23 comments/ 32451 views/ 10 favorites You Think Making Love is Easy? By: You Think Making Love is Easy? One night, lying in my bed, Danae was quizzing me on what I'd eaten that day. I'd had a bagel with light cream cheese for breakfast, which apparently disappointed her. "Look, you know you'd feel better if you stuck to the plan, right?" she asked. I sighed. "Sure, I know." "You'd have lots more energy, and maybe you'd get rid of this," she said poking me hard in the belly with a finger. That hurt. Tears stung my eyes, and I was glad it was dark. No, I didn't have Danae's washboard abs, but I wasn't exactly the Pillsbury Doughboy either. Before I met her, I'd been working out a few times a week and not eating too badly. I was curvy. I thought she liked my body. I turned my back to her and pretended I was falling asleep. "I'm sorry, Gwenny," she whispered after a short while. "I know I go too far sometimes. It's just that I want you to be healthy and happy because...I love you." I gasped. Turning over, I searched for her face in the dark. "You do?" Danae scooted closer and whispered, "Yes." We kissed, and the tears that had been filling my eyes spilled over. "Do you believe in love at first sight?" I blubbered. "Uh-huh," she murmured, kissing me again. "I love you too," I said and smiled against her lips. Sex between Danae and me had gotten better as the days went by. I was less inhibited but couldn't help feeling something was missing. Work and exercise classes and Danae herself kept me so busy, I didn't have much time to dwell on it though. There always seemed to be a whirl of activity surrounding her. I felt really lucky and really in love. The love buoyed me up, made me feel as if I was floating on air. My "food plan" wasn't exactly going so well though. Though my kitchen was filled with "good food," on the nights Danae wasn't around, I found myself running to Burger King for a Whopper and fries. I felt horrible afterward, but that didn't stop me the next time. I also had a secret stash of chocolate tucked way back in one of my desk drawers and a package of Pepperidge Farm cookies hidden in a shoebox in my closet. I'd never felt compelled to hoard food before. Yeah, I was turning into a closet fatty. After work one day, I stopped at a bookstore. I love to read and thought a book would be the perfect thing to share with Danae. What kind of book though? It had to be something special. Finally, I settled on The Other Side of Welcome, a new novel by Edward Rankin, an author whose short stories I loved. Standing in line at the checkout, I found a pretty bookmark and a little card to go with it. Having a nice gift for Danae excited me. Inside the front cover of the book, I wrote Danae, I hope you enjoy Rankin's work as much as I do. I love you. Gwen. She was coming over that night after her last class, so I wrapped it in pretty paper and left it on my coffee table to await her arrival. Danae and I spent the whole evening together. We went shopping at the mall and then out to dinner. The food was really good and a nice "sanctioned" break from my plan. When we'd finished, the waiter brought around a dessert tray. "Can I tempt you ladies with a piece of Death-by-Chocolate or Peanut Butter Dream pie?" he asked. "No thanks," Danae responded without looking up or even asking me. The waiter must've seen me eyeballing the pie, because he tried again. "How about one dessert and two forks?" he suggested. "Yeah, we could share," I said, winking at Danae. "You don't really need any dessert, baby. Do you?" It wasn't really a question. I shook my head and looked away, and Danae asked for the check. At home, she seemed excited about the gift. She looked inside at the inscription, thanked me with a sweet kiss, and laid the book back on the coffee table. We sat close together, holding hands. "So, you're still sticking to your plan, right?" Danae asked. "Yeah, pretty much," I replied. "What does that mean?" "It means for the most part, yes, I am sticking to the plan," I said. "Hmm." She looked at me with one eyebrow raised. "Not sure I like the sound of that." "I don't want to talk about it right now," I murmured, nuzzling her neck. "Gwen? Oh..." Danae gasped as my teeth nipped at her skin. She never did finish what she was about to say because my hands were under her top by then, my thumbs raking over her nipples, as I kissed and licked her neck. Running my tongue up the side of her neck, I sucked her earlobe and briefly flicked the tip of my tongue into her ear. Our mouths found each other and clung together, our teeth grazing and tongues dancing. Danae lifted her arms, and I pulled her top off over her head. Then she did the same for me. My pants came off next at Danae's hurried insistence. Our breasts rubbed together, our nipples erect, glancing off the other's. Our legs entwined, and I slid my hands down the back of her pants to squeeze her beautiful ass. Writhing together, we rolled off the couch and onto the floor, still kissing and touching. Danae scooted her body across the carpet, away from the coffee table, and, still attached to her, I followed. Lying on top of me, she kissed her way down my chest to my breasts. Her hands pushed them together, jamming both nipples into her mouth at once. Unable to get good suction with both, she let one breast go and closed her mouth around the opposite nipple and sucked hard. My back arched, and I held her head in my hands, urging her on. Her teeth scraped across my areola and closed around the turgid nub, eliciting a guttural moan from me. Danae's pants were still on, but open in front, so I slipped my hands inside along her hipbones and pushed them down. She kicked them off and spread her legs, pushing her mound hard against mine. Wrapping my own legs around her waist, I thrust my hips up, so that our pussies were rubbing together, our juices mingling as we slid back and forth. Both of us were moaning and panting by then. "I need something inside," I gasped. "Please. Something inside me." Slipping a hand in between us, Danae ran her fingers along my drenched slit. Her long fingers glided up and down between my lips before two of them plunged inside me. Feeling along the top of my channel, she found my sweet spot and pressed her fingers into it, rubbing in tight circles. Moaning her name, I came hard and fast, my pussy clenched around her fingers. She gave me no rest though. Almost immediately, she turned her body and positioned her crotch over my face, her face at mine. Pulling me open with her fingers, she sunk her face into my slippery cunt and sucked on my clit. She'd suck and then release. Suck and release. I've heard that nobody eats pussy better than another woman, but in my case that wasn't really true. Danae's pussy was more open and meaty than mine, with the glistening inner lips hanging outside. Holding her ass in my hands, I pulled her down to my mouth and pushed my tongue into the crease between the inner and outer lips on one side. I licked down one side and up the other, then sucked the dangling flesh into my mouth. Just as my tongue pushed into Danae's slick channel, my desire evaporated completely, with a suddenness that left me cold. I thought I felt her falter too, but she carried on, licking and slurping away at my unresponsive flesh. With a half-hearted effort, I licked along her slit again. The smell of her, which had always fueled my arousal before, was having the opposite effect now. I dropped my head to the floor and looked up at her pussy. The rippled curtains of flesh were repulsive. I hated the way they stretched in my mouth as I sucked on them. I really didn't want to do it anymore. Not at all. Sensing my discomfort, Danae raised her head and sat down next to me on the carpet. "You're not into this at all, are you?" she asked, wiping my wetness from her face with the palms of her hands. I sat up too. "I'm sorry," I mumbled. "I don't know what happened." "It's fine," she said, not looking at me. She stood and walked into the bathroom and closed the door. I heard the shower turn on a moment later. I sat there on the floor for a while, feeling numb and defeated. Finally, I pulled on my panties and the sweater I'd been wearing and turned on the TV. A few minutes later, Danae went into my bedroom and got into bed. With some irritation, I realized I'd been hoping she'd go home. I fell asleep on the couch and woke up disoriented some time after midnight. After a quick shower, I crawled into bed beside Danae. We didn't speak, but I could tell she was awake. Early the next morning, I was awakened by something falling on the quilt over me. I opened my eyes to see Danae upending the kitchen trashcan over my bed. "What the fuck is this?" she screamed, as the Ben & Jerry's container from a few nights before rolled off of me, the last drips of melted ice cream dribbling onto my quilt. "What the fuck are you doing?" I screamed back, sitting up and pushing away the garbage-strewn quilt. Burger King wrappers and an empty Fritos bag fluttered to the floor. "You lied to me, bitch!" Danae yelled as she threw the garbage can on the floor and stomped back to the kitchen. I followed and found her ripping open drawers and cupboard doors, rummaging through the contents. She opened the fridge and found a container of French onion dip hidden in the butter compartment and hurled it at me. As it hit the wall, the lid came off, and the contents spattered along the wall and floor. "Stop it," I screamed. "Fuck you, you goddamn liar!" Danae tossed over her shoulder, as she headed toward the living room. She jerked open my desk drawers one by one, causing paper clips and errant pens and mail to scatter across the room. She found the bag of chocolates and hurled that at me as well. I caught it and flung it back, hitting her in the stomach. This only fueled her rage, and she stomped on the bag a couple of times with her bare feet before pushing me out of the way and running back to the bedroom. When I got there, she was pulling all the boxes off the top shelf of my closet. She ripped a box open, and the package of cookies fell out. She seemed to lose steam then and sunk down to the floor, dropping the box beside her. "What the hell is the matter with you, Gwen?" she asked in a weary voice. "What the hell is the matter with you, crazy bitch?" I yelled. "You fucking dumped garbage on my bed. You trashed my apartment. You have no right!" My hands were trembling, so I crossed my arms across my chest, tucking them into my armpits. "I was only trying to help you," Danae continued. "Instead of letting me make a fool out of myself, why didn't you just say you didn't want my help?" I said nothing. I simply looked at my toes and dug my fingers into my t-shirt. I just wanted her gone. Danae shook her head and leaned her forehead on her knees. "I can't do this anymore," she said. ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ Octavia is sitting next to me at a bar just over the line in her district. I'm nursing a beer; she has one of those little cocktails with an umbrella in it. We are invisible to the mortal world, of course, although I have been making sure that nobody is interested in sitting at our end of the bar. "Seriously?" I ask. "Two women, their heads between each other's thighs, one's butt up in the air, the other's exposed by her bent legs. Even I could hit those targets." "That big, huh?" "No, not at all," I sputter. "I'm not that bad a shot." She laughs. "Julius, if you hadn't been so good at auras, you'd have flunked out of the academy. You were a horrible shot. You hit the instructor one time." "Antonius." I nod, and feel a smile coming over my own face. I haven't really gotten that much better since then. Sometimes, I didn't even manage to hit buttocks. I shot one guy in the butt and his "true love" in the right boob. The darts dissolve upon impact, of course, and people are more than happy to consider the momentary discomfort as just another one of life's pains in the ass. But this woman apparently thought that she was being groped so she turned around and decked the guy standing behind her, who, of course, turned out to be Mr. Right. "So we're not talking big girls here?" I smile again and take another sip of beer. "Danae -- the lesbian? -- has an amazing body. And Gwen must have been working out in the last few weeks too, because she looked incredible. Not big at all. Perfect, in fact." "What is it with men?" Octavia asks. "Why are you all the ass-half-empty types? What's wrong with a nice curvy butt, anyway?" "Octavia! You made a joke." I become conscious that I am staring at her as if she has just constructed a scale model of the Taj Mahal out of Popsicle sticks. "Sorry," I mumble. "You should be," Octavia says with a toss of her hair. "I make plenty of jokes. I know you all think of me as some sort of airhead future heiress, but there's a brain in here, pal." "But you are, aren't you?" "An airhead?" She turns on me quickly. "No, no. A future heiress." "There's nothing wrong with wanting the best." She's become defensive. "I've put in five hard years as a cupid." "I know, I know." I try soothing her. "So have you heard whether you got it yet?" "Not yet. Oh, Julius, it would be so nice. They're such a great couple. Apart from the money, there's just such love between them, and I know that their little girl is going to be the most-loved baby in the world. Whether she has my soul or somebody else's. Touch me, Julius." "Excuse me?" Octavia is a nice kid, but we have been taught to avoid touching, whether it's mortals or immortals. "Touch me and let me show you." She extends her hand toward me, the fingers splayed apart, and I instinctively meet it with my own. I nearly pull back, so odd is the effect of seeing her memories through her eyes. We watch a Bill and Elise Collins walking through the park, the woman quite pregnant, the two of them obviously in love. It is an idyllic scene, and it takes effort to pull my hand back. "Wow!" I exclaim. "I didn't know we could do that. How long have you known that?" "Since the academy. Sybilla and I used to . . ." She starts blushing. "Don't tell anyone, okay, Julius?" "So how much time do you spend watching those two?" Her blush deepens. "Got it," I say. "Don't tell them that, either. So when do you find out?" She shrugs. "If Elise delivers before my time's up, it won't be me. Can't have a baby without a soul, you know. They'll just assign somebody else." I know that as well as Octavia does. Our rebirth into the mortal world depends on both hard work and luck. Like me, Octavia's previous life ended when she had died before being baptized. Until recently, Catholic theology had confined those children to "Limbo." Recently, though, the Church had had an epiphany and decided maybe that wasn't such a nice thing to do after all. Yeah, like they knew squat. The truth is that those kids become the world's elves and cupids and fairies and leprechauns. If we keep our noses clean and do our work, we're entitled to be reborn into a new body. If we fuck up, we get recycled for another five-year stint. Rumor has it, in fact, that the head honchos are about to make it seven years. Medicine is doing so much better at keeping babies alive that the supply of immortals is dwindling. We cupids are being assigned larger and larger districts, and they've pretty much done away with leprechauns altogether. "Good luck, honey." "You too, Julius. I heard you made your quota last month." I smile into my beer. Of course I made my fucking quota. They wouldn't let me back into the warehouse until I had emptied my quiver. And the warehouse was the only place I could get two darts filled with the "anti" that I needed to dissolve the ill-starred relationship between Gwen and Danae. It was a bitch, really, with the holidays. The college students were off until January fourteenth, and we were absolutely forbidden to go near high schools. If someone wants to marry their high school sweetheart, that's their business, and I wish them the best of luck. But a teenage body filled with both hormones and a dart filled with love serum is a powder keg. College students are bad enough, the randy little rabbits. So I hung out in bars, at parties, and at churches. When I found two auras that were above minimally congruent -- young, old, gay, lesbian, whatever -- I took the shot. I was determined to get back to Gwen and Danae and undo the damage that I had done. I had studied their auras at the party where I had inadvertently put them together. Their relationship was destined for incredible highs and soul-searing lows before it finally flamed out; the "anti" would just hurry the process along. In truth, I have never seen the stuff work so quickly. Love serum works fast because it has to. In most cases, there is a single moment that will determine whether or not a couple will ever get together. Our job is to arrive there before that moment and make it work. But "anti" is usually quite slow; relationships take time to end. In this case, I took it as a sign that Gwen was never intended to be a lesbian. Or perhaps it worked so quickly because no other cupid had ever been so stupid as to put together two such mismatched auras. "Uh-oh, check it out. The fox at one o'clock and the guy at the end of the bar." Octavia's excitement pulls me from my reverie. I turn around and find the guy first and then look back over my shoulder for the woman. I turn back in horror. Octavia has already pulled two darts from her quiver. "Octavia, no. Please." My voice is a hushed gasp, barely able to make itself heard. I am extremely conscious of the inappropriateness of my request. We are in Octavia's district, and she is entitled to match whomever she likes. In all honesty, their auras are congruent, although just barely. Octavia stops. We are close enough that she recognizes the urgency of my request. She raises an eyebrow, inviting me to continue. "It's her," I blurt out. "Her?" She invites me to continue. "Gwen." "Your lesbian?" She looks back. "She is a cutie. Nice eyes." "They're opalescent." "Listen to you, Julius! Opalescent? Somebody's been spending too much time with his dictionary. But seriously, you don't think her aura matches up with his?" She nods at the guy. "It does," I admit. "A little. But . . . will you touch me, Octavia?" As she extends her arm toward mine, I pray that I have the same success showing her the pictures in my mind as she had in showing me hers. I have no idea how it works, so I simply try to revisit the scene at the New Year's Eve party, when Gwen and Luke were physically close and their auras appeared to be making love. I hear a gasp, and open one eye to peek over at Octavia. Her eyes are closed, her mouth parted, her breathing reduced to shallow puffs of air. Her other hand is clenched around the rail that marks the edge of the bar. I hear small squeaks coming from deep in her throat. The memory has long since ended. Finally, she cracks open her own eyes, narrow slits that accuse me as she slowly detaches her hand from mine, one finger at a time. "You fucking bastard," she says, her voice hissing from between her lips. "Are you all right, Octavia?" "How am I supposed to finish out the last month when I've seen that? When I know that Julius Cupidus goes around making love like that while the rest of us are groping blindly through the fog." "What fog?" I ask, speaking very slowly. "You're not blind." "I fucking might as well be! Now that I know what your little friend over there really looks like, I can't possibly match her with -- oh, my fucking God!" I turn again, afraid to find out what sort of trouble Gwen might have managed to get herself into. Wasn't it bad