The humble Catholic church had been as good a place to meet as any. Rachel sat very near the front, slumped forward with her arms over the back of the pew in front of hers. She was the only attendee to the discussion that was invisible to mortals that were about. She was also, frequently, not really part of the discussion.
It had been going on since the previous evening. There were lots of grandiose entrances to be made and praise to be heaped upon the Most High and so forth. It was rather fitting for the setting, really; a meeting like this was as much a ceremonial affirmation of faith, at least in its first several hours, as with any mass. Moreover, the ritual was essentially required before one could get on to business. It was a lot like sitting through a full mass for the sake of a wedding.
She could see that the sun was setting already. There weren't many normal people in the church, and the few that were there came with obvious needs. They were all scattered in the pews near the confessional booths at the rear of the church.
In front of her and to her sides, though, were shimmering, glorious winged men and women. They discussed recent events in respectful, calm and sometimes rather emotionless tones. They were unseen and unheard by the mortals in the building.
One of those mortals, a tall, lanky young man with brown hair quietly sauntered over to Rachel. "Excuse me miss, I haven't seen you here before," he said to the achingly beautiful blonde. His tone was entirely too friendly. "Are you new in the neighborhood?"
"Tell me you didn't come over here to hit on me before you went into the confessional booth," Rachel said flatly. She didn't even look at him when she rebuked him. She wasn't really looking anywhere.
"Uh... no, I just--"
"Are you going to lie to me in a church? Right in front of the altar?"
"I, um. I. Wow. Uh... I'm going to go over there now."
"Good," Rachel fumed. She blew at a hair that dangled in front of her face as the young man carried his shock and his wounded pride back to the other end of the church. Rachel's eyes slid to one side, where several other guardian angels were gathered in silence to watch the proceedings but generally had very little to say on it themselves. One of them, an angel whose features could best be described as gentle, friendly and mildly Latino, coughed and excused himself to follow the retreating mortal. "Sorry," he mumbled, "that's one of mine."
"You might have gone easier on the young man," observed the older-looking female angel standing to Rachel's right. The whole congregation of them, in fact, had turned to look at Rachel as she dealt with the flirter. Her words had been so out of synch with the conversation that not everyone had realized at first who it was she was addressing.
"Fuck him," Rachel shrugged. At the sight of the disapproving frowns and downcast eyes that her comment elicited, Rachel was of half a mind to tell her peers to fuck off, too.
Except they weren't her peers. Not at the moment. Not with her wings gone and the glow of her virtue so plainly diminished. Rachel didn't really think of that diminishment as so terribly relevant, though. So her language was colorful. So what? She'd always been like that. Were her priorities off? Had she shirked a single responsibility?
More to the point -- and her defiant gaze reminded everyone present of this, though to say it again out loud would have been taken poorly -- had any one of them been responsible, even partially, for such a furthering of their cause as Rachel had been in the last few nights?
That angel to her right, Hannah, shrugged off Rachel's dismissal of her counsel. She returned to the topic at hand. "It is clear that the situation with Rachel's charge has brought about great amount of good in a very short time."
"More like an astounding amount," Rachel muttered.
"Let's not get carried away," advised a hard-bodied blond male. He wore little more than a loincloth, showing off a perfectly-chiseled physique adorned only by scars that had faded into very faint lines over the centuries.
"He vanquished a demon, Vincent," Rachel retorted. "Permanently. No 'time out in Hell's penalty box' bullshit. When's the last time you did that? Any of us?"
"Caleb vanquished the demon," Vincent corrected.
"Bullshit. Alex delivered Gorge to Caleb, wrapped up like a Christmas present. Him and his friends."
Vincent's eyes and those of the other angels turned to Caleb, who merely shrugged. "She is correct. As I stated, Gorge was simply delivered to holy ground bound and greatly weakened. He would not have been much of a challenge regardless, but in the end my involvement was nearly effortless. I was merely an instrument of the initiative of mortals. Without them, there would never have been a confrontation, let alone destruction."
"And how often do any of us do something this decisive?" Rachel said.
"The loss of a single corruptor is surely not decisive," intoned a darker-skinned Angel in white robes. Lawrence hadn't been against Rachel in this discussion, but his high standards would never waver. "Gorge mattered little in the great balance."
"No, but what mortal or angel has caused any shift in the balance at all in recent memory?" Hannah offered.
