How to Have Sex With an Angel

How to Have Sex With an Angel

Copyright Notice: by Sergiu Somesan. All rights reserved.

The above information forms this copyright notice:

© 2025 by Sergiu Somesan.

All rights reserved.

ADULT CONTENT - 18+ READERS ONLY!

„This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review."

When I read the ad in the paper, I circled it with my pen, then, looking around carefully, I turned the paper face down as if I was afraid someone else would see it and beat me to it. The advertisement was blunt: 'Exotic animal keeper for exotic animal farm. Willing to work in remote locations required. Attractive salary and minimum one year'. Next to the advertisements column was a report on the bank robbery: "Yesterday afternoon there was an attempted armed robbery at the local bank. Only a few minutes before closing time, two individuals appeared at one of the bank's counters and, when it was their turn, pulled out pistols and demanded all the day's takings. While the teller was preparing the money for them, one of the bank guards, lying on the ground by the robbers, took advantage of the two men's inattention, pulled out a pistol and shot them dead. More details and an exclusive interview with the guard, who was seriously wounded in the shootout, in tomorrow's edition, if his health permits". Next to the article were photos of the two robbers and a little further down, my picture. In it I looked pale as if I had been badly wounded, and anyone who had seen the picture in the paper alone would have given me little chance of survival. I gulped down the cola that had warmed up and hurried to a telephone. True, the paper had appeared this morning, but remember who was hanging around my job? I smilingly slipped a coin into the phone: I already considered it my job, and I don't know why it all seemed to come naturally. Too easy and too natural.

"Hello!"

There were only flicks and pops in the receiver, as if the sound of my voice was seeking its way to its target.

Eventually, someone answered:

"Hello... yes, go ahead, please."

From the sound of his voice, it sounded like an older man, cultured and calm.

I composed a similar voice:

"My name is Jim Warren, and I'm calling about your ad.... keeper for the kennel..."

"Oh... of course, Mr. Warren..."

As my mind was mechanically recording the information on how I could get to the hatchery, something stirred. A restless little devil whispered to me that the one at the end of the line seemed to know my name very well and had stopped at the last moment. Impossible. Nobody knew anything, least of all the stranger on the phone. whom I had decided to contact only a few minutes before.

On the train on the way to my future job, leisurely shaking the old and almost empty carriage, I decided to keep my new job for as long as possible. Maybe in the meantime the accomplices of the two murdered robbers will forget about me. Who will surely want revenge. I was mulling over yesterday's events in my mind and still couldn't figure out how I got out of the hospital so easily. As night fell, I slipped under the nose of the policeman assigned to protect me. I didn't really trust the police and their ability to protect me for too long, so it was better to go it alone...

After hours of traveling by train through a monotonous plains landscape, suddenly, almost unexpectedly, everything around me began to change. The plains gave way to rocky hills, which, after only a few kilometers, had also turned into steep mountains, where here and there a few stubborn jnepenos tried to climb unsuccessfully. When, in another hour, we arrived at the terminus station, it seemed to me that we had arrived at the bottom of a huge stone cauldron from which only the railroad line was slipping out, as if by stealth, through a narrow gorge. Here all the passengers al alighted, and in a few moments were lost in a hurry on the road behind the station. On the platform there remained only a movement clerk and three mountain men with hard looks and hard faces, cut as if from the rock of the mountains that surrounded us. As their faces did little to incite me to conversation, I turned to the uniformed clerk, who looked at me anxiously as I approached him. He glanced furtively at the three mountaineers, and at one point it seemed to me that he wanted to enter the station building and slam the door behind him. I picked up my pace and asked him, pointing to the newspaper ad:

"Hello! How can I get to the Ronsson farm?"

I could see his face change and he looked again at the three, who had suddenly become attentive. Then he looked frightenedly at me with big, empty eyes, as if he hadn't seen me.

"Uh... Ronsson's farm... there's a road leading to it just behind the station. It's about three kilometers from here...," he said stumbling, a little late.

Three kilometers... There was no point in looking for any means of transportation, especially as I had no luggage with me except the little duffel bag, which was not only light, but half empty.