enough that she was stuck with me as a Cupid? But nothing unusual is happening. Gwen is sitting down, ordering a drink of her own. The guy at the end of the table had given her a quick glance, but wasn't making any overt moves. Puzzled, I pivot on the bar stool to ask Octavia for an explanation. She is staring at Gwen, or more specifically at the aura above her head. You Think Making Love is Easy? "You can see it now, can't you?" I ask. She rests a hand on my arm. "It's incredible," she says. "I can see it for everyone in the bar. I can even see yours. It's almost a perfect match for hers. No wonder you like her so much." "I don't like her," I protest, perhaps a bit too quickly and loudly. We aren't supposed to fall in love with mortals. The story of Cupid and Psyche is a case study for every incoming class at the academy. "Okay, sure," Octavia says before her mood suddenly changes. "Oh, Julius, God. Why didn't you tell me before?" "How was I supposed to know you couldn't see it?" She is crying now, tears diluting her drink and pooling on the heavily varnished bar. "Octavia, what is it?" "All those people I matched up," she says in spurts between her sobs. "I -- I could have . . ." "Honey, no. You have a lower divorce rate than any other cupid in the Midwest." "Except you!" "But you've matched so many more people than I have. And most of them are still together." "But maybe they should have been with someone else," she wails. I have no idea what to say to that, but she has found an answer on her own. Her voice is breathlessly girlish when she speaks to me again, her hand extended. "Julius, look!" I touch her again. I see her memory of a couple that she saw on the street a few weeks ago, one that she matched up nearly five years ago, shortly after she took over the district. They have a small toddler walking between them, and the woman is pregnant again. "They're perfect, Octavia. I couldn't have done any better than that." She blinks and looks at me again. Her eyes are still rimmed with tears, but her mouth is turned up in a smile. "That's not what I saw when I matched them, Julius. What I saw was this." She concentrates to dredge up another memory for me, and it becomes obvious that the couple's auras have grown radiantly similar over the intervening years. I am stunned; we had never been taught anything in the academy about auras changing after a successful match has been made. Octavia, however, appears to be experiencing some sort of rapture. Her face is aglow, her eyes flashing with delight. "So when do you get them together?" she asks. "Who?" "Your girlfriend, Gwen and, what was his name, Luke?" "Luke," I agree. "I don't know. I have to find someplace, some event, that one of them is going to, and then push the other one there." "Push?" "You know -- influence." She has no idea what I am talking about. Apparently it is my turn to surprise her again. "You know, suggest that they go there?" "You talk to them?" she squeals. "Of course I don't talk to them. I just sort of push them, sort of like I just pushed that guy sitting at the table behind us to order one of those frou-frou drinks you're drinking." "What do you need, Billy?" The bartender is looking straight through us at the table of construction workers in the corner. "Gimme one o' them Pink Passions," Billy says. He is the oldest and toughest of the four. Our side of the bar goes quiet in a heartbeat. "A what?" the bartender asks in disbelief. "Them Pink Passions," Billy repeats. "With the umbrella." I look over at Octavia and waggle my eyebrows. She is nearly hopping up and down with excitement. "Do it again, do it again! Show me how." She extends a hand and I push Gwen to leave the bar. Billy is reacting to the ribbing from the guys at the next table with more than a little hostility, and I would hate to have Gwen in the middle of a bar fight. For that matter, I have no wish to watch a bar fight either. I push Billy to laugh and change his order to a PBR. The guys at the other table laugh as well, and buy Billy and his buddies a pitcher. Octavia finishes her drink, and announces that she has to be going. She is the only close friend I have had over the two years -- ever since the cupid in the district to the west of mine was replaced -- and I am reluctant to let her go. But she is clearly eager to use her newfound powers, and so we wish each other luck in case we don't have a chance to meet again in the month before our shifts end. I watch her fly off and finish my beer in quiet before turning my attention back to the Gwen problem. Perhaps another visit to her apartment is in order. Maybe I'll get a clue there. Five days later, I have the shot again. Gwen is in line at the local Borders bookstore, attending a book signing by Edward Rankin. She holds in her hand a dog-eared book of short stories as well as a much newer novel. I am overjoyed when I watch Luke walk in and get in line right behind her, and I find myself spending time watching their auras circle each other as they strike up a conversation. Luke asks why she has two books with her, and Gwen is adorably flustered as she tries to avoid explaining that the friend for whom she bought the book, and whom she still wants to have it, is her former lover. They are getting close to the head of the line, though, and I realize that I need to do my job. I have to move a little bit to make sure of my aim. The line has grown behind them, and my line of fire is slightly blocked by the guy standing behind Luke, a trim, tanned man in his 60s with a full head of white hair. I take a short flight to the right and pull out a pair of darts. I am smiling as I fit them to the bow, smiling as I pull back the string. I am smiling as I let them go, watching them as they speed toward their targets. But I am not smiling any more. I am hovering there, stunned, as Luke sneezes, and his butt shifts ever so slightly to the left, turning his back right pocket, the one with his damn wallet, toward me. I heard a chiropractor once tell a patient of hers -- a patient with whom she has since had three years of blissful happiness -- that he shouldn't wear his wallet in his back pocket because it could have a bad effect on his posture. It can have a bad effect on your love life as well. The dart glances off Luke's wallet and slices into the older guy's thigh. "Bless you." Gwen and the older guy have said it simultaneously and are now staring at each other over Luke's head as he recovers from his unusually virulent sneeze. They are in love. Fuck me with a spoon. ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ About a week after Danae walked out of my life, Teddy Winkler walked in. We met at the bookstore while standing in line for a book signing by the author, Edward Rankin. I'd brought Danae's book as well as one of my own. So, there I was, waiting in line and chatting a bit with the cute guy behind me. He was tall and broad shouldered with dark hair and a killer smile. I was just getting lost in that smile when his face crumpled and he erupted with an enormous, gut-wrenching sneeze that doubled him over. Teddy was behind him, and our eyes met over Cute Guy's bent form. "Bless you!" we said in unison. Before Cute Guy could recover and straighten his body, he sneezed again. And again. I fished a couple tissues out of my purse and handed them to him. Teddy's eyes never left my face, and I have to admit, I was quite taken with him as well. Cute Guy stood between us sniffling and blowing his nose for a moment, then sneezed again. "God," he muttered, and walked away, giving up his place in line. Teddy and I looked after him, then back at each other and smiled. He had the most striking blue eyes, made even more vivid by his dark tan and the shock of white hair falling over his forehead. "I hope he's okay," he said. I looked in the direction Cute Guy had gone and said, "Yeah, me too." We continued to chat as the line moved forward. Teddy was a retired businessman and a widower. I thought he was very good looking for an older guy, well built but slim in his cuffed corduroys and sweater. He also smelled really good. His three grandchildren and his cats were the joy of his life, and he loved to read and listen to music and eat. I was charmed, for sure. Teddy exuded old-world courtliness and sweetness and, strangely, calm. After the emotional roller coaster I'd been on, it felt nice. After we'd both met the author and had our books signed, Teddy asked if he could buy me a cup of coffee at the coffee shop attached to the store. This sort of thing never happened to me, and now twice in one month I was being picked up by a perfect stranger. This was turning out to be a hell of a month. We sat at a small table, I with a cup of Earl Grey and Teddy with a cup of coffee and some sort of Danish. Leaning back in his chair with his legs crossed, Teddy was the picture of confidence and ease. He listened patiently while I talked, and his comments and questions were thoughtful and interested without being too intrusive. "So, fair Gwen, any New Year's resolutions?" he asked. I thought for a moment. "Not really. I don't believe in them." "Good." he patted my hand on the table. "I don't either. People rarely keep them and then become disgusted with themselves when they don't. You sure you don't want something to eat? I'll share my pastry with you." "Oh, no thanks. I'm trying to be good." I rolled my eyes. Teddy laughed. "I don't even try. I love to eat. I just make sure I exercise enough to burn it all off." He loved to eat. Normal stuff, too. Imagine that. "I've been very naughty lately, I'm afraid," I said, leaning my elbows on the table. Teddy leaned to the side, and his eyes trailed down my body and back up to my face. "You look good to me, darlin'. Damn good." I cleared my throat, "Uh, thank you." "Sure you don't want half?" He