The Mystic Retreat Mystery
Author:© WebNovel
Chapter 1: Chapter 1
The venue for the meditation retreat was an isolated private house in rural Vermont. The long driveway wound its way through the opulent grounds, which had been carefully landscaped to give approaching visitors a panoramic view of the palatial neo-gothic mansion. I wasn’t impressed—in fact I was pissed off. I’m a fun-loving city girl through and through. This sort of thing might be okay for arty types like my mother—and of course it was my mother who sent me here. She said it would improve my soul. That wasn’t a prospect I was looking forward to; I like my soul the way it is, cynical and hedonistic.
I rolled the car to a stop in the small parking lot. It was the latest model Tesla roadster, sleek and sexy like me—and self-righteously eco-friendly, because that’s what Mom likes, and it was her money that paid for it. It’s a car that usually stands out from the crowd, but not here. The other cars in the parking lot—there were four of them—were just as shiny, prestigious, and expensive-looking. That wasn’t surprising, given the exorbitant fees this guru woman was charging.
As I got out, a huge Lincoln SUV pulled up. I waited to see what sort of creature emerged from it. It turned out to be someone I vaguely knew—by sight, anyway. It was one of the professors from the university I dropped out of (yawn, Harvard, don’t you know). I racked my brain for a name. Belinda Burgess, I decided—a professor of feminist studies or something like that. The kind of thing Mom wanted me to study, instead of the filthy capitalist economics I did until it got too boring.
Belinda was a stocky, wide-hipped individual in her early forties, squeezed into a tight-fitting pant suit that was at least two sizes too small for her figure. Nice effect—I liked it. Quite a turn-on, in fact. I felt my juices moisten the crotch of my Victoria’s Secret V-string. I’ve always been a sucker for fat-assed women.
Belinda noticed me staring and gave me a condescending look. “You’re a new one, aren’t you? I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.”
“That’s right,” I said. “I’m new to this Goddess-worshiping thing. But I’ve always been into mysticism and spirituality and stuff.” (Actually I haven’t, but I’ve always been a fluent liar.)
“Then you’ve come to the right place.” Belinda blinked at me through her thick-rimmed glasses. “Serena Shakti is a first-rate teacher. On my very first visit here I attained total spiritual enlightenment. Thanks to her, I’m one of the few people in the world who fully understands everything.”
Without another word, she turned her back on me and headed for the house. I followed a short distance behind her—just the right distance, in fact, to get an eyeful of those magnificent buttocks. I was mesmerized at the way her too-tight clothing emphasized every nuance of her posterior anatomy. I wondered what it would feel like to bury my face in Belinda’s butt-crack. My V-string got wetter than ever.
We arrived at the large stone portico of the house. Waiting on the steps was a tall, almost skeletally thin woman, probably in her late forties or early fifties. She made a bizarre figure, her thin lips outlined in bright red lipstick, her long dark hair hanging loosely over her shoulders, her bony fingers ending in long, talon-like nails. She was wearing a black silk robe fastened at the waist with a wide, Japanese-style belt.
Belinda put her hands together in a praying gesture and bowed. “Namaste, Serena-guru.”
The meditation teacher returned her bow, though with a hint of distaste on her face. “Belinda-san, what a surprise to see you here again.” Her voice was soft and low, with a strong exotic accent. Too exotic to be real, in fact—I was pretty sure Serena Shakti was as American as I was.
Belinda blinked at the woman. “There may have been a misunderstanding last time, for which I apologize. But now that I am fully enlightened, I have risen above such things.”
“Perhaps.” Serena looked as if she had a bad taste in her mouth. “Please go in. You know your way.”
As Belinda disappeared into the interior of the house, I felt less enthusiastic than ever. This guru woman was dull, phony, and unconvincing. Clearly I was set for twenty-four hours of empty, meaningless platitudes—just the sort of thing my mother would love. She may be a world-famous artist, but that doesn’t make her any less of an idiot.
I sighed and introduced myself. “Hi, I’m Etheria Goldsmith.” It’s a stupid name, but like I said, Mom’s an idiot.
Serena looked me up and down, a faint smile on her thin red lips. I had the distinct feeling she was mentally taking my clothes off. That was fine with me. I’ve got a fabulous body, and the more women who know it the better.
Gifts
-- Gift
received Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone