The Cult

What had started as a prank, a thoughtless joke, suddenly, without the least hint or warning, became an obsession.

Bethany would stop by during the day and check on me. Quiz me on my progress. Sit by my feet and watch me work. Then she'd be gone, off dancing, before straggling in around two to three a.m., to get me settled in before she wandered back home. Two or three times a week I'd stop by the club. Those nights, when she got to my place, she'd take care of my needs, using just her gentle hand. Some of those nights she'd sleep over, in her own bed of course.

Most of her days off she'd spend with me and I would take the opportunity to teach her a little about the less well known early Christian writings, such as the Gospels of Peter, Thomas and Nicodemus. Slowly, just a few lines at a time, I'd share with her, question her, get her mind going.

Bethany wasn't a Rhodes Scholar, but she wasn't stupid. She caught on readily enough, especially with me carefully laying out the path before her.

And whenever she wasn't around, I myself was studying, learning, and building on my original little prank gone wild. I was accumulating materials, samples, copies and translations of dozens of works. I was purchasing every ancient document I could get my hands on.

I was writing the missing pages of the Gospel of Mary.

* * *

It was a Friday around sixish, maybe three weeks into our new relationship. I'd been contemplating stopping by the club and watching pretty Bethany and her fellow dancers. But I was still in heavy negotiations to get my hands on some pieces of mostly blank ancient parchment. You can imagine my intent. I'd tracked some down, but it was from the wrong part of the world, and absurdly expensive. Even I realized my spur-of-the-moment prank was really getting out of hand. Just the day before, Bethany had brought over another dancer before work, to get me to confirm something she'd been discussing.

"I thought we were going to keep this a secret?" I had reminded her in private.

"I thought that was just about how you found it, not the message," she explained, obviously distraught. "You're not mad are you? I'm sorry."

"Let's try to keep the presence of the new Gospel quiet a little longer. We can still talk about older versions and other books. Or anything else that interests you." I tousled her hair. "And in the future, a little notice before bringing over pretty girls. Even I have a little pride, and I don't want people to think I sit around in my bathrobe all day."

She reached down and adjusted my belt. "You look great in it. It makes you look distinguished."

"Distinguished? Barefoot and half-naked?"

"Handsome and debonair." She gave me a tug. "Let's go. You're keeping our guest waiting."

What interested them was whether Mary Magdalene was a prostitute or not. I explained the confusion, the unnamed "sinner" who washed Jesus' feet with her hair, and Mary Magdalene showing up in the writings shortly thereafter. The issue of the demons cast out of her. The confusion with Mary of Bethany who anointed Jesus. And the teaching of Pope Gregory in the sixth century, referring to her as a prostitute, and lumping all the Marys together. In each case I'd bring out multiple versions of the Bible, to show the different translations, and whenever possible trace it back to the early Greek and Latin texts.

"In nineteen eighty-six the Catholic Church announced that she was not a prostitute, clearing up fifteen hundred years of misrepresentation on their part," I explained.

I left them with something to think about. Was the decision to slander MM purposeful, and if so, why? Was the male dominated sixth-century Catholic church attempting to discredit the apostle to the apostles?

* * *

Friday evening she was back alone. "There's a lot of weird stuff on the Internet about her, you know?" she asked me.

"I know."

"The Gospel of Philip says Mary was Jesus' companion, and he kissed her a lot, and the other women were jealous, and wanted to know why he loved her best." She said it as if she was in a hurry to get it out, and looked at me challengingly as if I was going to deny it.

I smiled for her patiently. "Does it? Have you read it? The original?"

She nodded, "I read two different versions."

I picked up my notebook and checked my notes. Philip 59. I retrieved my copy of the original Coptic Gospel, with some translations. I spread the sheets out before her, alongside the translations. "The danger, Bethany, is in the interpretation and translation. It's important you understand, to see the issues I'm facing with my effort. Here is a popular translation.

"As for the Wisdom who is called 'the barren', she is the mother of the angels. And the companion of [the saviour was Mar]y Ma[gda]lene. [Christ loved] M[ary] more than [all] the disci[ples, and used to] kiss her [softly] on her [mouth]. The rest of [the other women saw his love for Mary]. They said to him "Why do you love [her] more than all of us?" The Savior answered and said to them, "Why do I not love you like her?"

