EPILOGUE:

"You're gonna lose. I know you are." Discord danced on the balls of her feet and looked smug.

"I will not," Anteros, aka 'Tony', replied.

"Technically, it's not even started," Eros added. "The bet between you two was that he could make her fall in love by *next* Valentine's Day."

"I don't remember that!"

"You were just too drunk yesterday to remember much of anything," Anteros teased. He rested underneath the branches of a laurel tree, chewing on a blade of grass. He turned bright blue eyes to his brother. "She was toasted, wasn't she?"

"Very," Eros answered.

"I was not!" Discord hollered, and stamped her foot like a petulant child. At the looks from both men she relented. "Well, maybe just a tiny bit."

Anteros chewed his bottom lip and looked thoughtful. "Look, you claim you thought it was this Valentine's Day, I claim it was next -- why don't we compromise and say Valentine's Day 2002?"

"Two years?!" Discord screeched.

"Don't get your panties in a bunch," Eros said. "Look at her, Discord," he motioned toward the image that was projected onto a cloud. "Not even mother could perform that miracle."

"Well, I guess so," she said grudgingly. "Two years from today it is then."

Eros laughed and clapped his brother on the back. "I just hope you know what you're getting yourself into, little brother." The love business was not all that people made it out to be. It wasn't just flying around naked and shooting people indiscriminately. Oh no. It involved careful planning, timing and research. Much as any other job. The only reason he'd turned a little of his workload over to Anteros in the first place was because Psyche was complaining that he was spending too much time at work, and not enough time between the sheets with her.

"I have no idea what I'm getting into," he answered. "I just know that I'm going to win. No way do I want to have to do Discord's homework for 100 years."

The young girl laughed. "Any more than I want to take over polishing and cleaning Eros' arrows for the next century."

Anteros looked up at the clouds and thought about a woman with lines on her forehead that he wanted to smooth away, lips with a slight tilt downward that he wanted to see smiling and deep hazel eyes that he longed to see beckon him with the fire of passion. "I promise you, by February 14th, 2002, Valentine *will* know what it is like to lose herself to love."

***

"Aaaahhhhhchoo!"

"Geeze, Val, are you sure you're going to be fine here all by yourself?" Shelly asked, calling out from her bedroom.

"I told you, I'm fine. It's just a little cold."

"Well," said the petite blonde, hopping into the living room as she tried to put on an impossibly high set of shoes, "I just hate to go off and leave you when you're so sick."

"When has it stopped you before?" Val mumbled into a kleenex.

"Huh?"

"I said don't let me stop you."

"Oh. Well..." That was her word of the week. Every other sentence started with that word. "I will ask Mrs. Feinstein to come over and check on you."

"That's okay," Val said hurriedly. Ida Feinstein was 83 years old and had garlic breath. She was also a 'talker', and the one thing Val was counting on tonight was peace and quiet.

"Well, I mean if you're sure now?" Shelly had finished putting her shoes on and was now checking the contents of her purse, fixing the spaghetti straps on her skin-tight minidress, blotting her lipstick - the usual last minute things girls did before a big date.

Shelly walked around to the front of the couch and gave her roommate a sorrowful look.

"Shelly, it's Valentine's Day, and tonight's your big date with Leon. It's all you've talked about for weeks now. You will not stay home with me, and you certainly will *not* worry about me while you're out dining and dancing and doing other things that I don't even want to think about."

Shelly giggled and twisted the class ring she wore on her left hand. Leon had given it to her when they were seniors in high school and now, 9 years later, she was hoping that tonight he would replace it with an engagement ring.

A car horn sounded from below and Shelly dashed to the door. "Don't wait up," she giggled, blowing Val a kiss and then locking the door behind her.

"Alone at last," Val muttered as she pulled the coffee table closer. She inventoried her makeshift pharmacy - cough medicine, nasal spray, tissues, lemon tea, the latest Dean Koontz novel, TV remote. She didn't feel much like reading so she started flipping channels.

