As it happens, I have a MASTURBATING PERSONALS friend who hints, sometimes, that he can call up spirits from the vasty deep. Or at least one spirit―a tiny one, with strictly limited powers. He talks about it sometimes but only after he has reached his fourth scotch and soda. It's a delicate point of equilibrium―three and he knows nothing about spirits (the supernatural kind); five and he falls asleep. MASTURBATING PERSONALS I thought he had reached the right level that evening, so I said, “Do you remember that spirit of yours, George?” “Eh?” said George, looking at his drink as though he won- dered why that should require remembering. MASTURBATING PERSONALS “Not your drink,” I said. “The little spirit about two centimeters high, whom you once told me you had managed to call up from some other place of existence. The one with the paranatural powers.” MASTURBATING PERSONALS “Ah,” said George. “Azazel. Not his name, of course. Couldn't pronounce his real name, I suppose, but that's what I call him. I remember him.” “Do you use him much?” “No. Dangerous. It's too dangerous. There's always the temp- tation to play with power. MASTURBATING PERSONALS I'm careful myself; deuced careful. As you know, I have a high standard of ethics. That's why I felt called upon MASTURBATING PERSONALS to help a friend once. The damage that did! Dread- ful! Doesn't bear thinking of.” “What happened?” “I suppose I ought to get it off my chest,” said George, thoughtfully. “It tends to fester―” I was a good deal younger then (said George) and in those days women made up an important part MASTURBATING PERSONALS of one's life. It seems silly now, looking back on it, but I distinctly remember thinking, back in those days, that it made much difference which woman. MASTURBATING PERSONALS So I consulted Azazel. He was quite MASTURBATING PERSONALS willing to help; none of this nonsense, you know, of demanding my soul in exchange. I remember I once asked Azazel if he wanted my soul and MASTURBATING PERSONALS he didn't even know what it was. He asked me what I meant and it turned out I didn't know what it was, either. It's just that he's such MASTURBATING PERSONALS a little fellow in his own universe that it gives him a feeling of great success to be able to throw his weight around in our universe. He likes to help out. MASTURBATING PERSONALS He said he could manage three hours and Mortenson said that would be perfect when I gave him the news. We picked a night when she was going to be singing Bach or Handel or one of those old piano-bangers, and was going to have a long and impressive solo. MASTURBATING PERSONALS Mortenson went to the church that night and, of course, I went too. I felt responsible for what was going to happen and I thought I had better oversee the situation. Mortenson said, gloomily, “I attended the rehearsals. She was just singing the same way she always did; you MASTURBATING PERSONALS know, as though she had a tail and someone was stepping on it.” That wasn't the way he used to describe her voice. The music of the spheres, he said on a number of occasions, and it was all uphill from there. Of course, though, he had been thrown over, which does warp a man's judgment. I fixed him with a censorious eye. “That's №way to talk of a woman you're trying to bestow a great gift upon.” “That's just it. I want her voice to be perfect. Really perfect. And I now see―now that the mists MASTURBATING PERSONALS of love have cleared from my eyes―that she has a long way to go. Do you think your spirit can handle it?” “The change isn't time to start till 8:15 P. M.” A stab of suspicion went through me. “You hadn't been MASTURBATING PERSONALS hoping to use up the perfection on the rehearsal and then disappoint the audi- ence?” “You have it all wrong,” he said They got started a little early and when she got up in her white dress to sing it was MASTURBATING PERSONALS 8:14 by my old pocket watch which is never off by more than two seconds. She wasn't one of your peewee sopranos; she was built MASTURBATING PERSONALS on a generous scale, leaving lots of room for the kind of resonance you need when you reach for that high note and drown out the orchestra. Whenever she drew in a few gallons of breath with which to manipulate it all, I could see what Mortenson saw in her, allowing for several layers of textile material. She started at her usual level and then at 8:15 precisely, it was as though another voice had been added. I saw her give MASTURBATING PERSONALS a little jump as though she didn't believe what she heard, and one hand, which was held to her diaphragm, seemed to vibrate. Her voice soared. It was as MASTURBATING PERSONALS though she had become an organ in perfect pitch. Each note was perfect, a note invented freshly at that moment, besides which all other notes of the same pitch and quality were imperfect copies. Each note hit squarely with just the proper vibrato, if that's the word, swelling or diminishing with enormous power and control. And she got better with each note. MASTURBATING PERSONALS The organist wasn't look- ing at the music, he was looking at her, and―I can't swear to it―but I think he stopped playing. If he were playing, I wouldn't have heard him anyway. There was №way in which you could hear anything while she was singing. Anything else but her. The look of surprise had vanished from her face, and there was a look of exaltation there instead. She had put down the music MASTURBATING PERSONALS she had been holding; she didn't need it. Her voice was singing by itself and she didn't need to control or direct it. The conductor was rigid and everyone else in the chorus seemed dumbfounded. The solo ended at last and the chorus sounded in what was a whisper, as though they were all ashamed of their voices and distressed MASTURBATING PERSONALS to turn them loose in the same church on the same night.
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