Utter Cupidity

by Toni L. Meilleur

  “Oh, okay, look.” Brea held up the missing keys. Jordan took them from her, placing a warm kiss on her lips as a reward.

  “Let’s get you dressed before I try to have my way with you again.” He raised his eyebrows as he leered at her. Brea laughed, not remembering the last time she felt so carefree.

  “Nice going, Eris,” Psyche shot nastily at the goddess. “Is that what you call mayhem and discord? I would hate to see what total anarchy looks like.” Psyche made a rude sound before she waved at the scrying bowl, dismissing the image of her ex-husband and the mortal.

  “A setback. That’s all it is. That was small potatoes. I think this situation is going to call for a more hands-on approach,” Eris replied, ignoring the comment of the unstable woman pacing the floor. She sat in her usual stance, perched on the table. “Believe me, next time I’m going to do major damage.” Both women looked at each other and smiled as a new plan began to form between them.

  Twelve: A dead ringer

  “Are you sure you’re not imagining things?” Hermes asked, sipping at his ambrosia-laced coffee. He swirled the contents in the cup, listening to his friend rant about his paranoia.

  “I’m sure of it. The spiders were completely unnatural. And the tent. That was a brand new tent and it had a hole ripped into a corner. There was no way that water should have flowed into it. It wasn’t even the natural course of the water flow on that campground.” At two in the afternoon, Cupid was already on his second beer. He sat across from his friend on the patio.

  “So who do you think it is?”

  “Of course I think it’s Psyche. But why would she? What would she get out of it? She has her divorce, I thought she’d be somewhere on some tropical island, stalking some poor mortal by now.”

  “Well, she’s not the most stable thing on Olympus,” Hermes supplied.

  “Yeah, but she hasn’t the power to induce spiders or manipulate elements. Someone’s definitely helping the little crackpot,” Cupid’s voice trailed off as his mind searched. It could be any number of the gods. He was looking for a needle in a haystack.

  “Well, if things are going as good between you and the girl as you say, take a break. Snoop around and see what the talk is about,” Hermes suggested.

  “You know, that’s a good idea, Herm. Immortals can be dangerous when they’re out for revenge. They don’t care who gets caught in the crossfire.”

  “And you do?” Hermes gave him a shrewd look. “Be careful, Cupid, you have the look of the damned.”

  “The look of the damned? I don’t think so. I care for the girl, she’s wonderful. But don’t think I’ve lost sight of what this is all about.” Even as he said it, he knew the words to be a little blurry. He did care for her, very much. His mind raced back to the moment after they’d gotten into the Jeep.

  She was laughing. They laughed and talked all the way to the Forbright cottage. She’d reached for his hand and held it all the way home. Brea looked adorable in his clothes. True they were huge on her, but a beautiful woman looked good in anything. He had kissed her goodnight and waited until he was sure she locked the door behind her, before he turned to leave. It was the hardest thing he’d ever done. His willpower was tested as it took everything, every molecule in him, not to bang on that front door and demand to sleep in her bed all night, making love to her.

  “Hello? Where’d you go?” Hermes snapped his fingers in front of the dazed eyes of his friend.

  “Sorry, what did you say?”

  “I said you seem distracted.”

  “All right, maybe a little bit,” Cupid admitted sheepishly. “I’m going to stop by Olympus first to see if I can find something, then check in on Brea.”

  “Good plan. She sure has you checking in already.” Hermes laughed, slapping his leg at his own mirth. In retaliation Cupid threw a ball of fire at Hermes, who was way too quick and alert to get hit by it.

  Olympus was no doubt quiet because all the gods were off tending to their own business or getting into one another’s. Cupid stepped lightly, hoping to hear a conversation, anything that would help quell the feeling that something was definitely about to go wrong. He stepped into the large meeting room that still seemed to echo his sentence. The last time he’d been here, he had been on trial, his immortality in the balance. Had it only been a week since he’d put his plan into action? That left three weeks. A thought gnawed at him. Perhaps it would be more fitting to say his conscience gnawed at him. A conscience he hadn’t seen or heard from in years chose now to rear its ugly head.

