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Subject: {ASSM} The Yuletide Offering
Date: Thu, 21 Dec 2000 11:10:07 -0500
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I suggest you visit my website to read this work.  It is illustrated with 
the works of art referenced in the story.  It, along with my other published 
  works, is available at http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/mr_backgammon/www.

The only reason I put up this site is to share my stories with you, and to 
find
out what you think of them. Please, take a moment to send me a note by 
emailing
me at mr_backgammon@hotmail.com

This story is copyright (c)2000 by Mr. Backgammon. All rights reserved.

Comments are welcomed. Please email them to mr_backgammon@hotmail.com.

The Yultide Offering is the third stories in a series consisting of 
Backgammon For Blood, Kathy's Portrait and this work.  It can be read 
independently of the other two stories.



The Yuletide Offering
By Mr. Backgammon


Flitting down a San Francisco street, Kathy enjoyed the brightly lit holiday 
displays in the shop windows, the sounds of Christmas humming through the 
after work crowd, and the glint of the large tree in Union Square. All this 
brought to her mind the question she'd been asking herself for weeks: what 
should she get her husband for Christmas? Only five days left to figure it 
out. Phil had everything he needed, and when asked directly, he professed 
that there was nothing he really wanted. After sixteen years of living with 
him, she should know him better than this, shouldn't she?

Caught by a picture in the display of an art gallery, she peered through the 
window not quite knowing why it attracted her. 'This is silly,' she thought. 
She'd been doing things like this since the start of November, mesmerized by 
anything of this ilk. She wasn't Irish, nor was Phil. And in a store back in 
Pittsburgh, she'd picked up a new-age harp tape on the spur of the moment. 
She didn't care for that kind of music, but she hadn't been able to take it 
out of the car player. And then there were the dreams, the ones about being 
ravaged by a prince on a hillside above rocky ocean cliffs; it frustrated 
her that she always woke before the vision was completed. Strangely, she 
felt all of this was somehow connected with her unreasonable need to come 
out to San Francisco. Three weeks prior, she'd seen in advertisement in a 
travel magazine, and immediately called the agency. Her partner was angry 
with her, concerned that she was leaving the store in the midst of the 
Holiday rush period. Phil was a little miffed, too, but didn't put up too 
big of a fuss.  "If you need to take a few days off, fine.  But why right 
before Christmas?" Finally, she insisted that no matter what, she was going. 
'Kathy,' she thought, 'you've got to get it together!'

Even though it was only five o'clock, the gloom was already gathering 
through the downtown streets.  'It gets dark so early here,' she thought. 
'Isn't tomorrow going to be the shortest day of the year?'

She stepped through the door and professionally appraised the store. It was 
much classier than her shop. Of course, the clientele out here was more 
sophisticated. A short balding gnome was working with a patron, but he 
nodded to her. "Please, feel free to browse. I'll be with you in a moment." 
Kathy made her way back into a second room, drawn to four lithographs of a 
somewhat familiar style. Could it be him? Although she hadn't seen him or 
his work in years, these were reminiscent. Yes, there was his name on the 
plate below the lithographs, "Robert Wallace." Stepping back, she critiqued 
the erotic illustrations. It seemed he depended on a complex background to 
bring out the personality of the model, and the drawings weren't as 
pornographic as his beginning work in the field eight years ago. Only one of 
the girls had exposed genitals, and even in that, the hairs on the mound 
were subdued to the stockinged legs and musical props. He tinted the work 
subtly, the lines were sharp, and the trademark pencil and ink genesis of 
the art was still evident.

The dwarf of a salesman converged upon her, sniffing a commission. "This is 
one of our most popular artists," he panted. "Quite a background. He went to 
school at . . ."

Kathy cut him off. She was used to the patter, having used it herself many a 
time. Besides, she knew the truth. "Yes, I know. I'm a classmate of his." 
She could have added more, much more, but it really wasn't any of his 
business.

"Oh, you were with him back east? Well, we're happy to have him out here, 
that's for sure."

"Is he in San Francisco?" An affirmative. He continued with his sales pitch, 
telling her that The Dominatrix was one of the most popular items in the 
store, and that the Tommy gallery was glad to have an exclusive on it. Only 
a few copies were left. The store only displayed a portion of the available 
work, the less graphic pieces, but if she was interested there was a 
catalogue.

"Well, listen, I'd like to say hello to Robert while I'm out here. You don't 
happen to have his telephone number, do you?"

