Late one afternoon, a week after Miranda had departed, Eli came upon Sybil seated beside her scrying pond. He paused in the shadows of an oak grove, silent as a deer, not wanting to interrupt her. But she sensed his presence—he could never hide anything from Sybil—and turned toward him.
“Come here.” She patted the grass beside her. “Let me show you something.”
Eli knelt next to the silver-haired woman and stared at the emerald-green pond.
Dragonflies hovered like tiny helicopters above its surface. The sun’s rays spilled across the water like warm honey. The pond, he knew, served as Sybil’s magic mirror, reflecting images of the past, present, and future.
She leaned over the pond again and motioned for him to do the same. “Tell me what you see.”
“I don’t know, Sybil…” He squinted at the water. “I can’t see pictures in it like you do.”
“The pictures aren’t in it. They’re in you. The sparkling surface triggers your intuition. Be quiet and allow impressions from your subconscious to rise into your awareness.”
He tried again, without success.
“Don’t try so hard. It might help to let your eyes unfocus a bit.”
Eli cast his gaze across the pond and allowed his vision to blur. Patches of light and shadow slid across the water. As he watched, they converged to form what looked like mountains. Peering closer, he noticed two tiny shapes, moving. The scene grew clearer, enabling him to distinguish two people climbing the mountain: a man, followed by a dark-haired woman. Inexplicably he felt a spark of desire. Miranda? he wondered.
But before he could be certain, a breeze rippled the pond and the vision disappeared. It’s just my imagination.
“I got this weird impression that Miranda is mountain-climbing,” he said, still not believing what he’d seen.
“First impressions are usually right. That’s the creative side of your brain talking to you, rather than the analytical part.” Sybil patted his hand. “Don’t worry, Miranda’s well and having fun. You’ll be together again soon.”
He smiled at his lifelong friend, thinking that she epitomized feminine beauty.
“Before Miranda left, I asked her what she thought about you. She said you’re a MILF.”
“A what?”
“A MILF. It’s an acronym for ‘mother I’d like to fuck’.”
Sybil laughed. “And what did you say?”
“I told her you’re very spiritual.”
“Can’t one be both?”
Now Eli laughed. “I think she’s a little jealous of our relationship.”
“That’s only natural. We share a past that doesn’t include her.”
Eli turned and gazed into the pond again, hoping to recapture the scenario he’d witnessed before. This time, however, he saw the murky figures of two men in a white car. A pang of fear jabbed him. He tried to make out the landscape around them, but it was too blurry to recognize.
“They’re looking for me,” he said. He didn’t know how he knew, but he was sure the men in his vision were the ones who’d destroyed Meditrina’s grapevines.
“Yes.”
“Where are they?”
“I don’t know exactly,” Sybil answered, “but you’re safe here. For a while, at least.”
“I can’t put you at risk by letting you hide me. I’d better leave.”
He started to stand, but Sybil grabbed his arm and pulled him down beside her again. “Hold on. We’re not in any immediate danger.”
Eli sighed; his shoulders sagged under the weight of the fear and stress he’d managed to keep at bay for the past week and a half. Here at Sybil’s peaceful, secluded retreat, he could almost forget he was a hunted man. Now the reality of his situation slapped him like an icy wind off the north Pacific.
She placed her cool palm on his cheek and gently turned his face until his green eyes met her violet ones. “You must learn to trust your intuition. It will guide you through the challenges ahead. I want you to start paying attention to hunches, serendipitous happenings, things you know but can’t explain.”
Like the vision of the men in the white car. Suddenly he was very tired. He lay down on the soft grass and put his head in Sybil’s lap. Being with her always made him feel safe, perhaps because she’d helped bring him into the world.
Sybil stroked his hair tenderly, as if he were still a child. Her long fingers brushed his cheek, his forehead, then across his lips and chin, down his neck. Eli surrendered to her touch. The sensation was both soothing and erotic. Heat flickered in his groin. Does she know I’m getting aroused? he wondered. Probably.
He nuzzled deeper into Sybil’s lap and inhaled her scent. Miranda had perceived the situation accurately. Sybil was a MILF. And for as long as he could remember, he’d desired her. She probably knows that, too.
Sybil bent and kissed his cheek. “Dear Eli, why don’t you rest for a while? I’m going to start dinner.”
Rising as gracefully as smoke, she walked back through the woods to the house, leaving him to sleep beside the pond.
He hadn’t heard Sybil return, but when he reached out he found her lying beside him on the damp grass. His hand touched her bare thigh, cool and silky, and slid up to her hip. She sighed and rolled onto her back. In the moonlight, her luminous body seemed flawless — slimmer and firmer than the bodies of most women half her age. Eli stroked her stomach, his fingertips grazing the triangle of silver hair at its base. Again she sighed and opened her legs, inviting him to explore deeper.
