Cupids Essence

by J Thompson

  Her outfit she had picked out had been one she had bought, but never had the guts to wear. A long black pencil skirt that sat high on her waist with a sleeveless red V-necked blouse, this was finished off with blank ankle boots that had cost her a small fortune back when she had bought them. But the whole outfit somehow made her feel confident and a little sexy.

  She had gone all out and left her hair down, even curling a few of the wayward strands as well as donning some make-up that highlighted her eyes and lips, but wasn’t too full on. She didn’t often wear make-up but she wanted to look as good as she could for tonight. She had a gut feeling that the evening would change everything, her stomach wouldn’t settle and that was either nerves getting the better of her or she had suddenly gained the skills Lassie and Skippy had been famous for...

  Belinda smiled as her bag started to vibrate again; it had been doing that off and on since she got home, as if it was happy and excited for her. That was the Essence, it seemed to have a consciousness all of its own and would react to the situation at hand. She liked it, it felt like she had a friend and she had found she spoke to it a lot, especially in the last few days.

  Belinda tapped the table about five times before she pressed off it and stood. Her boots clicked across the tile as she picked up her small leather jacket from the counter, and her handbag, before she walked to the door.

  “Come on girl, you can do this.”

  She looked at herself in the mirror next to the front door, not recognising herself at all. She hadn't since the day the Essence had come home. It was like it had tapped into something deep down, something she had never shown anyone else.

  “Belinda, you can do this, just think of… shit, I don't know. But defo don't think of his dimples or the fact you fancy the crap out of him or you will fuck this up.” She smiled and nodded at her reflection and without waiting, threw open the door and headed out into the street.

  The pub was only a couple of hundred yards down the road from where they both lived which meant it would make things a little easier and they could both have a drink which suited her just fine. The term Dutch courage was flying through her head, but she reckoned shit faced drunk would be a step too far. A cheeky little shot once she got there wouldn't do any harm...she hoped. Belinda was more concerned with what random tripe her mouth would erupt with, either that or she would sit there like a mute and just smile and nod.

  Ahh shit, Belinda thought. Could she do this? Yes, she could. She smiled as the Essence vibrated in agreement in her bag, almost egging her on.

  “The Vicar’s Pulpit.” Belinda snorted at the name, whoever had named the place was clearly trying to be all serious but in this day and age, most would find the rude side

  She laughed then mentally pulled up her big girl panties (and her thong) and pushed through the door, into the bar area of the pub.

  Even though there was a smoking ban on public areas, this seemed to be the only pub she knew of that still let their patrons spark up inside. Belinda tried not to cough as she walked in but, instead, inhaled too much of someone's cigar and started her evening hacking up a lung.

  “You alright there, Miss?” the bar man called. “Can I help you?”

  “Yeah.” She coughed and walked towards the bar, aware and slightly uneasy about the stares she was getting.

  Belinda looked behind her then forward again, her nerves hitting a high that she didn't think even Mike’s presence would solve.

  “Can I have a gin and tonic, oh, and also a shot of tequila, please?” she asked nervously.

  The barman was, at first, taken aback then nodded with a smile. “Sure thing, honey. You all alone?” he asked as he started on her drinks.

  “Not for long,” she replied. “I have a date,” Belinda said with more courage than she felt.

  “Lucky fella,” he answered, with almost a sulk. She would have laughed and felt flattered at any other time but something felt off, the atmosphere in the pub didn’t feel right and she had feeling she was being stared at a lot. But she was too nervous to turn around.

  The hairs on the back of her neck started to prickle as she felt someone approach the bar.

  “Let me get this for the lady, Barry.”

  Belinda went to answer but was stopped as another gentleman appeared on her other side.

  “No, I will pay for her drinks Barry, ignore the fool.”

  She didn’t say anything but stood between two guys that, she would say, were slightly older than her. They argued back and forth until another slipped in next to her and winked whilst handing over a ten pound note to the barman.

