Lilith’s Precious Ingredient

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Aaron’s now Fidelity’s Associate Vice President for Finance, someone with whom it’s good to be acquainted if you’re a Fidelity CPA. Actually, we’re both CPAs, hired at the same time, but Aaron’s the one destined for a corporate future.

Back when the two of us hired on, we’d even dated, but as he started his climb, there at the front desk sat Evelyn, freshening her nails. They may be married, but everyone knows she’s still on the prowl.

I moved on as well. Perhaps not really “on,” but toward accounting challenges for which I needn’t dress up as much as the front-desk girls. I get paid a lot more, however, so hah!

Aaron and I still work together on tax management, but it’s not a bond that extends beyond the spreadsheets. Again sharing the other kind of sheets would just derail more of my life.

Aaron being a typical male, however, I wasn’t surprised by his, “Hey, Lilly. Want to help me out at the Horizon Meeting in San Diego?”

Give me a break, buddy!

I could have predicted the spiel as we were leaving the presentation about Fidelity’s medium-range goals in the real estate market. “Lilly, you must be exhausted, all those notes you were taking. Why don’t we go up and see what’s on TV? My room’s got the special channels.” Actually, I’m just making that last line up, as he wouldn’t watch that stuff with me around. He’s not a creep; he’s just clueless.

I was gracious in declining, citing a target date for another Fidelity asset write-off. When he upped the ante by mentioning a restaurant, I still said I couldn’t.

We’d have had fun running up the Fidelity credit card and I’d have gotten my revenge on Evelyn. For sure I could have used some sex.


I love to shop at Sister Song. I’d save 15 percent by volunteering, but an hour of my billable is worth more than the bookstore’s daily net. It’s fun to browse the new books and they don’t think less of me because I wear nylons.

What caught my eye on the Sisters Unite! Shareboard was the flier — “With Lilith, we rise! Sister Circle.”

Rosie, the girl — I mean “woman” — manning — hey, gals, another linguistic problem — the counter, noticed my interest. “It’s about our Goddess Lilith, I’ll tell Trish you’re interested.”

As you can’t just inform a feminist bookstore volunteer you’re not interested in goddesses, I gave her my business card when she asked for a phone number.

“And you’re even named Lilith! This isn’t just a coincidence.”

“Actually, I’m just Lilly. Two L’s.”

“Same thing,” and then noting my credential. “Way to go, girl!! We gotta’ manage our finances to break the bondage.”

Trish — last name apparently unnecessary — called the next day and said that they were also learning to knit and she had a ton of extra maroon. As I’ve an olive complexion, it seemed like another positive.

I just hoped they didn’t burn incense.

I went and discovered that Trish is a 9 to 5 actuary, and they entirely agreed about me and maroon. Tanya, an astrological consultant, showed me how to keep my stitches more even.

Thursday evenings are now the highlight of my week.

As for the significance of Lilith to post-patriarchal femininity, there are books at Sister Song.

Lilith was born out of the same dust as was Adam, but as she objected to being on the bottom, she escaped Eden and set herself up in a cave by the Red Sea. When Adam complained he’d been abandoned, God made him an Eve more suited to being walked all over.

Lilith, however, is still around, bearing 100 demon children *per day* without need for a mate. As çankaya escort Lilith kills boys in the eight days before circumcision, Semitic mothers protect their newborn sons with an amulet.

Apart from Zoe who sports such an amulet, the rest of us questioned how she gets pregnant without a partner, much less handles that many deliveries.

The clue regarding her conceptions is found in “Lilith,” a saga written in ancient times.

Of Adam’s first wife, Lilith, it is told

The witch he loved before the gift of Eve

And still she sits, young while the earth is old,

And, subtly of herself contemplative,

Draws men to watch the bright net she can weave,

Till heart and body and life are in its hold.

Lilith, it seems, purloins what she needs from masturbating males. Her name in fact stems from “laylah,” Hebrew for “night,” when she harvests the precious ingredient.


Some of us weren’t that great at knitting, but we backcrossed and cabled, pearled and twisted with Lilith-inspired determination. Most of us, however, were in fact tiring of feminist apologetics.

