CHAPTER SEVEN
A STATELY PLEASURE-DOME DECREE

"Ladies," Prince Pandor announced, "We are ready to begin our journey. If you will follow me..."

The Prince led Ali and Shelia to the living room that had been redecorated for mood. The lighting was now low and amber and so was the music. Incense snaked from a burner. Silk scarves covered and colored the lamps. Candles set the glow. Prince Pandor ushered Ali and Shelia to the couch. A bell chimed.

"Hey, Feelgood!" Ali asked, "Did you ever hear of a Malibu guru? Guru Gaga, or Gagan or something? A long time ago. Who worked, like, the west side circuit?" Ali was laughing. Muk shook his head, amused. "Quite the sensation. Tripping on the trip of a light fantastic. Every rich housewife wanted his E ticket and some lucky gals say they got a lot more." She was laughing wickedly. "Guru Gaga was a Hollywood Zen sen-saysh."

"The quest for transcendence is universal."

"The guru was the scene! Then he mysteriously vanished, never to be heard from again!"

"Like smoke," answered Muk. "It sounds like a clever way to work through college."

Ali thought she had her tiger by the tail.

The great Prince Pandor took center stage and bowed dramatically with a rolling flourish of his hands. "My sisters," he said quietly, "I would like you to close your eyes and clear your minds." They did. "Breathe deeply. Picture a Blue. Breathe deeply... Deep Blue. Relax. Breathe deeply."

With arms outstretched to the heavens, Prince Pandor intoned loudly and dramatically, "In Xanadu, did Kubla Khan, a stately pleasure-dome decree: Let us drink the Milk of Paradise!" A gong bellowed. Muk snapped his fingers.

Blu the servant boy entered and placed a silver salver onto the coffee table. She removed the hood. Two porcelain demitasse cups were steaming hot and contained a mocha colored liquid. Each featured a stirrer, a silver swizzle stick topped with a tiny fresh rose bud. The cups sat in a bed of beautifully arranged flowers.

"Ladies," Pandor commanded, "Behold, the Milk of Paradise!" He dropped to one knee with his head bowed.

Ali and Shelia drank their coffee cocktail. The more they sipped, their pleasure grew. At first it was delicious, but then it became more so. Flavors opened and blossomed. Silky textures caressed the tongue. The girls were speechless but their bliss was echoed with coos of joy and delight.

Muk winked at Blu, an acknowledgment to her clever culinary skills.

Prince Pandor stood and snapped his fingers. Pedro entered with a covered silver platter that he presented before the women. With a flourish, the harem guard revealed two beautiful objects on individual plates. These small architectural sculptures were clearly edible. Their materials included several kinds of dough, baked and fried, sunbursts of gold leaf, dollops of whipped créme and several tributaries of different chocolates from around the world. The desserts were displayed in a crazy bird's nest of edible crystal.

"Ladies," Prince Pandor commanded, his voice rising, "Behold the Milk of Paradise and the Nectar of the Gods!"

The dessert was too pretty to eat and there was much hedging and giggling. Ali and Shelia began to deconstruct the architectural dessert. Again, they were overwhelmed by flavor. Each piece and bite delivered a new sensation, each worthy of glee and comment. The energy of the feeding frenzy ended abruptly when the platter was emptied. Both girls fell back on the couch, exhausted, with warm, tingling bellies.

Aslan, the psychotropic that had been wedded into the desserts, was starting to kick in and feel good.

"Shelia, you will recline on this couch," Prince Pandor suggested, "And Ali, we will take you to your room."

"Aye-aye!" rasped the girl. She floated up and giggled. Pedro caught her hand and led her from the room.

"Bye-bye, BeeDee," waved Shelia. "Bye-bye."

"Bon Voyage, mon ami!"

            Shelia made herself comfortable on the couch. Blu covered her with a silk blanket. Muk sat on the edge. "How do you feel?"

            "Oh, baby, delicious!" confessed Shelia. And indeed she did. Every little worry, prickly anxiety and hoary insecurity was melting away. Pure-Self and True Shelia were beginning to emerge. The rhythm of her breathing slowed and deepened. The Weight of the World that had calcified in her shoulders and neck began to loosen, crumble and dissolve...

            "Just close your eyes and let the currents move you," whispered Muk.

Shelia giggled and trailed off with a sigh, a wanderer in search of a dream.

            Muk stood. With hand signals, he told Blu "to toss the room, but keep it undisturbed, clean and down low." Blu almost laughed at loud. While they all could understand each other quite clearly and with surprising detail, their non-verbal pantomime was always unavoidably funny. She thought Muk looked like an umpire at a baseball game with crotch itch.

Blu carefully scanned the room. She walked over to the bookcase, a perfect place to start. She took a pen light from her jacket, turned it on and held it between her teeth as she began to quickly examine each book and knick-knack. Everyone knows that a book with a hollow core is a perfect place to hide an emerald necklace.

 Muk checked on Shelia. She was happy as a snoring clam.

Muk walked quietly into Ali's bedroom. Her den had been transformed with candles and colored sound. Ali BeeDee  was lying in bed, beneath mosquito netting that hung from the ceiling like a gothic spider web. The rocker was asleep, dreaming quietly. Her soft yips and growls suggested that she might be traveling on a happy, erotic astral plane.

Already at work, Pedro had his head deep in an antique armoire. He was opening drawers, looking at their contents with his fingers and checking the undersides. You never know where an emerald earring might be hidden. He knew Muks drill: 'Make no assumptions. Be thorough.'

Satisfied with Pedro's progress, Muk went to the kitchen and tossed it with skill. Pots and pans and drawers of silverware are loud to the touch, yet this Prince was silent as a cat.

After a very long and frustrating twenty minutes, Muk had found nothing. He went to Pedro and then to Blu and signaled a meeting in the foyer. Speaking with his hands, he said, "I'm not finding anything. Anybody?" He was peeved and edgy.

Blu replied with a hand against her forehead in the shape of an L.

Pedro shook his head gravely.

Muk was clearly unhappy and frustrated. He hated it when the Gods didn't respond to his will, his narrative, or his immediate needs.

He signaled, "Have we all been thorough? Anybody need more time?"

No one did.

Muk concluded, "We're fucked. I'm not finding anything and I'm vibing we won't."

Blu, the Indian servant boy, shrugged her shoulders asking, "What's next?"

That was exactly the one question Muk did not want to answer. "What's next?" demanded an escalation in tactic. Gulp.

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All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

© Gordy Grundy, All Rights Reserved

www.Gordy Grundy.com

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