THE COUCH and chairs had been pushed back against the walls, the giant rag rug rolled up and pushed under the dining room table. There were candles everywhere, most notably in a circle on the floor. In the middle of the circle sat a small table with a green tablecloth, his athame—a ceremonial blade about eight inches long—a chalice, his wand, a small plate filled with Christmas sugar cookies, and a little statue of a pair of nude wrestlers (Wyatt would explain that later). With greenery arranged outside the circle, it was all really quite lovely in the soft warm glow of the many candles, and Wyatt was pleased. He’d only mentioned that he wished he had some evergreen boughs, and his friends had all showed up bearing a few branches each. They had brought just enough to complete the circle. He didn’t know if they knew it, but the gesture was incredibly magickal. With a k.
Wyatt’s friends were all there, and their presence and the setup made Wyatt so happy he thought he would cry. He was happy. Happier than he’d been in weeks.
He couldn’t resist a little joke.
“Thank you all for coming,” he said. “You don’t know what this means to me. We’ll be ready to begin as soon as you all take off your clothes.” And then made a move to unbutton his shirt.
There followed a gasp and a few mutterings, and as he looked around the room, he couldn’t help but be amused at the surprise and even shock on his friends’ faces (especially Peni’s). Then, just as Cedar and Scott exchanged a look, shrugged, and started to unbuckle their belts, Wyatt laughed and held up his hands. “Just kidding.”
The others laughed too, and Cedar gave a half shrug and said, “Well, skyclad is the thing in a lot of circles. A lot of us do it naked at Men’s Festival.”
“True,” Wyatt said. “But I warn people so they could choose whether they want to come do something like that. Which is only polite. And most of you aren’t pagan.” He glanced at Peni. “I reserve stuff like that.”
“I’m not even sure what we’re doing here tonight, Wyatt,” Max said.
Wyatt nodded. “Well, I thought I’d explain that.”
So he had them sit down and relax. He had bottles of water—no cocktails tonight, at least not until after. This was a time to be clearheaded.
Wyatt looked at his friends, all here, and a small rush passed through him. The only person who hadn’t come was his boss, Katherine. He’d invited her. But in the end she, more than he, decided that tonight needed to be a Queer evening. And as queer as she felt she was, tonight called for sacred Male-spirit.
Wyatt looked at his friends again and saw them looking back—their faces attentive, their expressions curious. His heart jumped again. This was happening. He felt like crying but fought the urge. For now at least.
This was happening!
Wyatt cleared his throat. “I’ll start by giving everybody a little explanation of what tonight is all about and what we’re going to be doing. So you’ll know what’s going on.”
“I appreciate that,” Sloan said.
Max nodded.
So did Peni. “And I’m really excited.”
Wyatt took a deep drink from his water bottle, suddenly twice as nervous. He cleared his throat again. “Okay. First of all… Yule. It’s also called the Winter Solstice, and it is the longest night of the year and the shortest day. Some call it the ‘dark night of the soul.’ In some traditions, Yule is the time that the Goddess takes on her role as the Great Mother and gives birth to the new Sun King. But I prefer to honor the story of the battle of the Oak King and the Holly King.”
Wyatt’s heart was pounding—and for more than one reason. He loved this story, but there was also the fear that his friends would think what he was saying was silly. But no. They were all listening. He could see it in their eyes. No one was making fun. Not even Scott.
He took a breath. “There are a number of versions of the story of the Holly King and the Oak King, but my favorite goes something like this. There are two times of the year—the Winter Solstice, or Yule, and the Summer Solstice—when these two, these… cosmic rulers, meet in battle. And what they’re fighting for is supremacy of the Wheel of the Year. At Yuletide, it is the Oak King who wins, and his victory ushers in the end of long nights and the lengthening of the days. But then once the Summer Solstice arrives, they do battle again, and the Holly King wins. And the days begin to shorten and the nights to dominate the year.
“Sometimes I’ve even been in rituals where two men act out the fight between the Holly King and the Oak King.”
