Cellfire is Hellfire

But let's look at this point once again in detail. Some days Simone gets amused and excited in relation to three lecherous pen pals. She could copy the passage in one place and paste it in two. She could save herself a lot of writing, but that's not the point. It's about writing anew every time: I just took my panties off, I did it for you. You see me sitting on my office chair. Should I lift the dress over my bottom? Do you like the idea of my boss popping in right now with the most flimsy reason imaginable for his appearance. He's staring at my cleavage.

Sexually Ambitious

Simone is not aware of how compromising such contemporary epistles are in a world without privacy, in which every tech-savvy twelve-year-old knows how to spy on his neighbors effectively. If a man is so rude as to find such explicit comments questionable, Simone thinks of him as a spoilsport. Because there are enough people who enjoy engaging in erotic gossip with the experienced trash talker, Simone has no shortage of them. Since she is sexually ambitious, she assumes that everyone else is ambitious in this area too.

Simone has gotten away with a black eye many times. She takes risks like a roulette addict. Now she is sitting in the office, wearing a skin-tight sleeveless wrap dress with an intricate pattern on a midnight blue background.

"Art lives from compulsion and dies from freedom," says André Gide. This also applies to sex. It requires a form. But if you believe you can calculate on an escapistic basis, you are happy to make advance payments. You lure the unknown being on the other side of the action out of its social shell by taking a few liberties.

The person Simone is just talking to is on the American side of the Atlantic and has no idea what life is like in the German small town that Simone has ended up in. Let's call him Gary. He works in a government agency, but we are not allowed to say which one.

Photos of him are circulating on the Internet. On a second screen, Simone sees Gary on a golf course photo. It shows nonchalance and wealth, but also something that goes beyond that... perhaps something like a seaman's edge. In any case, Gary is also a sailor.

Simone needs men who breathe calmly and who are not affected by a hotel bill, no matter how large it is. Gary looks like a fine specimen. Strong chin. Good teeth. Big hands. A boastful egotism is written all over his forehead.

He looks as if it could gallop across the ocean and simply fly past, a boss in XXL, carefree, relentless, magnificent.

In her mind, Simone flatters him with her most beautiful odalisque vocabulary. Her repertoire also includes a one-act play in which she embodies a Circassian beauty. She is an Ottoman loot of royal blood. A real princess who is thrown to the pasha to be devoured.

For the Pasha, the foreign princess is just a snack. But she wants to be more and is therefore looking for a clue to the ruler's secret nature. Her skin is alabaster white. Her hair is black. Her eyes are blue. This is, by the way, the prototype of the white Turkish woman as opposed to the black Turkish. Female Slaves hatched this Bosporus type. Without relationships between Circassian women and Turkish men, there would be no light-skinned, blue-eyed Turks who are identified with Istanbul. For the Pasha, the foreign princess is just a snack. But she wants to be more and is therefore looking for a clue to the ruler's secret nature. Her skin is alabaster white. Her hair is black. Her eyes are blue. This is, by the way, the prototype of the white Turkish woman as opposed to the black Turkish. Female Slaves hatched this Bosporus type. Without the forced relationships between Circassian women and Turkish men, there would be no light-skinned, blue-eyed Turks who are identified with Istanbul.

Wikipedia provides a prosaic explanation, which does not weaken the first image: "White Turks - Beyaz Türkler is a political slogan used in Turkey for the urban republican elite ... in imaginary opposition to the so-called Black Turks - Kara Türkler, which refers to Islamic Turks of Anatolian origin."

Back to Gary. His view bridges the distance between continents. He is sitting at a computer in Washington. There is a professional connection, which, however, does not include private use of company equipment.

Simone asks Gary to turn off the Skype function.

"I just want to experience you in your words. Imagine that words are hands or whatever, we're not there yet, I mean, I'm always too quick, that costs me a lot. So, please, build it up slowly."

Please write to me. Write my secret name correctly so that I can recognize you. In return, I will make you my king.

Simone doesn't say this as a precaution, although she would like to say. Saying it out loud is one pleasure, writing it down is the next. Being written down is the third stage. Being targeted is something between. At the fourth level Simone is always lost. Lost in lust.

Gradually, even the last person understands why Simone is so keen on a master of manifestation. Real masters reach their followers over enormous distances. It's as if a spirit takes possession of a person. Of course, that's much hotter to get banged by devine power than just by a person.