I gave a nod of my head and was on my way. Suddenly an idea occurred to me. What if I could find out a few minutes sooner what work awaited me?

"No offense... Perhaps you can tell me what kind of animals are raised on the farm? You know, I'm about to get a job there as a guard..."

This time the man's face changed completely. He looked at me for a long minute without saying anything, just opening and closing his mouth without a sound coming out.

"Animals?" He mumbled at a late moment.

"Yeah, what kind of animals?" I repeated urgently, and all sorts of diseases specific to the highlands, due to the lack of iodine in the drinking water, began to run through my mind.

From what I remembered, it seemed to produce entirely different ailments, and I was just about to repeat the question, when the man took three lightning-quick steps toward the station office door, slammed it behind him, and I distinctly heard the key twist twice in the lock. I turned back to the three Highlanders, but they were already striding away with long, measured strides, and, seeing their broad backs, I did not feel much like interrupting their walk. I approached the door closed so suddenly on my nose. A frightened voice could be heard from beyond it:

"I'm not lying, really! I heard a voice asking me about the Ronsson farm... And about what kind of animals they raise there..."

A woman's sultry voice answered:

"It's natural to hear voices in the evening asking you about the road to hell, if you start sucking juniper brandy as the sun gives the first moan. You'll end up like the man before you, talking to the railroad tracks alone... You'll lose your job, you bastard, and leave me and the children on the road..."

"I didn't have anything to drink today," he started to clear his guilt, but the sharp sound of a few slaps made me realize that he had a wife who was extremely easy to turn words into action.

I preferred to leave without insisting, although I wondered how much the clerk could have drunk to make her think she was seeing ghosts... Or that she could only hear my voice. I had once drunk juniper schnapps, and for three days I was sick. But I still didn't see any ghosts... Maybe I didn't drink enough. If the farm had it, I could try that. For a year, I could try a lot...

There were only two roads behind the station: one led to the little town only a stone's throw away, and the other, barely a little way up, lost itself in the mountains. I got a better grip on my pack and started to climb up the steep climb. To the left and to the right of the road, grayish cliffs rose up, broken here and there by red-hot rocky ridges. In the fading light, they looked like the blood trails of a giant slaughtered high in the brains of the mountains. The atmosphere had become downright oppressive, so I was glad when I spotted the house. It looked more like a slightly larger hut, which continued back with a few low buildings. "That's probably where they keep the animals," I said to myself and increased my steps. Somewhere in the back of my subconscious, I was left with the reaction of the station clerk and involuntarily thought of the most catastrophic scenarios. The truth is that there was only one I would not have been happy with: the one where snakes were growing on the farm. I can't stand snakes and have never been able to explain why. In fact, it's such a common phobia in most people that you don't really need to explain it, because everyone understands. With that in mind, I knocked on the door.

An older man opened the door, but he seemed burly and quite vigorous in the pale light of sunset.

"Yes?" he looked at me quizzically, then his gaze dropped to his frog and lit with understanding.

"For the announcement, right?"

"Yes, for the announcement. You're the one I spoke to on the phone?" I asked, though I already recognized his voice.

"Yes, with me," he replied, studying me from head to toe, then gesturing broadly for me to come in.

"Just a moment," I said and stopped in the doorway. Before we go in, we'd better get a few things straight. I can't stand snakes..."

He laughed merrily:

"Very good. Who said anything about snakes? After all, who can stand snakes?"

I scratched my head, puzzled:

"True, nobody, except that the ad was about exotic animals, and then nobody in town would tell me what it was about, so I unwittingly made all sorts of associations of ideas..."

He laughed his soft laugh for a few more moments, then showed me a small sign hanging just outside the door:

"People are actually more afraid of what they don't understand, even more than snakes. Please read! I show this to everyone and still to no avail..."

A few lines were neatly written in large Gothic letters. The light bulb in front of the house wasn't very bright, so I moved closer to read:

"The unknown begets fear,

fear begets anger and

anger seeks a victim."

