Cupids Essence

by J Thompson

  “Will you not tell me your name, so I may know the man that speaks such poetry?” she asked.

  “Soon, my lady, meet me here again tomorrow night.”

  Marcella nodded and closed her eyes as he bent his head. Belinda watched him move from hovering above her lips and instead pressed his own to the spot behind her ear.

  “Until tomorrow,” he whispered once more and then he was gone, leaving Marcella alone in the night, a smile on her own lips.

  Belinda couldn’t help but join her in a smile as the colours faded and swirled again before they turned black. Unconsciousness called and she embraced it.

  Mike hurt everywhere, he didn’t think there was one inch of his body that didn’t have a bruise, but hell, it had been worth it. His team had won but it had been a battle, and there had been more than a few fights. What good match didn’t? But they had come out on top. His only issue now was his hangover from the night before had caught up with him, and that, coupled with the beating on the pitch meant he now felt rougher than a badger’s arse.

  His head throbbed, his legs ached and his back felt like someone had pressed knives into the flesh. His face would be sporting a bright bruise and the cut under his right eye made it look like he had done a few rounds in the boxing ring, rather than played a great rugby game.

  As he slammed the door shut, he let his shoulders sag as tiredness fought to dominate.

  The day had given him an unexpected twist. There had been a gypsy fair on, in the field next door to the pitch, and the guys had been bored after the match. A gypsy fair teamed with drunken rugby players didn’t exactly match up, but it had worked out as the lads had just got even more leathered on the home brews and Mike… Well, he and found a stall selling remedies to everything from spots to baldness. Lucky for him, he had found one for his stutter. It had cost him £50, but it would be worth it if he could finally talk to Belinda and not sound like a fool.

  Dumping his kit on the floor in the kitchen, he collected some painkillers, antiseptic cream and a bottle of water before he headed upstairs to the bedroom. It took him only a few seconds to strip down to his boxers. Mike glanced at himself in the wardrobe mirror as he did and winced at the amount of scratches that could be seen on his back. It was his own fault for not releasing the ball, but the player didn’t have to rake on him with such force. His back would become multiple shades of black, blue and purple as the hours progressed.

  A hot bath, teamed with the pain killers, would go a long way to making him start to feel human. But he knew he would ache twice as bad the next morning. On his way to the bathroom his foot connected with the charger for his phone and he remembered he had forgotten to take it with him to the match. He unplugged it and took it with him to the bathroom.

  Turning on the taps to the bath, he let it run, filling it two thirds full. His size meant if he had it any fuller it would overflow and flood his bathroom. That would cause damage to the downstairs too, and he definitely didn’t need that in his life at the moment. It had taken him six years to get the place looking good and the last thing he needed was to trash it.

  Mike finished off the bottle of water before he stripped off the tight boxers and climbed into the bath. He groaned with both pain and relief as the hot water went to work on the tired and aching muscles, but also cleaned the scratches and cuts. He placed his head against the lip of the tub and lay there, letting the heat do its thing as he thought about how the day had gone. It didn’t take long for his thoughts to drift back to Belinda.

  His mate had been right, even if he had denied it; he liked her, a lot. She was so unlike any other woman he had met, and he liked her differences. He liked that she didn’t look at him like a piece of meat up for slaughter, but seemed to see him. She had never made fun of his stutter and had always been so friendly. That’s why he had left the note. Her rejection did hurt; he would admit that now, here, alone in the bath.

  He reached over to the washing basket and plucked his phone from the top. He wasn’t surprised to see he had messages from the guys at work- well, messages as in a group chat. They had been talking non-stop, all day, about the ladies they had met the night before and what they had got up to. The word “fucking” had been used to excess, as well as some sordid pictures. Mike wasn’t like that, what went down with a lady was his business only. In a sense, he was old fashioned and wasn’t really the type of guy that liked to flash a lady’s bits around for his mates to see. If she sent a picture, he wouldn’t share it around like a pack of biscuits.

  He did get a few on nights out, especially when his mates thought it would be funny to hand his number out. Just because he looked the way he did, some women thought he would be open to that sort of thing.

  Flicking past the messages and pictures, Mike paused as an unknown number appeared. Clicking onto the message, he read it slowly and blinked. Shit, why did he leave his phone at home?

  Shit, shit, shit!

  There, clear as day, was a message sent from Belinda the night before. She had apologised for not replying to his note, and he believed her excuse, as vague as it was. She had always been honest with him and he didn’t see her as the kind of girl that would bullshit. She was straight to the point, and that was another thing about her he liked. But he also wondered if beneath that straight-laced exterior was a woman of passion. Her eyes, when he had had chance to look into them, had shown a multitude of emotions, even passion. But it was her spark that drew him in more than anything. She was a puzzle he was eager to solve.

  Shit, Mike thought. He once again leaned his head back, his hands lay resting over the rim of the bath tub. He had to think, he couldn’t just fire back a smart ass response, he had to take his time and get it right. He read over the message once again.

  * * *

  Mike.

  Hi it’s Belinda. I wanted to apologise for not messaging you sooner. I have only just found your note in my planner. Please believe me, it wasn’t deliberately missed.

