by Lacuna Reid
I surrender to the kiss, leaning against him, enjoying the feel of his firm chest and upper arms. His rough stubble rubs against the skin around my mouth, but I don’t care.
Still holding me tightly, he pushes us both back, so that we lean up against his big wooden desk. I can feel his hard cock through the soft corduroy of his pants, and I want nothing more than to feel him inside me.
Suddenly, there’s a chill in the air despite the warmth of the day. I feel goosebumps prickling my skin and I can’t tell if it’s from the sudden drop in temperature or whether it’s my body reacting to the chemistry with Theo. I shiver and Theo pulls back, letting out a short sharp sigh, as if it has taken all his effort to stop.
“Mira… I… I’m sorry.”
I look up into the handsome face of this man who is… kind of my employer! I’m flooded with shame.
Shit. What did I just do? Is he going to fire me now… Wait… Did he kiss me, or did I kiss him? It was definitely mutual. Shit… what does that mean?
There’s so much pain in Theo’s expression now that my eyes widen.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” I reach up and brush my hand against his stubbly cheek.
“I loved someone before… so deeply, so desperately that I betrayed that love.”
“Oh…” something about Theo’s confession pains me. Of course, he’s loved someone before, so why am I taking this so personally? Is it just because there’s a part of me that wants him to be completely mine? That same part of me that wants to claim the other men here as well? I pull away from Theo, feeling confused, almost wounded, as if his pain is contagious.
“I… I shouldn’t have done that,” Theo says. “I… by no means did I intend to take advantage of you.”
“No. It’s…” I’m struggling between the desire to dive back into him and the need to run away. “It’s okay. There was a moment…”
“Yes, there was.” Theo says, looking into my eyes again and making me wish there was no reason not to jump his bones.
“Mira,” Theo says in his deep velvety voice, and I basically want to melt into a puddle on the floor at this point. I’m so wet already. “There are things you should know… things you will find out in time.”
“That sounds cryptic,” I say, pulling myself together. Obviously “the moment” has passed, and Theo is back to being as distant as he was before.
“I don’t want to overwhelm you, Mira. Just… make yourself at home here. Take a swim or something… anything, and… let me know what you need from me.”
What I need right now is clearly inappropriate and could get me fired, so I nod and leave Theo’s office without knowing what else to say.
Strangely, the temperature seems to have returned to normal, but I have the odd feeling that I’m being watched as I walk away from Theo’s office.
Holy hell… that was hot. I’m still breathing fast as I arrive back in my “living quarters.” I’m too worked up to do anything else, and I don’t have anything to do until the afternoon, so I decide to relieve some pressure, all the while thinking of Theo in his office, of me… on his desk… with him… doing unspeakable things to me. It takes several sessions before I’m ‘relieved’ enough to go for a walk. I clean myself up and put my bikini on under my dress, thinking I might scope out that pool.
Chapter Sixteen
Mira
I’m not expecting to find anyone at the pool, least of all the muscled god that seems to be propelling himself through the water at an inhuman speed. I almost back out again, but he catches sight of me.
“Hello?”
“Uhh, hi.” I say, not really prepared for conversation.
“Mira, right? Gino told us you were coming. Don’t mind me. I’m just doing some laps,” the guy calls out, then he paddles over to me, sweeps his wet shoulder-length hair away from his face, and says, “I’m Helio.”
So, you are…
“Come on in. The water’s fine.” Helio smiles at me and winks. Another shot of hot desire pumps through me.
Goddess save me from these delicious men. How am I supposed to get out of this with my dignity in-tact?
I wait until Helio goes back to his laps, before taking off my wrap dress and diving in to the opposite side of the pool. The cool water soothes me, easing the anxiety of the past few days, weeks… years.
I used to swim a lot in school but over the past few years I could barely afford rent let alone pool membership. I catch glimpses of Helio as he moves through the water on the other side. The sight of his abs and ripped muscular arms sends waves of heat through the coolness of the pool.
I pull my mind back from the sordid places it has started to wander and focus on the water and my breathing. I’m in paradise and I’m damn well going to enjoy the hell out of it.
Helio pulls himself out of the pool and lies down in one of the poolside loungers. His eyes are closed, so I take the opportunity to float on my back like I did as a child while he’s not going to be watching me. I look up at the beautiful high ceilings and relax. Being here feels so right. It feels like finally coming home.
I sigh and glance over towards Helio again. He’s watching me with those dark eyes, a cheeky grin on his face. I have the sudden urge to slap him, but it’s too late. He takes his towel, gives me another cocky wink and saunters out of the pool area. Theo is wrong. I don’t like Helio… at all!
Chapter Seventeen
Helio
Even just that brief glimpse of Mira, that brief interaction, makes my heart race. I fling my towel around my shoulders and leave the pool. I head out of the building and run through the forest, trying to out-run my heartbeat, my racing thoughts, myself.
