She knew the secret, the one passed down from her ancestors. The secret she had never revealed, never abused, never taken advantage of. It just sat there in her unconscious mind like an old recipe for a dish for which she had no appetite, no desire to taste.

Until now!

He was all she could think of, he consumed her mind, and she could not have him. She could not touch him or smell him or feel his breath against her cheek.

And she cried great tears of anguish, her loneliness never ending; a continuum of misery pulling her down in a cyclone of despair.

And then she remembered.

It all seemed so simple, one sip of the potion, one incantation, one candle, and one twirl of her necklace, her ancient necklace, over the flame.

It happened quickly. The air felt lighter and smelled of spring.

And there he was, standing before her, and she held her breath and gazed upon his presence and her heart burst forth with the force of a thousand atoms splitting in unison.

She fell to the ground and covered his feet with her body, and he lifted her up and held her in his arms and she became whole.

So, as the potion promised, perfectly duplicated bodies stepped in to take their place, into their reality.

No one missed them or even noticed their departure. Their surrogate bodies went to work and ate dinner and played ball and made love while their real selves walked together in the world unseen, and unnoticed.

Their agreed destination was Paris, the city of love. They ate fine meals and drank fine wine and danced in each others arms.

Their days were spent walking and looking into each others eyes and speaking of ideas and dreams, exchanging times past and laughing together.... their happiness resonating in their own ears, sweet and musical was their joy.


Their nights spent making love; wrapping themselves around each other... never knowing where one began and the other left off; opening themselves to each other for pure pleasure, for their unquenchable, agonizing hunger to devour each other, one to consume the other and then to be consumed.

They were happy while their stand-in lives lived on making polite conversation and nodding agreement.

But the secret, the potion, had a catch.... a horrible retched remuneration, a price to pay. For all pleasure bears a price and now it had come due.

Their last day together was desperate; they cried in each others arms into the night, clinging together like little children, each one comforting the other in turn.

And then exactly one week from the moment they met, they returned, returned to their real lives.

She noticed the air was thick and heavy and stale, no longer buoyant, as she found herself in her bed, beneath her husband.

She could feel him invading her, his body slamming inside of hers, his tongue forcing its way into her mouth....and she died a thousand deaths, to be repeated a thousands times.

Oh, what price ye passion claim,
To suffer this exquisite pain.
Thus once embraced, forever drips,
Your memory bittersweet upon my lips.

Zee Zee
2007