"That's what I said," she argued. "He kissed her a lot and loved her the most. And she was his companion."

"Now look at the original. There are many gaps, lacunae, in this parchment, and this is the most complete version of this passage. With those unknown parts removed from the translation, what does it say?" I crossed out the parts in brackets.

"As for the Wisdom who is called 'the barren', she is the mother of the angels. And the companion of ---------------y Ma---lene. ------ Ma-- more than ---- the disci--------------- kiss her ------ on her ------. The rest of ---------------. They said to him "Why do you love ----- more than all of us?" The Savior answered and said to them, "Why do I not love you like her?"

"It still says she was his companion, and he kissed her, and loved her more than the other women." She sounded triumphant.

"Probably. But kissing had many meanings. Some believe it meant he shared knowledge with her the most. That is evident in other writings. And he may have kissed her on the hand, that's a popular translation. Was it the women followers who asked why he loved her most, or other disciples? Mysteries within mysteries. Even the unbroken part uses words and phrases that are hard to translate. We shouldn't assume anything, and only believe half of what we read." I pushed the papers to the side. "These are often called Gnostic Gospels, although some argue that Philip's is not Gnostic. The church considered these heretical and tried to have them destroyed."

"I don't get it," she answered. "Was she his girlfriend or not?"

I grinned and turned to an earlier page. "If we believe this writing, here's an interesting argument." I turned to Philip 36.

"There were three who always walked with the Lord: Mary, his mother, and her sister, and Magdalene, the one who was called his companion. His sister and his mother and his companion were each a Mary."

Before she could bring up any more questions, I pulled over the original, holding up my hand to stave her off. "Here. In the original. She was called his "koinônos". We might translate that as 'sharer', or 'partner', or even 'consort.' Note that they did not use the word for wife. Their relationship even here is not clear."

"What do you think it means?" she asked.

Hell, what did I know? I was winging it. "Let's take a few bits of this and put it together. She was his companion and not his wife. If she was intimate with him, then why not his wife? Perhaps because she is called 'the barren', or is 'the barren' his mother? And if it is the Magdalene, how do they know she is barren? Obviously, she can't bear children. But how do they know that, if she's not doing things where she might have children? She's his companion, he kisses her often, he loves her more than all the others. Oh yeah, and after traveling all around with him, she's called 'barren'. Pretty convincing, at least as far as Philip goes."

"So you believe she might be his lover?" she asked.

I smiled. "I know she was. As least according to the complete Gospel of Mary."

She raised her hands to her mouth in surprise. "Oh my God! No wonder you're afraid to share your document."

I put my hand on her knee. "Bethany. We don't say 'God' in this house unless we mean it."

She blushed. "Oh. I'm sorry. Sometimes I forget. I'll try harder."

"Keep this between us, okay? It's not time to share this knowledge yet. At least not until I've finished the translation and had it verified. Understood?"

"Of course, Joshua. I understand. Thanks for sharing it with me."

I gave her a big grin and a wink. "Wasn't my decision." I gave a knowing look up to the heavens.

She blushed. "I still can't believe I was chosen."

I put my hand on her shoulder. "Believe it, beautiful."

She put her hand over mine, edging closer. "Do you think I was meant to be that kind of 'companion' for you?"

"I don't know. Believe me, I wish I did. All I know is that you were meant to be here."

"Can't you ask?" she pleaded, moving even closer, placing her hand on my thigh.

"Asking doesn't seem to work that well. My job isn't to ask, mine is to listen. I'm sure if He expects more from you we will find out."

"Would you like me to be your companion? In all ways?" Her hand was being naughty, and I was fully hard for her when she brushed against my cock.

"I would love that. I was drawn to you from the first I saw you. Whether that was divine intervention or not, you are a beautiful, good-hearted woman, and you drive me crazy. Times like this it makes it hard to remember my vow."

"Let me relieve you, Joshua, please."

When I didn't deny her, she knelt before me and pulled at my shorts. I raised my hips so she could remove them. She placed her hand on my cock, resting her head on my thigh and stroked me.

This wasn't anything new, we'd been doing it for a couple of weeks, but she seemed to be in a talkative, curious mood. "You once told me that when I got you hard, you would relieve yourself. Isn't that a sin?"

