12 comments/ 15010 views/ 12 favorites In Love with Love By: Acktion I don't have any idea why I even started doing it, much less why I have continued. Maybe it has something to do with when I was a small child and we had Valentine's mailboxes and mine was always empty. It's not that I am not "a man's man" in every other sense of the words, really. I played football and still spar MMA to stay in shape. I don't think I even own a pair of tweezers and I tend to rip my nails while working to below the cuticle more often than even the most fastidious would trim them. Yet, I enjoy romance novels and what are usually referred to as "chick flicks". I am not ashamed to admit that I teared up watching "The Notebook" or "The Lakehouse". I am absolutely in love with love and romance. And above all, I adore Valentine's Day. Three hundred and sixty-four days out of the year, it is all too easy to take those around us, even the ones we love, for granted. Or perhaps that is too harsh. Perhaps it is not so much that we take them for granted so much as it is too much effort to go beyond what we normally do on a daily basis to show them how we feel. Yet, we have this one day set aside to splurge and try to squeeze out every bit of the love and adoration that we feel all year long. We, as men, can even do this without being teased and ridiculed by other men on that one day. If I didn't actually have any one to give the bouquet of a dozen red roses and the box of chocolates to, and no one was going to be hanging on my arm wearing my tailored tuxedo, then that was no one's business save my own. I may be a man, but I enjoy flavored chocolates also. I may be rough and tough and coach keeps asking me why I don't enter the annual tough man competition, but that doesn't mean that I can't enjoy the smell and the beauty of a dozen roses in a bundle. Even if I had learned the hard lesson at an early age that to admit these things was to court torment and, often, fights as a man. Every year on Valentine's Day, I picked up my freshly tailored tuxedo, bought a box of chocolates, and bought a dozen red roses. Every year on Valentine's Day, I dressed in my tux, and, carrying my roses and my chocolates, walked to a nearby park to watch the sunset. After the sun was hidden for the night, I would just barely make my solitary reservation for dinner, where I would watch the others around me. It truly never crossed my mind that any might be paying me more than passing attention. I never really considered what they must think of my situation. I was doing it because I wished to, not because I was being stood up by a date. But, I am getting ahead of myself. The nights when some nervous Romeo would rise from his seat to, supposedly, pick up some dropped napkin and then offer his Juliet a ring from bended knee were the best. I always applauded longest and loudest when I was privileged to witness such an event. What could possibly be more romantic than combining the romance of Valentine's with the romance of dedicating yourself to sharing your life with that special someone? I truly never imagined that anyone would notice as I surreptitiously wiped a tear on my napkin or give it a second thought if they did. But, again, I am getting ahead of myself. So, why had I never done such a thing? One might ask. Actually, I had. One Valentine's Day when I was twenty, I, too, had gone to one knee and asked the love of my life to be by my side for the rest of our existence on this mortal plane. And she said she would. We never made it to the altar. At first, I was mourning her. Then, it did not seem fair to measure others against her memory. Then, I was just too old to be more than a second husband and step-father to children that weren't mine. And I did not think I wanted a constant reminder that I was a second chance any more than they would wish to be reminded that they were not my first choice. No, love and romance is for the young unencumbered by the responsibilities that life heaps upon us. But, that did not mean that I could not enjoy it vicariously on this one night of the year. Until the year that all changed. "Excuse me. Is this seat taken?" I glanced up to see an elegant lady standing beside my table. She was beautiful, with her auburn hair bound up in a sweeping style and her green eyes so warm and smiling. Her evening gown matched her eyes and seemed to whisper against every curve and line of her lush body. The fresh bloom of youth had just started to fade from her, making me estimate her age in her mid twenties. Belatedly, I remembered my manners and rose from my seat. "Ah, no." I said. "Please, won't you join me?" The words were reflexive if the manners were not. I hadn't especially wanted company on this special night. Yet, saying "no" without being harsh had never been in my skill set. "Thank you." She said. She and the maître d' exchanged those murmured pleasantries that were common and he left us with a small bow. Left us standing, looking at each other. Why wasn't she sitting? I wondered. Oh, right. I stepped around the table to pull out and hold her chair. I tapped the back of her knees as she sat and grimaced. Romance is much easier without another party involved and after eighteen years, I was out of practice. Once she was seated, however clumsily on my part, I stepped back around to regain my own seat. Her eyes the color of emeralds seemed to sparkle and glow from some inner light. What should I say? I wondered. Should I compliment her eyes? I didn't quite feel up to complimenting her dress and the implied compliment to what lay beneath it. She spoke as I dithered and took the question out of my hands. "So why is it that such a handsome man would come alone to this place on Valentine's Day?" I felt foolish having to set out my reasons in words. Particularly to a woman that I did not know. Yet, something about her told me to tell the truth and that she would somehow know if I lied. "So, this isn't a memory to her," She