Val was a realist when it came to almost everything. She didn't believe in the ever circulating 'urban legends', she refused to forward along chain letters, she knew that it didn't matter how much chocolate she ate, it wouldn't cause her skin to break out in unsightly blemishes. And above all, she didn't believe in everlasting love -- the kind that was associated with Valentine's Day. After several failed and painful relationships, she had come to the conclusion that she was better off alone. She was happy with that...most of the time.

She continued flipping through the channels, bypassing the trite romantic movies, the played-out sitcoms, and the tedious infomercials. Ah, here we go. "Predator." Val snuggled into the cushions and lost herself in Arnold's bulging biceps. It was very rare that she got to just "veg out" like this, and even though she was sick, she was going to enjoy it. She deserved it, after the day she'd had.

The day had started out on a bad note with Val waking with a runny nose, watery eyes and a persistent cough that had sent her running for a glass of water from the tap. She'd called in to work and asked for a sick day, only to find out that she didn't have any more on the books; she'd apparently used them up when she'd been sick with the flu a couple of months ago. Resigned to losing a day's pay, she'd been grateful when Shelly had kindly run down to the corner drug to get cough medicine and other sundries for her. She'd spent the bulk of the day coughing till her throat was numb and using up a box and a half of tissues.

Thus it wasn't long into the movie before her eyelids started getting heavy and the figures on the screen started to blur. She shook her head, trying to stay awake a while longer. The movie was almost over and it was one of her favorites. Her fight was valiant, but five minutes later she was snoring quietly as the movie played on.

***

Val woke up slowly, as if from a drug-induced stupor. She realized with a touch of humor that it probably was drug-induced; the cough medicine likely had a 'drowsy' warning on the label. She stretched and turned her head, expecting to see the fuzzy white static of a TV station gone off the air. What she saw instead was a man staring back at her. She blinked but he was still there.

"Hi."

Val rubbed her eyes. He wasn't really talking to her.

"I'm talking to you, Val."

She shook her head, then pinched her leg. "Ouch!" *Okay, well that doesn't prove anything. I could still be dreaming.*

"Come on, Val, you can't be that shy," he said teasingly.

"I'm not really seeing you. I'm hallucinating. It's that damn generic cough medicine Shelly bought me."

"Just what do you see?" he asked playfully.

"A two-dimensional TV character, who happens to be a figment of my imagination."

"Such a limited imagination, Val." He smiled. "I'll tell you what you see. A guy with a nice physique - not too buff but not too wimpy, either. Blonde hair with more than a touch of red to it. Blue eyes with laugh lines at the corners. Tanned skin. All over. Want to see?" he asked, reaching for the snap on his jeans.

"NO!" she yelled.

His laugh only made her madder. "Chicken."

"That's enough. You're only a dream. Go away."

He put his hands on his hips. "Oh no you don't. You can't just dismiss me as you have all the other men in your life."

She sat up straighter. "What do you know about my life? Who are you?"

"Calm down, girl. That was just a lucky guess. I know little about you, other than the basics." He held up a hand and ticked off the facts on his fingers. "You are 26 years old, your full name is Valentine Rae Sanderson, you work for the school board, and you are a heartless cynic when it comes to love."

"You could have found all that out by searching public records. Except the cynic part." She ran a hand through her tousled hair. "Now will you go away?"

"Why do you hate Valentine's Day so much? It's not just because you were named after the holiday, is it?"

"Valentine's Day is nothing but hype, perpetuated by florists, the greeting card industry and chocolate manufacturers."

"What a negative way to look at it!" he admonished. "I'll bet you don't even know the origins of today."

She gave a small snort. "It started out as a pagan feast of Lupercalia, then the church decided to 'Christianize' it. Plus the talk of its being the day when the birds start mating."

He was shaking his head by the time she finished. "All of that is true, to a certain extent, but what if I told you it was really the day that Eros - excuse me, Cupid is the common name - first saw and fell in love with Psyche." He waited for her answer, a look of extreme triumph on his face.

"I would say, 'So what?'"

