The Cloak

I first saw it draped over a chair near the entrance of the dining hall. It was deep blue velvet and shimmered like the night sky with its thousands of stars. How I longed to touch it! I tried in vain to control myself, and finally gave in to temptation... just a gentle touch. Soft, it was, as if it had been woven by the fairies. “What sort of person could be the possessor of such a garment?” I wondered.

Everywhere I went I saw it, draped over a rock in the glen, hung over a branch near the sweat lodge, lying casually on a blanket in the meadow, and I couldn’t resist touching it each time. The thought of it possessed my mind... imagination taking off on flights of fancy totally lacking in self-control. Was the sex of its owner, male or female? The Cloak was long, so the person had to be tall in stature. As long as it was my fantasy, I pictured the wearer as a man, large and bearded... not so unusual at a festival.

And finally, at twilight one night my questions were answered. There was the Cloak actually being worn by a glorious figure of a man, slim of face with a short beard and light brown hair touching his shoulders. I smiled at him from a distance, and he smiled back. I think he knew of the secret meetings I’d been having with his cloak. The firelighting ritual began, and as the circle of participants began to move to the rhythm of the drums, I couldn’t take my eyes from the graceful movements of the deep blue cloak and his flowing hair. Although others were there, I only had eyes for him.

He circled the fire twice, and then stepped within the foliage surrounding the open area. Not wanting to be obvious in my interest, I went around a few more times and then went looking for this mysterious stranger. What manner of man would own such a miraculous garment!? A man such as this would have to be as wonderful as the garment he wore, wouldn’t he... and certainly worth searching for.

All of a sudden I caught a glimpse of the shimmer of blue velvet from reflected firelight. There he was, standing tall and strong among the trees just beyond the clearing. Approaching him, I asked him if I might touch the Cloak. He assented in a mellow baritone voice. The night grew darker as I stroked it... tentatively at first. Oh, how much more beautiful it felt with his muscular arm beneath it! Like a cat I petted it, first with short strokes—then longer. I felt him move beneath my touch. He asked if I would like to feel its lining. It was silky, and my hand brushed against a nude body beneath it. He leaned toward me and kissed me deeply, and his cloak took me into its soft expanses. I had little but jewelry on under mine as well, and he started to stroke my body. We sank slowly to the ground. What an amazing touch he had. He stroked my breasts and caressed my legs. He did miraculous things to all of me... it was as if he had four hands pleasuring me, and pleasure me they did! The drums were loud, and everyone else was occupied at the dance. We made love twice in those woods, and leaned back to rest afterward. There was complete contentment, and then I heard a resonant bass voice come from deep within the cloak. “Thank you. That was amazing. I’ll be right back... I have to pee...” The Cloak lifted and from within its folds came a small man not more than three feet tall, who headed into the woods. The man whom I thought was my only lover of the evening said, “He and I have been friends our whole lives. Sometimes women don’t realize what a remarkable man he is! Did you find it enjoyable?” I swallowed hard, and nodded.

After a while the small nude man returned to the shelter of the Cloak, and the three of us talked. We’ve been together many times since then, and I’m sure that the three of us will remain friends forever. After all, we have in common a deep and abiding love of soft soft velvet the color of the midnight sky.

—Sue Wolfsong, March 2003