asked with a raised eyebrow once I had told her the jumbled tale. "Perhaps at first," I admitted. "That may be how it began, but not anymore." "So, rather than a woman, your true love is love?" Her smile seemed to dim the room around us it was so very bright. "You are a very unusual man, Thomas." It took me a moment to realize that she had said my name when I had not told her and she, so far as I knew, hadn't any reason to know it. "You seem to have the advantage of me." I said. "I'm afraid I don't know your name." "Call me Dahlia." She said. Something about the name and the way she said it stirred a distant memory. I had the distinct feeling that there was more to the name, but I could not think of what it might be. Before I could chase down the errant thought, we were interrupted. "There you are." I glanced up to find a large man clad in black leather standing next to our table, looking down at my putative date. "Hello, Martin." Dahlia said, a trifle coolly. "How's Narine?" It may have been my imagination, but he seemed to stiffen as if he had been struck a physical blow. "She is well." Martin said. "Come away now, Dahlia. Stop this nonsense." He made the mistake of reaching for her. Or perhaps it would not have been a mistake if she had not so obviously pulled away. I rose from my chair. "Sit back down, son." Martin turned to glare at me. "You're still young yet to die for this trollop." The dichotomy of a young man who appeared also in his mid twenties, even one so much larger, calling me "son" when I was nearing my fortieth birthday touched both my anger and my humor. Before I could decide how to respond, yet another interruption intervened. The maître d', his attention caught by the activity, bustled over and asked Martin to leave. I thought it was a perfectly polite and reasonable request. However, Martin responded with a fury that stunned me. He turned and shoved the small man with such force that he slammed into another table, overturning it. Before I could react, he turned back and slammed his fist into my chin. Reflex and muscle memory took over at that point. I closed on him with a flurry of counterstrikes, grabbed the lapels of his leather jacket and used a hip throw to slam him to the ground. His elbow slammed into the side of my head, narrowly missing my temple. I swept his arm in mine to pin it and knelt on his neck and then froze waiting for the submission tap. It didn't come. Instead, he continued to fight against my hold. I glanced up at a shadow falling over us to see the man who had been sitting at the table the maître d' had fallen into. He was holding a badge in his hand and his other was out of sight behind his back. "I know he started it, but I think you had all better leave." The officer said. I nodded and started untangling myself. Martin took that opportunity to try to reverse his fortune. As I tumbled back, I heard a distinctive click. Martin froze with his fist drawn back and glared at the officer who had drawn a revolver. "Now, normally, I hate shooting an unarmed man." The officer said. "The paperwork is a nightmare. But considering you've spoiled my wife's Valentine, I figure two weeks off to make it up to her is just about right if that fist lands. Your choice, Martin." Martin glared at the officer for another moment before dropping his fist and his gaze back to me. "This isn't over, Tommy Boy." Martin said as he rose and turned his back on me. My hand clenched at the long hated nickname. But, once again aware of just where we were, I held myself to a firm nod and a murmured, "I look forward to it." "I think it might be best if you and your lady friend left as well, Thomas." The officer said. "I know he started it, but... Well, I just think it would be for the best." I took my eyes from Martin's leather clad back making his exit to see the officer looking at me, not unkindly as he put his weapon away. "I understand." I nodded. When I looked back, Martin was lost to my sight. Would he come back? Would he be waiting for me outside? I could understand why they would not want Dahlia and I here either since we were, in their minds, just as much a part of the trouble as he was. I swept the all but forgotten candy and flowers from the table and in a reflex gallantry offered them to the officer. "I know it doesn't make up for your spoiled evening, but please offer these to your wife with my apologies." I said. "And I will take care of your bill for dinner." "That's not necessary." The officer blinked in surprise. "I insist. It's the least I can do." I moved behind Dahlia's chair and held it. "Come, my lady. We should leave these good people to return to their dinners." "Why should we leave just because Martin is an immature spoiled brat?" Dahlia asked. The inner light gracing her eyes was different this time. Harder. I could see that she had the legendary temperament of the redhead stereotype in full. I bent to place my mouth next to her ear. "Because we have been asked to and it's the right thing to do." I said. "We can either leave together and continue to enjoy our evening while these good people go back to enjoying theirs. Or, I can walk away now and leave you to be thrown out by that good officer on your own further spoiling all of our romantic evening. Your choice." Dahlia's eyes darted this way and that, taking in the diners who were still staring at us. I couldn't tell what conflict it was in her eyes or how to diffuse her any further and wasn't sure that I cared. My night of romance had already been spoiled. First by this mystery woman and then by, what I could only assume was, her paramour. As I was thinking that, her eyes met mine and softened. "Yes, I should like to spend more time with you to make up for spoiling your evening as well." She said. "No evening could be completely spoiled with you in it," I shot back in spinal reflex, although I wasn't completely sure I believed it. I nodded a polite apology to any who's eyes met mine on the