In Nocte Perpetua

I leaned in and finally did what I had wanted to do all day. I placed a soft, gentle kiss on Amphitrite’s bare shoulder. Then I moved further in toward her neck and placed another. And another. In between kisses, I whispered, “The day. Is not. Over yet.”

I did not have to reach into Amphitrite’s mind to know what she was feeling after the grand opening gala for her Nymphaeum. It was evident in the occasional slump of  her shoulders as she struggled under the weight of it all. It was not only the planning of the event and making a myriad of decisions for the festivities, but having to deal with the unexpected events that were borne from having the family over as guests.

It was no coincidence that pretty much every one of us gods was in one way or another praised as part of theater. Be it drama, comedy, tragedy, playwriting, or just poetry and prose, immortals knew how to do it all to an amazing degree. Our stories would not have been told for millennia otherwise. I expected it just as much as a weathered fisherman expected a summer storm.

Amphitrite’s shoulders did not stay down for long, though. Anyone not really paying attention would have missed it. The chin rose, the back stiffened, and the nostrils flared just a touch. All within the span of a few heartbeats. Amphitrite liked to downplay the fact that she had been royalty for centuries, and people tended to forget. War, poverty, destruction, rebuilding, prosperity, treachery, bribery, peace. Her eyes had seen it all, and she knew how to weather a storm.

I was so surprised to see those shoulders slump once we were alone that I almost missed my cue. Almost. I put my arm around her, steadying her just as her regal composure came back, and she turned to me, smiling faintly. She knew that I knew, and she was not upset. She was grateful for the gesture of support. I gave her a small nod, then smiled as big as the Grinch, which made her laugh. I knew that she knew, and I was grateful.

We finally made it to her suite, and I let myself in right behind Amphitrite, not bothering to wait for an invitation. She looked me up and down and blushed as she closed the door behind me. She tried to hide the color in her cheeks by turning away from me and heading for the bar.

“Would it be too cliché to offer the God of Wine something to drink?”

“Pour away, Pheephee. I will have what you are having.”

Her back turned to me as she was busy fixing the drinks. She moved the subject back to the gala. “So what did you think of the event? Did things go as expected?”

“Nymphaeum survived. Not in one piece, but the damage was relatively minor. Just keep an eye open for any missing persons ads going out for the next week or so.”

Her shoulders slumped again for another second as she shook her head. “Ha, ha, ha. Very funny. Even though it’s not, I should have known better.”

I moved up behind her and put my hands on her hips, my touch making her freeze in place as I whispered in her ear, “Let it go, Pheephee. All in all, things went great. Don’t dwell in the small details when you can bask in the fullness of the day.”

“Do you really think it was a good day?”

I leaned in and finally did what I had wanted to do all day. I placed a soft, gentle kiss on Amphitrite’s bare shoulder. Then I moved further in toward her neck and placed another. And another. In between kisses, I whispered, “The day. Is not. Over yet.”

Amphitrite’s shoulders slumped even more, but this time the effect came from the opposite spectrum of emotions. Not tension and nervousness, but elation and calm. Her breath caught in her throat as my next kiss found the nape of her neck. She pushed back against me and a slight moan escaped her lips before she whispered back, “Oh, Nisos. I have a feeling this night will be even better.”

My hands found her wrists and lifted her arms while I placed more kisses along one arm to the elbow. I took the bottle opener in one hand, the empty glass in the other, and set them back on the bar. The drinks were forgotten as our thirst turned to something else. As my kisses grew more pronounced, so did her weight, pushing and grinding against me. The result was obvious.

As I let go, my hands committed to further exploring, she did not allow her arms to drop but reached up and back, curling around my neck. Her head, resting on my chest, tilted up as her arms pulled me down for a kiss. Our lips met, and the world outside the door ceased to exist for us. Awkward as the angle was, the message of the kiss was plain and clear.

The animalistic urge of lust washed over me, and I almost gave up control to it. It would not be the first time, nor the lust. Last…lust…get it? Silly, I know, but that silly notion behind the thought pattern made me giggle into the kiss. And that pushed the urge back just enough for me to regain control.

Just in time, too, because Amphitrite let go of me just long enough to turn and face me. Her eyes glazed over and almost lost to her need. Her hands went to the collar of my jacket and pushed out and back, flipping it over my shoulders and down my arms in one fluid motion. She was undoing my tie before my jacket had hit the floor. Two breaths later, I reached up and held on to her wrists once more. I could swear I thought I heard the buttons of my shirt sigh in gratitude because they were about to go flying.

She looked up at me, and the spell was broken. I could see the confusion in her eyes. Before confusion could turn to doubt, and threaten to ruin the evening, I leaned in and kissed her lips ever so softly. I let go of her wrists again and held on to her hips, moving gently closer. My eyes were open, and I saw her eyelids flutter in surprise, then close.

This was not the first night that Amphitrite and I were in each other’s arms. Ever since our first kiss in Guam, we had found plenty of moments together, moments that had stretched out for hours and days. That much had been evident. We were together and for one another.

Even though it was not a bad thing, so far, we had often been lost to our passion. Losing ourselves to the hunger for lust and the urge to make up for lost time came easily to us. Mortal couples must cope with making up for days, months, and sometimes years of lost time. But centuries? Millenia? Imagine the urge. Imagine the need. Imagine the appetite for someone known for their passion and frenzy. After all, frenzy had been known to be my middle name. One of them, anyway.

But not tonight. Not this night. This night had to be more. After that brief, tense moment when my gesture surprised Amphitrite, she let go. She softened under my caresses. And as my hand slowly lowered the zipper of her dress, exposing even more of her curves and milky white skin, she knew. And from the deep long sigh that escaped her lips once we broke the kiss, I knew that she knew.

But I told her anyway.“This night. This night will be forever.”

Dionysos (Peter Farmer)
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