Somewhat uncharacteristically, Caleb spoke up. "We would not be discussing this now were it not for Rachel's handling of the situation immediately following the abduction. Gorge's contracts would still be in effect, damning those who might now make good on a second chance. Several other mortals would still be committing terrible sins against one another, now mitigated by their imprisonment. Stolen savings will soon be restored to many. And at least one soul would already be in the Pit that may now find salvation."
"One soul," Vincent said.
Rachel looked at him with wide eyes that were equally shocked and appalled. "I don't know what I ever saw in you," she breathed. Her words were drowned out by Hannah.
"Yes, Vincent, one soul! One soul at a time! That is what we do! That is how it is! As it has ever been! And in these matters, there have in fact been many souls touched! Many lives altered for the better! As it has always been with this one!"
Vincent scowled. "I seek only to prevent further provocations of the Pit," he said defensively. "The balance has been observed for a reason."
"This is still a localized matter," Lawrence said.
"Wait," Rachel frowned with deep suspicion. She looked up to Hannah. "'As it has always been with this one?' What's that supposed to mean?"
Hannah fell silent, clearly making an effort to hold her tongue. She glanced down at Rachel. "It is not a matter for this discussion, child," she said with distinct softness and compassion. "We are not, in the end, here to talk about Alexander."
"The fuck we're not!" Rachel growled.
"We are here to discuss the broader situation—"
"Centered around Alex!"
"How infatuated with him have you become, Rachel?" Vincent's tone only grew sourer.
For that, Rachel snatched a hymnal from the bench and threw it at his face. It passed straight through his head to land on the floor behind him. Vincent looked on with feigned blandness, but she knew him better than that. She used to know him much better, in fact. He had always been stern, she knew, but he had never been such a...such a buttmunch!
She wasn't thinking about Vincent, though. Not really. She glared at Hannah. "Tell me!" she snapped.
Hannah looked at her a bit sadly. Vincent saved her from having to speak. "None of the good this boy has done merits the danger that it has incurred, or soon will. It falls to us to protect him, yet the demands of the balance tie our hands. He must be removed from the current situation," Vincent put in.
"And bring to such a swift end the good that his actions bring?" Hannah shook her head. "I tell you, Vincent, he would not have it. I do not think he would shy away from whatever danger his choices might bring. He never has." Her last words were soft, and tinged with pity and pain. She glanced up at Rachel again, but seeing the demanding question in the wingless angel's eyes, Hannah could only look away.
"These dangers are far beyond mortal threats," Lawrence pointed out. "If he keeps antagonizing the Pit, he will face their wrath. His death would be like nothing before."
"Gorge was a mere corruptor bound into human flesh," Vincent said, trying to sound somewhat less stern now. He put a hand on Rachel's shoulder. "They will eventually come for him without such subtleties. They will come without disguise, and he will know them and fear them for what they are."
"And that would only make his courage more useful as a weapon. I'd pay good money to watch that fight," Rachel muttered as she jerked away from Vincent's touch.
Debate continued, but Rachel stopped listening. She looked at the stained glass windows, trying to guess what Hannah was hinting at, and why she wouldn't say it straight out. It was in that moment, staring out into the darkness, that Rachel began to glow ever brighter.
Conversation stopped. The other angels looked on with some surprise, and Vincent and Caleb both slightly winced. "Rachel," Lawrence said, calling her attention back to the conversation.
"What?" she asked absently. "Look at yourself."
She blinked, then glanced down at her hands, and then at her body, and then up at the halo over her head that shone as brightly as ever. Rachel then looked to Hannah in surprise.
The older angel smiled, her eyes losing most of that sadness. "I think perhaps you should look in on your charge, Rachel. I suspect he has done something to surprise us yet again."
************
The text message read, "Are you out with your girlfriend?" Alex looked at his phone in the front seat of Lorelei's car with a smirk. He always thought it was funny when his mother, who allegedly despised texting, communicated this way.
"Who is that?" Lorelei asked idly. She wore one of the two different little black party dresses that had been offered up by her personal shopper. She hadn't really been able to decide which she liked better, and ultimately took both. That had also amused Alex greatly. He liked it when Lorelei demonstrated ordinary behaviors. This one was a touch more conservative than the other, but still racy. The black gloves that came up to her wrists were a very sexy touch.
Oddly enough, at the moment he felt good about dressing up for her, too. It was nothing terribly formal; he normally went to work like this. Aside from that, he was a habitually casual dresser. But it was nice to finally have a formal date with his newfound love.
"My mom," he said, typing out, "Yes. I may be staying at her place this weekend." He didn't need permission, of course, but it was polite to let her know.