"We don't want to become anyone's victim, just because the world doesn't know us Mr. Warren. And you will have to see to that..."

He smiled broadly again then opened the door and invited me in. The room I entered was large and seemed even more spacious due to the fact that it had almost no furniture. A big table in the middle, a couple of chairs next to it and two cupboards along the walls. I didn't really pay much attention to what he was saying because there was a blonde girl milling around the table setting out the dishes. She gave me a fleeting glance as I entered, then went about her business. I tried to pay attention to what my future employer was saying, but I realized that looking at the girl I'd lost her train of thought.

"... when the train comes. I put another half an hour before you get here, so we decided to wait for you with lunch."

He saw my gaze sliding ever so steadily toward the girl and smiled slightly.

"I forgot to introduce you to my daughter. This is Eloise!"

The girl glanced briefly at me, nodded briefly, then leaned back on the table.

"She takes care of... animals. You will only have to guard us... from any unwelcome guests."

"Animals, Dad? "The girl raised her large, blue, questioning eyes to her father, but he shrugged nonchalantly:

"Mr. Warren was afraid we'd raise snakes. He can't stand them!"

The girl's crystalline laugh and her amused look made me not feel too good, but the sweet smell of food reminded me that it had been a good few hours since I had put anything in my mouth. And then it suddenly occurred to me that animals that could be cared for by such a young girl couldn't be too dangerous.

We began to eat and I was just about to praise the table when there was a distant sound outside. It sounded like a strange mixture of clinking glasses and the chirping of small birds.

The girl looked up at her father and smiled:

"He's calling me again. Shall I go?"

The old man took another mouthful of food, chewed tactically, and when he finished, took a sip of wine, then rose from the table.

"I'd better go. You've been spooning them too much, and if they keep it up they'll soon not let us sleep through the night."

From the door, he turned toward us:

"If I'm too late, you show Mr. Warren where his room is. He'll be tired. I'll show him in the morning..."

After he had gone, it was quiet for a while, then suddenly the chirping grew louder, drowned out by the old man's warm, enveloping voice. I wanted to ask again about the farm animals - they sounded to me more like pigeons slowly chirping - but, looking at the girl gracefully clutching the table, I forgot. As I said before, she was blond, her face had beautiful, regular features, and a tan from the high sun glowed her cheeks, giving her a special charm. For some reason, I had the impression that my time on the farm would pass very easily. Feeling my eyes on her, Eloise turned to me smiling:

"I'll just finish and show you where you'll sleep. You'll be sleepy... Dad told me you've been on the road since this morning."

As I watched the domestic scene, all sorts of thoughts flashed through my mind. I was 33 and already considered old for the kind of work I liked to do. Five years in the foreign legion, three more as a bodyguard for all sorts of money lunatics threatened by other money lunatics, then as a bank guard where I'd barely escaped with my life... I had a pretty good bank account, maybe it was time to settle down. Watching Eloise as she went about the kitchen, I wondered if I'd make a good husband. All my life I'd had hard jobs, and women were hard to handle. They seemed fragile, unpredictable and ready to cry. I was smiling, lost in thought, and I was just saying to myself that I would never be able to make Eloise suffer or cry, when there was a noise at the door and her father returned. He looked at us long, from under his eyebrows, and began to smile too:

"I don't know why, I think you'll like the job. And maybe you'll stay with us for more than a year, Mr. Warren."

Eloise turned to him in surprise:

"That's just what I was thinking, Dad. Why do you think so?"

The old man sat down slowly at the table, laughing lightly:

"I suppose he likes the view," he said, and pointed toward the window, where the mountains lighted by a gorgeous full moon showed their dusty crests far away."

I felt myself blushing, and made to work on my old legionary's legionary's old legionary's ranks. Was I really so predictable?

They were both laughing now, a merry laugh that I didn't mind, and after a while I started laughing along with them.

"You'd better show him where he's going to sleep. Maybe he won't like our comforts and we'll find he's leaving in the morning..."

I knew she was joking and I also felt like I'd be able to sleep on rocks if only I could stay.

