Epithumia

Written by Abira Mangosteen. Abira is a first-time Jewrotica writer. [Note: This piece contains explicit and controversial sexual content, hence the XXX rating.]

A few years ago, Miriam had stumbled upon an online Kabbalah class that began to transform her life. She felt happier than ever, but still there was something lacking. When she realized that God had been missing from her life, she decided to convert to Judaism. Miriam had remembered talking to a gentleman from a local gay synagogue at the Pride festival that year, so she contacted them to start the process.

Miriam was a lesbian, so it was important to her that someone could understand her personal spiritual journey. She had asked Rabbi Shoshana about Judaism’s stance on homosexuality during an early meeting, half expecting to hear the same drivel she had been fed during her Christian upbringing, and half curious to see how the rabbi would dance around it.

“Well,” said Shoshana, “technically, there’s no prohibition on two women having sex in Torah. So, then you have to think about taharat hamishpacha, or family purity laws. Being realistic, do you ever see yourself with a husband and kids?”

Miriam shook her head. “Not really…” she said.

“Now, think about what would happen if your cycle didn’t match to your partner’s cycle. Both of you would be in some state of impurity at any given time. So, we come back to purity. How important is that to you?”

Miriam didn’t quite know how to respond. No one had ever really given her an intelligent answer on this topic before, and she didn’t know much about purity laws at that time. Miriam opened her mouth, stunned. “Have you ever been to a mikvah?” she asked.

Shoshana laughed, “Nope. I don’t have a husband or kids.”

During her conversion ceremony when she stepped into the waters of the mikvah, Miriam recalled this conversation. She thought to herself, “After this, I guess my soul will be pure. I’ll just revel in that for as long as possible.”

It was natural that some sort of bond would form between the two, since Miriam had converted under the auspices of Shoshana. There was always something tense in the air about them when they were together, and it was apparent to everyone. Some had called it “unfinished business,” but whatever it was, it filled the room with palpable tension.

Miriam sat across the table from Shoshana, folding letters for a synagogue mailing one evening. As this was not a large undertaking, the two women were the only ones in the building. Although both women usually laughed and joked when they were together, there seemed to be a more quiet and serious tone to this night.

They both reached for the same envelope at the same time, touching each other’s hands slightly. Miriam and Shoshana looked longingly into each other’s eyes. They both knew what that feeling was – unbridled attraction – but both also knew the dangers of actually acting upon it. Surely, a rabbi sleeping with a congregant, especially a congregant she had converted, would create a scandalous mess. Miriam quickly averted her eyes back to the task at hand, silently chastising herself for wanting to give in to the instincts coursing through her.

“This week’s parsha certainly seems to be an interesting one…” Shoshana said, hoping the small talk would cut through the thick tension between them.

“It sure is,” replied Miriam. “Talking donkeys, angels, slapstick comedy…it’s something right out of The Three Stooges!” They both laughed at the image of the three comedians taking the places of these Biblical figures.

Noticing that they were about to run out of supplies, Miriam got up and walked behind Shoshana, who happened to be sitting under the shelf containing some envelopes. As Miriam reached up to grab the box, she felt a hand on her stomach.

“It’s torture, you know…” said Shoshana, “I want you so badly, but it would just be scandalous. You’re half my age. You’re also kind of my student.”

“I know, and don’t think I’m not tortured by the same thing,” said Miriam as she grabbed the box slightly above her head and placed it on the table. “When I see you on the bimah on Friday nights…when we work together on projects…it’s hard to concentrate or even speak.”

Shoshana slid her hand down Miriam’s waist. “How’s your concentration now?” she asked.

“Waning…” Miriam could feel herself getting more and more turned on, finding it difficult to form complete thoughts or sentences. Just as she thought she might explode, Shoshana’s fingers slowly traced their way down Miriam’s hipbones, brushing her mound, which was exuding a moist and private heat.

“Sensitive, huh?” Shoshana chuckled, her voice deepening slightly.

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