Let’s have a project, Bren suggested, maybe something like opposing Asian sex trafficking.

Noah, thought Celeste. Let’s just do something to have some fun.

“How about let’s do something like Lilith.” from Sondra, who we’d encouraged to be more assertive.

“And always be pregnant?” asked someone. ‘Don’t think so.”

“No, we’ll just collect her precious ingredient.”

We looked at each other. A feminist challenge!


Next week, Zoe arrived with a Ziploc. “Russ is totally obedient. I said we’ll freeze it in case he has a motorcycle accident.”

The week following, Tanya displayed a test tube. She’d stashed in her bathroom to scoop up what ended up on her when she informed her sweetheart he’d stopped taking the pill.

Probably I could have better picked my donor, but the Lilith challenge wasn’t going to last forever.

Evelyn was Aaron’s problem, not mine. While he’d be providing me the ingredient, she’d probably be asking her trainer to check her for a hamstring and they’d be on the massage table as soon as he could peel off her spandex.


When I asked Aaron if helping him out in California was still a possibility — “if our hotel’s where we can see the ocean” — he assured me that he would book the best.

“If I dress up a little, it’s to make Fidelity look classy, OK?” which seemed to please him. “And I know how touchy Evelyn can get, so maybe she doesn’t have to know who’s helping you out,” which seemed to please him even more.


Not to my surprise, Aaron and I were on the same floor.

It was nice to have time to try out the health facility, pretending not to notice him ogling me, and me letting him catch me eying his gym shorts.

We went over the presentation and had an Indonesian dinner. I hadn’t a clue what they eat over there. Still don’t.

Walking along the beach, I took his arm, nothing that any other beach-goer would even notice, but I could tell his arm noticed me.

Back at the hotel, it was “Lilly?” in the elevator.

Here it comes.

“Want some ice cream or something?” at least more original than suggesting champagne.

“Think they’ll have peppermint?” following him into his room.

Room service charged $4.49 a scoop, but Fidelity gets the bill. “Brushing up for tomorrow,” he’ll explain if audited.

As I indeed wanted all to go well tomorrow. I kicked off my shoes, curled cebeci escort up on a chair and made him rehearse the bar graphs.

Once we’d wrapped up the presentation, however, it was, “You can just stay here, Lilly,” straight to the point. Fidelity books two rooms, but everybody knows that just one bed gets used.

I tried to sound tempted, but turned to the corporate reason for my presence, “We’ve got a big presentation tomorrow and after that, we celebrate,” giving him a hug hinting how.


Our presentation went by the numbers, what’s expected from financial folks. I wore my silk shift, smiled at everybody, and bent forward when our CEO scoped my neckline.

Associate Veep Aaron charted out a myriad of business indicators, half of which contradicted the others. I was in charge of the projector and answering questions that actually involved numbers.

The higher-ups eyed my butt while I passed out fruit juices.

I’m in Accounting, I’d have liked to have told them, in case you need some numbers for a meeting in Hawaii, but actually. I’d have never told them that because I’m professional. We discussed in Sister Circle that behavior beneath our potential has to do with lack of empowerment.

My part of the show-and-tell now done, it was to the beach while Aaron had to sit through more corporate jingoism to justify his pay grade.


I at first felt a bit dowdy, sitting on the sand, but didn’t much care as I wasn’t shopping for a man.

But on the other hand, me being on sort of a vacation, when a cute guy walked up with a “Surf’s up!” and pointed out where I’d missed lotioning, I couldn’t resist indicating that my beach blanket was only half occupied.

Surfer dudes aren’t too sophisticated, other than about wave names, maybe.

“With anybody?”

“Used to be. You?”


Taking him up on his offer to lotion where I’d missed, it was fun by letting him pull down my straps and slip inside, bulling out my top enough to see my nipples, not just their shapes — like in the meeting — but the actual items. Nobody around could see, though this being California, I suppose they could have guessed.

It’s disconcerting, querying a guy about surfing while he does your breasts, but that’s maybe what makes California more fun.

Me on my stomach, he undid my back strap and began on my butt, probably hoping I’d roll over so he could do that side of me, as well, maybe starting along my hem, the blanket for cover. What might follow, I wasn’t sure, but by what was happening on our left, their covering beginning to wiggle, I expected that the precious ingredient was in transit. Californians seem to be good at getting together discreetly.

