Prologue
Sharing this story makes me feel vulnerable.
I was reading Sex Shamans, a collection of honest and intimate stories from Tantra teachers around the world. Many describe spiritual experiences that resist explanation. Something happened, impossible as it may seem, and the person could only accept that it had happened.
Between two chapters, my own story poured out. I picked up my phone and spent twenty minutes recording what had happened with Ryan, an Irishman I met in Goa.
When the words appeared in front of me, they felt like too much for a public space. I showed them to two friends. Both said the story gave them goosebumps.
I lived with it for a few more days. The story still wanted to be seen.
My channel was called “Olga writes about love and Tantra.” This is a story about both.
The Tantric Woman and the Dragon
Sometimes you meet someone and recognise that the meeting had to happen. Something rare has entered your life.
A strange chain of events came first. Ryan and I were in Varanasi at the same time and even matched on a dating app. He remembered exchanging messages; I remembered none of it. We each had our own reason for being there. I visited a Shiva temple while he watched the funeral fires, and our lives stayed separate.
Two months later, we both arrived near Arambol in Goa, two days apart, and matched again. He spoke to me like an old friend, certain I would remember him. I saw a beautiful Irishman whose dragon tattoo covered almost his entire body.
That evening, without planning it, we met at an ecstatic dance beneath a great banyan tree. Recognition was immediate. He complimented my red dress. I took his hand, looked into his eyes and felt a story beginning.
He danced wildly, running across the space, shouting, expressive and vividly alive. Afterwards, everyone gathered around a fire and sang mantras with a guitar.
Lokah samastah sukhino bhavantu. May all beings in all worlds be happy.
We watched one another from opposite sides of the fire. Then he stood and came to sit beside me.
We left together, though we went first to a noisy local restaurant for vegetarian biryani. We laughed, talked and pretended to be ordinary people.
When I mentioned Bali, he called it an island with dragon energy and told me about his Kundalini awakening there. We looked at each other and understood that neither of us needed an explanation.
I drove him back to his hotel on my scooter. We held each other for a long time before he left. At home, I found several messages from him.
“I feel a lot of sexual attraction towards you. I could give you so much.”
I liked the directness and dignity of his words. I told him the attraction was mutual.
“Of course it is,” he replied. “That is why we vibrate this way.”
He arrived at my place at seven the next morning, and we fell into one another with ease.
After taking off our clothes and our embarrassment, we seemed to remove the need to perform as well.
“Believe it or not,” he said, “there is more Dragon than human in me.”
I believed him. In me, he saw a Tantric priestess. He had practised Reiki for years and said that touching someone could bring images of their past lives.
Everything between us felt true. From the beginning, masks and self-presentation had fallen away. Perhaps this is the only way to meet someone after crossing paths in Varanasi and finding each other again in Goa. India asks for honesty.
Ryan became the first person to receive an individual Tantric practice from me. More precisely, he was the first person able to receive everything I was ready to give.
We spent most of that day in bed. The sex moved between wildness and tenderness. What happened afterwards mattered even more.
We lay on our sides, with me behind him. I held him and traced the long serpent lines of the tattoo across his body. He said he was entering a trance.
“Go,” I told him. “I am here.”
From that state, he spoke about ancient Egypt, a star-filled night, lilies, water and the ankh. He told me that this was far from my first life with Tantra. The knowledge already lived within me, waiting to be remembered. In another life, he said, I had left something unfinished and had returned to complete it.
The next morning, he sent a photograph of himself in a red scarf, looking deeply into the camera.
“You look exactly like Shiva,” I wrote.
“You turned me towards Tantra,” he answered.
I sent him a photograph of myself beneath the banyan tree, giving the camera my fiercest dragon gaze.
“Thank you, Dragon. Your Kundalini helped awaken mine.”
We met several more times. One day, under the same banyan tree, he tried a very small amount of psychedelic mushrooms for the first time. I knew how sensitive he was. I watched him touch the trees, turn inwards, hold my hand and meet my eyes. It felt like a pure exchange.
“You are powerful,” he said. “I am powerful too. We met because our strength is equal.”
On our final night, I offered him another Tantric practice. I covered his body with a whisper: “I love you,” repeated again and again. The words moved through me from the feminine towards the masculine. He understood.
Later, he stood in front of me and looked directly into my eyes. Without speaking, he reached out and drew a sign on my face with his thumb: a crescent, then a cross, three times. He placed his hands on my chest.
An orgasmic wave of energy moved through my heart. He drew me close until our foreheads touched. Everything happened intuitively.
I knew this was new for both of us. The moment seemed larger than Ryan and Olga. Something else was moving between us, in the language of energy.
Eventually, we returned to ourselves and stepped apart.
“Now you are a Dragon too,” he said. “Use it wisely.”