  It whispered of his impending treachery to Brea. It accusingly pointed out that this was wrong, all of it. It didn’t matter that her memory would be wiped clean. She was a mortal and he was stealing time from her that she wouldn’t regain. Cupid wandered into the weapons room, half expecting his father, Ares, to be lounging about. It remained blissfully empty. The faint sound of voices wandered into his ear. It seemed to come from the small storage closet where Zeus kept his most prized thunderbolts. Thunderbolts he used in particularly nasty storms when he was venting his anger. Since these were custom made by Hephaestus, they were secured because in the wrong hands they could be quite dangerous. Only Zeus had the key. No one could materialize into the closet or out.

  Athena, wise as she was, saw to this particular detail. The bolts were usually locked up nice and tight. At least they were supposed to be locked up. The door to the closet stood ajar. Cupid approached the door, opening it just a little to get a clear look inside. Brea ran through his mind again as he thought that he had three weeks until he could set her free. He still had three solid weeks to seduce her into marriage—that was more than enough time since things were going so well. Cupid felt a hand at his back shove him into the closet, immediately followed by the sound of the lock snicking into place.

  “You’ve been humming all morning. Last night must have been great,” Lindie observed, sipping at her tea as she stared into the sudoku book with renewed determination.

  “It was nice,” Brea answered hesitantly, not sure how much she wanted to divulge to Lindie. Brea carefully poured herself a cup of tea then carried it to the table and sat. While Lindie was her best friend, she could be a little too girlie with all the squealing and “I told you so’s”. She glopped honey in her tea, trying to avoid the conversation.

  “Nice? Please, spill it. You’re glowing.” Lindie looked up from her book to stare at Brea. “Oh my god! You had sex! You did it! Yay for you! Details, details!” Lindie squealed, slamming the book shut and setting the tea down. She gave Brea her full attention.

  “Really, Lindie, there’s nothing to—”

  “Oh stop lying. Did you forget who you’re talking to? There’s no way in the world you had sex with that guy and there isn’t anything to tell. He is walking sin. Desire incarnate. Now tell me!” Lindie demanded.

  Brea shook her head. There was no way she was telling Lindie that she had sex with that guy in the pouring rain in the woods. That he’d made her orgasm harder than every male she’d had sex with put together. That right now she’d give just about anything to have Jordan between her legs. She wouldn’t tell her how giddy she’d been on the way home. She was like a schoolgirl with her first crush; she’d held his hand while they drove home for God’ssake! Brea groaned inwardly. There was no way in the world she was telling Lindie any of that. She’d have a thousand questions and each question would force her to remember the evening in fine detail. Something she wasn’t ready to come to terms with yet.

  “Sorry, Lindie, not this time. I will say it was nice. That’s all you’re getting from me.” Brea had to raise he voice over Lindie’s protestations.

  “You’re cruel,” Lindie grumbled, opening her book again but still giving Brea the most evil eye she could produce. As Brea stirred her tea, she couldn’t help but hum to herself.

  “Are you ready for your close-up?” Eris purred at Psyche.

  Psyche stamped her foot in impatience. “Will you just get on with it?” Ps
yche’s voice was scraped with annoyance.

  “Just hold still, it tingles a little.” Eris ignored Psyche’s demeanor. After all, she was dealing with a bomb with practically no fuse at all. “I believe this plan will work.”

  True to her warning, it seemed that every nerve ending tingled. It was so intense it bordered on pain. Psyche gritted her teeth. No pain no gain. That was her mantra. In seconds, the blasted tingling stopped and Eris just stood there looking at her with a big, satisfied grin on her face.

  “I must say, that’s some nice work,” Eris complimented herself as she slowly walked around Psyche, looking for any flaws in her latest masterpiece. “Remember, duckie, just like Cinderella, there’s a time limit on this façade. You’re just an immortal not a god, despite the rumors that you are. You don’t have the genetics to uphold this for long. Your body will get tired, so work fast.” Eris leaned into Psyche, their noses almost touching; she needed to drive the point home. “So there’s an expiration date that you’d better heed: three hours. No more.”

