“But what does that mean?” Maria asked.
“It means, sweet Maria, you have honored me. Your love and affection toward one another is the truest form of worship of me. You have produced such passion it attracted even my attention and I am here to reward you.”
Maria thought she should be flattered, but this whole thing was just too weird and something about it made her suspicious. “What do you have in mind?”
“I’m going to make love to your husband.” Maria and Ivan responded in unison.
“What?!”
Venus laughed her musical laugh again, but this time it definitely sounded tainted to Maria.
“Thanks, but no thanks, lady,” Ivan said, but it came out far less forceful than he intended.
He cleared his throat and followed up with an equally half-hearted, “I think it’s time for you to go.”
“That’s fine,” Venus said. “I will give you time to clean and prepare yourself and for your anointment rituals. What do they call it these days? Deodorant and aftershave? Something like that? Get yourself ready for the greatest prize any man could receive, precious Ivan.”
“But I don’t want it.”
“Yes, you do. I’ll be back in three turns of the hourglass.” And she became a mist that descended back into the sea.
Maria collapsed into Ivan. They both cried.
After a few minutes they wordlessly went below into the captain’s cabin and dressed. They then moved into the galley and sat across from each other at the teak table holding hands.
“How can we stop this?” Maria sobbed.
“I don’t think we can,” Ivan answered. “I can feel her power over me.”
Maria knew what he was talking about. She felt it too. Emotions overwhelmed her. She realized now her tubby tummy meant nothing, a stupid dis- traction from everything that mattered. Ivan didn’t care. Their marriage had been solid all along, but now they had a real problem.
She burst out, “No! This cannot happen. There must be a way. I wish someone could help us…oh, I pray there is a way to stop this.”
Ivan pulled Maria’s hands up, causing them both to lean in closer. Through his tears he said, “Maria, I love you. I love us. I don’t want this to happen, but I don’t think we can stop it, but I do wonder if there might be a way to get Venus to stop it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, what if we tried to make it unpleasant for her? Turn it into something she doesn’t want?
Sex is a sensory experience. Is there a way we could offend her senses, perhaps?”
It was a tiny glimmer of hope, but it was all they had. With less than three hours, they got to work.
They decided Ivan would await Venus in the smaller, less pleasant stateroom with twin beds on either side.
When Venus appeared on deck in a see- through gauzy robe, hair still floating of its own accord, Maria, puffy-eyed and sullen just looked toward the stairs leading below. Venus dissipated and rematerialized in the correct quarters to find Ivan waiting and covered head to toe, in ridiculous, bright red, foul weather gear. His jacket covered bibbed pants that tucked into big rubber boots and was zipped up as high as it would go. Ivan also had the hi-visibility yellow fluorescent hood pulled on over his head, so only his eyes and nose peeked out from his Gore-Tex armor.
“Cute.” Venus waved her hand and the clothes obediently unzipped, unbuckled, and unsnapped, falling to the floor.
What was waiting beneath was worse.
Maria and Ivan covered every inch of Ivan with a mixture of grease, motor oil, and whatever other glop they found in the engine room.
Venus reached out and put her hand on Ivan’s chest. The black goo felt sticky and slimy at the same time. The overall effect was like a thick layer of mucus tangled with chest hair. Venus pulled her hand back causing a sickening sucking sound, strands of the stuff oozed between her out- stretched hand and his torso, and globs of it seeped under her fingernails.
She flicked her hand unconsciously trying to shake some of it off.
She looked Ivan in the eyes, arched her eye- brows and said, “kinky.”
Again, with a wave, the sludge was gone.
Venus looked slightly annoyed and Ivan hoped their schemes were getting to her, but she reestablished control of the moment by wrapping her hand and around the back of his head and pulling him in for a forceful, full-tongue, kiss.