  I’m so sorry if I have let you down in any way.

  Belinda

  * * *

  Opening up a new text he started to type.

  * * *

  Belinda

  Thanks for your message and don’t worry about it.

  You fancy meeting for a drink?

  Mike

  * * *

  He pressed send then threw his phone back onto the washing basket before he submerged his head under the water. The cut on his face stung but he stayed under long enough to feel his lungs start to protest. As he came up for air, he pushed his hair from his face, his stubble scratched his palm. He didn’t expect an answer straight way but hoped she wouldn’t leave it too long. He smiled and thought about where to take her if she agreed to the drink. Did she drink alcohol? There were so many things about her that he didn’t know, but he was dying to know everything. He reached out and picked up his bottle of mint source body wash and shampoo. Time to clean up and then food, maybe then she will have replied.

  Cupid laughed at the TV before he sipped his large fruity cocktail. He had no clue what was in it, he had just raided the drinks cabinet and put a good glug of alcohol from each bottle into the large jug. He had then added some fruit, a dash of orange juice and voila! Cocktail a la cupid.

  Today had been more entertaining than he had thought it would be, the mortals were more fun in person and he hadn’t expected to snare one so easily. The female had been drawn straight to his little makeshift stall, but then again, what female could resist the pull of Cupid? What he didn’t expect was for her to resist the pull of Cupid’s essence so easily. He may have lied about a few things, but he hadn’t lied about what was contained in the bottle.

  It did indeed contain the tears he had shed when he had been convinced he had lost his love. He didn’t cry, but that time he had been unable to stop the flow of fluid as it had leaked from his eyes. That had made the other gods realise that what he felt had indeed been true love; that Psyche was meant for him, and him alone. They had bo
ttled those tears in an enchanted vessel that would never empty and gifted them to him as an apology for the mistake they had made.

  When he had got his lady love back, he had maybe gone a tad “batshit crazy”. He grinned, mortal words and phrases always made ranting so much more enjoyable. He had blown his fuse at the other gods and in turn, had made sure they knew what he had gone through times ten. They had quickly begged for his forgiveness, begged for him to lift the curse he had placed on them.

  Cupid’s annoyingly loud ring tone echoed in the room, Ylvis’s high-pitched tone singing What Does the Fox Say always made Cupid smile when he heard it. It was the tune he had chosen for his lady love well, because she was his fox. If she knew, he would no doubt get the silent treatment, or a glare, or the familiar birdy. But they always made up and that was worth it. It usually took a few days and left them both spent.

  Cupid adjusted himself in his joggers, just the thought of the make up session had him growing hard and it was a waste at the moment. Yes, he was male and loved playing with Pedro, but when he had the choice between Psyche’s areas of outstanding natural beauty or his hand, he would always go for the national trust option. The sights and sounds were much prettier to look at and he always got cake at the end as well.

  “Down boy.” He patted his own area of outstanding beauty and reached for his mobile, pleased to see Psyche had obviously been thinking about him whilst she was away. That and she wanted to say thank you for the fabulous dick pic he had sent. What woman could resist that?

  * * *

  Cupid my love-stop playing with it, it will drop off and as much as it has the capability to make me scream I DO NOT want pictures of it. It isn’t that pretty.

  BEHAVE I will be home soon.

  Love

  Pxx

  * * *

  Well that wasn’t the attitude he was hoping for. Cupid pouted, was he losing his touch? Shit, maybe he needed to be more involved with his current venture, because if he was losing his touch in the love department then he needed to put more effort into it to making sure it worked.

  Removing his hand from its comfy position on his cock, he swung his legs around and sat up. The mere thought that he may be losing his immense skills as the god of love was frightening. Or was it just that Psyche was becoming immune? That wasn’t on, if so.

  Dammit, he needed to be worshiped as the king of lovers, and for her to say Pedro wasn’t pretty was just rude. In one smooth movement he slid his joggers down his legs and off at his feet. With a confident bounce to his step he walked into the bedroom and to the full length mirror. Yes, he had work to do, but he wanted to show his wife just how pretty Pedro was. With his phone in one hand and a bright red bow in the other, he set about a show that would no doubt change her mind and also lead to some special tours of his favourite valleys.

  Cupid grinned as he tied a bow.

  Oh yes, she would be helpless to resist.

  †

  Belinda groaned as she opened her eyes. Gently, she rolled over from her horizontal position on the floor of her loft. Her brain was fuzzy and she felt like she had swallowed moth balls.

  What the hell had happened? She almost never fainted and she had never in her life passed out like that before. She remembered taking a deep whiff of the perfume in her new bottle and feeling out of sorts. Belinda looked around the floor but was unable to see the bottle. Despite her state, she crawled along the floor, looking underneath all of her bookcases in her search. She hope she hadn’t smashed it, there was a lot of money tied up in the small glass bottle and regardless of the fact she was a little spooked by it now, she couldn’t just afford for it to be in pieces on the floor.

  Using the closest case to help her stand, she brushed the dust from her clothes and looked at her watch.