In such moments, Simone feels danced... I become danced... I become moved on the altar... I become written. I do all these things under the impression of an overwhelming force that would not exist without me.

Suddenly she notices:

"I am writing under dictation requirement."

Gary does all this with his straightforward trivialities; he doesn't need to be told the pitfalls of the internet. But how does he manage it? So many men have been a disappointment to Simone because she lost their courage. They cum once and then quickly goes back to their mothers.

Gary talks about his childhood in a remote area in the US state of Vermont. Almost every word describes something elemental. Gary leads Simone into a forest of ciphers. In return, she is driven to become more and more concrete. Soon it is no longer enough for her to call things by their common name. She needs a stronger poison. All the contempt that lurks in language, has a pleasurable flip side.

Gary tells of the hunt. How his father once took him into the forest. They spent the night outdoors. Gary was colder than ever before in his life. They wanted to go for a shot at dawn, but there was nothing worth hunting. As the morning progressed, it got warmer. The frost melted from their limbs. At some point they came to a log cabin. Gary had not been prepared to meet people who lived in the wilderness. His father had not told him anything about it. Something surprised him. The adult was taken aback. Then Gary saw it too. A simple, poorly put-together cross on a pile of earth.

Gary and his father inspected the grave. A woman came out of the house. She threw herself into the man's arms. She was already haggard, but still young enough that her beauty shone through the camouflage of premature weathering. Without saying a word, Gary's father led her into the house. They both just left Gary standing there. The boy heard unfamiliar sounds. Then he heard the woman scream, and although he was too young for anything and very exhausted, he understood that this scream confirmed something the woman had set in motion.

Father and son never spoke a word about it. It was a secret that connected them. When Gary's sexuality awoke, the animalistic cry became a determining factor and a signal of longing. But for a long time he never heard anything that came close to the acoustic signature of a collision far removed from civilization.

In the rugged side valleys of Gary's story, Simone's desire became concrete. Never before had she experienced such a powerful manifestation. She was involved. She was the young widow, who had faded early, humiliated by a hard daily life, who, for the sake of her soul's salvation, asked for the seed of her deceased husband's friend, as a friendly act and act of mercy.

The house has only one room. All the smells of a defensive existence gather in that room. Nature is on the advance everywhere. The woman takes off her clothes. She is not looking for pleasure. She is disturbed and destroyed by all the mistakes that have brought her to this place. But she does not want to leave. And so Simone does not want to leave the narrator's focus.

Simone feels as if she has been pulled out of the world. There is an imaginary soundtrack on top of the text track. Suddenly Simone realizes that she doesn't want Gary to follow the script. She wants to be where he is: in his space of experience. She understands that it is always about survival.

Gary continues. At some point I saw my halfsister, in a settlement right on the US-border with Canada. We looked at each other and both knew. I was just passing through. We never saw us again. She was a stranger who was genetically close to me.

During the whole time, Gary didn't say anything that directly related to his desire. His way of remaining silent made Simone think of a man who locks himself in a solo porn booth and rushes through the seventy programs every second, searching for the ultimate image.

Nothing external corresponded with it. Gary's messages showed no excitement, while Simone's words were becoming more and more escapist. There was no doubt about it: Gary was pushing her. He was forcing her to exert herself without any discernible pressure.

Finally, she had an inkling. At this point, Simone had already had half a dozen orgasms, so touched by Gary's story.

She sees the door... "If the doors of perception were cleansed every thing would appear to man as it is, infinite." William Blake

She goes through the door into a brilliant manifestation. Of course the door itself is part of the conscious effort, but that is not how she experiences it. She comes into a hall and soon recognizes the sacred character of the place. Now she is a tributary who has to make contributions.

She hears herself asking: "Who is my king?"

She feels the presence of a person and for the first time emanations of superpower. She knows immediately what it is. All metaphors fail in this high mass. The person takes her over without touching her.

A wave of regret washes over her. For the first time in a long time, she feels guilty. She lured Cornelius so far out of herself, only to find that he is not enough for her. She didn't know that this morning.

The entity behind her not only hears her thoughts, it also transmits them so that they echo through speakers with painful feedback effects.

How do I stop thinking? Simone asks herself desperately.

"You have to surrender to me completely, then it will stop."

Simone feels close to fainting as the force touches her.

Until now, she had no idea that such a thing existed.