  “Too late, I got this.”

  “Oi!” one shouted and pushed the third man.

  Belinda felt trapped and tried to make a move so she could go and sit on her own, but the room seemed all of a sudden too small and far too crowded. She felt hands push and pull at her as they went from arguing about who could buy her drinks to who could ask her out. Their voices became louder as more men joined in, wedging her against the bar.

  In her bag the Essence vibrated hard, almost in warning, just as a fist was thrown and a full on brawl broke out.

  Being jostled against the bar, Belinda winced and almost cried out. She would no doubt sport a large bruise once she got home, if she ever got home. With nowhere else to go, Belinda pushed back against the men behind her then jumped up onto the bar. She was now able to see over what she would describe as a hoard of men that were beating seven bells of shit out of each other, and she wasn’t even sure why. Hands grabbed at her legs as some of them noticed she no longer stood near them.

  “Hey, don’t go,” one shouted, and tried to grab her skirt, ripping it as he tugged, leaving Belinda with a large slit up one side.

  “Let go of me,” she shouted, only to find another attempt to grab her arm.

  “We want to show you a good time,” another said.

  Reaching behind her, Belinda found the handle of the broom that had been left propped up against the side of the bar. She fought off the grabbing hands and knelt on the bar and with more gusto then she ever showed in Physical Education at school, she started to smack each man that approached her on the head with her new weapon.

  “I only bloody came here for a date with Mike.” SMACK, SMACK. “And you’ve all fucking ruined it!” SMACK, SMACK.

  “And where is MIKE?” she screamed as she smacked another.

  The sight that greeted Psyche’s eyes as she walked into the bar stunned the living crap out of her. What in the name of all that was holy had gone on? Luckily, she had managed to freeze events and now everyone was stood and looked like they were taking part in the mannequin challenge.

  Seriously, she thought, she leaves for a small getaway with the girls and bam! Cupid starts acting like a complete moron again. How many times had she warned him what happened when he got personally involved? Now she stood, looking at the issues he had caused and she wasn’t happy. It would take more than just Cupid’s cocky bastard smile to get him his man card back this time.

  She sighed and turned to survey the damage, damage meaning the destruction of the bar caused by one potent love spell on one small mortal female who, she didn’t think, had asked for it.

  She was beautiful, you couldn’t miss that, but she could tell the spell had worked its wonders on bringing her out of her shell and showing not only the world, but herself, the goddess she was inside. That was the issue with women in this day and age; there was a preconception that women had to look and act a certain way and for some, that pressure drove them to hide their true selves from everyone.

  This mortal had blossomed but, as was the nature of Cupid’s fuck ups, that blossom had been followed by a storm. Every single male that came within a hundred foot radius of the mortal would feel a tug, forcing them to alter their route or path and, in essence, meet with the intended. She had seen this spell done before, but not for a very long time.

  “Cupid, you sneaky little bastard, come out now,” Psyche called out.
She stood in her favourite skinny jeans, thigh high boots and blue blouse with her hands on her hips. To say that she was annoyed wouldn’t quite cover it. This was the last thing she wanted to deal with when she got home. She had thought, after all this time, Cupid would have learned.

  “Love bug, you are home!”

  Psyche slowly turned to the direction of the voice, not surprised to see he was half dressed in a pair of grey joggers. She raised an eyebrow and he tried to act all innocent.

  “Miss me, baby?” he crooned, and instead of the kiss he no doubt wanted, she poked him in the nose with her finger.

  “What the fuck have you done, Cupid? Have you not seen the cluster fuck that is this bar?”

  “I don’t know what you mean, twiddle thumbs.”

  “DO NOT act dumb with me.” She poked his nose once more. “I know your handy work when I see it, Cupid, and not forgetting the shiny pink heart over that mortal which gives you away, so stop bullshitting me.”

  Psyche folded her arms across her chest and waited for Cupid to answer. After a moment, she had to snap her fingers in his face.