  Psyche waved her hand in the air as if to brush away Eris’s words when her new hand fascinated her.

  “Yes, it will take some getting used to, but you have to remember who you are, or shall I say pretending to be, at all times.” Eris’s voice held a slight warning.

  Psyche looked down at her new body in wonderment. Her eyes glittered with a maniacal gleam. “This is going to be so much fun.”

  When Brea opened the door to go for a late afternoon jog, Jordan stood on the threshold, apparently getting ready to knock.

  “Well, hello,” Brea said breathlessly, trying to smooth the curls into place that had escaped her ponytail. She suddenly wished she were standing here in an elegant, sexy black dress and stiletto heels, instead of a white T-shirt and jogging pants.

  “Hi,” Jordan replied looking her up and down. Was that a sneer? “Did I interrupt something?” he asked, eyeing her clothes with just a hint of disdain.

  “Oh no, I was just going to go for a quick run.” Brea felt self-conscious. “Care to join me?” she lightly taunted him. Jordan stared down at his dark slacks, and casual top in disbelief.

  “I don’t think so,” he replied with a raised eyebrow.

  Brea didn’t know why her alarms were going off. She trusted her internal protection system, and it was screaming for her to get away from him. It didn’t make any sense. She enjoyed his company whether she liked to admit it or not. The only warning she ever had was that he was a danger to her celibacy, and well, that was shattered so what the hell? She couldn’t shake the feeling that he seemed different. Did he regard her as non-consequential since he’d conquered her quite nicely last night? Was she dumb enough to fall for the “he’s only in it for the chase” bit?

  “I was hoping to talk to you,” he said nicely—a little too nicely. Alarms were going off like it was the Fourth of July.

  “Oh, about what?” Her curiosity surfaced.

  “Us, of course. I brought a nice bottle of wine, and I was hoping we could lay out a blanket and enjoy the nice weather.” Jordan smiled at her hopefully, with the oddest gleam in his eye. Perhaps he wanted to get another crack at her, Brea thought sourly. Hell, if she were being dumped, she would do it on her terms.

  “Fine, let’s go.” She couldn’t keep the icy edge from her voice. She stepped out of the cottage and closed the door firmly behind her. Jordan’s Corvette was parked rather askew. Jordan extended his hand in a gallant invitation for her to proceed before him. Brea huffed past him, struggling to get her emotions under control.

  She waited by the car, knowing Jordan insisted on his Old World manners. To her shock he was already on his side of the car, getting ready to get in. Brea rolled her eyes when Jordan’s eyes widened and he hurriedly came around to open her door. When they were both settled into the car, Brea stared out the window, willing her anger under control. Her anger was directed at herself, as well at the gorgeous man across from her. A loud, grinding noise assaulted her ears.

  Brea looked at an apparently flustered Jordan. “Sorry, put it in the wrong gear,” he said rather sheepishly, then attempted it again. This time the car began to roll back—without stopping. “Just a second.” He shifted again. The car jerked violently forward, almost sending Brea smack into the dashboard. Thank goodness she always wore her seatbelt. “This thing’s been acting up lately,” he said apologized, then just as quickly an intense hatred seemed to claim his features. “Come on, you son-of a bitch! I fucking hate this thing! Piece of shit car!” Jordan growled before he put it in the right gear and the car began to coast at a reasonable speed. Brea couldn’t keep the utter shock from her face as Jordan spared her a glance, without a trace of anger. It was like he wasn’t even aware that he’d spoken out loud. “I picked a beautiful place for us—uh, honey.” He smiled. However dazzling the smile, it didn’t cover up the fact that he’d choked over the word “honey”.

  Yes, the place Jordan picked out was indeed beautiful and Brea might have enjoyed it a lot more if her mind hadn’t gone out to lunch and her emotions weren’t in total chaos. Again, Jordan forgot to open the door for her. Truth be told, when Brea huffed and got out of the car, she could have sworn that Jordan was waiting for her to open the car door for him. He just sat there, while she walked around the car looking at the scenery. When she looked at him giving him the “what?” look he shook his head as if he was remembering something before he joined her out of the car. Jordan retrieved the wine, blanket and glasses out of the trunk and led them under a beautifully blooming tree.

