The Ghost had great taste in women. Over the eight months we had lived on the farm, I had gotten to intimately know all thirty-two members of the cult...Deidre was the last to emerge, her heavy breasts jiggling as she walked, tawny hair brushing her naked shoulders. A pendant glinted between her tits, seething with energy. The cult all fell on the mattress, pairing up, ready to begin the ritual to age the daughters.We didn't have time to let them grow up normally.I pulled Deidre down to me,. Their piece was a symbiotic vortex of ying and yearning, a twirling of yang and young women. Twisting, swaying, they mirrored then counter-moved, they floated and flowed, whirling around one another while they themselves spun; they were blossoming flowers and falling leaves and willows in the wind. They were wonderful.And there the story might have stopped. Though both knew of each other's lesbianism, they were not yet lovers. Not even living together at that stage. That was about to change.. More

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