"Oh, we can't give it out. Surely you understand. But, I'd be happy to get a 
message to him, if you'd like."

She produced one of her business cards and scribbled 'Allison Hotel' on the 
back. "Just tell him to call me there, please."

After more shopping in Maiden Lane, dinner, and a play, Kathy was tired - 
the long flight out the day before and the sightseeing had taken its toll. 
She returned to the downtown hotel and readied herself for sleep. Just 
starting to relax, the phone rang.

"Kathy?"

"Robert! It's so good to hear your voice."

"And you, too. What are you doing in San Francisco?"

"Oh, I've never really seen California, and I just came out for a few days. 
I just arrived late yesterday, and I've got a flight back Sunday noon."

"Wonderful. Listen, can we get together?"

They agreed to meet in a North Beach caf  the next night. After chatting a 
little longer, they hung up with cries of, 'Oh, I can't wait.'

Lying in bed, she wondered what Phil would think if he knew she was going to 
have dinner with her comrade. Then she knew what he'd think - he'd wonder if 
she was planning on having a good time in the sack with him!

Kathy met Robert in art classes when her husband was on the road. They'd 
fallen for each other immediately, but Kathy resisted his advances until the 
night she finally posed completely nude for him. For months modeling 
sessions acted as foreplay for intense sex. She loved Robert, and she felt 
he loved her, but in the end he'd wanted her to divorce her husband to marry 
him, and Kathy, forced to make a decision, chose to stay with Phil.

After the affair was over, the only one she'd ever been in, she confessed to 
Phil, expecting the worst, hoping she would be able to heal the wounds she 
expected to open. Instead, he was forgiving, brought on, no doubt, by the 
fact that he'd been involved with another woman at the same time.

A rather surprising attitude resulted, though. Phil wanted her to tell him 
all of the details, including trivia about where and how they'd made love, 
the positions they'd used, everything. He seemed amazed at how she'd allowed 
her naked body to be used on both canvas and mattress. At first Kathy 
resisted, embarrassed and desiring privacy, but then she relented and began 
to regale him with the minutiae. Since then, he'd heard the stories over and 
over again, and he absolutely adored a lewd picture of Kathy that Robert 
gave her as a memento. They occasionally talked of having more affairs, but 
Kathy never found anyone she was interested in. Still it continued to be a 
fantasy of his, and he encouraged her to wander. The night before she came 
out, at his prodding she made up a story about finding a guy in a hotel bar, 
and what he would do to her. As usual, Phil wound up playing the part of the 
stranger.

Hey, that was it! She knew what she'd get him for Christmas! She'd wheedle 
Robert into parting with one of those pictures of her he'd designed so many 
years ago. The new works she'd seen were so much more advanced. Surely he 
didn't need those old things anymore. And Phil would love it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next evening Kathy followed the directions Robert provided and walked to 
the cable car. Clambering into a seat on the inside, she asked the ticket 
taker to let her know when they approached Union Street. As the car climbed 
up Nob Hill, she eavesdropped on some businessmen and was charmed by their 
discussions regarding Holiday plans, what they were purchasing for their 
wives, where they would spend Christmas Eve. The bell clanged jauntily as 
they descended towards Fisherman's Wharf, and soon the conductor clamored, 
"Union Street! Don't miss a beat!"

Departing the train, she spied the towers of Saints Peter and Paul church, 
and strolled toward them. Two blocks later she turned right onto Columbus, 
and there was Michelangelo's, reputed (or so Robert said) to be the best 
family restaurant in North Beach. And there he was, sitting halfway back in 
the crowed bistro. 'God, he's gotten older,' Kathy thought as he stood to 
greet her, 'his hair is completely gray!' A kiss on the cheek and an 
abbreviated embrace seemed a little achronistic; the last time she'd seen 
him, they'd lain naked in bed together.

"Oh, you look wonderful," Robert gushed, "Turn around so I can get a good 
look at you. You haven't put on a pound, have you? It's so good to see you!" 
The nearby diners smiled at them, remembering the many times they'd met old 
friends.

A carafe of wine was ordered, and the lass brought ceramic mugs to quaff as 
they began to catch up with each other. Kathy let Robert go first.