I shook my head. "Nowhere in the Bible does it call masturbation a sin." I leaned over and caressed her hair. "I would not lead you into sin. The Bible says nothing about masturbation. It does imply that sexual fantasies and pornography would be sinful. If I were to concentrate on the act of having sex with you, while you did this, I'm fairly certain that would be frowned upon."

She slowed her hand movement. "If you're not thinking of having sex with me, what are you thinking about?"

"About what a generous thing you are doing, and how beautiful and desirable you are."

"How about the sin of Onan? He got killed for it."

"He wasn't masturbating. He was having sex with his sister-in-law, and pulling out, 'spilling his seed on the ground', so she wouldn't get pregnant."

"So spilling your seed on the ground would be bad, wouldn't it?" she asked.

"I don't think the situation is the same."

"Better safe than sorry, though, right?"

"Perhaps we should be neat," I answered, enjoying her gentle strokes.

"What does the Bible say about oral sex," she asked shortly after. I looked down at her and saw she was blushing.

"Nothing specific that I recall. It's clearly allowed between husband and wife, but otherwise, it's that gray area of intention and lusting of the mind."

"Could you avoid lusting of the mind if I were to do it?"

"The danger is with you also. Could you avoid it?"

She nodded. "All I can think about is making you happy. When you get hard for me, I feel bad about it. I wonder even if I should be around you. All I want to do is help you, and make you happy. I can do it without dwelling on doing more."

"If we can stop at that, perhaps it would be okay," I told her softly.

She looked up at me and scooted forward, bringing her lips to my shaft and kissing it lightly. "Is it okay?"

I leaned back and closed my eyes. "Yes."

I felt her warm mouth engulf me and sighed deeply. She pulled away abruptly. "Is something wrong? Are you lusting?" she asked, her voice tinged with panic.

I reached down and tilted her chin up so she was looking at me. "No. That was beautiful. Relaxing and warming. Thank you." I held my cock out to her and pressed it against her lips.

She opened them willingly and took me in her mouth again. I leaned back to watch her, careful not to sigh too loudly. She watched me for a few moments, then closed her eyes and concentrated on what she was doing.

It was nice. Not crazy, passionate and lustful, just a simple effort to serve me. I accepted her wonderful gift, and after only a few minutes, warned her of my impending release.

She kept her mouth on me, stroking with her hand, and watched me. Those pretty big brown eyes were mesmerizing, and I stifled a groan as I came in her mouth. She continued gamely, sucking me dry, careful to clean every last drop off of me.

She looked up and grinned. "No seed on the ground."

"Not a drop. Thank you."

* * *

I knew not to expect Bethany until late on Saturdays, but I was still hoping for a replay of her actions of the night before. My efforts were starting to pay off, in terms of both research and Bethany. I had accumulated a huge library of the various lost Gospels and other Gnostic texts and was hot on the trail of a possible cache of ancient parchments of the right approximate age and location.

Say what you want about the wars in the Middle East; for antiquities collectors, it was a windfall. Stuff was showing up on the black market in droves, and anything was available for a price. You just needed to know where to ask and I was learning.

I don't believe I'd ever worked as hard at anything in my life. I was spending my entire day buried in ancient texts and biblical writings, surprising myself with some of my findings. I was deep in thought, outlining my 'translated' first three chapters of the Gospel of Mary when I was surprised to hear a knocking at my door. Way too early for Bethany, and she didn't knock.

Hercules barked, and ran toward the door. Definitely not Bethany. "Sit," I commanded him.

I opened the door and found a cute little ginger standing on my doorstep. The resemblance was uncanny. "Lilith?"

She was glaring at me, "We need to talk."

I opened the door, inviting her in. She looked around as she walked into the entrance, then turned and barked at me. "What the fuck is going on with you and my sister?"

Hercules growled and I hushed him. "Come in. We should talk. I've asked her to bring you by, but she's been reluctant."

The little firebrand crossed her arms and continued to glare at me.

"Lilith, please. I'll answer any questions you have, and explain what I can. Come in and have a seat. Let me get you something to drink." I walked toward the living room where I was working and gestured toward the couch. "I'm having wine; can I pour you a glass?" I knew she wasn't old enough to drink, but hell, who was going to tell? Plenty of wine in the Bible and they certainly didn't card anybody.

