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metallic stand that had been set up on the floor toward one of the walls over a jet-black rug. The equipment was reserved for ritual use. The room had no other furnishings. The single light served to deepen the darkness of the rest of the space.
    An illustration adorned the wall nearest the flame: an image of a Bodhisattva, it had been outlined exclusively in gold. A golden peacock’s wings were spread wide, spanning the distance from one wall to the other. Its tail feathers overflowed onto the ceiling; the Bodhisattva was positioned on a lotus leaf, which towered behind its back.
    It was a single-headed image of Myo’o. The deity was depicted with four arms, each holding a single object: a lotus flower in bloom, a fruit from the Bijapuraka plant, the fruit of happiness, and a peacock’s feather. Its face was slender and feminine, eyes half-closed. Its mouth was slightly parted in a coquettish smile. It was known as the Kujaku Myo’o, one of Buddhism’s guardian deities. Its outline glowed hazily as it floated in the darkness, giving the impression of being rendered in fluorescent paint. The half opened eyes of the Kujaku Myo’o focused on the center of the room where a couple lay intertwined on top of a black rug. Their pale skin reflected the soft candlelight; their flesh was stark white, even in the yellowish light. They appeared to be suspended in the darkness of space. Presiding over them was the golden glowing image of Kujaku Myo’o.
    The woman was on top and the man. She had her back to him leaning forward with her face buried in his crotch. Her head jerked furiously between the man’s slightly raised thighs. She looked young, her face was almost childlike--more a young girl than a woman. She looked 16, maybe 17 years old, no more than 20. Her youth was apparent from her closed eyelids and the soft hair on her cheeks, but the way she held herself was in contrast to her outwardly girlish looks: her legs were spread open, exposed before the man’s face, weak light or not.
    Her eyebrows knotted into a frown. She seemed to be in pain as she eagerly worked her mouth. Even frowning, though, she was unnervingly beautiful. There was sophistication even in the midst of her audacity. The frown bolstered that image.
    The man lay almost completely still as though the girl was attending to him, but that was not the case. If anything, the man was working her into a frenzy. Her intense focus on the object in her mouth was an attempt to fight the ever stronger surges of pleasure. Each time the tip of his penis touched her throat she made a delicate, groaning sound, and each time the noise was stifled by the object packed into her mouth. Of course, the groan was not from pain, rather a natural way of responding to the pleasure her body experienced.
    Finally, the girl pulled away unable to take it any longer. She wrapped her slender fingers around the base of his erection, now exposed to the candlelight, and laid her head on the man’s thigh with half-opened lips directly across from the thing in her hands. His cock towered before her red, cherubic mouth. It was huge, so much so that it was hard to imagine that the young girl had managed to fit it between her lips.
    She let the man carry her weight, buttocks tensed, shivering slightly. She arched her back, rubbing her abdomen into the man’s chest. The man began to change their position. Now the woman was on her back, legs splayed, and the man was on his knees between them. Candlelight trickled over his features as he leaned forward. He was shockingly beautiful, enough to make the hairs of any observer stand on end. His beauty was such that he could be mistaken for a woman; only the protuberance between his legs suggested otherwise. His skin was even paler than the girl--still lying with her legs open before him--more lustrous, finer, there was no comparison. Locks of black, wavy hair fell over his pale forehead. His nose was genteel, lips crimson. They formed a faint smile.