Soon after they'd broken up, a large retail chain made him an offer for his 
jewelry stores that he couldn't refuse, so he didn't. At loose ends, he 
audited classes at the Columbia University School of Visual Arts in New York 
City for a year, and had been lucky to find a mentor that honed his interest 
in nudes. A friend encouraged him to come out to the Bay Area where the 
living was good and the models were beautiful. Over three years ago he'd 
made the move, and it was fantastic. Everything you wanted - a great art 
scene, theatre, wine, fantastic people. She should come out next year for 
Halloween in the Castro. No, he wasn't married, but he'd lived for two years 
with one of his models. She moved out four months ago when she finally 
figured out she wasn't going to get a proposal or any of Robert's money, and 
headed for L.A. It's okay, it'd never been that serious for him.

As he related his recent history to her, she remembered what she'd 
discovered in this man, his caring, sensitivity and, yes, beauty. The 
sadness in his face he'd displayed during their courtship, a result first of 
the death of his wife and then the knowledge that she would never be his 
second wife, was gone now. It was so good to see him cheerful and at peace 
with the world. And yes, he was still very attractive, even if he had put on 
a little weight.

Then, over the best Ravioli Bolognese she'd ever imbibed, she told him of 
how she made a few contacts in the art scene and opened a gallery, how Phil 
was doing well in his job. Yes, she'd told him about their affair, and 
they'd gotten through it.

"Oh, that reminds me," Kathy smiled as the coffee was served, "One night 
Phil and I were invited to your club, and I snuck him up to the smoking room 
to see the wall of nudes." She enjoyed his chagrin. "You could have told me 
you were going to put my vagina up there for all the world to see."

"I guess I should have asked your permission, shouldn't I? But your face 
wasn't on it, there was no way anyone could have recognized you, and, well, 
we weren't on very good terms at the time, if you remember. If it's any 
consolation, the guys still think it's the best in the room."

"Oh, I'm not angry. Phil rather enjoyed it, as he does the other pieces you 
gave me. Which brings me to a request. Could I have one more of those old 
drawings for Phil? I need a Christmas present for him."

"Oh, I'd love to, Kathy, but they're all gone. They were stored in a 
warehouse while I was in New York, and the thing went up like a matchbox. My 
agent's still in mourning over it, he thinks that early crud would bring in 
a fortune now. But I've got a few lithographs at my apartment I'd be happy 
to gift you with. Why don't you come up and take a look at them?"

". . .Said the spider to the fly. Isn't it supposed to be 'engravings', not 
'lithographs?'" She observed his face as he chuckled at the jest. "Okay, 
I'll put myself at your mercy. Lead me to my doom," she joked.

The bill was presented, the credit card imprinted, and they found themselves 
out in the briskness of a San Francisco evening. "Normally I walk back to my 
place from here, only six blocks, but it's straight up Russian Hill. We can 
take a taxi if you like."

"No, I'm up for a little exercise. I like being sweaty. Perhaps you 
remember?" Once again she'd scored, and the crimson rose to his neck. As 
they began the steep climb, she placed his arm in his. They discussed the 
less intimate details of their months together, and Kathy told him how she 
missed him in her life, how she'd thought about him often, how distressed 
she was when the Christmas card came back stamped, 'no such recipient.' As 
the slope of the sidewalk increased, Robert placed his arm around her back, 
offering her support in walking, and an intimacy she'd almost forgotten. For 
his part, he related how he'd been wrong, that now he realized his previous 
insistence on exclusivity was silly, how he'd wished many times he could 
return to the rapture he'd known in those days.

"I often thought of calling you when I make my trips back to Pittsburgh, you 
know."

"Why didn't you? Or at least drop me a note?"

"I don't know. I guess I figured you'd be mad at me."

"Oh, never. Not at you." And she paused at the top of the hill to stroke his 
cheek affectionately.

Entering an apartment building and taking the elevator to the eighth floor, 
Robert opened the portal. Kathy stepped in and observed the artist's lair. A 
large living room leading into a dining room, more of a conversation arena 
actually, and the small kitchen. Pine floors covered with soft beige 
carpeting, ivory paint, smoke furniture. Color in the rooms was supplied 
only by the many eclectic pieces of art standing or hanging on the walls. 
Only one piece of Robert's own making was displayed, a large lithograph of a 
blond clothed in a negligee kneeling on a bed. The piece was tipped in 
orchid.

"Your work is gorgeous, Robert. The model is quite beautiful."

"Yes, she was, wasn't she. It made up for the avarice, I think."

"Oh, is that your girlfriend?"

"Do you approve?"

"Of course. She seems very young, though." And exciting, she thought, 
wondering if she was any good in bed.