But as I had plans with Aaron, I gave my surfer boy a “Surf’s still up, but gotta’ go,” and he laughed, knowing that this elusive Minnesotan appreciated his readiness, even if she’d touched it only accidentally. Sort of accidentally, anyway, and only through his trunks.

Something I’d not report to Sister Circle, of course.

Returning to the hotel, I stuck my head in Aaron’s room. “Really exciting, the rest of the meeting, Aaron? Should have come and lotioned me so I’d not get burned.”

“Doing my back in your Brooks Brothers?” I called out from the shower.

No doubt he was judging what looked different from before. Nine more pounds, I could have told him, and that was with going to the gym, one exclusive for my gender, recommended by Sister Song.

He’d have shot there in the shower if I’d çukurambar escort used my butt on him, but what I planned to steal would be diluted.

Dinner was Japanese, a bigger hit on Fidelity’s MasterCard. Afterward, I steered him toward my room where I’d something stashed by my bed.

“It’s been forever, Aaron. Let’s get you back like before,” going to work with my hand.

“I think I’m there.”

“No. Like you used to get.” increasing my administration.

“Gotta’ stop, Lilly!”

There really wasn’t that much to it, actually, and after not much more effort, Lilith’s precious ingredient was shooting into the air. A surfer would have outlasted my encouragement and deposited it where he intended, but Aaron was no surfer.

“My fault,” I apologized, using my visible hand to slime my breasts, the other, to backhand the remainder into the film canister. I felt bad about thieving so mechanically, but that’s what it took.

“At least you won’t have to lie to Evelyn,” I pointed out.

“Why’d she even wonder?”

“I put something on my answering machine about being in San Diego for business and she said she’d call me about health clubs. You should bring her out here for your next meeting. She could hang out on the beach while you’re tied up.”


Thanks Lilith, a girl-to-goddess thanks from me and the one on the way.

It’s not a surf child, though.

The next day while Aaron was in a follow-up meeting, I again headed for the beach, a copy of “Our Right to Love” in hand, needing to have thumbed through it before next Sister Circle.

A friendly girl with spiky hair parked herself beside me. “Read it myself. Pretty good stuff.” she informed me. “Looks like you’re getting a little burned, sweetie. Want me to get it for you?” and without waiting for an answer, started on the back of my neck. A surfer yesterday, a girl today, same thing, pushing down my shoulder straps and undoing the back one, but with my surfer, I’d remained on my stomach.

This time I rolled on my side and she made a C around me. Clutching my top with my arms kept it on, but not tight enough to keep her from applying underneath what had begun as lotioning, but was now more of a massage. Had she not draped her towel over my hips, they could have seen her doing to me what was in one of the chapters, the difference being that this time I’d needn’t worry about ending up with a Californian keepsake.

As I said before, Californians are adept at getting together in public, though we maybe didn’t fool the California women.

Had I read the chapter, I’d have known what to do in return, but I could tell that she appreciated my attitude. As they say in Sister Circle, if our hearts are with our sisters, our technique will follow, though until now I’d not fully understood the context. How long she kept me going left my tine-trials with Aaron in the dust.

Afterward, my friend from yesterday came over to sit with us, me still a bit flushed, my newer friend probably adding a checkmark to her tally, and him probably rejuvenating after impregnating an Iowan. “My brother, here, said to look for you,” my new friend mentioned when he joined us.

When I told the administrative assistants about my beach acquaintances, they agreed it was wise to turn down the surfer, but next time I should ask my second acquaintance to round up some of her girlfriends. They said it took the fun out of things, having to be so assertive to get their bosses to wear a rubber.

Aaron doesn’t know he’s the daddy, of course. My Ob-Gyn says that these days my route isn’t unique. Get some precious ingredient on your fingertip, insert where needed, let the flagella paddle on up, and bingo!

A CPA can relocate anywhere and set her own hours, so I’ll be able to nurse while I balance the books somewhere up in the Northwest. Sister Song has a list of bookstores up there, so I’ll have some friends right off.

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