My hands brace against the rough tree bark of branches and trunks to steady myself as I turn corners along the narrow path through the trees. Knobbly tree roots massage my bare feet. I breathe in the rich, deep forest air, take in the sounds of insects, the many shades of green, the sunbeams shining through the canopy, trying to fill my senses up with everything… with anything. I run down paths I’ve hardly travelled and spiderwebs cling to my skin. Still, I can’t outrun her.
Eventually, I run out of places to go. I return to my shack and get my hatchet out of the shed. I cut firewood to ease the tension even though it’s still warm enough to sleep out under the stars. I place a large log on the tree stump I use for wood cutting. As I strike through it with the hatchet, the anger hits me.
Why must history keep repeating?
I strike again and again, letting my frustration and rage loose on the innocent timbre.
Something about Mira – about seeing her in the flesh – is bringing home this feeling of inevitability, as if life has been prescribed for me.
Why isn’t there any way to stop it?
Before now, I could believe the dreams were only dreams… even after Gino told us about her… Right up to her arrival, I could pretend it was just a fantasy and that he was mistaken, deluded, that it was wishful thinking.
I drop the small pieces of wood into the basket by my door and get another large log, but this time as I smash the hatchet through it, I’m only angry at myself.
You may have just met the most important person in your life… Why did you have to go and fuck it up by being a dick?
I know that I’ve met her. I can’t get her out of my head. The dream comes back to me, the one I’ve had over and over again; the one that kills me with anticipation because I can never see what happens next.
I know it instantly: it’s her… the woman I could not stop thinking about ever since I laid eyes on her that day on the street. The look that had passed between us sent fire burning through my veins, hotter than even my kiln. I knew she was headed for the temple. I knew she was to be a priestess and that meant she was sacred, off limits, belonging only to the Gods.
That’s why I had to come to the temple tonight – for the chance to see her – not because I cared about the Mysteries. Although the whole city had been awash in excitement over them, t
alking of little else for days.
Those who had previously been initiated spoke in hushed tones about the ceremony, careful to keep the secrets hidden. I don’t like secrets, and the whole thing seemed too dramatic – save that for the theatre, I thought… but then, that woman came into my mind yet again, and I made the connection. This could be my chance.
It’s not often that those outside of the temple cloisters are allowed in, unless they’re bringing big fat donations of produce or drachmas. That isn’t my style. I prefer a simple life and would rather give any excess to those who need it most, not the bloated temple coffers. If the gods really cared about money, then surely, the rich would have happier fates. No – as far as I can tell, the gods are doing their own thing, only sometimes paying attention to us tiny humans.
Even still, I decided I had to come, even just for another glimpse of her. It doesn’t take long, standing in this ridiculous mask just before sunset. The temple gates open and we’re ushered inside. A moment passes, then the gates begin to close behind us just as the priests and priestesses emerge.
I recognize her instantly, and in this moment, there is nothing I want more than to rip off those gorgeous aqua robes and make love to her.
Why do I do this to myself? I shouldn’t have come. I should have stayed as far away as possible – to defile a priestess means certain death.
The eunuchs explain that the uninitiated are to be led, one by one, into the temple. They inform us that tonight we have offered ourselves freely to the gods and that they may inhabit our mortal flesh as they wish. My wish is that whatever god inhabits my flesh is mated to the one inhabiting hers. I don’t even know her name. I know I have a life that I’m proud of, but right now I’d gladly leave that all behind and walk willingly into a beautiful death if it meant surrendering myself to this goddess.
Get a grip, man! I tell myself.
Just then, she approaches me. taking my blindfold and standing on tip-toe to tie it around my eyes. I can feel her sweet breath against my neck. I can smell the delicious floral scent of her… It takes all my strength to stand still, not to reach out and try to grasp my desire. My efforts pay off. Soon, I feel her hand on my forearm, sending hot shivers through my torso as she leads me toward the Mysteries, and I have never been more willing to follow anyone anywhere.
* * *
It took Gino a long time to convince me that these dreams might be real, not some mass hallucination, and even now, I’m not always sure. Well, at least I wasn’t until the moment Mira walked into the pool room.
In the dreams of Ancient Greece, of my life as a blacksmith, I was a different man… it’s as if my personality is influenced by the physical form I take.
Teris was not as cocky as I am. He was not as volatile. He was stable and proud and sure of himself in a self-contained way, despite not at all being an intellectual. In this life, I studied hard, I excelled. I became the top engineering student of my year and for a while, I enjoyed all the money and glamor of well-paid corporate jobs, but despite all that, people judge me as some kind of oaf – just from my appearance. They assume all brawn must mean no brain.
When Theo decided to buy and renovate this property to create El Cielo, I joined him as a partner, imagining it to be a good investment opportunity. For a while, I wanted to live like him, in an elegant apartment, looking down on the world, but moving here changed me. There’s something about this place that called us all here, and it called me away from the others into the forest, where I built this shack and where I prefer to live peacefully. This place called to Mira too, whether she knows it or not, and it will change her.
I obviously did not make a good impression on her this time. I came across like the arrogant asshole that I am when I’m feeling defensive, when I’m caught off guard. The guys are all used to me – used to my moods and my behavior, but all Mira knows is what she just saw and whatever snippets she heard from the other guys. I wish I’d done better, but she seems to bring out a kind of vulnerability in me that I’m not used to and that I need to squash down with all my might. I’m not ready for that. I’m not ready for her.