"Good night," I told her and started up the stairs after Eloise, backpack in hand and looking down, trying not to look at her tanned legs, which were sprinting up the steep staircase before my eyes.

We came to a dark corridor, lighted at one end by a night-lamp that sent a dim light toward us. As she walked ahead of me, it seemed to me that in the flickering darkness of the corridor her whole being was surrounded by a pale halo of diaphanous light, and a graceful pair of wings sprang from her shoulders. I blinked a couple of times and the wings disappeared; I began to smile to myself: if I saw Eloise with wings, it was clear that I was beginning to fall in love with her. If I wasn't already in love.

Eloise opened the first room and came in with me holding me like a big, gentle cat after her. All I had to do was to purr and rub against her leg. If I'd known she'd let me, I'd have started.

"Look, this is where you'll sleep," she said after she turned on the light and pointed to the bed. You can put your clothes in the wardrobe. The bathroom is at the end of the corridor and the night light is on all night, so you can't get lost.

In the center of the small, cozy room were a table and four chairs. He sat down on one of them and began to arrange the flowers in the vase.

"The flowers I picked this morning. I was hoping you'd like them...," she said and looked me straight in the eye.

"I hoped you'd like them," she said, caressing the flowers, but I had heard: I hoped you'd like them! Or maybe she'd actually said so...

"Before you came, my brother was taking care of the farm... He had to leave... I was so afraid someone would come..." - her voice faltered, then she continued: "You know, someone I couldn't get along with. Sometimes, especially in the winter, we get stranded out here for months."

"Perfect," I said in a strangled voice. I coughed to clear my voice and continued: I mean I'm definitely going to like it here... and I think we'll get along..."

He got up from his chair and approached me. He was up to my chin and smelled of fresh flowers and harsh mountain air. He rose slightly on his tiptoes and kissed the corner of my mouth. I swallowed dryly, trying to say something. She put a finger to my lips and smiled happily.

"Good night," she said and headed for the door.

"Good night," I replied, and she closed the door, disappearing into the darkness of the hallway.

I got up and ran to open the door, looking after her. Again it seemed to me that her shoulders were wrapped in the broad folds of wings.

"Eloise," I called softly, and she turned to me puzzled.

I stood in the doorway watching her approach, wondering how to ask her. I plucked up my courage:

"I'd like to know, though, what do you grow here? Unless it's not secret, of course..."

She looked at me long, suddenly saddened.

"I knew you were troubled about that. Come and let me show you. You should have seen this morning anyway..."

"But your father won't mind?"

He was already running down the stairs, so he answered without turning his head:

"He certainly won't mind. In fact, he'll be glad that I'm showing you and not him..."

The old man was no longer in the room downstairs and I followed Eloise through the back door. At first I thought I had stumbled into a children's bedroom. Along the walls, arranged in two rows, were small cribs. In them, children of all ages slept smiling or mumbling something in their sleep.

"Did you see now?" Eloise turned to me and smiled broadly.

"I saw, but I really don't understand," I replied, and just then one of the children stirred in his sleep and I saw his wings. White and diaphanous, but perfectly real.

I bent over other beds and saw that they all had wings. I turned to Eloise with a start of understanding.

She just nodded and confirmed:

"Children who die young... They have to stay somewhere until they grow up and can become guardian angels, right?"

The farm where I had gotten a job was an angel farm....

*

Eloise leaned over to one of the beds to lay out a blanket, and then I could clearly see her wings folded and gracefully sweeping down along her back. He looked at me with a slight sadness, and then I knew, without turning around, that the same white wings were on my back...

I smiled at the thought that somewhere, in the town where a bank had been robbed, a journalist was going to be very disappointed that he would not be able to interview the bank guard wounded in the shooting.

Time began to pass us by slowly and the villagers in the village knowing that there was now a guard on the farm didn't bother us anymore.

And one evening I had another myth debunked: that angels don't have sex. Eloise came into my room, undressed and climbed into bed next to me. Our wings got a little tangled at first until we learned how to maneuver them, but then we had the best sex of my life. As were the nights that followed.