way out. Dahlia swept ahead of me, her bearing as regal as if she were choosing to leave of her own accord and the stares were no more than her just due. I paused at the door to slip the maître d', back in his place, two one hundred dollar bills and my card for the ruined meal of the officer and his wife and any damages incurred. I paused again just outside the door to scan for Martin. "So, what else should we do for entertainment?" Dahlia asked, once again all smiles. "Truthfully, that dinner was the last of my scheduled plans for the evening." I said, bringing my attention back to her. "What would the lady desire?" "The museum has an exhibit dedicated to the goddesses of love." Dahlia said. Her entire face seemed to glow with her smile. "That would be suitably romantic, I think." "Oh?" I asked. "Would that be the Roman goddess Venus or the Greek goddess Aphrodite?" "All of them." She laughed gaily. "And more. There's even a special section about the origins of Valentine's Day." Intrigued, I agreed that I would like to see that and we stepped off with her arm in mine. That sixth sense that warns trained fighters of danger fixated on a darkened alley on our left. Without quite consciously thinking about it, I stepped around Dalia so that she was between myself and the street in order to put myself between her and that alley. Martin's charge from the alley was not only not a surprise, but was almost anticlimactic. "Hello, asshole." I said almost cheerfully as I swept his fist past my head, causing him to stumble and slam into a car parked on the curb. Martin didn't miss a beat, but spun and charged at me again. This time, I let his charge carry both of us into the mouth of the alley before disengaging. I backed further down the alleyway, away from any eyes that might be tempted to intervene this time. I might be out of practice in holding a chair for a lady or in how to compliment her, but this? This I was very much in practice for. "Come ahead, coward." I said, holding my arms wide as if asking for a hug. "Or can you only attack from darkness and from behind with the cravenness of an assassin." Martin was a big man. He topped my six feet by another half a foot at my best guess. And his broad leather clad chest and shoulders seemed half again as wide as my own. "Tactics are not cowardice." Martin said as he stayed where he was and dropped into a crouch. His words were almost textbook correct, but his tone told me that I had struck a nerve. "Sure." I said. "But, when surprise is eliminated, what will you do? There is one here in this alley to stop me and save you this time." "You dare!" Martin gasped and his guard lowered a fraction of an inch. That fraction was all that I had been waiting for and I struck. And got a nasty surprise. Martin was not just bigger and possibly stronger, but he was also just as thoroughly trained. In short order, I knew that my advantage in the restaurant was a fluke of chance and surprise and that I could be in very real danger. We broke apart after a brief grapple. "Not bad." Martin spat to one side. "If you were younger, you might actually give me a workout. A light one." I favored my left ribs and studied his stance, trying to see where his next attack would come from. No, the restaurant hadn't been a total fluke. His rage and reaction to it had made him make a mistake. That was what I needed. To piss him off. "Thanks, pissant." I said. "You aren't too bad yourself for a sheep fucker." "You'll have to do better than that, Tommy Boy." Martin chuckled launching his own flurry of attacks. I definitely took the worst of it that time and it was all I could do to disengage. "Know when you are bested, young one." Martin shook his head. "When it happens, I will." I gasped, favoring my left side even more. My eye fell on Dahlia watching us from the mouth of the refuse strewn alley. She was the key somehow, I realized. "It must really bother you that she would go hunting bigger and better dick." I said. Even though it had been what I had been trying for, his roaring charge caught me off balance. It was all I could do to take the punishment of his longer reach to close to grappling distance. I knew that this was the only chance I would get and blocked out the pain as he slammed again and again into my ribs as I locked my arm around his neck and began to bear down. The untrained believe that a choke hold, sometimes referred to as a sleeper hold, works by cutting off the air of the opponent. That can be done if it's sloppily executed. Training though teaches to cut off the blood flow to the brain instead. Some combination of trained skill, luck, and his rage let me execute a near textbook perfect example of this maneuver. Then all I had to do was hang on as he twisted and slammed that hard elbow into my side over and over and over. Too late, his tactics changed and his strong hands dug at my arm. Already, the lack of blood to his brain was sapping his strength. It still took longer than it should have for his struggles to fade and then cease. Letting go was a nerve wracking experience. I was half afraid that my hold hadn't been as good as I thought since he should have gone down in five seconds and he might, even then, have been faking to get me to drop my guard. Still, I didn't want to kill him either which was extremely possible if my hold was as good as I thought. I shoved his limp body away and recovered as best I could in case he should turn and attack. If he did, I knew I was beaten, but was determined to fight it out to the end. Martin fell limp to the ground. He was truly out. No one can not try to catch themselves when falling face first. Turning, I staggered a little to the mouth of the alley where Dahlia waited. "That was amazing!" Dahlia said. "Only one other person has ever beaten my brother." Her brother?! Oh, crap. I moaned to myself. I had to get myself out of this before it became a shitstorm. "I don't think I'm up to anymore public appearances