  There was no talk until the wine was poured and they were settled rather comfortably across from each other.

  “Thanks for coming,” Jordan began, taking a sip rather delicately. Brea frowned, she remembered Jordan being sophisticated, not delicate. “You are truly a beautiful woman, Brea.” He said it as if he’d just came to this decision.

  “Thank you,” Brea said shortly. If he wanted to dump her, she wasn’t going to make it easy. She wasn’t going to fight it, but she sure as hell wouldn’t make it easy.

  “Tell me, where do you think this thing between us is going?” he asked flat out. Brea choked on her wine.

  “Excuse me?” she coughed.

  “This thing we have. You don’t think it’s leading to something serious do you?” he asked. When Brea looked as if she were about to answer, Jordan cut her off. “I mean last night was…interesting.” A hard edge crept into his voice. “But I think it fair to mention my wife.” He watched her closely. Brea set her glass down. Clearly she wouldn’t be drinking any of that right now without choking.

  “You mean your ex-wife,” Brea corrected him. Brea saw his spine stiffen. “What about your ex-wife?” she repeated. She’d found a button and she was going to push it. Jordan paused dramatically, seeming to mete out his words with care.

  “We were married a long time. One forgets the ex part sometimes. At any rate, you must know I still am quite in love with her.” A smugness crept over his features. What kind of game was Jordan playing with her?

  “The psycho?” Brea asked incredulously.

  “Excuse me?” Jordan ground out, clearly pissed now. “Did you say psycho?”

  “Yeah,” Brea reiterated, not backing down. “You were the one who told me she was psychotic, and you’re telling me now that you’re still in love with her? I thought you said you wanted more than just a beautiful face and warm thighs.” Brea could feel herself getting hot under the collar. How dare he? The bastard, he was just an upgrade in looks, but he was still a Terry. She’d fallen for it again. “Look just take me home, tomorrow we can look for the paintings—”

  “No need.” Jordan set his glass down and stood looking down at her. “I can find them myself. Leave me with an address and I’ll have them delivered.” Brea stood as well.

  “Well, thank you for a very unlovely afternoon drink,” Brea said in mock politeness. “Would there be anything else?”

  “Yes, a kiss to say goodbye,�
� Jordan said hopefully.

  “Are you out of your mind?” Brea screeched.

  “It doesn’t have to end this way, Brea. No hard feelings?” he implored her and smiled. The dimples, the beautiful perfect teeth flashed at her, but not one clench in her gut. Not one feeling of uncontrollable lust. Perhaps all it was was a need to get laid. Maybe she’d worked out her libido last night. Maybe this break up or whatever it was wasn’t so bad. It was inevitable anyway.

  “Sure,” she heard herself say, needing to prove to herself that what she’d felt for Jordan was dead and gone, just a product of her horny state.

  Jordan came in close, the very male smell of him, seemed to be missing or at the very least, it was extremely faint. She allowed him to pull her close. Their bodies were aligned perfectly as two bodies could be. Jordan lowered his face to hers, and seemed to take her lips shyly at first. The kiss deepened as Jordan swept her mouth with his tongue, Brea responded a little hesitantly. The kiss was nice, not what she was used to from Jordan, but it was nice. It seemed as if something was missing. Slowly, Jordan pulled away, looking into her eyes. His eyes were dreamy as he looked at her.

  “You kiss really nice, Brea.”

  “I could tell you liked it,” Brea responded, not as aroused by it as he. Something about him was off it seemed.

  “Yeah, how so?” he asked, still looking at her slightly swollen lips.

  Brea let her eyes travel deliberately down at his crotch. He actually gasped in surprise at his own erection. Brea stepped back, curiosity getting the better of her as she watched him fondle himself openly. “I see you like to touch yourself.” Brea snickered, watching the glazed look in his eyes, at the feelings he caused.

  “What? Oh, well I didn’t know it felt so…” He seemed to be at a loss for words.

  “Should I leave you alone with yourself?” Brea asked, wondering if Jordan himself wasn’t crazy and she somehow convinced herself that he wasn’t.