<em>Am I not what you asked for? </em><br/><br/>The voice remained curious, interested in the woman in front of him and the strange environment into which he had been summoned.  The form within the circle grew and then shrank, seeming to test the boundaries and the protection of the sacred circle. There was no rush, no push of force to tell if the circle, or the form, was stronger.<br/><br/><em>I am the embodiment of what you wished for, the desire that you had for another. If you wish to see me simply finish the incantation. Step forward and touch the air about me, speak the words “ Capio tui Corporis.”</em><br/><br/>For a moment there was calm, the sauna like room the kitchen had become was still, quiet. The aromas that had grown still waited, drifting in the air, leather and roses, the sweat of bodies, the scent of release all swirled in the damp air. It was no longer October here, it was to warm, too much humidity for it to be the fall.<br/><br/>Then it started, a sound to match the scent. At first it seemed nothing, like a static. But then it grew, A chorus of the cries of people, some in pain perhaps, but more than enough seemed to be lost in abandonment, in the moment between control and release. The sounds of temptation, of pleasure, the summoned desire that now stood in the circle before Tegan. Whatever it was inside the circle waited, watching her with heavy eyes that stayed on her body, fed from it even as she stood there. The sounds continued to grow, a background for the woman if she would only listen.<br/><em><br/>Come to me, give me form, so that our deal can be made.</em><br/><br/>Again the voice reached out to her, tried to touch and caress her skin as if he were a lover, her lover. The words finally glanced across the raised skin of her nipples, a gossamer touch with the intention of arousal.  They continued to move about her, running across the length of her back, a warmth to the words that would leave trails in their wake as they sought to elicit her response.<br/><br/><em>Make me real Tegan.</em><br/><br/>He used her name. Tegan.  Sending his voice carrying her name back to her ears. But the sounds made near her head where for her and her alone, and they made promises.  That voice, it did not say her name, instead it was him crying Tegan in pleasure, whispering Tegan to her, saying Tegan over and over in a wanton abandonment. It was right there, milling about her head,  waiting for her to listen if she dared.<br/>