tonight, Dahlia." I said. "I think, perhaps, I would just like to retire for the evening." "That sounds good to me." Dahlia said, capturing my arm with both of her hands. "Your place is closer." I don't quite know why I didn't pull away from her. Perhaps I was a bit more addled by the pain washing over me as the adrenaline faded. Perhaps I fell victim to that same age old truism that fighting, and especially winning, can bring forth a biochemical response driving a man to mate. Whatever, the reason, I did not object, nor try to pull away from her as we stepped out of the alley and turned towards my apartment. My clothing was the last thing on my mind until we arrived in my small bachelors apartment. I took off my tuxedo jacket and saw a rip in the shoulder and moaned. Prompted, I glanced down myself and moaned anew at the spots of blood on my white shirt. "I need to freshen up." I said. "May I get you anything?" "No, I'm fine." Dahlia said. "I'll be back in a moment." I nodded. The bathroom in my small bachelor's apartment was through the bedroom and I carelessly tossed my ruined jacket on the bed and loosened my bow tie on my way past. As I entered the small room, with the glaring lights, I winced at my reflection. Dried blood on my upper lip and lower chin told where the spots of blood had come from on my shirt. My ribs ached and pulled, making it uncomfortable to shrug out of my shirt. The skin over my side was starting to purple. I made myself lift my left arm over my head, stretching out that side and began to run the fingers of my right over my ribs checking for breaks. I was lucky. I was bruised and battered, but none seemed to be broken. There didn't seem to be a point in even trying to save the shirt, so I dropped it and kicked it off to one side. My muscles in my left side flinched and pulled as I leaned over the sink to wash the blood off of my face. In Love with Love When I looked up to check my face in the mirror, I froze. Dahlia was standing there leaning against the door frame watching me. The image in my mirror looked ridiculous to my eyes. Grey was touching the temples of my reflection's brown hair but nowhere near her flaming tresses. There were lines around my grey eyes reflecting almost forty years of emotion in my face where the skin around her green eyes was still smooth and unmarred. I straightened and the image didn't get any better. Beneath my thick mat of hair, my body was losing ground against the forced of age and gravity. My pectorals were not quite as high as they had been while her ripe full breasts still defied gravity with that state that could only be defined as "perkiness". My rippling six pack had not grown into a keg just yet, but it was only through hard work and discipline that it had not. The way her gown swept back from the prominence of her breasts spoke to a belly still so flat as to be approaching concave. I was being silly and childish to ever think this woman could find me desirable. I did not have to let my own desire for her make me more foolish than I already had been bringing her back here. "I wanted to come." Dahlia said gently. "Not only do I not mind that you find me desirable. I like that you do." I frowned at her reflection, unsure how to respond. Was she reading my mind? "Turn around and look at me, Thomas." There was a command in her voice that I couldn't ignore. When my eyes fell on her instead of her reflection and I could no longer see my own, my doubts seemed to be the childishness. Not my desire for this woman. What man wouldn't desire her? "Tell me." Dahlia whispered. "You are so beautiful." I said, my deep voice seeming as ugly as the cawing of a crow after hers. "Tell me how much you desire me." Dahlia commanded. "An eternity would be too short a time to." I shook my head. "I don't have the words." "Then show me instead, warrior." Dahlia's tongue made a brief appearance between her lips leaving a slight hint of moisture to reflect the light. That bright reflection on that full puffy reflection called to my very soul. I desired a taste of her sweet mouth more than I had ever desired anything in my life. It was all I could do to slow my advance to a more leisurely pace. A hunger raged inside me to crush my lips against hers and ravenously feast upon them. Yet, this perfection cried out against such a gluttonous response, begging instead to be savored as a delicacy. My body seemed to shake with need as I closed the distance between our mouths with aching slowness. An eternity seemed to pass as I stretched out the agonizing anticipation. I felt the softness of her lips against mine, a feathery light touch, barely brushing and pulled away. It had been a mistake to kiss her because it hurt so much to stop. I leaned in again and made contact once more. My lips reflexively closed around hers as if to pinch or bite at it and I forced my mouth to relax just a little, pressing but not too hard. I pulled away once more. God, it hurt to stop. Just kissing her was better than the best sex I could remember and pulling away was harder than it would have been to pull out before the point of climax with any other. I ached to feel those soft lips once more, to taste them. As our lips touched once more, I felt my tongue straining from behind my teeth for a taste and had not the strength to stop it. I savored a brief pressure against that pillowy softness before her mouth opened to take my questing tongue inside. When her smaller tongue touched mine, the hungry ravening beast within me tried to rouse. It was all I could do to keep him caged and just enjoy the blissful rapture that was waiting for me in her mouth. Yet, I needed more. I craved more the way a man dying in the desert of thirst craves water. If this was her mouth on mine, how much more bliss could be waiting in the rest of her. I fought myself and managed to pull away. When I opened my eyes, her green orbs were already gazing at me. I read invitation there and hoped that I was