grinned. "Positive. I haven't exercised at all this week." "Why not?" I hesitated and then thought, what the hell? "Oh, I had a messy break up last week." "Gad, this is just awful!" Teddy exclaimed, laying his pastry down and wiping his fingers on a paper napkin. "Look." he picked it up again and tapped it on the table. "Stale." "That's a dunker for sure." I laughed. He pushed the offending treat away. "No thanks," he said and took a sip of coffee. "I'm sorry you've had a bad time, sweetie. Want to talk about it?" "Teddy." I laid my hand over his on the table. "We barely know each other. Surely, you don't want to hear about my sorry love life, do you?" Laying his other hand atop mine and turning the one on the table palm up so that my hand was sandwiched between his, he said, "I think I'd like to hear anything you want to tell me." Teddy's hands felt warm and dry and comforting. I stared into his blue eyes and felt tears prickle my own. His sincerity and kindness blew me away. As I looked down at our joined hands, a single tear overflowed and plopped on my cheek. Teddy reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded and pressed white handkerchief and laid it on the table in front of me. I didn't know men still carried them, and the sweet gesture touched my heart. "I'm sorry," I blubbered, holding the hanky to one eye and then the other. "Don't be," whispered Teddy, still holding my hand on top of the table. "Tell me. You'll feel better." Tell him I did, though I don't know why. I tried to keep it brief and wound it up with the book, which I'd opened to the inscription I'd written. "And here I am," I ended. "So, you're a lesbian?" Teddy looked a bit disturbed. For some reason this made me laugh. "No, I'm not." "Then why the woman?" "Honestly, I have no idea. I've never been attracted to a woman before. It just happened." I shrugged. Teddy sat back and blew out a deep breath between pursed lips. "Would it bother you if I was?" I asked. "Yes! Yes it would. I'm very attracted to you. More so to you than to anyone I've met in a long, long time, Gwen." Somewhat taken aback, I glanced at my watch. "Oh, my God. I didn't realize it was this late. I have to go, but I don't want to." "And I don't want you to," Teddy said, taking my hand again. As I looked into his eyes, the warmth of his hand traveled along my arm, down my chest and abdomen, and landed in my groin, creating a dull, empty ache. Yes, this was turning out to be one hell of a month. "Would you have dinner with me some time?" he asked. "Tomorrow?" I nodded. "I'd love to." My car seemed to find its own way to the Pilates studio. I didn't remember driving there, my head was so full of what had just happened. Teddy's handkerchief was crumpled in my pocket, and I pulled it out and held it to my nose. The light ghost of his scent clung to it. I sat for a moment, smelling him and gathering my courage, then grabbed my duffel bag and headed inside to find Danae. Afterward, the relief was tremendous. I'd given Danae the book, and both of us apologized. We talked for a while and agreed that we'd missed the other's company and should hang out once in a while. My class had gone well, and it felt good to be exercising again. Closure on the past and the prospect of a potential new relationship had me feeling optimistic and wearing a smile on my face. When I arrived home, the message light was blinking on my machine. Teddy's voice made my smile grow even wider. "Hello, sweet girl. It's Teddy. Uh, I know it's probably too soon to call, but I wanted to make sure you were all right, since you were upset earlier. I can't stop thinking about you. I'm sure it's soon to tell you something like that too, but there it is." He paused for a moment. "Well, if I don't have you convinced that I'm a perverted old stalker, give me a call back. I'm usually up late. Bye, darlin'." I was hoping he'd call. The next message was also from Teddy. He'd forgotten to give me his phone number. Chuckling, I wrote it down and dialed. He picked up on the second ring. "Teddy?" "Gwen! How's my sweetheart?" "Your sweetheart? Already?" "Hey, I know a good thing when I see it," he replied. "I think you're the sweetheart." "Well, thank you, darlin'. I'm glad we're on the same page. You haven't answered my question though. How are you doing?" "Great! I had a long talk with Danae, and it felt really good to get back to working out." "Wonderful. I'm happy for you. So, did she like the book?" he asked. "Yeah, I think so. It's hard to tell with her. She seemed touched that I had it signed for her though. She also seemed happy to see me. We've decided to hang out just as friends once in a while. I think that's the part of our relationship I really miss the most." "Good for you. So, the bad stuff is water under the bridge now, and the two of you can move on." "Yep," I paused for a moment. "I'm glad you called, Teddy." We talked for a long time about all sorts of things. Teddy was as comfortable as an old pair of slippers. We agreed to have dinner the next night at an Italian restaurant he knew. Teddy picked me up the next evening promptly at seven o'clock, looking very nice in a turtleneck and sport coat. Again, he smelled wonderful. The weather was mild, and I was able to get by with just a leather blazer over my jeans and blouse. Teddy's car was a sleek, black BMW that smelled like new leather inside. He drove for twenty minutes before arriving at the restaurant. The place was rich in atmosphere, with checkered tablecloths and drippy candles stuck in Chianti bottles on all the tables. Italian music played in the background, making me feel as if I'd just stepped into a movie. Our waitress, an aged Italian woman flirted with Teddy shamelessly. Teddy seemed to enjoy it, and at one point had her sitting on his lap briefly. I let him order for me, against my better judgment. The food was delicious though, and I ate and drank too much and enjoyed myself tremendously. We ended the meal with tiramisu (at Teddy's insistence) and coffee. I hadn't felt so comfortable with anyone in a long time. When I told Teddy as much, he reached across the table, took my hand and laced our fingers together. The wine and the music and the candlelight gave the evening a soft romantic glow. Teddy moved his chair closer to mine, his fingers sliding up the hand he held, under my cuff, to feel the pulse at my wrist. "I'm dying to kiss you," he murmured. Breathless, I leaned toward him and laid my hand on his cheek. Teddy touched his lips to mine, very gently at first, then more urgently. His lips tasted of coffee and sweet tiramisu, and he parted them and touched the tip of his tongue to mine. I broke the kiss first and whispered, "You're a really good kisser." "I should be. I've had a lot of years to practice," Teddy said with a chuckle. "Let's get outta here." Back at my place, we sat side by side on my couch, Teddy's arm around me, my head resting against his shoulder. I slipped my boots off and tucked my legs up on the couch, wrapping my arms around Teddy's waist. He stroked my hair back off my face and began kissing my forehead, my cheeks, then my nose—light, feathery kisses, a mere brush of the lips. He finally reached my lips and grazed them with his own. I'd grown impatient and kissed him full on, my lips open, and my tongue swiping across his bottom lip. His arms tightened around me as his lips parted, and he sucked my tongue into his mouth. We kissed for a long time, though he made no move to take things further. I didn't feel comfortable taking the lead, thinking Teddy, in his old-fashioned way, might not appreciate it. So when he leaned his head back on the cushion and said, "I should probably go. Don't want to wear out my welcome," I said nothing. I walked him to the door and said, "Thank you for dinner. It was wonderful." "Any time, Gwen. Any time." Teddy pressed his lips to my cheek, then opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. "Good night, dear one." "Teddy?" You don't have to go. He turned back to me. "Um, nothing." I shook my head. "Good night." We spent a lot of time together over the next several days, sitting together reading, walking in the park, going out to dinner and to the movies. It was nice. Comfortable. Sweet. We'd kiss and touch, but whenever things started to heat up, Teddy would pull away and give me some homespun cliché about not rushing into "hanky panky" or not being an "eager beaver" or whatever. On Friday night, we'd planned to return to Angelo's for dinner. I wore my "little black dress" with some sexy underwear underneath. During the meal, I ran the pointy toe of one of my black pumps up and down Teddy's leg. I leaned forward a lot so he could look into my cleavage. I flirted and batted my eyelashes at him. I drank a lot of wine so I wouldn't lose my nerve. Tonight, I was going to have him. Back at my apartment, Teddy sat on the couch, and I excused myself for a moment. In my bedroom, I took off my dress, turned back my bed, and lit several candles around the room. I spritzed perfume into the air and walked through the mist, scenting the room and myself. When I strolled back into the living room wearing only red and black ruffled rumba panties and matching bra, black thigh-high fishnets, and black pumps, I thought Teddy's poor eyeballs were going to pop out of his head. "Holy smokes!" he gasped. I smiled. "Do you need anything, love? Another glass of wine, perhaps?" "Uh, no. I'm fine, thanks." "What about me, Teddy? Do you need me?" I sat down on his lap, draping an arm across his shoulders. "Yes," he whispered. "Yes, what?" I trailed the backs of my fingers under his chin and along his neck and wiggled against his erection, which was pressing into the back of my leg. "Oh, yes. I need you." "That's good," I murmured between kisses. "Because I need you too. Now. Tonight." Standing, I