"You mean to tell me you are so deadened to the magic of today, to love in general, that you wouldn't like to, just once, get a dozen long- stemmed roses? Or a heart-shaped box of chocolates? Or spend a decadent weekend in bed with a lover?"

"Why should today be any more special than say, March 3rd? It's stupidity."

He frowned. "Are you this negative about Christmas?"

"That's different," she said, playing with the edge of her blanket.

"Why? Because love isn't involved?" He shook his head and looked at her with sad eyes. "What man screwed you up so badly that you can't love? Or accept the fact that someone would love you in return?"

"I've had enough of this lunacy!" Val exclaimed. She searched through the tissues on the coffee table. "Where's that damn remote?"

"Want me to come help you look for it?" he joked, then proceeded to shock the shit out of her by actually stepping out of her TV set and into her living room.

There he was. All 6 foot something of him, standing beside the television, his jeans tighter than the law allowed and a boyish grin lighting up his face.

Val took the cough medicine and dropped it into the makeshift wastebasket by the couch. She scanned the room for the remote. Once she turned the TV off, he would disappear and she could get back to sleep. Her dreamless sleep.

A movement from him caught her attention. He was starting to unbutton his shirt.

"What in the hell are you doing?" she squeaked.

"Getting comfortable," he replied. He winked at her.

"If you're going to strip, could you at least tell me your name?" She couldn't believe she was having a conversation with a spectre from her mind.

"For now, you can call me Tony."

"For now? Nevermind. Okay Tony, where is the remote control?"

He was still unbuttoning his shirt. All he did was smile at her.

She rifled through the couch cushions, muttering under her breath.

He slipped out of his shirt and tossed it onto the couch. She straightened up and turned around. "Where...is...the...remote?"

"Search me," he quipped, the light from the television dancing in his eyes.

He had practically taken off a glove and slapped her across the face, so blatant was his challenge. He didn't think she'd do it. Ha! Valentine Sanderson was no simpering schoolgirl!

Val walked up until she was standing toe to toe with him, determination etched on her face. She reached into his left pants pocket, felt around a bit, and pulled out a set of keys, an old movie ticket stub and some pennies. No remote.

With her other hand, she reached into his left pants pocket. All she came up with was some lint, a crumbled up Twinkie package and a button. No remote.

She took a step back and put her hands on her hips. "I need that remote. It's either in your drawers or your socks." She looked at him, expectantly.

"Will she keep the luggage and Hawaiian vacation or go for door #3?"

"Smart ass! Lose the pants!" She was going to find the remote and turn the television off, thereby relegating this pompous know-it-all back to never-never land, and then get back to peaceful solitude.

He didn't seem phased by her orders, just slowly unbuttoned his jeans. He pushed them down over his legs and kicked them aside.

"Nice drawers," Val quipped, admiring the white briefs with small red hearts emblazoned all over. She knelt in front of him and, with him standing on one foot, slid one sock off. "No remote," she said. Damn, but she was starting to get aroused. She would be lying to herself if she said she wasn't turned on by this `game'.

The second sock quickly went the way of the first one, and Val looked up from her kneeling position to find him smirking down at her. "Ready to concede that Valentine's Day isn't so bad after all?"

Val stood up, keeping her eyes off the package delineated by the tight fit of his briefs. She didn't answer him, just walked around until she was standing right behind him. She pressed up close, feeling the heat from his back through her shirt. She cupped his tight butt in both her hands and squeezed lightly. He rocked on the balls of his feet and then steadied himself.

"Firm, but no remote," she said. She smiled, and reached her arms around the front of his body, slipping them underneath his own. She slid her hands, palms flat, down the front of his stomach and then into those tight briefs. Her hands found something all right, but it wasn't the remote.

He was chuckling now.

She pulled quickly away and in an accusatory tone, said, "It's not on you!"

"I never said it was. My exact words were, 'search me'."

"You prick!" She was mad as a hornet but she couldn't deny the wetness between her thighs. She blamed it on his veiled innuendo, their heated debate, and the sight of him in those damn briefs!

He pointed behind her to the television. "Is that what you're looking for?"