“Hey!” cried Cedar. “Scott and I can do that!” He turned to Scott and waggled his eyebrows. “Wanna…?”
At Scott’s uncomfortable look, Wyatt broke back in. “No!” He laughed. “Not the kind of thing we want to do inside with candles and breakables.” He pointed to the statue of the wrestling men on the table in the center of the circle. “This sculpture of Hercules and Diomedes will represent the Kings tonight.”
Cedar got a funny expression on his face and Wyatt was sure he was going to say something. A joke? But no. It looked like he had changed his mind. Thank goodness. Wyatt was already nervous enough.
He cleared his throat and continued.
“Okay. So the first thing I’ll do is cast the Circle. It’s simply… well, declaring sacred space for us to do our work.” He nodded. “Some people believe it’s about protection. That when the magick is being worked, it attracts the attention of all kinds of forces, some good and some not so good. For that reason we never step out of the Circle once we begin. Go potty first in other words. And I’ll try to keep it short.”
There was some general chuckling.
“Then I’ll call the four directions, the powers of the Watchtowers of the four compass points. They also represent the four elements. North, fire…. No. I mean, earth. God, I’m nervous!”
“It’s okay,” said Scott. “We’re all here for you.”
Wyatt smiled at his friend. He liked the new Scott.
“Thanks.” He laughed. “Okay. Whew! North—fire. Earth! Earth!”
“It really is okay, Wyatt,” Max said. “Take your time.”
Wyatt nodded. Gulped. “North—earth. East—air. South—fire. And west—water. Traditionally four different people call the directions. But that isn’t necessary tonight. I’ll do it.”
Then, surprising Wyatt once more. “I’ll take a direction if you want,” Cedar said. He grinned. “I don’t mind. I did water at Festival this summer.”
“Wait,” Peni cried. “I’d like to join too. And may I do water?” He smiled happily. “You’ll have to tell me what to do.”
Wyatt’s mouth dropped open. “I—I’d love—”
“Then do you want me to take north?” Cedar asked. “Since I’ve called a direction before? Show people how? That’s the first Watchtower to be called, right? North?”
“I…. Yes. First, that is. North is. And… and you can be too. First, that is. If you really mean it.”
“Sure, I mean it!” Cedar nodded enthusiastically. “I’m already thinking of what to say.”
“I’ll take south then,” Asher said, and Wyatt could only goggle at him.
What?
“South is fire, right? Isn’t that what you said?”
Wyatt nodded.
“Well, my people are pretty fiery, right?”
“Your…,” Wyatt stammered. “Your people?”
Asher shrugged. And was that a blush? It was hard to tell in the warm glow of the candles but it looked like…
“I’m not ready to give up honey-baked ham just yet, but… yeah. Maybe.”
Whoa!
“So we need someone for east,” Cedar said. He turned to his lover. “Scott?”
“I…. Ah….” Scott visibly gulped. “I’m… not sure if I’m quite ready for that.”
“You sure?” Cedar touched Scott’s cheek.
Scott nodded and this time, candlelight or not, Wyatt did see a blush spread out over his face.
“Okay, baby,” Cedar replied and pulled him close.
“Ah….” Sloan cleared his throat. “I suppose I can.”
Wyatt smiled. This was all too unbelievable. “I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”
Sloan gave one of his half shrugs. “Your ways have never bothered me before. I even went to that camp with you that day, forever ago. Tell me what to do?”
Another rush spread over Wyatt. Love. It was a nice change. He took a deep breath. “Think of the things that remind you of your element.” He nodded at Sloan. “Like a tornado or a hurricane or even a cool breeze on a hot day. Or the first breath a baby takes.”
Sloan’s eyes widened. “Really? A baby’s breath? So it doesn’t have to be ‘godly’ powerful stuff?”
Wyatt sighed a long happy sigh. “A baby’s first breath is pretty powerful stuff!”
“Wow,” Sloan said and sat down. “I need to think a minute.”
