I’d also like to be very clear, if everyone involved isn’t into it, it’s not erotic. It’s not sex. There are plenty of other words for it, use one of them. Need a clear analogy? I can hit you with a frying pan, but that doesn’t make it cooking.
Nudging the door open with my foot, I listened for noises, but heard nothing. I quietly moved through the foyer and into the living room. My heart dropped into my stomach. It couldn’t be…
“Your excellence,” replied the box, “Denmark doesn’t take him seriously, and neither should we. The land grants we have secured by the Danish government are still valid.” The disembodied voice was calm, measured, and in stark contrast to the God of Storms.
“Alright. That’s enough!” he bellowed, causing the windows to rattle. “Here’s what’s going to happen. Everyone is getting a job so that we can better connect and integrate with mortals. And that, my dear, includes you.” “No.”
“Stupid bitch,” he muttered. “She always had an inflated sense of self. Calling here and barking orders at me all the time. Charlie wasn’t that thrilled with her, either.”
“Hatred? Revenge? There are any number of reasons, Hades. You know that, as well as I do. He hates me, he hates his mother.”
“This is all sport to you. Fun and games. Well, Mr. Perfect, we are all familiar with some of your less than stellar moves. I mean, who tosses their own son off a mountain just because he needs corrective shoes? Oh. That would be you.”
I came up behind her to stop her, but she cut me short. “No, Nike! This needs to be said…” blah blah blah. All I could think was calm thoughts in hope to calm the room. The both of them were talking about Heph.
Sitting down at my desk, I dropped the journal and the slips on top, and reached into a drawer on the right side for what the mortals called a burner phone. There was only one number on it.
I lost them…holy s***! I mean, I really lost them. I told them I’d be back for them at two. They wanted me to go in with them, but I couldn’t because I’m considered under age by mortals standards.
“Hey all. What’s a God got to do to get a drink around here?”
“Prometheus? Is that you?” I asked.
“Hi. Yeah, it’s me, Nike.” I leaped out of my seat and ran to hug him.
The woman jumped like she’d been hit by one of Zeus’ bolts. “Holy…don’t you know how to knock?” “Don’t you know how to stay out of the boss’ office?” I countered. “The bitch is dead,” the woman retorted. “Good riddance.”
I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder. Looking up, it was Mistress Moxie; she took up my hand. Leaning my head toward her, she whispered, “Don’t worry. It will be alright.”
“You, on the other hand, have sat up here on your ass, lording over the rest of us just like you used to do, thinking you can do whatever you want without consequences.”
I can almost hear his thoughts as he processes through his unease, pushing it aside in his arrogance, believing that no one would take the word of a stripper over his own if he was ever found out.
New Beginnings 
A Reprimand 
The Secret in Silence, Part III 
Interrogation Doesn’t Break Ice 
Stealing A Moment 
Making a Mark 
When It Hits The Fan 
A Goddess Down 
An Explosive Mystery 