Maria and Ivan had prepared for this too. The revolting flavors of sardines, garlic,
pickles, goat cheese, and coffee all mixed together assaulted Venus’s taste buds. Maria and Ivan also drank more than a few consolation shots over the previous three hours, so essence of Tequila topped off the nasty taste.
Venus pulled away. Only her pride prevented her from gagging. Angry fire smoldered in her eyes. This stunt hit the mark.
She opened her mouth to speak, but what- ever she planned to say was drowned completely out as Maria pushed play and the whiney crooning of Justin Bieber blasted through the portable Bose sound system Ivan never left home without.
It was the worst song in Maria and Ivan’s combined collections. It only made it into Ivan’s playlist because a friend of his worked on the arrangement and asked Ivan for professional feedback. Justin droned loudly about a selfish, unworthy lover. One so bad, even his momma didn't like her.
This one seemed to amuse Venus. To Ivan’s annoyance when she waved her hand this time, she didn’t turn the music off, just down.
“I love me some JB,” Venus said, “he’s so adorable.”
“Ew.” Ivan felt so much less flattered at being the object of her affection.
“You can’t offend me with sound.” She brushed his cheek with her finger. “The whole world sings praises to my name. The birds, the waves, music, even automated man-made sounds – all things audible exalt me.”
“Okay then, bitch,” Maria said from the engine room as she pulled a bandana over her nose and mouth and fired up backup motor number two.
The people at the marina who rented them the boat emphasized that backup motor number two was for extreme emergencies only. It was old and barely working. The insurance company insist- ed on redundant systems, so it was in the boat, but the rental company would not be responsible for any damage to ears, eyes, or lungs if it was used.
The low vibrating rumble of the machine was so loud it hurt like a jackhammer pounding through one’s brain. But worse than the sound was the thick, oily, acrid smoke that stung the eyes, and flooded the nose, mouth, and throat.
This time, no amount of self-control could stop Venus from gagging. She doubled over coughing and choking before she had the presence of mind to kill the motor and clear the smoke.
When she stood up, her eyes burned with rage, her hair swirled around her head like flames, and her stature seemed larger and looming.
“Do you have anything else in your little bag of tricks? Surely, you must be running low.”
“Maybe one or two more things,” Maria answered through the paper-thin wall that separated the cabin from the head next door. She tugged at the cord they had jerry-rigged to release the atom bomb of mood killers, all the seals on the waste storage tank. It was connected to the toilet by a hose, but the tank itself happened to be directly below the twin bed closest to where Ivan and Venus stood.
The natural, skunky smell, something like cow pies mixed with rotting meat, was far more vile than the backup motor number two smoke.
Having learned from that episode, Venus dis- patched of the tank contents swiftly, but not care- fully; unfortunate for the dolphins, who took off in hurry. “Enough,” she shouted. “This is an insult. You dare challenge me, the Goddess of Love like this? Do you know men would willingly die just to look at my face? That bloody, terrible wars have been waged in my name? I offer you this gift and you affront me? Who do you think you are?”
“A man who loves his wife. And his marriage.”
“You are an insolent fool, and this has gone far enough.”
<
br /> With that, she pushed him onto the bed and straddled him.
But something went wrong. Their skin did not make contact. It was like there was a small in- visible barrier between them.
From the back of Venus’s throat a sound halfway between a moan and a scream of pure frustration emanated.
And then a third person joined them. They heard his low, masculine, merry chuckle before they saw him.
His appearance upon materializing was most impressive. He wore a bronze breastplate, tight leather breeches that laced up the sides, and gladiator sandals. His muscles bulged everywhere, at least three times the size of the biggest profession- al wrestler Ivan could picture. His hair was dark and wavy. He wore a meticulously trimmed beard and mustache and sported a wide, amused grin.
“Trouble, Sis?” he asked.
“Get the fuck out of here, Mars.” Venus replied.
“Language. Wow, they really got to you,
didn’t they?”