held my hand out to him and led him to the bedroom. I turned in his arms, and we kissed again. With his face cupped between my hands, I looked up into those blue eyes and said, "I love you, Teddy." You Think Making Love is Easy? He closed his eyes and turned his face to kiss one of my palms, then the other. "I love you too, Gwen. Very much." Making love with Teddy was...nice. There were no fireworks, but it was sweet and slow and satisfying, I guess. I'd missed having a man wrapped around me, and his body was toned and muscular without being bulky. Afterward, Teddy rolled off of me and collapsed onto his back. "Boy howdy," he breathed. "Not bad for an old timer, eh?" I giggled. "Boy howdy?" "Mmmm, you are delicious, darlin'." "Thanks. You are too." I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew, Teddy was up putting his clothes on. "Teddy?" "I'm sorry, sweetie. I was trying not to wake you." He came over and sat on the side of the bed. "You're leaving?" "I need to get back to the girls. God only knows what kind of mischief they'll get into if I leave them alone all night." "The girls?" "My cats." He was leaving me because he had to get back to his cats? Okay, so there'd be no round two. Teddy patted my leg. "Sweet dreams, darlin'. I'll talk to you tomorrow." A couple nights later, he invited me to his place for dinner and to meet "the girls." Teddy's house was huge and brick, and his back yard butted up to the golf course of a country club. I followed the driveway around the house and parked, then made my way to the back door and rang the bell "Well, hello, darlin'!" Teddy called, as he opened the door. "I'm glad to see you." He ushered me into a mudroom, where he hung up my coat, then pulled me into his arms for a kiss. I gave a start as something swiped against my legs. A cat. I'd forgotten about them. Teddy chuckled and picked it up. "This pretty lady is Midnight." To the cat, he said in a singsong voice, "Daddy's girl needs some attention, huh?" He rubbed its face against his cheek and kissed its nose. I am not a cat person. I don't hate them, but I don't especially like them either. Okay, I'm not even really middle-of-the-road on them. Scale of one to ten, one being hate and ten being love, I'm probably about a three. Truthfully, this little display was doing nothing for me. "Come on, darlin," Teddy called over his shoulder to me, carrying the cat out of the room. I followed him down a hallway and into a large family room with a lit fireplace at one end and a bar in the corner. He set the cat on the floor and handed me a martini. A martini. Alrighty. Scale of one to ten on a martini? About a four, I'd say. I like them better than cats but not much. I took a sip anyway and nearly choked. "Are you going to try to take advantage of me with all this alcohol?" Teddy laughed and sat down on a sofa close to the fire, patting the seat next to him. Just as I was about to sit there, another cat hopped up and curled itself into a ball against Teddy's leg. This one was smaller and tiger striped. Answered to the name "Tigger" apparently. Teddy scooped Tigger into his lap and bade me to sit, so I did. Out of nowhere, a large calico jumped up and squeezed itself into Teddy's lap as well. "And here's our Bitsy. You sure can't tell now, but she was a tiny little thing when we first got her." Midnight was rubbing herself against my legs again, which I found annoying. It never ceased to amaze me that whenever I was around cats, they seemed to flock to me. "You've made a friend for life, darlin'," Teddy chuckled. Smiling politely, I sipped my drink. Suddenly, I felt a whoosh and something at my shoulder. Looking up into two big yellow feline eyes, I let out a startled yelp. The most enormous cat I'd ever seen was standing on the back of the sofa, hissing at me. I jumped up, sloshing my drink all over my hand. Honestly, I thought I was being attacked. "Sally!" Teddy barked. The cat sauntered along the back of the sofa and crouched at Teddy's shoulder. He reached back and scratched her ears, while she stared at me with malice. "It's okay, darlin'. You can sit back down. Miss Sally's just a mite possessive at times." "No thanks," I murmured, sinking into an armchair and downing the rest of my drink. No, I don't like martinis, but that slow burn in my belly felt good and told me I wouldn't be caring much about anything else in a short while. Teddy explained that Miss Sally was a Maine Coon, one of the largest breeds of domestic cat, also known as "gentle giants." Gentle my ass, I thought. "Need a refill, darlin'?" "Please." I held out my glass. Teddy shooed the "girls" off of him and grabbed my glass on the way back to the bar. While he was there, Miss Sally forced me into a stare down from the sofa. She won, I think. I finished my next drink pretty quickly and ate the olives. I started to feel pretty happy then, in spite of that goddamn glaring bitch of a cat and Teddy's baby talking and stupid clichés. Before dinner, Teddy filled my glass one more time, and I floated to the kitchen on the waves of my gin and vermouth buzz. The table was already set for two, bowls of salad atop the dinner plates. Teddy brought out a chicken and biscuit casserole his housekeeper had left in the oven for us and placed it in the center of the table. As we were enjoying our salads and quiet conversation, Miss Sally leapt onto the table and nosed around the casserole. "Sally!" Teddy yelled with one of his loud braying laughs. "You're being very rude tonight. Down you go." He plopped her on the floor. Downing the rest of my third martini, I tried not to think about the cat digging in her litter box or licking her ass or whatever else cats do, before prancing her big hairy self across the table and sniffing at my dinner. The absurdity of it made me laugh, and Teddy joined me, thinking, no doubt, that I was laughing at Miss Sally's cute antics. After dinner, of which I ate very little, Teddy leaned back, rubbed his belly, and said, "Whew! I think my eyes were bigger than my stomach." Clichés were the mainstay of his conversation, I'd noticed, studying him across the table. Another thing—why was he "Teddy" instead of just "Ted" or "Theodore"? Wasn't that odd for a man in his sixties? I'd always wondered about that. "Teddy?" "Yes, darlin'?" Okay, I was drunk at this point. I admit it. I couldn't ask him and keep a straight face. "Never mind. How 'bout you show me your bedroom?" I wiggled my eyebrows in a suggestive manner. I thought some good sex might be the redeeming factor of the evening. Teddy (or Ted, as I now preferred to think of him) led me by the hand up a grand staircase to the second floor and down a hallway and into a cool room with a king-size bed. I kicked off my boots and flopped on the bed, holding out my arms. "Fuck me, Ted," I murmured. "Gwen?" Ted sat down next to me. "You're three sheets to the wind." "Yup. Let's fuck." I sat up and pulled my sweater off over my head and unhooked my bra and pulled it off too. Undoing my jeans, I laid back on the bed, lifted my ass up and pulled them off, along with my panties. Teddy just sat there staring at me. Miss Sally came strolling in at that moment and proceeded to stare at me, as well. "Out you go, Miss Sally. I'm gonna fuck your daddy," I chirped, laughing at my own wit. Finally breaking a smile, Teddy said, "What am I going to do with you?" He shooed Sally out of the room and closed the door, then sat back down on the bed. Rising to my knees, I crawled over to him and wrapped my arms around his neck from behind. Slipping my hands down his chest, I unbuttoned his shirt and thrust my hands inside. I stroked my fingernails up and down his chest and belly while I kissed his neck. Peeling the shirt off of him, I tossed it on the floor and pressed my body against his bare back. My hands wandered down his abdomen to that tight, hard package in his pants. I wasn't getting much reaction from him, so feeling his hardness was reassuring. I scooted around him to kneel on the floor Between his knees. With my eyes on his, I unzipped his pants and reached inside for his rigid penis. As it sprang into view, I looked down and wrapped my hand around the shaft. Teddy inhaled sharply between his teeth, then groaned, "Gwen, what are you doing?" "This," I leaned down and licked from the base of his cock up one side of his shaft and back down the other. Sliding a hand underneath his balls, I gave them a gentle squeeze, as his cock head slipped into my mouth. A trilled yowling from the hallway startled me for the second time that evening, and Teddy's dick slipped out of my mouth. "Sally," he gasped. I took him in again, sliding his cock in deeper this time, so that the crown hit the back of my throat. My tongue rubbed against the underside of the shaft as I sucked, while pulling my head back slowly. Quickly, I plunged it back in again, opening my throat and taking him in as far as I could. The plaintive yowling continued in the hallway, along with scratches at the door now and then. Teddy's hands grasped my head, and he moaned, "Oh, God, Gwen." Grabbing my upper arms, he hauled me up and pulled me with him as he laid back on the bed. He rolled over, pushing me onto my back, and thrust his cock up between my legs. Meanwhile, the freaking cat kept up the ruckus outside the door, which I tried my best to ignore while Teddy rammed into me. Missionary position. Again. Whee! Just then, Miss Sally jumped onto the bed, and I screamed. "How the fuck did she get in here?" I shrieked. Teddy collapsed on top of me, laughing. "She can open the door if she gets good and mad. Look, it's better this way. At least she's stopped her caterwauling." "Does she have to be on the fucking bed?" He reached an arm out and scooped the goddamn cat off the bed, then continued to pump away at me. Miss Sally jumped