  “Cupid, I swear I will cause Pedro severe damage that may take millennia to heal from if you do not answer me.” He nodded, but he eyes were fixated on her breasts as they were pushed against the fabric of her blouse.

  “Come here Wife, let me slay your nipples with my tongue.”

  “Oi, pervert, eyes up!”

  “No fair Psyche, it’s been ages since I got me some boob; you’ve been away so long.” Cupid pouted and Psyche found it hard to stay mad. He was her husband, her extremely gorgeous and horny husband, but he had the attention span of a flea when it came to anything else other than love related subjects and as per his actions, he got bored easily. She had to force herself to concentrate as he continued his little rant.

  “You left, and what did Pedro and I have to do besides sit and watch TV? Nothing.” He pouted more. “I missed you, Wife.”

  He stepped forward, wrapped his arms around her waist and tugged her into his hot and hard body. Her own reacted as it always did, but she placed her hands on his chest and halted his assault. Distraction would not work on her this time.

  “Cupid? Did you use the Essence?” she asked calmly, her eyes on his face. His blue eyes once had hypnotised her and lead her on a merry chase, but now she had the ability to resist.

  “Cupid,” she prompted, and was rewarded with a whispered answer.

  “Yes?”

  “Are you kidding me?” she shouted as she stepped away from his embrace, and he bent his head. “My love, you know what happens when you use that.”

  “It worked fine the last time, boo boo.”

  Psyche growled as he said the last nickname. He had many for her, but this one always made her a tad irate

  “For the last time, I am not a fucking bear, Cupid. You really need to stop watching those kids programs. And the reason it worked last time was because you had left it with only a few drops in. Marcella didn’t wear the damn stuff.”

  Psyche paced the room, being careful to avoid knocking down any mortals as she did. She walked over to the bar and stood in front of the mortal that had been the recipient of Cupid’s help.

  She was stood on the bar and had a broom handle in her hand. Men surrounded her, all with adoration pasted across their faces as they tried to touch her. They had already from the looks of her torn skirt. Her facial expression was priceless; a warrior battling an army as she wielded her broom.

  Psyche scrubbed a hand down her face and after looking at the mortal, she turned to face Cupid again, only to find his eyes glued to her arse.

  “Focus!” she shouted, and watched as he jumped. “What happened when you used it before Marcella, Cupid?”

  She watched again as he winced and started to look sheepish. His lack of willpower, as well as lack of control, was one of the reasons they had granted her immortality; as she seemed to be the only one able to control his “asshat” tendencies. That was until she had gone away.

  “Cupid, the last time you let that spell loose it was with Cleopatra, and look how that ended.” He winced again and nodded.

  “I know.”

  “You know? And yet you let it loose on a modern mortal. Honey, they are even less prepared for it than the ancient mortals were. At least they believed in magic.” She waved her hand about. “These don’t, they believe in only what they can see.”

  Psyche walked over to Cupid and cupped his face in her palms, bringing his face up and his eyes to meet her own.

  “My love,” she said sweetly. “You fucked up big time.” She sighed, kissed his lips and stepped away. “So, what are we going to do about it?”

  †

  Cupid smiled at his wife, even after all this time she could distract him with a single look; pull him to her with just a crook of her finger. But she was right, as usual, he thought. He had well and truly fucked up, as was evident by the horny males trying to climb the bar and get to his chosen mortal. Cupid’s answer to Psyche about what to do was not going to gain him any man points. In fact, it may well just put him in the red completely.

  “We can’t stop it,” he replied, and watched as her eyes widened with panic as she looked back to the mortal who was mid battle on the bar.

  “What do you mean we can’t stop it, Cupid? She’s going to get ravished!”

  “You like getting ravished,” he answered back quickly, and was rewarded with a growl and a smack upside of his head.

  “Owie baby, that hurt!”

  “Get over it. And I only like getting ravished by you, dickhead. I don’t think she wants to get ravished by multiple men, in a bar, in front of everyone, do you?”