reading it aright as I ran my hands up the smooth satiny skin of her arms. I watched for the slightest flinch or wavering in her gaze as I delicately slipped my fingers beneath the straps of her gown. Or as delicately as my suddenly too stubby and thick and clumsy fingers could. I yearned to strip that cloth that was hiding her from my sight in one bold smooth motion. But, to do so would have been almost blasphemous or so it seemed. I forced myself to go slow and then slower and then slower still as I carefully slid my hands with that delicate cloth between my fingers along her shoulders and then down her arms. Her beautiful eyes never so much as blinked as they looked back into mine. That beautiful evening gown clung to tightly to her form and I fought back the frustrated desire to rip it from her to feast my eyes on what might be hidden beneath as I remembered seeing a zipper in the back. I stepped yet closer to Dahlia still, and this time as I lowered my mouth to hers, I dared to slide my hands around to her back, pressing her to me as I pressed my lips against hers even more firmly than I had dared so far. My questing fingers found her zipper and began to slowly and carefully slide it down her back. The bottom of it didn't stop at her lower back but kept going around the sensuous top curve of her ass. Dahlia pulled away from me then, breaking our kiss and I felt a moment of panic that I had gone too far. That I had been right and such a beautiful, such a delightful, such a young woman could possibly feel desire for me. Before that thought could carry me too far, Dahlia leaned back into me and renewed our kiss. I was startled to feel bare skin instead of cloth as my hands touched her back and I realized at the same time that I could feel her nipples against my chest. She had only broken our kiss to let her dress slide to the floor. It was my turn to break our kiss once more and pull away. I wanted to see what had been hidden from my view. As I looked down, the view almost brought me to my knees. Dahlia was even more exquisite nude than I had dared imagine with her clothed. The graceful arch of her neck gave way to a glorious swell topped with two delightful puffy pink nipples. Her flat stomach was shadowed by her those beautiful mounds of flesh and eventually gave way to a thick tangle of flaming curls. This hair between her thighs drew my attention back to the tresses on her head. Her hair was still bound up in a rather curious upswept style and I had a strong desire to see it unbound. My hands were trembling as I reached for her crown to see if I could find the secret bindings that kept it so. I pulled a single pin and that neatly styled coif became a tumbling mass of curls that unbound and unwound in my questing hands until it almost reached those pink puffy perfections. I was entranced and ran strands of it's glorious silky length through my fingers over and over again as if they were combs and I some medieval ladies maid brushing her hair for her. My eyes though could not keep still as I ran them adoringly over every inch of her that I could see without stepping further away. My body would not let me step any further away but screamed to be let closer. "Do you enjoy what you see?" Dahlia asked. My mouth was too dry to speak. I could only nod mutely. "Do you desire me?" Dahlia asked. "Do you want to claim each and every part of me?" The rampaging beast within that I had barely held in check shattered the bars of it's prison and I swept her up in my arms. It was ten strides from the doorway of the bathroom where we had stood to the side of the bed. Ten strides that I could not pass fast enough. Ten strides that gave me ample time to recapture that beast and shove it back into it's cage. I laid Dahlia upon the bed much more gently than I had swept her up in my arms. Then I drew back to let my gaze run over her more fully than I had been able to while we were standing. Dahlia's feet seemed almost too dainty to be the pedestal upon which such perfection rested. Yet each toe was that perfection in miniature. Her slim attractive ankles gave way to perfectly rounded calves before giving way to knees with delightful dimples decorating them. From there, her thighs swelled with a round fullness before reaching hips that bade fair to welcome and cradle a man. And there, between those thighs and just below those tightly curled flames a hint of pink treasure peeked from the diamond formed by the absence of flesh. I was so hard and aroused that I ached to rip my pants from my body and slide between those thighs to penetrate her warm depths. Yet, it had been so long that I knew that once I began I would not last long with any woman, much less this goddess among mortals. "Turn over." I breathed, raising my eyes to hers once more. Something flickered behind her eyes, but was gone in an instant. In a movement that was both much too fast and yet far too slow, she turned her body to hide her breasts from me. Yet, what swung into view was almost as agonizing in it's own right. A few small freckles decorated her shoulders. I have never understood how anyone could consider them as marring otherwise perfect skin and even less so now. My tongue ached to trace the pattern between them and my fingers twitched to be given pride of place to be first to. Two more dimples resided in her lower back just above the curve of her rump and my tongue quickly forgot about the freckles to delve into this new treasure instead. Her rump, though... Her gloriously rounded buttocks... Dahlia's deliciously shaped ass was neither less nor more wonderful to behold than the swell of her chest. I had to clench my hands into fists to keep myself from reaching out to knead that tender flesh. I knew that if I gave in one iota that I would all too quickly plunge myself within her from behind and, wrapping those coppery tresses in my fist, would only manage one or two satisfying thrusts before emptying my seed deep within her. I