Was this going to be too much for his friends? “You guys really don’t have to do this.”
“I think we do,” Asher said. “Really.”
Unbelievable.
Magick.
It took Wyatt a moment to compose himself. This was all so… so much.
Finally, Wyatt nodded again. “Okay, then.” Next step. “After the four Quarters are called, then the next thing usually done in Ritual is to call on the Lord and the Lady. The two creative forces of nature that make everything. But tonight we are going to call on the Queer Ones.”
“Queer Ones?” Peni asked.
“Yes,” Wyatt replied. “That other force that has been around for all recorded history and before. The force that draws members of the same sex together. Gods and animals and myth.”
“Yes!” Peni cried. “I can get that!” Wyatt could see he, almost more than any of the others, was getting quite excited by all of this.
“It’s another reason why Yule is one of my two favorite times of the year. There’s something kind of… what’s the word, Max? Homo-rotic?”
Max smiled and nodded. “Homoerotic.”
“Yeah,” Wyatt agreed. “Something homoerotic about these two big male forces of nature wrestling for dominance.”
“And howdy!” Cedar said with a grin and another eyebrow waggle. He indicated the little sculpture of Hercules and Diomedes. “One of them sure has a nice grip on the base of the other guy’s cock, doesn’t he?” He laughed. “And it looks like it’s giving Mr. Gripper a hard-on too!”
Wyatt couldn’t help but laugh. It did look just like one of them had an erection. He’d always thought so. Surprisingly, he found himself blushing.
“So when you had two guys acting this out, did they do that?” It was Cedar asking, of course.
“What?” Wyatt asked.
“Grip each other’s cocks like that?”
“That would be a rare thing,” Wyatt said. “It’s usually acted out by straight men anyway.”
“But what about when it’s gay men?” Cedar pressed.
“It all depends.” Wyatt looked away.
And in one very… special Circle he and Howard had been in, they had acted out the fight that ended when the Oak King won—the Oak King being Howard, naturally. It would have been ridiculous-looking any other way. It had ended with Howard fucking him over the altar in front of the other attendees. It had been humiliating at first, being taken that way while the others stared. He hadn’t been expecting Howard to take it that far. But then… something happened. Everything had turned sexual after that. The other men in the ritual were masturbating and then having sex as well. It had startled the hell out of him. But rather than allowing himself to be embarrassed, Wyatt had chosen to go with the flow. Or with his hormones anyway. He pushed away the idea that the sex between him and Howard needed to be romantic and private. Switched it off in his mind.
In a way it had been freeing. When Howard had first urged him into sexual situations with others, his response had been halfhearted—a way to please (and keep) Howard. But when it had been in the context of a religious rite? Somehow that was when Wyatt finally let go and really did whatever Howard urged him to do. After all, wasn’t the Goddess supposed to say, “For behold, all acts of love and pleasure are my rituals”?
It had also been when his and Howard’s sexual escapades had truly begun. Or at least his own. Howard’s had apparently begun long before then—just without the virtue of Wyatt knowing about it.
“Wyatt?” Cedar asked again, louder, breaking him from his thoughts.
“Huh?”
“I think I just might have Scott talked into it.”
Wyatt looked at his blushing friend.
“No,” he said. “No wrestling. Not tonight. Breakables. Candles.”
“Sure,” Asher said. “Burning the house down would be a bad way to end the evening.”
“And no nudity, right?” asked Cedar.
Wyatt had to laugh once again. Coming from anyone else, he would have thought they were trying to make this sexual. It was not something he was prepared for in the least. The wounds were still very fresh with Howard. But no. As sexually free as Cedar was, Wyatt knew he wasn’t suggesting some repeat of that night Howard had taken him over the altar. Not the way Cedar was bonding with Scott. Cedar was just a naked kind of guy.
“No, not this time,” he answered.
He could see from their expressions that Max wasn’t the only one who was relieved. But then he got yet another little surprise.