back up onto the bed, of course, and laid down close enough to be intimidating but far enough away to be able to glare at me. My hair, which was fanned out behind me on the duvet, must have been moving back and forth as Teddy continued to drive into me, because Sally pounced on it with a suddenness that scared the hell out of me. I screamed again and tried to bat her away with my hands. "Goddamn it, Ted! Can't you do something about this fucking cat?" I sat up and pulled away from him, wrapping my arms around my nakedness. "Do you always swear like a fishwife when you get tipsy?" he asked. "Uh, no, I don't, Ted," I bristled. "I usually only fucking swear when I'm pissed off." "Well, I can't say I like it much, darlin'." "I can't say I'm liking you much right now, Ted." He stood and looked at me, his deflated penis drooping in front of him. "I'm sorry you feel that way," he said, and walked into the bathroom and shut the door. Miss Sally apparently felt that her work was done, because she sauntered out of the room with her voluminous tail swishing smartly. "Bitch," I whispered. I gathered my clothes and got dressed. The sound of water running in the bathroom had stopped, but Teddy hadn't come back into the bedroom. I found him in the family room, wearing a bathrobe and drinking a martini in front of the fire. He didn't look at me. "Teddy? I'm sorry. This isn't working out for me at all." "I understand," he said, still staring into the fire. "Okay, I'm going. Thanks for dinner." "Gwen?" I turned back. "Are you okay to drive?" "Yes." I smiled. "I'm perfectly sober now." "I'm sorry too." I nodded. "Thanks. Goodbye, Teddy." ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ "Julius Cupidus." I raise my hand and call out, "Present!" "I know you're present, you ass. I'm staring right at you. And you will rise when we address you, out of respect for the court." I raise an eyebrow and survey the "court." The room itself is very impressive. The desk at which the "accused" are sitting is a beautiful walnut, but it is overwhelmed by the carved wall paneling and the elegant raised bench with its three leather chairs. Behind the middle chair is a portrait of Valentine, our order's patron saint. It is flanked by smaller portraits of Cupid, our founder, and Abelard and Heloise, whose love is still considered our greatest achievement. As nice as the room is, it is nonetheless difficult to summon respect for a cupid who had put me on dart-filling detail for a week during my academy days just because I shot him in the butt. Then again, it is difficult to believe that Antonius has been elevated to headmaster of the academy, which entitles him to preside at this disciplinary hearing. To his left sits Valerius, a cupid whose appearance, like those of most immortals, makes his age impossible to determine. My guess is that he is about 500. I had been informed that he is the head of the academy's Office of Cupidicial Law. If I had known we had our own law, I think I would have tried to stick it out as an elf. To Antonius's right is Tiberius, my regional supervisor. He is studying me with sad eyes, as if my presence here is not a big surprise to him. In addition, he is clearly uncomfortable to find his prized pupil "in the dock." For her part, Octavia appears disconsolate, as if five years of cupiding have been erased by whatever it is that she and I are supposed to have done. There are no spectators, although the hearing is being broadcast on the closed-circuit Cupid News Network because it is the first such hearing in some 100 years. The room's only other occupant is the bailiff, a stuffed shirt who solemnly intoned "all rise" and "oyez, oyez, oyez," whatever the hell that means. With a glance that accuses him of failing to instruct me to rise this time, I push myself to my feet. "Sir?" "You are accused of apostasy and subversion. How plead you?" "Plead I not guilty," I sing out. Tiberius gives me a murderous look, and I return a small shrug. Even here the wiseass cannot be suppressed. "Octavia Cupida." "Sir." Octavia rises as well. "You too are accused of apostasy and subversion. How plead you?" "What do I do?" Octavia whispers to me, her eyes brimming with tears. "Speak up," Antonius demands. "Pleads she not guilty as well." I give Octavia a wink, which infuriates Antonius. "You cannot possibly have the unmitigated effrontery," he thunders, "to deny that you have consorted with other cupids with the intention of undermining the teaching of this Holy Order." It's news to me. Antonius wipes saliva off his lower lip as I ask if that was intended as a question. "Bring in the first witness!" The first witness is Stennius, the prissy supervisor of the region immediately to the west of Tiberius's. He describes how two of his newly assigned cupids returned to the headquarters with an unbelievable tale of enhanced aura perception. "Naturally, I immediately alerted the academy." "Quite properly," Antonius says. He thanks Stennius and calls for the second witness, only to have Valerius whisper to him. Antonius glowers at his fellow jurist and then sneers at me. "You must excuse me. Would either of the accused care to examine the witness?" Cupids are congenitally incapable of lying, so the likelihood of Stennius breaking down under my withering cross-examination is slim. I wave a denial at the court. Octavia answers with a barely perceptible shake of her head. The next two witnesses, rookie cupids Romulus and Livia, tell an unfortunate story. It is unfortunate that on the night that Octavia heard that her rebirth request had been approved, I was out emptying my quiver in order to obtain another shot of "anti." At the time, I had thought it an excellent night. I had discovered an ability to predict the growth of people's auras, and felt much more confident in the "minimum congruence" shots I was taking. It is unfortunate, however, that my unavailability led Octavia to turn to her western neighbors to help her celebrate. It is unfortunate that she had a few too many of those umbrella drinks and spilled what she had learned from me a few nights earlier. And it was unfortunate that those two, who have just now finished testifying, have the discretion of town criers. "I'm so sorry, Julius," she sobs as the second one leaves the room. "Don't worry, Tavy. We'll be fine." That is not a lie; I am as incapable as the next cupid of lying. It is more of a prediction, albeit one in which I have only the tiniest amount of faith. Octavia's testimony, which comes next, is more than enough to inculpate me in this heresy of enhanced aura perception. It establishes that I am, if not the ringleader of our little mutiny, at least its guiding spirit. Antonius is particularly incensed to learn that I stopped Octavia from shooting Gwen in the bar. When it is my turn to take the stand, he starts spitting again. "And for what great and glorious purpose did the all-knowing Julius Cupidus interfere with a cupid acting in her own district." "I believed that Ms. Williams, who lives in my district, would be better matched with a Luke Turnquist, who is also of my district." Based on your superior aura perception," Valerius states. "Yes." "And have you matched her with him?" "Yes." "How many shots did it take?" Antonius sneers at me again. "Three." It was a direct question, sarcastic thought it may have been. I adopt a look of embarrassment. "Three?" the judges ask in unison. "You mean both of those doses of "anti" you requisitioned were for men you shot when you were aiming at this Turnquist?" a shocked Tiberius asks. That, too, is a question I would rather not have gotten. "No, sir." "Then who were they for?" asks Valerius, the niggling little bastard. I explain about Danae. All of us can hear the explosion of laughter coming from the hallway. Apparently they are broadcasting the hearing out there as well. "And did you finally manage to shoot the people you were aiming for?" Antonius asks. "Yes, sir." I lose myself for just a moment in the memory of that triumph. Gwen was on her lunch hour, sitting by herself on a park bench on an unusually warm day for early February. She was wondering if she would ever find her true love, and counted herself fortunate only that her friends and co-workers had never met either Danae or Teddy. They would perhaps always think of her as unlucky, but they wouldn't think of her as a promiscuous slut who threw herself at the first single person she met, man or woman. I could feel my cheeks redden slightly as I sat next to her; that was probably my fault. As I sat there, though, simply enjoying the pleasure of her company and racking her brain to arrange another meeting with Luke, fate came to my aid. I watched Gwen's beautiful eyes track a man walking down one of the paths. Miracle of miracles, it was Luke, out for a walk on his lunch break as he contemplated his own negligible love life. He had apparently asked out another woman he'd met at the bookstore, a woman with whom not even the rawest cupid fresh out of the academy would have matched him. It had lasted only two dates, and fortunately had not resulted in any bloodshed. I was startled enough that I nearly let the opportunity slip away. By the time I had the darts in the bow, it was the cupidist equivalent of a 7-10 split. But for once, my aim was true. Luke turned. Their eyes met. I feel the bailiff tapping on my arm, and then directing my attention to the court, which I had been snubbing. "Sir?" "Take your seat," Antonius says, his voice that of a hissing snake. "We have heard enough. We will retire to consider the sentence." Valerius whispers again. "Yes, yes." Antonius is annoyed. "I meant the verdict." We "all rise" again, and when Octavia and I are alone, she falls into my arms, her body shaking with uncontrollable sobs. I hug her to me, hoping that perhaps the court will