Mistress of Night and Dawn by Vina Jackson

the shape of a crucifixion.
    A small part of Aurelia’s mind wondered how it might look to people who knew her if they were to come in and find her spread out naked on the floor. That same part of her was surprised that she hadn’t thought to blush, or to hesitate as she removed her clothing and exposed herself fully to the night air. But that small voice quickly faded. Aurelia didn’t care. She was comfortable lying naked on the floor. It reminded her of the long baths that she regularly took at home and in her mind she pictured lighting her tea lights. She closed her eyes and imagined the scratch of the match against the matchbox, and the sudden puff of a flame bursting into life, and the care that she took to keep that one flame alive as she lit one candle after another.
    As Aurelia remembered the excitement that always overtook her as the flame hurried down the match, closer and closer to her fingertips, she noticed a similar spark within her own body, but instead of running down, it ran up. A warmth ran into her belly and between her breasts. Her small nipples hardened, but not in response to the temperature, which if anything seemed to be getting warmer. As the spark travelled to her arms and into her fingertips and down her legs and into her toes, Aurelia smiled. And she raised her right hand from the floor and squeezed her right breast, and then took her nipple between her thumb and her forefinger and pinched. Aurelia let out a soft sigh of pleasure, and allowed her hand to continue its gradual journey downwards, running between her breasts and then over the soft skin of her belly and down to the even softer folds between her legs.
    She wetted her fingers and laid them back on her sex, expertly turning the pad of her finger in tiny concentric circles. As she did so, her mind began to travel, as it always did, back to the funfair, and the stranger, and his kiss. Her mouth parted and she licked her lips. The same burning thirst that had possessed her on the dance floor returned. She wriggled and pressed her body into the stone, as if she could absorb some of the damp through her skin and into her throat. Her tongue was dry and each bump of her taste buds was cracked and parched. But her cunt was flooded, as if all of the moisture in her body had travelled there. She could not recall having ever been so wet.
    Hot liquid ran over her lips and down the flesh of her thighs. She dipped her finger inside her opening and then lifted it to her lips. Yet again pomegranate, as if that distinctive taste reigned over her, pursued her.
    At first it was just a hint of the familiar sweetness of the juice and the bitter woody aftertaste that filled her mouth when she crunched on the seeds. Aurelia dipped two fingers inside herself and brought them to her mouth and tasted again. She was so eager to taste more that she almost gagged, pressing her fingers into her mouth all the way to her knuckles. Still the terrible thirst overwhelmed her. She added another finger, and tasted again and again, but it was as if her mouth became even drier with each taste of her own wetness.
    And then, suddenly, she felt the wonderful pressure of another mouth against her own and a flood of sweet liquid trickled between her lips. She responded without thinking, thrusting her tongue eagerly into the other’s mouth, seeking to quench her powerful thirst.
    The mouth drew away and a finger was pressed to her lips.
    ‘Shhh,’ a voice whispered into her ear. ‘There’s plenty more.’ A man’s voice.
    ‘It’s you again,’ Aurelia replied.
    The sound of his words quelled every nerve in her body. It was like the feeling of being a child again, and having her godmother enter her room and pull a blanket over her to soothe a bad dream.
    ‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘It’s me again.’
    She raised her hand to caress the line of his face, but he caught her fingers in his own and stopped her.
    ‘Fold up your clothes,’ he whispered. ‘They’re getting