As he leaned down to kiss what she offered him, he noticed he was naked. Did she undress me? he wondered.
“Eli,” she moaned softly, raising her hips to meet his mouth. “Eli.”
He could feel his blood pulsing in his cock, as if his heart were beating there.
“Eli.” Her voice was louder now, more insistent. “Eli, dinner’s ready.”
Confused, he opened his eyes. The sun hung low in the sky, slipping rapidly toward the horizon. Sybil stood over him, wearing a long blue dress. He glanced down at his body and saw that he, too, was fully clothed. His erection strained against his jeans.
“Sorry to wake you, but it’s time for dinner,” she said.
He sat up quickly, trying to hide his hard-on. A squirrel scurried along a branch overhead, chattering raucously. Eli felt certain it was laughing at him. As the last vestiges of his dream receded into the gathering dusk, he pushed himself up and followed Sybil to the house.
Erotic thoughts still lingered in Eli’s mind as he took his chair at the table on the screened-in porch. A bottle of Meditrina’s Merlot sat open, breathing; a vase of fresh flowers from Sybil’s garden perfumed the air. Candles waited to be lit. This looks like a setting for lovers. Is she teasing me?
Sybil placed a quiche, made with eggs laid by her Rhode Island Reds, on the table beside a large wooden bowl of salad greens, fresh strawberries, and goat cheese. The aroma of hot garlic bread made his mouth water.
“Thank you, Sybil,” he said as she lit the candles. “For everything.”
“I enjoy your company,” she answered simply. “I cherish my solitude, but sometimes it can get lonely here. Besides, you’ve been a great help with the garden and you’ve fixed so much around the property. The place hasn’t looked this good in years.”
Eli filled their glasses and a wave of sadness washed over him. He missed working in the vineyard. He missed his friends and colleagues, and his old life. As he sipped the Merlot, he thought, Will Meditrina ever make wine this good again? So many of the old grapevines had been torn out and burned to keep the deadly fungus from spreading, and it would be years before the new vines produced quality grapes.
Meditrina’s success, it seemed, had led to its downfall. Ten years ago, when he first stared working there, the small family-owned operation garnered the respect of savvy locals and a handful of aficionados, but few people outside the Valley recognized its name. Then their wines won several major awards, and the world started paying attention. Especially the competition.
“I still can’t figure out how they discovered I was onto them,” he wondered aloud.
“The answer will come to you,” Sybil assured him. “Pay attention to your dreams. They often provide insights that can be useful when you’re awake.”
What would she think if she knew about my dream this afternoon? he mused. He finished his slice of quiche and reached for a second helping. “Somehow I’ve got to stop these guys before they ruin other California vineyards, too.”
“In order to do that, you’ll have to be careful and clever, not just brave. You’ll need to use all your senses—the sixth, as well as the usual five.”
“Can you see how all this will turn out?”
Sybil shook her head. “The future isn’t fixed. Everything you do and think influences what happens.”
“So what should I do?”
“First of all, don’t let fear and anger dominate your mind. Often, we attract what we dwell on.”
She smiled at him across the table. In the candlelight she seemed more beautiful than ever. He reached for her hand, wishing he could turn back time.
“Remember what I said about your dreams,” she said. “Write them down. If you like, we can discuss them and decipher the symbols they contain.”
She stood beside his bed, her long silver hair partially concealing her nakedness.
Eli turned back the covers and invited her in. As she nestled beside him, his cock jumped to attention. He brushed her hair away from her face and kissed her gently, then more urgently. Her nipples stiffened against his chest. Taking first one, then the other in his mouth, he sighed, I’ve been waiting for this moment all my life.
Sybil’s soft hand grasped his cock and began stroking it. “I want you, Eli.”
“I’ve always loved you,” he said, sliding his fingers through her silky pubic hair into her warm, wet pussy.
“I want you inside me, now.” She opened her legs wider and guided his aching cock toward her.
Eli pushed himself up on his elbows and moved between her smooth thighs. As he gazed down at her, inexplicably her face and body morphed. Miranda’s lips begged him to enter her. Miranda’s dark hair with the crazy purple streaks spilled across his pillow.
Miranda’s full, firm breasts pointed their rosy tips at him.
What’s going on? he wondered. In his ear, Miranda moaned, “Palace.” He plunged into her depths and felt his juice spurt.
He awoke drenched in sweat and semen. This hasn’t happened in ages. He got up and still half-asleep, stumbled to the bathroom. While he cleaned himself up, he contemplated his dream and grinned at the idea of discussing it with Sybil. No fucking way.
Then he recalled the word Miranda had uttered: “Palace.” Not something a woman usually said in the throes of passion. Did it mean something, and if so, what?