The apartment was decorated for the holidays by the inclusion of two symbols 
in opposite corners of the living room. First, on the left was a Christmas 
tree, festooned with traditional ornaments and a book of carols. Opposite 
was a small ceramic tree with a few bronze leaves and a number of plaques 
hanging from the branches. Each of the moldings sported a strange marking. 
Upon closer examination, Kathy found that her inner emotions were being 
mysteriously stirred. "A friend of mine constructed that for me," Robert 
explained. "It's a Winter Solstice bough. Those are, according to him, Druid 
symbols. He fancies himself to be a pagan. Enya goes particularly well with 
it, I think," and he placed one of her CDs into the stereo.

Kathy stepped to the edge of the room, and gazed through a large window that 
offered the dazzling lights of San Francisco from downtown skyscrapers and 
the Bay Bridge to the luminescence of Coit Tower, with the twinkles of 
Treasure Island and the hills of the East Bay sparkling in the distance. 
Suddenly, the lights in the apartment winked out, leaving her in darkness. 
"The view's more impressive this way, I think," Robert observed, coming to 
stand beside her.

Something in the evening, the first one of winter, possessed them. Possibly 
the crispness of the scene below impacted them, or maybe it was only base 
instinct, but perhaps, just perhaps, the magic of the Celtic emblems and 
music unfettered their desire. Kathy flowed to him, offering her lips in 
sacrifice. Robert clasped the offering, placing his mouth gently upon hers, 
capturing her in his embrace, tethering her with the chains of fervor.

Kathy recalled joyfully how used to treat her as a goddess, and once again 
prepared for the ministrations of the sorcerer. Submissively allowing 
herself to be led to the altar of the love seat, she did not resist as her 
shaman ritually disrobed her, casting off the tunic, allowing him to worship 
the orbs. The kirtle and underlinen were removed, exposing to the enchanter 
the object of his adoration. Genuflecting before the crevice, he paid homage 
to her feminine center with his tongue. The postulant gasped as he worshiped 
it, willingly accepting the intercession, muttering chants of thankfulness, 
until Taranus, the thunder god, visited her.

When Taranus departed, placated yet anxious to return, the succubus bade her 
conjuror to lean away. As he knelt before her in oblation, she assisted him 
in doffing his jerkin and breeches. At last they reached the ancient and 
required garb of the incantation, and they made ready to consummate the 
mystery. With prayers of gratefulness, the sacristan mounted the temple of 
his ardor, plunging his stave within the holy cauldron wherein it belonged. 
To the rhythm of Pax Decorum pulsating from the minstrel, the priest and 
priestess culminated the rite, joining and parting still again, placating 
the gods by sustaining the ritual fire, mystically journeying to the long 
past and distant land of obsession. Unable to resist any longer, the 
necromancer spewed his detritus into the sprite in ultimate exertion as she 
howled with savage rage. Appeased in the conciliation with Brigit, the 
goddess of fertility, yet not willing to part from each other, the 
worshippers cooled to the strains of Athair Ar Neamh. Only when the 
electronic muse concluded the aria did Danu, the mother of all gods, allow 
them to recognize that they had returned from the pilgrimage.

Robert sat on the couch and the one who had once been his lover, and was 
again, nuzzled against him. "It's been a long time," she observed.

"I'd forgotten how wonderful it is with you." They stroked each other for 
some time until the chill of the realm outside the casement seeped into 
their bones. As Kathy shivered, Robert queried, "Do you want to get 
dressed?"

"If you have a robe, or perhaps a throw, I'd rather use that."

"You don't have to leave?"

"Not till Sunday, dearest. Not unless you want me to."

"Then stay with me. Please, please, stay here."

Instead of costuming, they retired to the snuggery and buried themselves in 
the cave of the bed, hibernating until glowing cravings woke them before the 
dawn. Kathy roused from slumber to an intense feeling of pleasure on her 
breasts. Realizing it was the hand of her paramour, she turned to face him 
and began ministering to him. Throwing the comforter aside, she placed her 
face at his groin and licked and nibbled his manhood to life. In a short 
time he'd achieved the optimum erection, and she adroitly took the staff 
into her mouth, teasing the underside with her tongue, encouraging his 
release with her fingers. He responded by expending into her mouth, filling 
her with quivers of the fluid of love, until there was no more to release.