I could just leave here… I could run away, just like my mother and I did when I was a child, leaving the dreadful man who gave me his DNA.
I’m tempted to leave now but I know it’s just a fantasy. Every time I get pissed off at Gino or Theo, I do this – I plot my dramatic departure from El Cielo. Sometimes, I’ve even done it – skipped out for a few days, gone back to my home town and spent time with my relatives, lain on a beach in the south of Spain, and partied with strangers for a few weeks until I’m full of nothing but sangria and regret, and then I’ve come back, without even saying a word to the guys. I’ve slipped back into El Cielo, back to my shack, and back into life here, without anyone saying anything.
Chapter Eighteen
Mira
“Of course, you know what you’re doing,” Elias says.
I arrived in the kitchen slightly before 4pm to find him expertly slicing onions.
“I might know a thing or two about food prep, yes.” I smile at him. “I’ve only worked in kitchens for over five years, and I studied at the Cordon Bleu.
“Impressive,” Elias says. “I merely dabble and I love meal planning. Gino likes to get involved too when he’s around. I’ve never met someone so enthusiastic about herbs.”
I get a wave of déjà vu. It’s almost, as if I knew that about Gino, but I don’t think we ever talked about herbs in our brief conversation at the bar.
“But tell me,” Elias says, bringing me back to the present. “Do you ever build a tolerance to onion tears?” He wipes a tear from his eye.
“Not really,” I say and smile, appreciating how down-to-earth Elias seems to be, compared to the other guys here.
“So, what shall we make?” Elias asks me.
“What do we have in terms of supplies?” I ask
Elias shows me through to what appears to be a small gourmet supermarket of a pantry and walk-in fridge.
“Of course – absolutely everything I could think of!”
I’m drawn towards the plump purple eggplants, zucchinis and bright red peppers.
“What are you thinking?” Elias asks me.
“Ratatouille?” I suggest.
“You read my mind!”
“Maybe with a parmesan crusted baked polenta, and…” I look around at the herbs. The beautiful bunches of sage stand out. I pick one up. “…with sage-crumbed chicken breast.”
“Sounds wonderful!” Elias says. “Gino grew that sage.”
“Really?” Of course, he did, in between running a major ethical tech start-up and recruiting errant sous chefs…
“Yes, in fact, most of our fresh produce is grown onsite.”
“I didn’t see any gardens.”
“You won’t unless you wander around to the north side of the buildings. We also have greenhouses there.”
“This place is really something else…”
“It’s so funny, the way you Americans speak. I’m not used to the expressions.”
“Are you Italian too?”
“Oh no – me? I’m Greek. Not like these smart-asses here.”
I smile at the bad American accent he’s attempting to put on.
We work together with easy conversation and even comfortable patches of silence.
Occasionally, Elias tells me little things about his life. He mentions the small Greek fishing village he grew up in, the things his mother would do in the kitchen, or snippets of history in his long friendship with the other guys. It seems like they all met at university. Of course, Theo was older. He was a lecturer at the college where the others attended. Elias was evasive about what actually brought them together, but I couldn’t tell if it was because he just couldn’t really remember the details or whether he was actually trying to hide something.
“I’ve never been to Greece,” I say. “But there’s something I’ve always been interested in… Have you ever seen the Anc
ient Greek temples?”
At that exact moment, Elias drops his knife. We both watch as it flips in the air and then lands, slicing the delicate skin between his thumb and forefinger.
“Gamó ton Día!” Elias cries.
“Where’s the first-aid kit?” I ask, handing him a wad of paper towels and cursing myself for not asking for that information when I first set foot in the kitchen like I should have.
Elias points me towards a cupboard, and I retrieve the first aid kit.
“It’s fine,” Elias, says, waving me away, but I can tell he’s woozy. Although, I’m not sure if it’s from the amount of bleeding or just the sight of his own blood. I wonder if he’s a fainter, but he pulls himself together.
“Don’t be silly,” I say, retrieving antiseptic ointment, wipes and bandages. Every chef knows basic wound care because it’s a normal part of our job. The paper towels have stemmed the flow of blood and the cut is smaller than the blood-soaked wad of towels would suggest.
Elias winces as I dab on the ointment. It’s nice to be close to him. Despite the circumstances, another shiver runs through me as I sense the intimacy between us while I dress his wound and help him put on a silicone glove so that he can keep cooking without contaminating the food.
“So lovely… Mira.” Elias says, still slightly woozy… “Even lovelier than I remember.”
“What?”
He seems to shake himself. “Sorry. I always get like this – funny in the head, from my blood.”
I smile at him. “What was it you said before? Was it Greek?”
“Gamó ton Día?”
“Yes.”
“It means…” Elias starts laughing… “I don’t know if I should say.” He brushes a tiny bit of parmesan crumb from my forearm.
“Tell me!”
“It’s a swearing word – it means ‘Fuck Zeus’.”