She twirled around and there was the remote, sitting right on top of the TV.

Dancing away, out of reach, she gave him a look of supreme satisfaction as she snatched it up in her hand. "Now, as much as this has all been...enlightening, I'm afraid it's time to say goodbye."

He didn't look the least bit concerned; just gave her that wide, smug smile.

She turned the remote to the TV and clicked the power button. "Game's over." The TV shut off. But the man in her living room remained. She pushed the button again. The TV came back on. She pressed the button a third time and watched the picture on the tube disappear.

He crossed over to her and took the remote from her hands. He tossed it back on top of the television. Putting his arms around her waist he replied, "Game's just beginning."

"Wh-what?" she stammered, as he locked his arms under her hips and carried her the few steps to the couch. He put her down gently, so that she was spread out on the cushions once more.

"You," he said, kneeling beside the couch and starting to remove her clothing, piece by piece, "are probably the most frustrating woman I have ever met. You refuse to admit that you might just be the slightest bit wrong."

"Because I'm not."

"Uh huh." He grinned as if he held a secret that would change the course of the world. "Let's see if I can't bring you around to my way of thinking."

She was tempted for the briefest moment to slam her hand into the side of his head and then scream for help. She hated feeling helpless, like events were out of her control, but then again, this was all a dream. Why not give in, just once to that part of herself she kept locked away from the rest of the world? "You'll lose," she said.

He didn't bother to answer her, just leaned forward to kiss her and at the last moment, bent his head and kissed the pulse point at the base of her neck instead. His tongue danced a path down to the top of one satiny breast and traced along the outer edge of it. He slowly and methodically licked his way around it, squeezing the nipple gently between his fingers. Her head fell back as a sigh of satisfaction escaped her lips, her skin rippling with excitement.

The dusky peaks quickly pebbled with the combination of his roughened fingers and the cool air. He couldn't resist such an open invitation. He licked his tongue across a waiting nipple and then blowing on it, watched as it constricted even more. He licked it once more and then sucked the delectable morsel into his mouth.

Any attempt at thought was dashed to the wind, as Tony moved his attentions to the other breast. Only sensation, exquisite sensation, remained.

Minutes passed with him moving back and forth between her sensitized breasts. The lure of her musky sex got to be too much for him and he scooted down to bury his face between her straining thighs. He inhaled the scent of her, a mixture of sweat and desire. Pure ambrosia. Her moans and whispered, incoherent words were all the encouragement he needed.

Tony skimmed his palm over the dark triangle of hair at the juncture of her thighs. He felt her tremble. He kissed the inside of her thigh, never taking his eyes off the luscious, swollen lips in front of him. They were large and pink, the hooded treasure peeking out from between. Wrapping his arms around her legs, his fingers tickled and teased her thighs as his lips continued on their upward journey.

He skirted her pouty, outer lips with butterfly kisses and was rewarded with Val's sharp gasp of surprise. She pushed her hips forward but with his upper body pressing down upon her, she couldn't move that much. He sensed her movements and pressed down on her abdomen with his hands. "Let me do all the work, remember?" She nodded and bit her bottom lip, her eyes wide and glazed with passion.

Tony knew that she'd anticipate his lips on her clit next, so he stuck out his tongue and licked her, from her clit, down the edges of her inner lips as far as he could reach. He repeated the movement several times, applying more pressure each time, until he'd broached her inner lips and was tasting the fruit of his labors.

He massaged her flesh, gently pushing his tongue in deeper. Holding it deep inside, he moved his head from side to side. Licking her, sucking her. Her moans mingled with his own as her taste filled his mouth.

By the tensing in her legs, he could tell Val was close to losing control. He reluctantly drew his tongue out of her tempting hole and turned his attention to her pleasure-reddened clit. He tilted his head forward and down some to lay his tongue full upon it. He seesawed it back and forth, increasing the pressure every other time.

His left hand held her lips open, wide and vulnerable to his demanding mouth. His middle finger slid in and out of her in a maddeningly slow rhythm. His right hand moved up to fondle her breast, gently massaging first one and then the other.