Lorelei smiled. "She'll be happy to have the house to herself this weekend. I imagine she'll be spending a lot of time with Eddie and could use the privacy."
Alex blinked. "Don't you think that's a bit soon?"
"How long do you think they've been making eyes at one another in the office?" Her smile had turned to a sly and knowing grin. "Your mother's a confident and very sexy woman who has more than enough charm to wrap a nice man like Eddie around her finger. I expect by now she'd like to have a little fun with him."
"She did kiss him goodbye the other night, but that was just on the cheek," Alex thought aloud. He looked at Lorelei with amused suspicion. "Don't you think that weekend shagging might be jumping the gun a bit?"
"Oh, you're one to talk," Lorelei laughed.
His phone buzzed again. The message from his mother said, "Have fun. Be good. You are to call 30 min ahead of coming home at least. If I don't pick up, keep calling. That is an order!"
Lorelei didn't even need to look at him. Her eyes were on the road. "I am something of an expert in these things, master."
He tucked his phone back into his pocket. The amused suspicion in his eyes had doubled. "This is part of what's so crazy, though," he said, returning to their main topic of conversation. "You're older and wiser. Vastly more experienced than I am. Powerful. Smarter. Yet you want to be the submissive here."
"Very much so," Lorelei grinned broadly. He was warming to this despite all his concerns. She could feel it, and it excited her. "And I would not say that I am necessarily smarter than you. All the rest I would grant, but for raw intelligence you do quite nicely."
"Still. Why wouldn't you want to be the one in charge? I mean, I've heard that whole thing about the sub being the one who's really in control, but... well, honestly, I really love it when you take charge and get aggressive, but that's not exactly what we're talking about here in either case."
"I have told you that being used as a slave has never been truly, purely pleasuring before. It was always humiliating. I should also note that it has also been fleeting. The majority of my time has been spent amongst mortals. In that regard I have almost always been in largely if not completely in control despite any public appearances to the contrary or stroking of fragile male ego. You let me enjoy as much freedom as I already crave, and I am endlessly grateful for that. But I've never been able to enjoy being a slave before. I've never been able to let go of my resentment and ride the waves of pleasure that it brings me. And the ritual that binds us makes those pleasures even more intense than anything I've felt in the past." She waited to hear him respond, but in the end, he did not. It gave her a moment to think.
"Master," Lorelei considered, "you use the term 'submissive,' but do you really know much about that practice? That lifestyle?"
"Just what I've read and, uh, seen in a couple of movies... that I didn't, um... watch all the way through. Probably bad depictions."
"Almost certainly. What have you read?"
"Uh... mostly smut stories on the internet," he confessed. "And I felt like kind of a perv for it."
"Ah. Yes. The internet," Lorelei mused. "But nothing advocating the lifestyle? Nothing discussing it soberly or analytically?"
"Not really. Maybe a little. But like I said, I can't imagine hurting you. A blindfold or restraining you to the bed might be fun, but I'm not entirely into bondage like with all those ropes. I can see how that gets other people aroused, but it looks like a lot of work to me."
Lorelei laughed. "Master, a couple picks and chooses conditions and activities as they please based on their comfort and turn-ons. You don't have to choose a codified dogma and stick to it. I am not asking you to abuse or humiliate me."
"Well, then... what do you want?"
"What I want is what already is. We are friends and lovers. You are my master. I am your slave. Even within the bounds of that, we exchange power and dominance as it pleases us. We have it all. I know your desires, even the ones you deny to yourself, and I am comfortable with all of them. I don't necessarily want you to do anything or change anything between us so much as I long for you to acknowledge, embrace and enjoy this part of our relationship. So then the question is what do you want... master?"
He thought for a long moment. Through their dual bond, both as her master and essentially her prey, Lorelei could feel his emotions turning.
"We're going downtown, right?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Think Nordstrom's is still open?"
"Certainly. It isn't that late yet."
He was quiet again. She felt herself starting to tremble. Her breath grew heavier. She didn't really try to hide it; he had told her not to, after all. But he wasn't even looking her way as he thought. His desires were rising to a new height, though, flavored with love and trepidation and... courage. That was one of the things she loved about him the most. It was plain that he was wrestling with his fears of this aspect of their relationship, and the tide became clearer with each passing moment. It made her as aroused as she had ever been with him.
"Let's go by an ATM and pull out a lot of cash," he said finally. "Then we need to make a shopping detour."
Anticipation was overwhelming her, making her breath heavy even as she smiled. "Yes, master."