  “Err… no,” he replied.

  “So what the fuck do we do, brains? This is your doing, so bloody sort it,” she shouted again. It took everything he had to stop staring at Psyche’s breasts, they were perfection after all and Pedro had missed her so.

  “Cupid!” she shouted again. Fuck, he thought, busted.

  “Fine,” he called and started to pace in front of his wife, thinking hard about his little spell and how to fix his “fuck up”, as his wife had called it.

  “Aha!” he shouted and stood in the middle of the room, hands on his hips. “I have it.”

  “Go on,” Psyche said as she walked over to an empty stool and perched on it.

  “She has to admit who has her heart. One of the males around here owns it or the spell wouldn’t be as potent. She just hasn’t admitted it yet, as soon as she does… poof!” Cupid said poof at the same time he did a poof like gesture with his hands.

  “Poof?” Psyche repeated.

  “Yes, poof. All these males will forget their intense ardour for our mortal and she will be free of the spell and the bottle, well, that’s if it is the Essence that has made shit go batshit crazy.” Cupid frowned as he remembered the words spoken by a certain god not long ago. “That could be it,” he finished, but didn’t mention his meeting with Apollo straight away.

  “So where is the mortal she loves, Cupid?”

  “Err, that would be the question I can’t answer my love. Can I get a kiss now?”

  “No.”

  “No?” he repeated.

  “NO, and you know why?”

  Cupid shook his head and pouted. On most men that would look ridiculous, but on him it just looked cute and slightly sexy.

  “There is a major problem with your plan my love.”

  “What’s that, love blossom?” he purred, totally unfazed by the total shit storm he had stirred up. Pysche’s face, although serene, her eyes fired showing just how annoyed she really was. Cupid knew she was classed as his keeper and then one that had to clean his shit up when he made slight miscalculations.

  “She won’t be able to admit who has her heart. She won’t even be able to say she loves him. Not yet anyway. These modern mortals are stubborn, my love. They have to get to know one another before they will even contemplate the notion of love
. They have forgotten how to listen to their hearts and souls.”

  Cupid didn’t like the frown that marred his wife’s beautiful face. He much preferred her open mouthed after an orgasm. But thinking about that would just distract him again. He knew he had a short attention span, he couldn’t help it. It was in his nature, but he hated knowing he had put Pysche in such a position.

  “Cupid, we have to find another way. Try and find the mortal male before she,” Psyche pointed at the female, “is ceased upon by every bloody male in this room, or else Pedro won’t get to visit his favourite garden ever again.” She paused, her own eyes filled with love for him but also annoyance. “Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes, sexy pants.”

  “And Cupid?”

  “Yes stroodle?” he answered.

  “Hurry up, because I have missed Pedro…a lot.”

  She smiled, blew him a kiss and vanished.

  “See, told ya she missed us Pedro.” Cupid patted his bulge before he turned and left the room, the mannequin challenge still in place. As he did, he pulled out his own phone and sent a text to his wife. Yes, he had only just seen her but has he had stated, she had his balls in a sack and, as such, he felt he couldn’t tell her he had met Apollo in person. So instead, he sent a text and hoped she may just well take the hint.

  Belinda’s hands felt sore from wielding the broom but as soon as she had managed to knock a few out, she took the chance to jump through the gap in the pumps and into the service area. She could still hear the grunts from the fight and some of the men calling for her to go back, but she ignored them and found her way to the back door that led through the kitchen and then out into the rear beer garden.

  The sooner she was out the sooner she could call Mike and tell him… What should she tell him? She couldn't exactly say the whole bar had gone mental over her, that would make her sound like a right stuck up cow.

  Shit, shit, shit, that was all that was going through her mind, that and the fact some twatknuckle had ripped her skirt trying to get his meaty paws on her. Why had they gone all bloody handsy all of a sudden? Belinda thought, as she pushed open the back door with more force than she thought, and nearly got it back in the face when it hit the wall and swung back.