  “Shit,” she blurted out. The time was 5:48am. Belinda had been out for the count for hours, no wonder she felt like she had spent the night on a rack. She groaned again as she twisted in an effort to stretch her muscles. She stopped mid twist as her eyes fell on her display case. She was positive that she had left it open, ready to place the bottle inside, but now there it was on display, as if the night’s event had never happened. The rosewood box was open and showed the small bottle nestled inside the velvet. There was something different, but Belinda couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

  She again couldn’t take her eyes off it as it shimmered and almost pulsed. She shook her head and turned away from it. This was the freakiest night she had ever had.

  “Maybe I should take it back?” She looked over her shoulder as she said the words and her eyes widened as the liquid inside the bottle pulsed stronger and changed colour- to red.

  Mesmerised, she opened the case that hadn’t been locked and reached in to grab the pulsing bottle. In her hands, it vibrated slightly as if angry at the threat to return it.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, feeling like a muppet for talking to a bloody bottle. “I won’t return you if you don’t want me to.” She watched as the angry, red colour slowly faded back to the pink she remembered from before. The vibration calmed to a slight buzz and the bottle felt warm in her hand.

  Belinda was stunned at the reaction. She smiled and asked another question. “Are you going to help me?”

  The answer was instant, the bottle buzzed harder and the colours started to include blues and purples. The smell that she adored filled the room. She breathed deep and smiled more brightly.

  “Thank you, whatever you are.” It buzzed again, but when she went to return it to the box in the display case it vibrated violently, showing its dislike for being in the case.

  “You don’t want to be in the case then?”

  It vibrated in answer and Belinda chuckled. “You are a stubborn thing, aren’t you? Come on, you and the box can live in my room.” She picked up the box from the case and slid the bottle back into his velvet home before she locked the case. She made her way down the stairs, turning off the lights as she went. Her feet were silent on the carpet as she walked into her bedroom and placed the box on her dressing table. Her fingers slid over the wood in an almost caressing way. Each pattern that had been etched onto the wood called for her fingers to explore it. She was almost ready to sit down and do that when she remembered what time it was and where she had spent the night. She felt icky and in need of a shower. Belinda, with an absent mind, patted the box and walked towards her bathroom.

  She didn’t just feel icky, but not entirely herself. Her skin felt tingly and her stomach felt like it was full of butterflies. Undressing and dumping her clothes onto the floor, she stepped into the shower and turned on the water full tilt. The spray, at first, was cold and made Belinda scream, as well as making sure she was truly awake before it warmed. The water streamed down and onto Belinda’s face as the steam filled the room. Nothing felt as good as the feeling of hot water running down her naked body. She would assume the touch of a man equalled that but, she didn’t know. Hell, she had only been kissed the once. Belinda shuddered under the spray at the thought.

  Memories, again of her turbulent childhood, filled the current void in her mind, bringing back the feelings of not fitting in and being on her own. Her parents had always done the best for her, but with her issues she struggled to fit in. You had the usual taunts of; swot, miss goody two shoes and others. She couldn’t help that when she focused on her school work it helped take her mind from going into overload about things that she couldn’t control. Like the dust in the classroom, or the books not being in alphabetical order, the colours of the pencils not neatly arranged. The list could go on and on. Her teachers hadn’t noticed both the taunts and the issues she had, and Belinda hadn’t wanted to tell her parents, so that was when she had started relying on herself.

  As she got older, the taunts became more hurtful and she was called more names because she was never interested in boys and kept to herself. She had been labelled a lesbian by the shallow minded lads of her school for this fact. She did despair when lads tre
ated girls like that and then had the nerve to wonder why they found it hard to get a girlfriend. When she was that age, it seemed to be the only thing that mattered for her classmates. Well, not for her, she had learned early on that maturity took a while, especially when the owner had a penis, so she kept clear.

  Belinda sighed and bent her head forward so the water could flow down her back. The warmth seeped into her muscles, relaxing the knots that had been formed from her night on the floor. Her mind swirled and once again focused on Mike.

  Now, he wasn’t the type of guy most people would assume she would go for; they expected her to be married to a professor or another academic. Why, she had no idea, the mere thought of that bored her to the max. Why she needed someone like that when she did that herself was baffling. She wanted someone that would push her out of her comfort zone, break the mould that she had been set in for so many years and if she followed the way her heart wanted, it pointed straight to Mike.

  There was something about his large muscles that spoke to her of protection and safety, along with his gorgeous eyes that she wanted to sink into. Yes, he was your typically good looking guy, but he had a vulnerability that called to her. His stutter wasn’t annoying, it actually was endearing to her and she loved listening to his voice, so the longer he took the better.

  She sighed again, this time louder. Her body feeling tired and relaxed, she turned off the water and picked up a towel. Her body felt almost limp, she had become suddenly exhausted as she wrapped herself in the soft material and walked back into her room.

  She missed the text that lit her phone and she missed the box as it vibrated on her dressing table, the lid now open and the bottle pulsing with a strange purple light.

  All she cared about was getting under the covers of her soft bed and sleeping. Pulling the duvet back, she climbed in and snuggled down, her mind shutting down and sending her once again to sweet oblivion, even as Cupid’s Essence worked its magic.