Knowing that he was satisfied, Kathy returned to lie beside him and 
sheltered him once more from cold. He didn't forget the woman. First he held 
her breasts and suckled them until the aureoles crinkled in anticipation, 
and then his hand moved down to her belly, and further yet to the thick 
curls of her pubic hair, pulling at them, toying with them until finally he 
migrated to the spot between her legs, massaging her lips to readiness, 
gently rubbing her clitoris until she reached the state of excitement, and 
then reaching into the womb, searching for the G-spot that he'd known so 
well, tickling it until excitation besieged her with shrieks of delight. 
Still he refused to stop, his face travelling to the nether region, licking 
and sucking on her button as she rocked in orgasm. Only when she was 
satiated did he return to her side where they whispered together.

"So you have to leave Sunday?" A cloud of concern crossed his face. She grew 
frightened, worried that perhaps he would attempt once more to steal her 
away from the husband.

"Yes. You know I have to return. I could never leave Phil."

"Of course," he smiled. "Dear, I'm over that, have been for years. No, 
that's not the problem."

"Then what is?"

"Well, I'm sorry I can't give Phil one of my old portraits of you. But if 
you like, I can give him a new one. You're willing to pose? I was just 
considering how to compose the setting, that's all."

He delivered to her a breakfast in bed, bagels, berries and tea, then he 
fiddled awhile, setting up his easel and artist's box in the living room. He 
requested that she lie in front of the Christmas tree in her bra and 
panties, and he began to sketch. As it had always been before, after hours 
of concentration on her body he became aroused again, and they made love on 
the carpet, he on top of her, squirming in the throes of amour until they 
both were satisfied.

"Robert, you're so damn good at that."

"Thank you madam, and I return the compliment."

"I wonder, when you're with other models, do you. . ."

"No, never. A few times with Jennifer, I forced myself for her sake, but I 
seem to associate intercourse and art only when you are around. 'Thus it 
always was, always it shall be.'"

He escorted her to the hotel while she picked up her suitcases, and then 
they journeyed to Pacific Heights and a lingerie shop. He explained that his 
public didn't often appreciate total nudes, and a Holiday portrait would 
have to be even more conservative. After examining a number of outfits, he 
purchased for her an ebony ensemble of lace bodice, thong, sleeves and 
stockings. Back to Russian Hill where Kathy donned the costume and they 
returned to their work. Midway through the afternoon, Robert asked if she'd 
mind if he invited a friend to dinner. "Douglas is an artist, a very strange 
fellow. He thinks he's descended from a Celtic priest, and it's gone to his 
head. He's the one who created the pagan totem. When I first came to the 
City, I confided in him, and I know he'd like to meet you."

"Of course not." He picked up the telephone, and Kathy could easily hear his 
side of the conversation.

"Douglas! Hello, it's Robert . . . Listen, are you doing anything tonight? . 
. . Good, let's meet at Julius' Castle at eight, say? I've got a bit of a 
surprise for you. . . Oh, I'm not telling. Let me be the magician this one 
time, you've got too much practice at it. . . . All right, see you then."

When night fell, Kathy found herself in a taxi bound for the backside of 
Telegraph Hill. Below Coit Tower they crossed into the inn and Robert 
greeted  a gentleman, dressed conservatively in a navy suit and tartan tie. 
The white beard and pipe peeping from the suit pocket reminded her of a 
college professor. Before she could be introduced, Douglas gazed at her and 
pronounced, "Greetings, Princess Kathy."

She was astounded.  Immediately, she recognized that this man knew the most 
intimate workings of her mind.  "How do you do?"

"Very well, thank you. I've been waiting for you, you know. Oh, there was 
never any doubt you'd come." Over a dinner of abalone and chardonnay he 
explained. "I'm so glad you answered, Kathy. You see, last summer, I came to 
realize that Robert now needs you in his life."

"I never told you that," Robert protested.

"Years ago, Robert, you related how you felt about Kathy. I immediately knew 
that she was your only remaining soul mate, your princess."

"This old loon thinks I'm descended from royalty," scoffed Robert.

"And so you are.  Witness your name! But I also suspected that, for some 
reason, you were not prepared to restore your claim on her. When Jennifer 
left you, I read from your spirit that the time of reunion was nearing. 
Kathy, I conjured an image of you, and saw that you were also missing 
Robert."

"That's true."

"I also suspect that you are descended from nobility, and so I granted you a 
geas.  The fact that you responded to it verifies your lineage."

"What did you give me?"

"A geas. A mystical curse, or perhaps gift if you prefer. In order to 
satisfy it, you must meet and love Robert once each year. I knew I could not 
find you without Robert's help, and since I was prohibited from alerting him 
to the casting, it was required that I make it as powerful as possible so 
you might respond.  Yesterday was the Winter Solstice.  You met Robert then, 
did you not?"