could outwait the painful pressure clamoring in my aching crotch. And when I did, I would be able to enjoy so much more than just two pleasurable pumps before losing myself to bliss. I moved to the foot of the bed and reached out for her feet instead. "What are you doing?" Dalia asked. "Something I hope you will like," I said. Feet had never been a fetish of mine, but every part of this woman was a delight to the senses. I watched as I pressed my thumbs into the soft flesh on the soles of her feet. The skin of her heel and ball were rougher, but no less sweet for the being. But, it was my touch against the arch of her foot that she really responded to. Dahlia moaned in pleasure as I felt an almost infinitesimal relaxing of the muscle there. When I heard that sound and felt that muscle relax, I began to move on. It was no part of my design to have her become too relaxed and fall asleep. I pinched her Achilles tendon between my thumb and forefinger firmly and felt her relax even more as I worked my way to her calves. Her satiny skin was a delight to my touch. A smell something like honeysuckle tantalized my nose. I couldn't resist the temptation to press my lips against the back of her knee as I kneaded the muscle of her calves. "Oh, please." Dahlia moaned. "Please. Don't you want me?" "More than you can imagine." I whispered across the flesh and was rewarded as goose bumps rose to meet my breath. I worshipped every inch of her body, caressing the skin with fingers and lips, kneading the underlying flesh with strong fingers and tongue on my way to the nape of her neck. Several more times she spoke, pleading with me, but I refused to relent either to her or to my own need that wanted to be inside this incredibly desirable woman. An eternal half hour later, I felt that I was ready to face the other half. "Turn over." I whispered as I pulled gently at her hip. "Oh, thank the gods." Dahlia breathed as she rolled over to expose her front to me once more. Predictably, I sprang to attention once more and ached just be inside her now, right now. I forced my desire in on itself and made myself slowly begin the descent from her shoulders towards her ankles. I allowed myself to gently caress her breasts but did not deign to broach the pink boundary of her areola much less the stiffened peaks standing above those delicate mounds. Dahlia whimpered as I moved my fingers away just ahead of her attempts to turn into them to feel my fingers upon that perfection. But, I knew that once I allowed it, I would be lost. "Oh, please, for the love of the gods, just take me." Dahlia pled when I reached her hips and forced my fingers to take the outside path rather than explore her inner treasures and lifted my tongue away as it trailed from her navel to just short of her fiery pubic region. "Not yet." I whispered, letting my breath caress the region I was withholding my touch from. "Soon. Soon." I was fighting a dual battle to heighten her need and lessen my own and was losing on both fronts. How much more could she take before desire became frustration on her end? How much longer before the frustration I felt on mine snapped and turned what should be a pleasurable sampling of a dainty delicacy into an aggressive rutting of need? My mouth made it as far as the dimples on her knees and my fingers almost made it to her ankles when I could not stand any more. I pressed my body between her legs and pressed her knees up and apart with my hands. There, between her thighs, only slightly hidden by her swollen and dripping sex was the place where I wanted to be. But, first, a taste. "Oh, gods!" Dahlia wailed as my mouth made contact with her sweet lips. "What are you doing to me?" I didn't answer, but delved deeper with my tongue and then pulled out to flick the tip across the tiny nub hidden in the top of her folds. I felt a shudder wrack her body as I fastened my mouth on that nubbin and sucked in as hard as I could. A gush of warm wetness coated my chin and gave me my cue that it was time. My hands were shaking so bad that I had trouble with the fastening of my breeches. In frustration, I popped the fastening button. Dahlia's eyes widened as it bounced off her flat stomach and on off the bed. "Yes." Dahlia breathed. "Finally." My swollen cock did nothing to aid my attempts to free it and Dahlia's hands joined mine as she sat up. She wasn't much more help than I could have done alone as her hands were shaking almost as much as mine and we kept getting in each other's way. Finally, I was free and trying to free my legs as well as Dahlia's hands wrapped around my throbbing shaft. That didn't help my pants progress to below my knees one little bit. "Oh, hurry." Dahlia pled. "Please hurry." "Trying." I muttered, shoving ineffectually at my pants and trying to pull hips away against the concerted effort of Dahlia pulling my cock towards her and it wanting to go that direction anyway. "Roll over." Dahlia panted. Thinking that she was going to help me finish pulling my pants off, I rolled onto my butt. Rather than pulling away, Dahlia swung one leg over both of mine and pressed her hips forward as her hand guided my shaft where my mouth had so recently been. A nipple bounced off my nose and, beyond thought, I turned my head on instinct to fasten my mouth upon it. Dahlia wailed and shoved at my shoulders, forcing me to lay back. With one powerful downward thrust, Dahlia took my pulsating length inside her. My head exploded into brilliant streamers of colored confetti as that sweet velvety heat wrapped around me. I gradually came back to myself to the sensation of Dahlia bouncing up and down against me as that moist warmth slid across my length over and over again. As blissful as the initial penetration was, this was, if anything even better. I didn't want it to end. "Oh, please." Dahlia moaned in time with her thrusts. "Hurry. Please hurry." Hurry? But I was inside of her. Surely she wasn't wanting me to hurry up and cum