Lava
Piers Anthony
arvis was out of sorts. The tour cruise wasn’t working out—at least not the way he had hoped, and now it had been diverted to this lost island with a dead volcano. There was a hurricane threatening, and all ships in the region had to seek convenient ports until the weather blew over, as it were.
There was nothing to do here that interested him, not even a house of ill repute. The island was small, dominated by the single cone of the volcano, whose idea of activity was a faint wisp of steam. Great show! He stood at the lookout facing it, and his mind drifted.
What do you want?
It seemed to be a voice in his head, maybe the unused half of his brain.
“I’ll tell you what I want,” Jarvis said. “I want a pretty girlfriend. The women on this cruise are either older or already attached.”
What kind of girl?
Somehow, it did not seem odd to be talking with an unseen voice. It really seemed to be interested.
“A shapely one, doing a hula dance, her hair flinging out as she spins. What’s in her head doesn’t matter, so long as she likes me and me alone.”
Visualize her.
Jarvis shut his eyes and pictured the sexiest hula girl imaginable, her hips gyrating, her breasts bouncing. She caught his eye and smiled.
Then he opened his eyes. There she was, dark skinned, with flaring red hair, and nude.
He did a double take. “I didn’t see you coming. Who are you?”
She paused in place. “I am Lava. I will be your girl if you do what I need.”
This was more than interesting. “What do you need?”
“Token worship.”
“Token? You mean like money?”
“No. Like pretty shells. Nice words. Respect.”
“You want mere tokens? Just what exactly are you offering?”
“Everything you were thinking of.”
“You read my mind?”
“Yes. I am reading it now.”
That set him back momentarily, but she was so pretty he plowed on. “Including the holding, kissing, and, um, intimacy?”
“Yes. I will do these things with you.”
Jarvis briefly pondered this, looking his—rather seductive—gift horse in the mouth. “You don’t have some loathsome disease?”
“I have no disease.”
“Then bring it on!” He stepped toward her.
“No, please, wait,” she said, raising her nice little hands. “Do not touch me yet. I will burn you.”
“Burn me? Just how hot a doll are you?”
“Very hot. Please, come to me again tomorrow, and I will be cool enough, I promise. And bring an offering.”
“A token,” he said. So, there was a catch: she did not want to be touched.
“Please, I do want to be touched. Just not today.”
Jarvis sighed. Too good to be true and all that. Ah well, not like he had anything better to do. “Tomorrow morning.”
“Yes. I will be ready, I think.”
“I will see you then.” He turned and walked back down the path. Before he turned a corner, he glanced back. Sure enough, she was gone.
Back at the village, he approached the hotel manager. “I walked up to view the volcano. I saw something there. A woman.”
The man nodded. “That’s Lava. She’s always lurking. That’s why no one goes there.”
“Lava. Who is she? A villager?”
The man laughed. “No villager. In fact, she doesn’t exist.”
“But I saw her!”
“She’s a ghost. The ghost of the dead volcano. Really spooky.”
“A ghost? She certainly looked real.”
“I mean, she doesn’t exist as a person. The legend has it that when the volcano was active, she was its serving girl, accepting the offerings of worshipers. But it’s been defunct for half a century, so there’re hardly any tourists anymore. She’s like… retired. Ignore her and she won’t bother you. Theoretically speaking.”
“This was a tourist attraction?”
“Long ago. Now, we’re in the crapper. It’d be nice if the volcano got active again. That’d bring ‘em in, put us back on the map.” The hotel manager sighed. “But that’s fool’s hope.”
“I appreciate the problem.”
But Jarvis did not forget or dismiss Lava. She was a ghost? No wonder she couldn’t be touched. Yet, she had promised to be ready. He would call her bluff.
He checked around the distinguished hotel lobby and found a forgotten plastic cufflink behind a chair. He picked it up and pocketed it. Would it do as a token?
Early the next morning, he returned to the lookout, ready for whatever was offered, even if only disappointment.
There she was, as lovely as ever.
“Lava!”
“Jarvis!”
“I brought a token.” He extended the cufflink. “My offering.”
“Oh, thank you,” she exclaimed joyously. “It’s wonderful.” She put it in her mouth for safekeeping, as she wore no clothing.
They came together. They might have even covered the distance at a run. She was solid! He embraced her, and she was warm. Quite warm.
“They told me you’re a ghost,” he said.
“I am.” She tongued the cufflink behind her cheek like a piece of hard candy. “A spirit. The spirit of the volcano.”
“But you certainly feel solid to me. Am I imagining it?”
“I am solid. But I am not alive. I am made of lava.”
“Lava!”
“Yes, it is my substance, shaped to your desire.”
Dare he question this? It did make a certain surrealistic sense. Volcano stuff. He did not want her to dissipate like smoke.
“I will not dissipate,” she assured him. “I love your attention. You are the first who really wanted to be with me.”
If this was a dream, he was determined to play it for what it was worth. “May I kiss you, Lava?”
“Be very careful. I have cooled overnight, but maybe not enough.”
Because he knew lava to be blazing hot, at least when fresh, Jarvis kissed her very lightly on the lips. They were almost burning, but very pleasant. He had to draw back. “You’re right. You are hot.”
“It takes time to cool, and if I cool too much, I will become stone. I must maintain a balance.”
“Oh, Lava, I’d like to–”
“Please, not today. My core would burn you.”
“I guess it would. So, you can’t be a complete girlfriend.”
“I can be!” she said almost desperately. “When I cool my core sufficiently, so that I remain hot enough to function, but cool enough where you need me to be.”
Was he crazy to take her seriously? Maybe she wasn’t real, but she was everything he longed for in a woman: lovely and eager to be with him. “Let’s sit down and talk.”
They sat on the stone bench, side by side, holding hands. Her hand was warm, too, but cooler than her torso.
“Lava, are you telling me you could be a complete girlfriend if I just bring little offerings?”
“Yes.”
That seemed too simple. Where was the catch?
“I can’t depart the island. I must stay within sight of the volcano, for I am its creature. I can be anything you want me to be, but it must be here. You would have to stay here on the island.”
And if he did, how far could this be taken? He really had no life in the outside world. Could he marry her, have children by her? She seemed so real and responsive.
“I can do these things,” she said. “But the baby would not be alive in your manner. It would be made of lava, like me, and hot in the core. You might not like that.”
“Maybe not,” he said. “Maybe we could adopt a foundling child. Could you take care of a baby?”