Dance of the Golden Tomb

Father Labolas ushered me in from the cold and helped to remove my coat. I attempted to show him the pleasure I absorbed in the act, but he took no notice.

He seated me in a glittering inner chamber while musicians plucked and bowed in a hidden corner. I saw my reflection in the silver plate flicker in and out of the candlelight. I slid a curl behind my ear and put my hands on my lap.

“A toast to the Blood of Christ,” said Father Labolas, as one of the masked servants poured me a glass of wine.

“Oh, thank you.” I laughed and jiggled my shoulders. “Although, perhaps I should drink water for my penance. Though I am a lady of many sins, still, I dare not venture into the moist lips of sacriledge.”

“If you wish to abstain from the Blood, then you are free to do so,” he offered without humor.

“To the contrary, Father, I was wondering if you knew of any good confessors,” I said, flashing a smile.

“It would appear that a woman who spends her days with beggars and sodomites would prefer to leave her filth at the doors for a change, but perhaps I am mistaken.”

“You are right, Father, forgive me. I forgot myself.” I hid my face, dabbing at my breasts in desperation at imaginary drops of red wine.

“Absolution sickens me, but if you desire, I have the power to make you invisible.”

"A lady of my beauty would not consider that a gift."

"So be it." He took a Sacryn bell, let it ring, and then poured a little red wine on carpet.

“Will there be someone joining us, Father?”

He looked at me like a cat looks at its prey even after it has eaten. A servant opened the imposing door, a door that unhooked like a vault and dark rodents scurried into the corners. Out stepped a large gentleman with a bald head that gleamed in the candle light.

“Father Labolas, please introduce me to the lady before it is too late and you break your vow of chastity, ha ha!”

“I was just about to teach Miss Lorraine how to disappear completely.”

“Am I such a terror, Labolas? I am certain she will get her chance, but not yet!” he thundered, sitting heavily on the lush cushion while the servant poured him a glass of sparkling mead.

“And you must be Lord Mammon, I presume?” I inquired hopefully.

“None other,” he smiled.

“I must say, I adored your hand writing. I never received a letter written in gold.”

“And I’ve never been summoned by such a beautiful lady.”

“Ah, perhaps I summoned you in my dreams.”

“That owl rope you are wearing on your wrist, where did you get it?”

“From my work. One of my men gave it to me.”

“Gave it to you...not without a little craft on your part, ha ha.”

“I suppose. But saying it that way leaves nothing to the imagination. And, frankly, if this brought me to you then he was not worthy of its power.”

“This is the spirit, by hell! This is the spirit! Now take my hand while we dance.” As he stood up golden coins began to spill from his pockets.

“Dance with me! Dance with me!” he squealed in delight while the players culled a gig and a man began beating a drum.

As we danced more coins began to litter the dance floor and the candles flickered across the gilded corners. We began to cook the place into a thundering furnace of clanking and stomping.

Father Labolas began to sing and sway like willows in the wind:

“We dug her a hole,

Burried her head with gold,

Now she is old

And moans all the while

For the bones of her youth beguiled.”

I danced around and around with him until sweat poured from my body and I began to contort with spasms of frightening pleasure. Soon the glittering chamber became more and more blurry. “All this is yours!” Lord Mammon shouted through the din. “All this and more! My lily, my love, my whore!”