her bodice to show her large breasts. Between her legs he thrusted in and out, not with speed but with power. She imagined gripping his strong back as the waves came stronger with each thrust.

Then like a crashing tsunami her body flooded with sensation. At once her body spasmed, sending water out of her bath. She twitched and pressed the toy deep inside of her. The vibrations blew in a storm of ecstasy as she came. She imagined wrapping her body around Apogee as he came with her. Together they drowned entangled in pleasure.

As the tide ebbed she pulled the toy from her and melted into the bath. The pleasure subsided, leaving a hollowness in its wake. The fantasy of Apogee faded and she felt utterly alone.

Christa dunked her head under the water. She rubbed her face with the palms of her hand. She wanted to wash away the loneliness clouding her mind. The water muffled the outside world. She felt like she was floating in a deep, warm sea. She stayed under the surface until her lungs began to burn. She rose slowly out of the water and took in a deep cleansing breath.

While she loved the old and antique, there were certain luxuries that Christa loved new. Specifically, she loved new towels. Most households had stacks of old towels fraying at the edges and worn thin. However Christa bought new towels every year. She loved the soft, plush feeling after a hot bath of slowly drying off with a clean, fluffy towel. She never rushed drying off, but relished the feeling.

After finishing with her body, she gently toweled off her hair. Blow dryers and vigorous drying puffed her curls up in an unmanageable mess. She preferred to let her hair completely dry and curl on its own.

With the towel wrapped around her chest, to keep warm from the errant draft, she walked barefoot down the cold wooden floor to her bedroom. Her large bed stood as the focus of the space. It was a large, dark oak four poster bed. Along the columns were intricately carved flowers and vines. She made notes throughout the years to learn exactly what kind of flowers they were, but never found the time. Drawn back were thick burgundy curtains. While she loved the aesthetic of the bed, the curtains also kept her warm in the winter. Her room was filled with pieces of furniture picked up through her work related estate sale dealings. While the colors of the woods didn't always match, she loved the history of each piece.

She dug through a couple drawers in her armoire, piecing together what to wear. She settled on a comfortable set of cotton panties and an oversized shirt with a print of closed eyes across her chest.

Christa laid on her bed, drawing the sheets to her chest. Still feeling the vague emptiness of loneliness, she brought up her latest attempt dating app. Her face was illuminated in the dark by the bright pink light of her phone.

Pictures of various men scrolled across her screen. David, the shirtless man in bed. Joe, the man covered in sports logos. Bill, the man on a gym weight machine. Craig, the man with a picture of a group of men. Danny, the man whose picture is a cartoon character. On and on she scrolled through pictures of men until she came across Paul.

Paul was attractive and around her age. He held a cute puppy in his profile picture as they went for a walk. He worked as a Sales Analyst for one of the local companies. He described himself as an "avid reader", which attracter her. He was online, so Christa pressed on the small blue button, sending a message his way.

'Hi.' she sent.

'hey. wanna get drinks?' he replied suddenly.

Then came the picture. Sticking out of a tangle of coarse hair was Paul's soft dick. This was not the first dick pic she received, but was one of the saddest. She closed the app on her phone, not wanting to deal with the men around her any more tonight.

Christa pinched the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes closed. Tired of the small screen in her hand, she tossed her phone onto the cushions of the chair in the corner. Her mind drifted back to Viola's story. She wished she was able to summon the perfect man.

A sly idea wormed into her mind. She could try it. She knew that it wouldn't work. She told herself that there was no way a ritual like that existed. However, the impulse was there, like an itch to scratch.

Christa reached between her legs. She slowly slid her middle finger between her lips, still sensitive from the bath. Leaning forward slightly, she buried her finger inside. She questioned what she was doing. She asked herself if she would really go through with it. As she was making up her mind, she found herself sitting on the floor in the center of her room.

She started to draw the symbol on the floor. Starting with an inverted triangle, she moved to the circles on the top vertices. She paused for just a moment, second guessing if she really was going to finish. 'This is ridiculous.' she thought, but with a final swipe from the bottom and through the triangle. She repeated the chant, "Apogee, come with me."

The wind rose outside her window, and a low howl echoed through the drafty house. Standing to look outside, the trees stood still and the world was silent. A chill breeze brushed across her legs and up her loose shirt. The chill drew goosebumps on her flesh and her nipples hardened. She pulled the bottom of the shirt closer to her body in an attempt to seal out the air. The breeze swirled around her, caressing her skin and billowing through her damp curls.

Notes of an unknown song called in the distance. As if they came from a set of wooden chimes, the hollow sounds felt close yet far away. Alarmed, Christa ran to her nightstand to arm herself with a heavy, aluminum flashlight. The smell of the forest filled her room. Undertones of earth, leaves, and a morning dew enveloped her senses.

A cloud of fog manifested above the spot still glistening from her ritual. It swirled and churned as it grew in size. Suddenly, out of the large cloud, Apogee stepped forth.

The wind slowed, the chimes faded, and the fog slowly dissipated. Left in the room was overwhelming sense of being in the forest and Apogee. He was tall, standing with his back straight with formality. His skin was not the deep cobalt that she had imagined, but was the color of the sky on a clear autumn day. He did not possess a wicked set of horns, but a full head of long silvery hair that cascaded down his shoulders like a moonlit waterfall. His eyes were a piercing blue scattered with specks of white. He stood naked and unashamed. His muscles were tight and strong like that of a wild animal. She followed the lines of his body down. Viola's description of his size was accurate, if not understating.