"Oooooooooooooohgooooodyeeeesssssss!" Val screamed as a hot rush of pure, unadulterated pleasure flooded through her. Her pussy contracted as Tony rubbed his face in the flowing juices and gradually gentled his mouth and fingers.

He raised his head and watched her as the last of her orgasm faded away.

Her hands were clenching the couch cushions and a fine sheen of sweat covered her slender frame. Her breathing was slowing down, changing from the shallow, uneven breaths she'd been taking just a few moments before.

She reluctantly opened her eyes, in time to see him licking his lips, an insufferable grin on his face. Shit! He was still so damn cute!

"It wasn't hearts or flowers or candy, but do you now admit that Valentine's Day isn't so bad?" She snuggled deeper into the cushions and closed her eyes. "Nope. It still sucks bug nuts."

He laughed. He couldn't help himself. He rested his chin on his hand and watched as her breathing slowed, evened out and she fell into a deep sleep. He whispered, "We'll see about that, my stubborn lady. The game is not over yet. Not by a long shot."

***

"Val! Time to wake up sleepyhead!" Shelly hollered as she banged pots and pans in the kitchen.

Val moaned and rolled over. Something was different. She wasn't on the couch, but in her comfy bed. She rubbed her forehead and blinked against the bright light filtering in through the blinds. Last night was a haze of jumbled memories. She remembered the movie and falling asleep. And then... Her eyes flew open wide as she remembered the rest of last night. She lifted up the covers, but she was dressed in her old familiar sweats and t-shirt, not totally nude as she'd feared. Next she looked furtively around the bedroom, as if she expected to find - what was his name? Oh yes, Tony! - Tony lurking in a dark corner. She giggled at her silliness and shook her head. She must have taken more of the cough medicine than she'd thought. "I'm awake now, Shell," she called back. "Man, you wouldn't believe the dream I had last night!"

"I can imagine," Shelly replied. "I already cleaned up the living room. Could you do me a favor and the next time you spill something on the couch, at least put a towel over it? That wet spot is going to take hours to dry out."

Val thought she was going to hyperventilate. *It's sweat. Or either my tea. Get a grip on yourself woman!* Nevertheless, she hopped out of bed and ran to the living room. Kneeling beside the couch she trembled as she lowered her face to the dark stain on the cushions. She inhaled the scent of lemons. It was tea. Just as she'd thought. She breathed a sigh of relief and collapsed, leaning her back against the couch.

"How did the dinner go?"

Shelly appeared in the kitchen doorway. "He proposed! Right after dessert." She held up the ring finger of her left hand. Gone was the senior ring and in its place was a sparkling heart-shaped diamond.

Val jumped up and walked over to hug her friend tightly. "Oh Shelly! I'm happy for you, I really am."

Shelly giggled. "Thanks. Now I'm going to finish cooking breakfast. You look like you feel better today."

"I do," Val answered, following her into the kitchen and sitting down at the bar. "I guess I just needed some down time."

"Good!" Shelly worked over the stove for a few minutes before wiping her hands on a towel. "By the way, I know I'm sounding like a mother hen, but why were you eating Twinkies last night?"

"Twinkies?" Val said, a tingling sensation traveling up her spine.

"Yes. I picked up a package from in front of the TV. When you're sick you don't need junk food," Shelly said, looking back over her shoulder at her friend and smiling. "Sorry. I'll quit preaching now." She turned back to the stove.

Val felt her face lose all color. The wrapper hadn't come from her. She willed her body to stop shaking. There was a rational explanation. There always was. The alternate was unthinkable.

THE END...(for now)


*Author's Note: Eros is the Greek counterpart to the Roman god Cupid. Aphrodite, concerned that her young son seemed to have stopped growing, was told by him that only a brother would cure the trouble. He was therefore given Anteros who symbolized reciprocated love. Anteros is also the god who punishes those who scorn love or do not return the love of others.

Eris is goddess of conflict and strife. Discord is her daughter.

Anything else, in regard to mythology, that I might have screwed up, well, consider it dramatic license. :)

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