and cause this heavenly interlude to end. Dahlia's movements became more frenetic and shifted to back and forth instead of up and down. Her speech gave way to wordless grunts of need. My own need came surging back in answer. I lifted my hips off the bed and tilted them. Dahlia took the hint like an excellent dance partner following my lead and rolled her own hips until I was above her. My tuxedo trousers around my ankles were an unwanted distraction as I fought for traction to plunge deeper into her. I felt Dahlia's nails scrabbling at my ass, pulling me tighter against her, trying to help me reach deeper inside. "Give. Me." Dahlia moaned. "Give. Me." Give her what? I was already giving her everything I could with our pubic bones touching at the bottom of each thrust. "No." Dahlia moaned. "Not yet. Too soon. Oh, hurry, Thomas. Hurry. I need it." Her words made no sense to me. I'm not sure they would have anyway. But, I was so far gone down the path of my own need that nothing made sense except my own incipient climax just out of my reach. Dahlia's mouth found mine in that perfect moment at the depth of my thrust and the bliss of her kiss carried me over the edge. I moaned into her mouth as I felt my throbbing cock twitch deep inside her, filling her with burst after burst of my seed. "Oh, thank you." Dahlia whispered, kissing me between each sentence. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you." Something was wrong. Each successive kiss felt lighter, fainter. I pulled back to look at this glorious woman beneath me. What I saw made me almost fall off the bed as I jerked back away from her. She was fading and getting fainter and fainter. Already I could see the comforter beneath her, through her. "Acidahlia." Dahlia said. Her voice sounded like a whisper on the wind it was so faint. "My full name is Acidahlia." Then she was gone. My brain was gibbering. Was I going insane? Had I imagined her? Would an insane person know if they were hallucinating? My eye fell on a pool of cloth in the bathroom doorway as I almost fell in my attempt to get off the bed and tried to decide whether to pull my pants up or off. I compromised by holding them at my knees as I shuffled towards the dress that would be proof that she was here. But, the cloth pooling there wasn't green, it was white. No. I shook my head before the thought could fully form. I had kicked my white shirt deeper into the bathroom. That was where she had dropped her dress. It couldn't be my shirt. It couldn't. It wasn't my shirt, I discovered as I reached for it. But, neither was it the elegant green evening gown she had worn either. It looked like a really long white shirt or a really short white dress. For some reason the term "toga" leapt to mind. What was this and where had it come from? I looked around bewildered. My eye fell on something bright next to the wall. Where I would have dropped her hairpin when I unleashed her hair. I hit my head against the wall, but didn't care as I reached for it. My fingers closed over a cool bit of metal and I cupped it in my hand to look at it. It looked something like an arrow except both the head and the fletching were shaped more like hearts. That was no help though as I realized that I had never really looked at it, being too focused on her hair. In frustration, I kicked the pants that had been trying to trip me from my legs and stood in nothing but a pair of socks, panting in equal parts panic and frustration. What the hell was happening? My eye fell on my reflection and I felt my panic ratchet up another notch. The purpling bruise on my left side was gone as if it had never been. I touched my hand to my side and felt nothing out of the ordinary, but I should have been wincing in pain. In Love with Love In fact, from the moment I had kissed her, my ribs hadn't bothered me. What in the hell was happening to me? My shirt, I thought in a frenzy. The blood on my shirt. If I imagined it all, I imagined that too. I grabbed up my shirt and held it up, letting the bow tie flutter back to the ground. Rather than being relieved to see the blood I remembered, I was even more confused and frightened. I glanced at the clock above the mirror. It was five minutes after midnight. Valentine's Day had been over for five minutes. It was now February the Fifteenth. A small voice barely heard beneath the gibbering madness wondered if she had faded as the clock ticked over to the next day. The morning sun peeking inside my window found me having not slept at all. I was sitting at the small eating nook in my kitchen sipping a cup of coffee with my back resolutely turned towards the bedroom and the unanswered questions that lay within. The top arch of that orb seemed to beckon me to leave the scene of confusion and fear even further behind and come to greet it. The dojo wouldn't be open yet, but I couldn't stand to be there anymore. I needed some return to normalcy that I couldn't seem to find in my own home. My stride lengthened as I reached the sidewalk and slid from a walk to a jog. I was not running from the confused jarring of memory or madness. I was just getting started on my morning workout. Yeah, sure I was. On my way to the dojo where I trained, I passed the museum she had mentioned. If she had. If there had been a she to mention it. My curiosity slowed my feet and I turned to mount the stairs to wait at the door. I wasn't waiting long when a woman about my age started climbing the stairs. "You're early." She called as she came closer. "We don't open for another half hour." "That's okay." I called back. "I just wanted to see this exhibit I heard about before it was taken down." "The 'Goddess of Love and Fertility' exhibit?" She asked more conversationally as she drew closer. "That's the one." I nodded. "I figured with Valentine's being over, it would probably be taken down pretty quickly and I wanted to check it out before it was." "Oh, well I can assure you that it is going to remain up until