“You know, I was kind of expecting to show off,” Peni said. “Would you mind if I just wore a sarong?”
Wyatt raised his brows in surprise and then nodded. “Sure. Whatever any of you want.”
Peni looked at Asher, who nodded, and then they excused themselves.
“What are they up to?” Max said.
“I can’t imagine,” said Wyatt, because he really couldn’t. Show off? What did that mean?
“You know I wasn’t trying to turn this into some kind of orgy, right?” Cedar asked.
Yes, he did know that. Wyatt told him so. And hadn’t he just been thinking that—a thought confirmed when Cedar put his arm around Scott’s waist and pulled him tight against him.
“I was just wanting to respect your path, and I knew a lot of rituals were done in the nude.”
“Some,” Wyatt responded. “But not all by any means. I doubt even the majority. Remember that Men’s Festival is hardly the ‘real world.’ And when we did Ritual, most of us weren’t naked. I appreciate it, Cedar. But just the fact that you’re all here tonight means the world to me. That you are respecting my beliefs.”
“Well, Wyatt,” Asher said, coming into the room holding Peni’s hand, “I’m starting to learn respect.”
They all turned to see Peni and Asher standing there, both wearing gorgeous sarongs tied around their waists. They were folded in half lengthwise so that instead of hanging nearly to the floor, they came down to midthigh, showing off their muscular physiques and—of course—Peni’s magnificent Samoan tattoos. The lovers looked like two gods standing there in the light of the candles.
“Wow,” said Sloan.
“Wow, indeed,” said Max.
Yes, thought Wyatt. Wow. Because even though they’d seen Peni’s pe’a before, here, tonight, they were magnificent.
“Oh, what the hell,” said Max. “I can wear one of those. Actually they look pretty comfortable. You have any more of those sarong-thingies, Wyatt?”
Sarong-thingies? Really? Mr. College-Teacher Max Turner just said sarong-thingies? Wyatt laughed. “Do I?” Did he have any sarongs? Even after Howard took half of them, he still had a million. “Come on!”
So he took them upstairs and showed them the big green tub he had and left them to it. They could pick out whatever they wanted. He didn’t care.
Then halfway down the stairs, something hit him. Yes! If even Max was willing to shed his comfortable ways and wear a sarong, that meant he could skip his jeans and T-shirt (even if it did have a silhouette on the front of a witch on a broomstick with a rainbow flowing out the back instead of billowing smoke, and the words Ride With Pride, on it).
He wouldn’t go naked—he couldn’t do that. But he could….
While Max and Sloan went through the tub, he dashed back up the stairs, went to the closet in his magick room, and found his special outfit. The one he’d made himself. It wasn’t perfect, but to misquote Grace Jones once again, it was perfect for him.
The outfit consisted of two sarongs that he had batiked himself in a class at Festival several years ago. (Gods, was it going on five already?) The two sarongs had started out white. He’d dyed them gold and brown. Then he’d used the batik technique to apply wax in a bear pattern over and over on the fabric. Once that was done, he’d dyed the sarongs black, and where the wax crackled, it left wonderful tiny lines of black to come through. Once they were dry, they were washed in hot water, which melted the wax away and left a completely unique set of sarongs. Then he gave them to Zebra the Baker (who also sewed wonderful quilts) to turn one of the sarongs into a jacket and—voilà—Wyatt had his own magickal robes!
And he could wear the outfit tonight! He could be all flowy and lovely tonight. He quickly shed his clothes, swept into his homemade garments, and found his bear-claw necklace, and he was ready!
Watch out, McDonalds!
Wyatt stepped out into the hallway just in time to finally get a quick flash of Max’s butt and, as lovely as it was, to not really care. That’s not what tonight was about. You’d seen one perfect ass, you’d seen them all.
Wait!
Had he just said that?
Wyatt shook his head and dashed past the crimson Max—Oh, relax, Max. How many men have seen you naked in the locker room at the gym?—and down the stairs, garments flowing about him like, well, magick!