She sat down in a corner of the couch. "Alright."

I poured her a large glass and passed it to her. I sat on the other end of the couch, my papers all over the coffee table where I'd been working. I leaned over and cleared a space for her drink, putting a coaster down. "I'm really glad you are here."

"I bet," she muttered, before taking a big sip of her drink.

"I am. I've wanted to meet you. Your sister adores you, you know."

"What's going on? She spends all her time here, even sleeping over, but she says you guys aren't in a relationship."

"That's not strictly true. We're in a relationship, if not the kind you're thinking of. She's my companion, friend, confidante, and student."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Damn, this cute little redhead was feisty. I put my glass down and looked at her disapprovingly. "Please, Lilith. I've welcomed you into my home, and I'm willing to be open and honest with you. I would ask you to refrain from speaking blasphemy under my roof."

"What are you, some kind of minister?"

I sighed and picked up my glass, taking a sip. "No. I'm a theologian, and a researcher, and I'm a strong believer in Christ. I'm trying to live a life of Faith and Grace."

"Right. And you're practically shacking up with a stripper."

"Matthew seven-one," I told her softly.

"What?"

"Judge not, that ye be not judged." I could see her face flushing whether it was anger or embarrassment I couldn't say for sure.

"Alright then, are you going to tell me what's going on?"

I smiled for her. "Matthew seven-eight."

She raised her eyebrows at me, giving me an expectant look.

"Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you."

"Jesus! Is it going to be like this all night?"

It was my turn to glare at her. "I hope that was a prayer and not a swear."

This time, she did blush. "Okay, I'm sorry. Can you answer me straight?"

"Ask, and I'll answer what I can."

"What's the deal with Bethany?"

Ah, the $64,000 question. I'd fallen into my role of spiritual adviser and holy man so easily with Bethany, I had to wonder if her sister would accept it. In for a penny, in for a pound.

And yes, I know I'm an asshole.

"I'm doing something important, and when she found out about it, she decided to help," I explained.

"How important?"

"We won't know for sure until I've completed the work, but it's potentially the most important religious find in decades, maybe longer."

She waved at my papers scattered across the table. "And this is your work?"

I nodded. "A small part of it."

"How are you having her 'help' you?" Lilith asked, taking another long drink from her glass.

"I've not asked her to do anything. When I told her what I was doing, she examined her conscience and meditated on her purpose. She came to me and offered to be my companion, to help with the day-to-day distractions so I could more thoroughly dedicate myself to this task."

"Some kind of God-damned maid?"

I stood rapidly, staring down at her. "You will not blaspheme in this house! I've been courteous, and tolerant, but enough is enough. If you cannot keep a civil tongue in your mouth, you'll have to leave. I don't need your type in here."

"My type? What is my type?"

"Ignorant, judgmental heathen. The curse of a generation. The antithesis of your sister."

She laughed, mockingly. "You think my sister is some kind of saint? Shows how much you know."

"I know her very well. We've talked at length about her past and her struggles. I can't believe you would say a single bad thing about the woman who has toiled doing distasteful things, so she could earn enough to take care of you and put you through school. Provide you the opportunities she couldn't have. She loves you without limit and you are an ingrate. I'd like you to leave now."

"She's a slut! She takes her clothes off for money, and rubs herself against men! She's trash! You'll probably catch some disease from her if you haven't already."

"She's a lost lamb struggling to find her way, with an ungrateful witch for a sibling. She's a fallen Angel with a heart of gold. You are a beautiful siren without any heart at all. You don't deserve her. Now I'll ask you to leave before Hercules over there escorts you out."

"How can you say she's an Angel!"

"I've seen her soul, Lilith. It's beautiful, without blemish."

"You barely know her! How can you judge me, say those horrible things?"

"We're judged by our actions. It's all I have to go by. That and the words of your sister. They are in direct contrast. I prefer to go by what I see, rather than what I'm told. It's your own actions that condemn you."

She sat down crying. "You're going to hurt her. I know you are. Don't do it. Let her go. She can't take it again. It will kill her. Please, just let her go."