the first of March." "Ah, well." I shrugged. "I'm here and I'm looking forward to seeing it. I don't mind waiting until you open." The woman stood staring at me for a long moment and I wondered what she was thinking. "Well, I suppose it wouldn't hurt anything for you to come in while I got things started." She said, finally. "Oh, I don't want to be any trouble." "Nonsense." She said. "It's freezing out here." I shrugged again since I didn't know what to say to that. It was February. It was supposed to be cold. But, at her insistence, I followed her inside and waited as she locked the door once more. "Hi, Ralph. I brought a guest." She called. "All right, Ms. Danvers." A bodiless voice called back. The words seemed to echo in that vaulted hall and I shuddered at the eeriness of it. Only the warm sunlight creeping steadily across the floor as the sun rose outside kept it from being the setting for a horror movie. "My exhibit is over there, through those doors." Ms. Danvers said. "Your exhibit?" I asked. "I conceptualized it." She nodded. "I spent the better part of the year gathering the pieces for it. It's mine as much as it is anyone's." "So, it's not just a traveling exhibit going from museum to museum?" I asked having some faint notion about how such things were reported to work. "Not this one." Ms. Danvers seemed inordinately pleased that I'd asked. "Oh, the pieces travel here and there, but separately. It took quite a lot of work to get them all together here at the same time." "Why go to that much trouble?" I asked. "What are you? A reporter?" Ms. Danvers laughed. "I don't know. I was just always fascinated with the myths of a goddess of love and beauty and fertility since I was a little girl and first heard of Aphrodite. From there it was Venus. And then the lesser known Cythera, Cypris, and Acidahlia. And from there-" "What did you just say?" I interrupted, feeling like all of the blood had just drained from my body out through the soles of my feet. "Acidahlia?" "Why, yes." Ms. Danvers looked nonplussed from my interruption. "Acidahlia is sometimes believed to be a demoness or a succubus, but many believe that she is another name to the same myth as Aphrodite as worshipped by a splinter cult." "I see." I said faintly. And, indeed, if you could somehow expand your consciousness to accept the idea of a real goddess appearing to a mortal, then I was beginning to put a label on what had happened to me. "Well, I need to check on a few things if you want to go ahead on in and see the exhibit dear." Ms. Danvers said when I didn't expand. I wasn't sure I wanted to anymore. I wasn't sure that I wanted to know anything else. But, I felt a need to know that drove me to look. What I saw made my hair stand on end. Many cultures celebrated a deity that held within her purview love, beauty, sexuality, and fertility. Some saw this individual as a goddess, others as a demoness depending on that cultures other mores and memes. One such entity was named Acidahlia. Perhaps even more frightening was the mention that in her Roman characterization of Venus, she was either the bride or concubine of her brother Mars, the god of war, who was also married to Narine, the Roman goddess of Valor. Oh, my God! I thought before I stopped myself. Did I just go toe to toe with the freaking god of war? And not only win but fuck his wife?! That gibbering thought was the last I had before Ms. Danvers was kneeling over me, shaking me awake. I made my apologies for causing a scene and promised that no I didn't need an ambulance. Then I extricated myself and got as far away from that place as I could in as little time as possible. The sun set on me in that same park, still thinking. And the conclusion that I came to was more than a little unsettling. The ancient stories are full of gods and goddesses walking among mortals and even seducing them. In a way, science has taken the place of gods and modern man bends his knee to that instead. But, there are so many, so very many things that science can't explain. What if the ancients had it right? What if a man in love with love somehow gained the attention of the goddess of love and beauty? What if her jealous paramour came after her to retrieve her? Epilogue. I probably shouldn't have but I fell into the habit of buying a single rose each day and taking that rose down to the small pond in the center of the park where I used to sit on Valentine's and throwing it and a piece of chocolate into the water. Water just seemed more fitting since most myths agreed that she came up out of the water. I eventually went back to the museum and studied that exhibit forwards and backwards. Then, when it was broken down and shipped away, I began picking Olivia's, I mean Ms. Danvers, brain. One thing led to another and we began to see each other outside of the museum as well. The thought occurred to me that I should feel guilty at one point, but Ms. Danvers is never so articulate and animated as when we are discussing the old myths. Something might have developed there, but in November I received a surprise package at my front door in the shape of a little redheaded baby girl. It took some doing to get the courts to see things my way, but I'm not going to back away from any fight when it comes to little Danae who I am sure is my daughter. Speaking of that, since my daughter is also the daughter of either a goddess or demoness of love and beauty, I have continued to work out with MMA. But, I have also started collecting guns. Somehow, I have a feeling that her dear old dad is going to need to have some back up around in a few years. Right now, she is too young to even know what is happening when we go down to the pond and her daddy throws a rose and a chocolate in. In a few years, she might ask me why. When she does, I already know what I will say. I'll say I don't really know how it started. Maybe it had something to do with not getting any Valentine's Day cards at school as a kid...