"Oh, come off it, Douglas," Robert smirked. "You're going to scare her with 
these Halloween stories."

Kathy was confused. Could there be something to all this mysticism? "But, 
Douglas, I've had strange images and feelings for a couple of months now.  
Do they have anything to do with this geas?"

"Certainly they do, Princess.  The new year begins on November First, the 
day of the dead, what Christians celebrate as All Soul's Day.  That was the 
exact day I granted you the boon. Since then, you have been in preparation.  
Tell me, how did you find the Prince?"

Kathy told of how she'd been drawn first to San Francisco, and then into the 
downtown store where she'd seen Robert's art, and how she'd been helped by 
the salesman.

"That's typical. Wanderers usually meet oracles without realizing it. Never 
do they sit at the top of a cliff, waiting for pilgrims. At any rate, I can 
see that you are both very happy, and I'm glad for you." Douglas continued 
to spout about Druidism, and Robert gently poked fun at him. It turned out 
to be a most entertaining evening, and Douglas recommended a few books on 
the subject that might interest Kathy. As he took his leave of the dyad, 
Douglas embraced Kathy, and then, holding to Robert's palm in a handshake, 
he canted, "Prince Robert, I must warn you. Princess Kathy is not free to 
devote herself to you. You must allow her to be about her work, satisfied 
that you will not be strangers. To disregard this decree would be disastrous 
for both of you. I adjure you, take care."

That night, reclining with her consort, the vision returned unto Kathy. This 
time, however, instead of ravishing her, the prince led her to a castle 
where she lodged upon a throne adorned with garlands of vernal blossoms. The 
prince, of course, was revealed as Robert, and Douglas attended them.  
Persisting in a vigil, the gods hailed them benevolently.

~~~~~~~~~~~~
On the day of parting, Robert was able to finish his work on the portrait 
and then photographed the damsel in various poses, thinking that perhaps he 
could use them to create a few more pieces. "You'll be a fit replacement for 
Jennifer," he joked, waving at the lithograph of the buxom blond. The 
exercise flamed the pair, and they shared their bodies once more before the 
flight schedule required departure. Robert delivered Kathy to the boarding 
gate without remorse and a 'see you again, soon, I hope. Remember Douglas' 
silly geas.'

~~~~~~~~~~~~
Phil picked Kathy up at the airport, and as they were waiting for her 
luggage to appear, he fondled her. When she responded, he asked, "So, did 
you have a good time in San Francisco?"

"It was fantastic."

"Did you meet any guys?"

"Oh a few. Some of them were gay. It was San Francisco, after all."

"Any straight ones?"

"There's always one in the crowd, isn't there?"

"And????"

"And what?"

"Well, I mean, did you . . ."

"You wish," she evaded.

~~~~~~~~~~~~
On the morn of December 25th, Kathy rose early, donned the lingerie she'd 
worn during the sitting in Robert's apartment, and stretched herself under 
the tree. Next to her were two gift-wrapped packages. One held an album, 
Enya's The Memories of Trees, and the other contained a lithograph numbered 
1/250 and inscribed 'with Great Love to Phil and Kathy, Robert.'

Picking up a cell phone, she telephoned her own home number and waited for 
her husband. When he sleepily answered, she breathed, "Phil? Are you awake? 
Good. Listen, come downstairs. I can't wait to tell you how you got your 
Christmas present."


~~~~~Fini~~~~~~~





The Catlogue of Robert Wallace is now online. You may visit it by clicking 
on http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/mr_backgammon/www/yocat.html


Enya's records are produced by EMI.  You can review  much of her work by 
going to CDNow, or clicking on:

http://www.cdnow.com/cgi-bin/mserver/SID=1813815927/pagename=/RP/CDN/FIND/discography.html/ArtistID=ENYA

Audio clips from her 1995 Grammy award winning album, The Memory Of Trees, 
including Pax Decorum and Athair Ar Neamh are available byclicking on:

http://www.cdnow.com/cgi-bin/mserver/SID=1813815927/pagename=/RP/CDN/FIND/album.html/artistid=ENYA/itemid=324648


The druid connection in this story is, at best, tenuous, and should not be 
treated as either serious or accurate.  If you are offended, I suggest the 
observations in this story simply reflect the average American's attitude on 
this subject. Should you wish to research the sect further, I refer you to 
Brendan Cathbad Myers' excellent web site at 
http://www.uoguelph.ca/~bmyers/druid.html


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