blame me for the entire fiasco. It is unlikely that Octavia will now get her dream rebirth, but perhaps they will not punish her with a recycle. For myself, I envision another five years of shoveling reindeer poop. You Think Making Love is Easy? I hear the door behind us open, and look over my shoulder to see a cupid enter. He turns, promising the crowd that he will see them later, and asking that they admit no one else. As he turns back to us, I sense that I should recognize him. I'm very good at auras, but lousy at faces. "This so-called court is quite a disappointment, isn't it?" he asks. I smile. Perhaps we were at the academy together. "What's the betting out there?" I nod toward the hallway. He smiles back. "A one-year probationary recycle for your friend. Five years as a centaur for you." My face falls. I had forgotten all about centaurs. Centaurs have to shovel their own poop. "All rise." The court returns, having taken barely enough time to sit down, let alone engage in any sort of deliberation. I help Octavia to her feet, and we face the bench. Our three inquisitors take their places. There is a long and painful silence as the stare back at us. "Would you like us to sit?" I ask. Last time, Antonius had asked us to please be seated. But I get no answer. It is Octavia who realizes that the judges are not staring at us but at our visitor. "It's him," she whispers. "Who?" I whisper back. "Cupid." I roll my eyes. No kidding. "The cupid." The long "e" in "the" draws my attention to the portrait of Cupid on the wall, and then back to our visitor. He smiles, and I execute a classic double take. Damned if it isn't. "By all means sit down," he says. He stands and walks slowly toward the bench before turning back to us. "Let this be a lesson to you youngsters. If you're going to take a nap, set an alarm. I wouldn't have thought I could sleep for 200 years either." He returns his attention to the judges, who stand as rigidly as if they were awaiting inspection. Cupid's voice is soft, an elegant tenor that still manages to capture everyone's attention. "When Valentine asked me to establish this order, he gave me one command. Do any of you happen to know what it is?" "Let there be love," the trio shouts. Everyone knows it; it is inscribed above the building's main entrance. "And Cupid's Corollary?" "Where there is love, there is life." "Two rules, that's all," he says to us in an apologetic tone before turning back to the bench again. "Did I establish any Cupidicial Law?" "No, sir," Valerius answers. "Ah. Did I establish any specific procedures for identifying mortals in need of our help, let alone a single inflexible rule?" "No, sir." "Good." Cupid turns to us for another aside. "You do tend to forget things when you grow older." "Antonius, I believe that by tradition I am entitled to serve as headmaster of any national academy, am I not?" Valerius squeaks out a "yes" as Antonius's mouth moves without making any sound. "Excellent. Then I thank you for your service, Antonius. We shall talk later." Dense as he is, it takes Antonius a few minutes to realize that he has been dismissed. He scurries off, and Cupid slowly climbs the steps to the bench and takes his place. "I vote not guilty," he says with a big grin. "Not guilty," Tiberius adds quickly, his voice heavy with relief. "Not guilty," Valerius mutters after a short pause. "Well then, I guess it's unanimous. You two are free." "We can go?" I ask. "Not quite," Cupid says. "Let's head to my office and have a chat first." ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ Like all of its predecessors, the Class of 2008 is graduating from the American Cupid Academy on Valentine's Day. This particular class is a little shell-shocked, though, having spent the last week and a half relearning a substantial portion of what they had studied for the previous year. They have been taught by their two newest instructors, Octavia Cupida and Julius Cupidus, who had turned their strict adherence to "minimum congruence" completely upside-down. We were aided considerably by Cupid himself, who, among other things, showed us how to project onto a screen the memories that we had previously shared only by touching. That allowed us to open a whole new world to this class of cupids. After the ceremony was over, we nervously approach Cupid's office. He gives us an effusive welcome, however, even pouring us glasses of champagne. "To a revitalized academy," he offers. We clink glasses and drink. "So, I don't suppose I can talk either of you into staying on?" he asks. Octavia and I trade glances. Neither of us is comfortable refusing a direct request from Cupid, but neither of us wants to remain cupid instructors for eternity either. "I know, I know," he says. "It was just a hope. Octavia, you will be pleased to know that Elise Collins went into labor about an hour ago." Octavia's eyes widen. "Oh, you have a few hours yet," Cupid says with a wave of his hand. "Certainly enough to finish your champagne. But you, Julius. You never submitted a rebirth request, did you?" "No, sir. I had very little hope of getting it granted." "Ah, yes. Your quota issue. You will be glad to know that we have replaced quotas with more ephemeral 'goals.'" "That is good, sir." "So I will give you your choice. Instructor here at the academy? Regional supervisor? I believe there's an opening in Tampa." We all laugh. Tampa is where Antonius has been reassigned, not as a supervisor but as a warehouse tech. "Thank you, no," I say. "I believe I'll take a rebirth." He raises an eyebrow. "Are you quite certain? There's all that helpless infancy, the whining adolescence, the hormonal pubescence -- and then you have to get a job!" "Still, sir, there is love." I cast a projection of Gwen and Luke onto the wall. I was permitted a quick visit a few days back to see how they were doing. They are at a Greek restaurant, sharing food, laughing, and acting very much like a pair of 18-year-olds who think that they are alone in the mortal world in having discovered love. Their auras are radiant, curling around each other with even more strength and vibrancy than they had before. I hear a gasp behind me, and turn to see Cupid quickly cover up a startled expression. "Is something wrong, sir?" "No, no. Not at all. So this is your young couple." "Julius is in love." Octavia is teasing me. "Julius thinks her eyes are -- what's that word, Jules?" "Opalescent," I say under my breath. "That's it," Octavia says. "Opalescent." "Seriously, sir, you obviously see something that I don't in these auras. I would very much like to know what it is." He swallows. "Your Luke," he says. "Do you see that little white line there, near B-5?" I stare. It is barely visible, but now that he has drawn my attention to it, it is clearly there. "It indicates a flaw in his body. A flaw that will prove, er, fatal, I'm afraid. An aneurysm." "Fatal?" My voice is a choked whisper. "Luke will die? When?" "Quite soon, I'm afraid. I feel for your friend Gwen." It will break her heart. I struggle to find something to which I can cling. "Still, sir, as Shakespeare said, 'tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all." "Yeah, that's a crock," Cupid says. "Still..." "So she just has to watch him die?" Cupid nods. "It is a tragedy," he says. I stare at him for at least twenty seconds before I am finally able to speak. "Then why are you smiling, you fucking son of a bitch?" ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ "Gwen?" I was sitting on a bench in a park near my work feeling sorry for myself. My love life was pitiful. I'd just decided to take a break from it all, when the guy I'd seen walking along the path a moment ago appeared in front of me. "Yes?" He looked familiar, but I couldn't quite place him. "My God. I can't believe it's you. Do you remember me?" He sat down on the bench next to me and stretched his long legs out in front of him. "No, I..." Then he smiled. That smile. "Oh, I remember now. The bookstore. You were sneezing." I smiled too. "Right! I'm Luke. Luke Turnquist." "How did you know my name?" I asked. "You told me. Right before I started sneezing. I didn't have time to tell you mine." "So, are you feeling better? Luke threw back his head and laughed. "Yes, thanks. I wasn't sick. It was just allergies." "Really. You're allergic to books?" I joked. "Nope. The only thing that makes me go off like that is cats." It was my turn to laugh. He must have gotten a good whiff of Teddy that day. "What?" Luke looked puzzled. "Do you have cats?" "Nope. Not me. No pets at all." "Well, that's a relief. I mean, not that I have anything against pets. Just..." "Cats." I finished for him. "Yeah." He was staring into my eyes and grinning. I grinned back. It was the strangest moment. I felt as if I knew Luke already. It was more than just recognizing him from the bookstore. It was like we already knew each other so well, so intimately, that we could finish each other's sentences. That kind of knowing. The kind of knowing where you look into a person's eyes and feel like you're home. "Wow," I whispered and looked away. I could barely breathe. Luke reached out and touched my hand. "What's wrong?" Looking down at his hand, I wanted to clasp it between both of my own in the worst way. You can't just do that. Not with someone you just met, no matter how strong your feelings are. I looked back up at Luke and saw the same confusion mirrored in his face. He jerked his hand away, curling his fingers into a fist and pressing it against his thigh. "I went back there a couple of times, looking for you." Luke's breath was as shallow and quick as mine. "The bookstore?" He nodded. "I knew it was crazy. I mean what are the chances you'd be there, right?" Unclenching his hands, he rubbed his palms against his thighs before he continued. "I've dreamed of you, of your eyes. I know it sounds silly, and I sure don't want to scare you." Luke folded his arms across his chest, closed his eyes, and shook his head. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm not afraid." Reaching for the fingers that peeked out beneath his elbow, I slid my fingers between his hand and his chest. His heart beat hard and fast against the back of my hand, and his fingers curled around my hand and held it there. Luke turned toward me and leaned his free arm along the back of the bench. "Is your heart beating as hard as mine is?" he asked. I drew his hand against my chest, inside my jacket, just over my heart. A dozen emotions flitted across Luke's face as he touched me. Among them, relief, amazement, joy, disbelief, and finally arousal. I saw that on his face as clearly as I felt the heat in my own cheeks at having his hand on me so close to my breast. Luke pulled his hand away, leaned his elbows on his knees, and sighed. "God, this is crazy." He glanced at his watch. "Damn. I have to get back." "Me too," I confirmed, looking at my own watch. "I'm afraid if I let you go I'll lose you again." I shook my head. "No, not now." "Can we meet somewhere after work?" "Okay," I replied. "Where?" "Pepito's?" I smiled. "Okay." Luke walked me to my car and kissed me on the cheek as I got in. He stood and watched as I drove away. My attention span at work that afternoon was very short. Almost nonexistent, in fact. I couldn't get my mind off of Luke. It took me twice as long to get everything done, and consequently, I didn't make it to Pepito's until around 5:40. Luke was already there, sitting in a booth with a half-finished margarita in front of him. He caught sight of me walking toward him and smiled. That huge smile was worth waiting all afternoon for. He rose, and I walked into his arms. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world to be in Luke's arms. We spent the next couple hours eating Mexican food, drinking margaritas, and talking, talking, talking about everything. Finally, Luke said, "We should probably get out of here, but I'm not ready for this evening to end." "Me neither." "I don't live far from here. Want to come to my house?" he asked. "We could watch a movie or something." "Or something." I grinned. In fact, what we did was sit on Luke's couch and talk for hours. We finally kissed around two a.m., and it was perfect. I'd never known anyone who could kiss like that. Around four a.m., I think, we fell asleep in each other's arms, neither of us willing to let our time together end. Some time after that, Luke woke me and led me by the hand to his bedroom. "Oh, Luke," I murmured. "I should go home." "Shhhh." He silenced me with a kiss. "Stay with me. It's okay. Just sleep." He handed me a t-shirt and pointed me in the direction of the bathroom. He must have used the other bathroom, because when I emerged wearing only his t-shirt and my panties, he was already in bed, smelling of toothpaste and soap. He held the covers back for me, and I slipped between the cool sheets and back into his warm embrace. When I awoke late in the morning, Luke was gone. I knew he was still in the house, because I could hear him whistling and the distant clank of dishes. It felt so right waking up there; I loved the house. I loved Luke. The realization made my breath catch in my throat. I was in love for the third time in a little over a month. This time felt different though, and I hoped it wasn't just wishful thinking. After washing and dressing, I found Luke in the kitchen making blueberry pancakes. Well, more accurately, he was leaning against the edge of the counter eating a stack of pancakes while more bubbled on the griddle. "G'morning," he mumbled around a mouthful. "Here, try this." He held a forkful up to my mouth, practically forcing me to take it or suffer maple syrup dripping all over my clothes. "Mmmm." I reached up to wipe away the syrup and butter that glazed my lips. "Oh, let me." Luke grabbed my hand away and kissed me, licking the syrup off my lips. He pulled away and smiled. "Mmmm. Good morning," he said and kissed me again. I pulled back and smiled into his eyes. "Good morning. Thank you. That was very tasty." Luke pulled a chair out for me at the kitchen table and scooted it in as I sat down. I watched as he flipped over the pancakes on the stove. "There's bacon and juice there. Help yourself." "You weren't there when I woke up," I said. "Ah, it was becoming a little to hard to remain a gentleman with you in my bed. Maybe next time. Yes?" "Oh, you're planning on having me in your bed again?" I teased. Luke paused while filling a plate for me and turned to grin at me over his shoulder. "Just as soon and as often as I can." He set the plate in front of me and with one finger tossed a lock of my hair back over my shoulder. "What do you have going on today?" he asked, sitting down across from me. "Well, I need to go home and take a shower and do some laundry." "Wanna get together later? Maybe get a pizza. Watch a movie?" "Yeah, I'd like that." Luke leaned his elbow on the table and his chin in his hand and kept smiling at me. "Okay, well just come back over after you get all your stuff done." I arrived back at Luke's house just as it was getting dark. The overnight bag I'd packed I left in the car. On one hand, I didn't want to be presumptuous. On the other, I was pretty sure I was staying. Luke had a pizza delivered, and we did try to watch a movie. However, we kept making out and weren't really following the movie, so he finally turned it off. "What do you want to do now?" Luke asked, waggling his eyebrows. "Hmm. What do you want to do?" "I want to take you back to my bed, just like I promised you this morning." He brushed his fingers against the side of my neck. "Then I want us both to get naked and make love all night long." Part of me hesitated. As much as I wanted to make love with Luke, I didn't think I could handle another relationship going awry, especially so soon. Luke felt so right, but frankly, I didn't trust my own judgment at that point. I'd never been promiscuous. All my past relationships had lasted at least a few months until Danae, and I certainly had never taken up with someone new as quickly as I had with Teddy. Still, what can you do when you're pretty sure you're in love with someone and they want you and they're holding you and smiling at you? We stood at the foot of Luke's bed as he unbuttoned my blouse, kissing each bit of skin as it was revealed. My heart felt as if it would hammer through my ribs. I shivered as he unbuttoned my jeans. He pushed them down, and I stepped out of them, standing before him in just my bra and panties. Luke pulled his sweatshirt off and gathered me close, his hands warm on my skin, his lips on my neck. His fingers fiddled with the hooks on my bra for a moment, and then I was free. Luke stepped back to look at me. "God, you are so beautiful." I smiled. "No, I'm not." "Yeah, honey, you are. Come here." He pulled me toward the big mirror over his dresser. "No, Luke. Please." He stood me in front of the mirror and pulled my panties down from behind. I lowered my head, not wanting to confront my reflection. Luke wrapped his arms around me, his warm chest against my back. "I want you to see what I see," he whispered in my ear. "Look at her." "Luke." "Look." He waited for me to raise my eyes, then smiled. "Look at that hair. So shiny and soft." His hands fanned my hair around my shoulders. "It smells so good." He rubbed his cheek against my hair and ran his fingertips down my sides and back up. "Look at those beautiful, sexy eyes." I liked the way we looked together, Luke and I. We seemed to fit. Luke's fingers trailed along the sides of my neck and down my chest. "Look at all this creamy skin. It's so smooth." My breath caught as his hands cupped my breasts and he rasped his thumbs over the nipples. My eyes drifted shut, and I leaned against him, arching my back and pressing my breasts into his hands. "Luke," I breathed. "These are just about perfect," he murmured, squeezing my breasts. "Open your eyes, honey. Look. Look at how beautiful and sexy you are." I did open my eyes, and watching Luke touching me and feeling it at the same time nearly brought me to climax. His big hands glided down over the curve of my belly, stealing my breath. I gasped as his fingers pressed my mound and curled around my lips, his fingertips sinking into the slippery warmth. "Do you see it?" Luke's breath was warm at my ear. "Do you see how gorgeous you are?" His tongue flicked out of his mouth, and he ran the tip along the side of my neck. "Do you see how sexy you are?" "Yes," I moaned, closing my eyes again and leaning my head on his shoulder. Taking a step back, Luke let go of me and removed his jeans and boxers. He wrapped his arms around me as I turned to face him, and our bodies pressed together for the first time, completely unencumbered by clothing. We stood that way for a long moment, my arms around his waist, my face pressed into his neck, his cheek against my hair, simply breathing each other in. There's no way for me to adequately describe what I was feeling. Luke's warmth and energy seemed to combine with my own to create something completely new. It was like our souls were coming together on some other plane, entwining and becoming one. With a deep, shuddering breath, Luke began a slow tracing of his fingers over my back and down my buttocks. He dipped his head and rubbed his face against my hair, then found my lips with his own. Our kisses were hungry, our tongues searching and plundering, insatiable. Luke stepped backward, pulling me with him, and we both collapsed onto the bed, still kissing, still tasting each other, more urgent now. He kissed and licked and sucked his way down to my neck, while his hands clasped my breasts.