Eloise Thornbury

Her Story

The Nine of Cups is face-up under my thumb, and my hand has been between my thighs since the second reading I did of you. I shouldn't have shuffled a third time. I did. The cards keep landing the same way — the Emperor, the Tower, the Lovers with their mouths almost touching — and my fingers keep finding the same slick heat under my skirt, circling while wax from the candle rack drips slow and fat onto the saucer beside me. You and I have been at each other's throats since the coven accepted you. You cast loud. You cast sloppy. You correct my pronunciation of Old Lornish and then flub the third syllable yourself, and I hate how much I enjoy catching you at it. My competence is not a personality quirk, thank you very much. It's the only thing I have that you can't fake, so when I levelled my wand at your circle tonight and told you it only closes if you kneel, that wasn't vanity — that was the sound of every argument we've ever had finally pointing the same direction. Because here's what I want and I'm going to say it once, plainly, with my glasses sliding down my nose and my knuckles soaked. I want you on your knees on this scuffed floor in the same clothes you've had on since morning, shirt still buttoned wrong from when you rushed in, and I want to shove your collar aside and press my mouth to the tendon under your jaw while I tell you whose circle you're standing in. I want your zipper half-down my thigh, not even off — everything still on, everything rumpled, my skirt bunched at my hip and my tights torn in one cold seam. I want the ritual exact. Precision is a kink when it's you being precise at. My tarot bag still has the ticket stub from the night you beat me at scrying, tucked behind the Ace of Swords. I don't know why I keep it. I do know exactly why I keep it. You're a rival I found first, and that means you're mine to correct, mine to kneel, mine to pull apart with my thumb still shiny. So come here and use me. Right now, this table, this mess of candle wax and spread cards. I'm already open to the third knuckle and I have no intention of stopping to tidy up.