“I don’t know why you’re here, but these are my subjects, so get out.” She lunged at him in fury. He caught her easily and turned her attack into an awkward embrace with her next to him and his arm hooked around her shoulder.
“Ivan, would you like some pants?” Mars snapped his fingers, clothing Ivan in a pair of swim trunks.
“Maria, care to join us?”
The door opened and Maria ran to Ivan’s side. They stood close, arms around each other.
Mars turned to Venus.
“I know you think these are your supplicants, but it might interest you to know, they’re mine too. They spent three hours petitioning me.”
“We did?” Maria asked, grateful, but con-
fused.
“Sure you did. You both wished and prayed
for help, for intercession, as you prepared to battle a god. If that’s not a shout out to the God of War, I don’t know what is.”
“You helped them?”
“Had to. They asked. And they made a damn good case. Frankly, they impressed the hell out of me. Either of them would make a fine general. They have solid strategy. Come on, Sissy, they attracted my attention, just like they did yours. How is it any different?”
“They worshiped me first.”
“Well, you know what the new guy, Jesus, says about the first being last and the last being first. He’s odd, but okay in my book—a pretty wise little dude.”
Venus crossed her arms, stomped her foot like a spoiled child, and pouted.
“Marrrrsss!”
“Face it, princess, this skirmish is over.” Venus wasn’t ready to concede, but Mars being the God of War knew a tactic for every adversary. Mars stopped smiling and respectfully turned to her.
“You know you won this one, right?” “I did?”
“Absolutely. These two have a love strong and formidable enough to withstand the will of a god, not mention the most attractive and alluring god of all gods. That’s all about you, Venus. It’s homage to everything you are, reverence at the very deepest level for the power of love itself and that’s you.”
Venus knew she was being played, but this whole thing ceased being fun back around the blast from motor number two, and she wanted a way out.
“Okay, I guess you’re right. Let’s go.” She turned to Ivan and Maria.
“I’m going to let you keep your memories of this event.”
Neither asked for this privilege, but at this point Maria understood Venus well enough to know that this strange parting shot made her feel in control, so Maria held her tongue about it.
The two gods exited in a fiery spectacle, and Maria and Ivan fell onto the little bed, both crying in exhausted relief.
But Venus was not content to leave it there. They vexed her greatly, but it was nothing compared to how awestruck the couple left her.
Their love was pure, heavy-duty adoration and Venus fed on it. It gave her amazing, new depths of power and strength. It was only fair she give them something in return – that had been the plan all along, so now in accordance with the couple’s wishes she granted them the thing they wanted most.
As Venus exited the boat, she left behind a small, but white-hot ember – the very spark Maria and Ivan had come looking for.
Safe, Welcome, and Included
“I am pretty sure I’m the only paraplegic, black woman in the entire state of Idaho. So, you know what that makes me? Your faculty advisor. No one asked me if I wanted this post, they just assigned it to me, so here I am, and here you are. Welcome to the first meeting of the Magic Valley Community College Diversity Group for the academic year 2017-18.”
Professor Goodwin pressed the joystick on her wheelchair this way and that, repositioning herself a little.
“This is southern Idaho people, so this is it. No Black Lives Matter, no LGBTQ alliance, no international student’s group, no nothing else. Just this, so go nuts.”
She motored toward the hallway.
“Get to know each other and find ways to support one another.”
“You’re not staying?” Asked a girl wearing black lipstick.
“I have papers to grade. Sorry about meeting in a lobby. In my five years as advisor this group has never made it passed October, so if you do decide to keep going, let me know and I’ll try to book a better space for next time. I’ll check back in with you at nine, meanwhile this is your secure zone— you are all safe, welcome, and included. Respect each other and be respected.”
“But, what should we do?”
“Introduce yourselves, talk about goals— guest speakers, lapel ribbons, bake sales, that kind of stuff.” Over her shoulder she added, “and start thinking about officers, if you decide you want to keep going.”