"Where am I?" she asks sheepishly.

"Where you belong."

It is crystal clear to Simone that there is no human being behind her, but the materialization of a spirit. An incomprehensibly strong will. A carefree, destructive force.

"You have reached the limit of your game. Your game is over."

...

"If you don't do as I say, I'll make sure Fendrich gets a divorce so he can marry you. You'll have to be his wife, and I'll show no mercy until you drop from old age. Until then, there will be only Fendrich for you, without a break. Fendrich will mount you every morning like an Italian housewife in neo-realist cinema. You will hate it, but you will have to let him."

Simone knows with deadly certainty that the ghost will do this to her unless she does something to appease him.

"How can I avert my fate?"

"You have to find someone who is worthy. Who can fulfill the plan. Conduct the tests and prove to us that your devine energy has the power to attract the right and suss out what he need from us."

Simone shives. She hates shivering. She never tells people when this intense shivering starts. She can control it if she feels the early beginning. Alone with the presence that threatens to take away her life force of hunting, seduction, sexuality and conversion into magic-like literature by forcing her into the ever-dreaded monogamy with the deadly Fendrich lets herself shiver.

From a lecture by Cornelius to round it off:

Christianity is a single rejection of everything that is connected with temptation. That is the essence of it. The Christian must resist. That is his job, and of course he fails. We see a complicated human being who has lost his natural direction (a long time ago) and who, as a religious person threatened by a god and his officials, is carrying an anthropological mutation within himself. What is the use of the flesh if it is wrong to give in to it? What else is there? The sacrament of marriage exists with greater naturalness than unwavering virginity. Foucault devotes himself to this in the third and final part. Marriage corresponds to the normal constitution. Deviations are discussed and the monastic way of life is glorified. Love is referred to as a miracle. It is a "force that rises above nature".

Extensively, Simone's whole body shaking like a tree in a wild storm.

"I will. I promise. I will proceed to do the tests. Give me time, my king. You know I need to start small and to grow it. Like a seed, like a classic process of creation. I am a woman of power. I create things far greater than silly procreation."

Simone wants to assure the presence that she is, in fact, worthy.

"I await results. I will be checking in on you. I am connected to the things being, I notice the change in energies. Don't think you can disguise yourself from me like you do from your stupid peer groups."

"I swear, I will obey."

"You don't have to swear. You become lived. I live you and your existence sustains the power that controls you. You are nothing without it. There is no equality. I can destroy you, but you can't break the power."

To her surprise, Simone feels relieved. She thinks she is in the care of a force that would give her everything she needs.

Have you ever been banged by a ghost? If not, then you've missed something. Simone screams animalistically like the woman in Gary's story, which we hope you remember. Then she loses consciousness. When she sees clearly again, she knows what she must do.

Simone feels as if the light has been turned on inside her. She seems to be illuminated.

Taking a quick breath, she writes to Cornelius.

"I have decided that you are worthy and will let you in on one of my most precious secrets. This will open up a new realm that you have never entered before. Midnight, on the top floor of the new university construction site."

Cornelius is so used to having access to everything, experiencing everything, experiencing everything. Simone's offer promises something new, and the half-break-in at the construction site is a thrill in itself.

Noticing what she does to his mind he tries to will over her with physical sensations, a classic approach. Little does Cornelius knows that even though Simone does fight with the bonding effects of good physical experience like any other women - if her head is involved - she's so experienced that she's developed her own little antidotes to it. She writes lists of everything she finds particularly unattractive about the man. She writes lists of all her successes and accomplishments that are in stark contrast to the man's flaws. She flirts with or seduces another man and revels in the areas where the man who annoys her has weaknesses. She loves being in control, being organized, and keeping meticulous lists of everything. The only things she never counts are her lovers, her calories, or her cocktails on the few days a month she actually allows herself to drink. It spoils the fun, and while she would immediately dump any man who asked about her body count, she's never been able to know or give the exact number.

The funny thing is that even though she decides on her adventures, there are many, many more men whom she turns down than whom she accepts. Being experienced, the men she does let close does have to have some predicaments. Power. An artistic spirit. Beautiful words. A supremely trained body. An inkling of the realm beyond normal. A drive, direction and charisma that outshines the ones around them. Sometimes also just a naivite, a youthful spirit still completely devoid of lies or manipulation; so pure that its pureness draw her in. The scenarios of her sex-life changes quickly.