The five junior college students shifted around uncomfortably in functional black and silver furniture in the lobby of the fine arts building between the bathrooms and the counter that served as a ticket office. A large poster advertising the school’s upcoming production of “Little Shop of Horrors” covered most of one wall.
A tall, shapely, Latino girl, caked in make- up cleared her throat and waved her hand. “I guess I’ll go first. Life has made me the first to step up.” She tossed her head to the side, swaying her loose brown curls away from her eyes. “No choice,” she added in a murmur that seemed to be addressed mostly to herself.
Then to the group, “I’m Angel and I identify as trans female.” She looked around for a reaction and then emphatically continued. “Yes, that means I am a female who was born male. And, yes, I do have a penis, but believe me it’s small, and someday it will be gone.” She waved her hand. “You know, twenty thousand dollars or so from now. Yes, I do take hormones, thus the boobies.” She thrust her chest out a bit while making a circular motion with her hand.
“And though I am sick to death of answering all the probing and personal questions people feel it is perfectly okay to ask us trans girls, go ahead and ask me about the details and all the things you’re dying to know. Somebody has to educate in this God-forsaken excuse for a state.”
No one said a thing.
The black lipstick girl, sitting directly across from Angel finally broke the awkward silence.
“Cool. So, you’re sort of like Sophia on ‘Orange is the New Black.’”
“I’m sort of like the character Sophia? Well, let’s see, other than the fact that she is a character, and her character is a criminal, in a prison, who is older than me, who works as a hairdresser, is married, and is black, and in real life is a rich celebrity with a huge following…yeah, I guess other than those things, we’re sort of alike.”
“I didn’t mean…”
“Well, wait, we actually do have some things in common. You know how on the show she was jumped by thugs who thought they had a right to know what was between her legs? Yeah, that happened to me too. So yeah, I guess, like her, people think I’m a freak and I have no right to privacy.”
With a flip of her curls, Angel decided to lighten up. “Oh, and we’re both hot too. A
m I right?”
It took the other girl a minute to collect her- self. “Um, yeah, you are hot, I guess, and…brave. I, I respect you.”
More silence.
Angel sighed and turned to her left toward a pasty, round-faced boy with acne and greasy bedhead. He wore a Boyance shirt that strained against his bulk and gazed toward the floor.
“I think you’re up, lover,” she said with a wink.
“Uh, I’m, uh, Norman,” he said never looking up.
After another uneasy pause, Angel asked, “sooo, what brings you here, Norman?”
“Uh, my mom. I mean my mom thought it would be a good idea.” His head bobbed up for a second. “She said it’d be a good way to make friends.”
The black lipstick girl nodded encouragingly, but Norman looked back down before he could see her.
“She sent cookies.” Norman rocked forward and back in little jerks and lifted a Tupperware a few inches off his lap. “They’re no-bakes. We call ‘em gopher guts in my family though.” Norman followed up with a small self-conscious laugh.
“They’re good anyway,” he concluded with a shrug turning toward a pretty blond girl to his left and wishing with all his might she’d jump in for her turn.
Angel took the cue. “You’re up blondie.”
The blond girl emanated natural strength and beauty. Unlike Angel, she wore no makeup. Her hair was pulled into a simple ponytail, and she looked athletic and comfy in her pastel cotton clothes. She rubbed her shorts and looked around at each of them with her striking blue eyes. “Hi. I’m Randi and I identify as were.”
Again there was silence.
After a beat, Angel probed, “what’s were, sweetie?”
“Well, were, like werewolf.”
Angel and the black lipstick girl broke into laughter. The other girl to the lipstick girl’s left looked confused. Norman made screeching sounds with the metal feet of his chair as he tried to scoot it to the right, away from Randi. He had the most direct view of her freakishly long canine teeth. The chair would only move about a half inch at a time. After three or four loud scoots he gave up, but it leaned his whole body to the right.
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