callipygos: (snuggle up my buttercup)
“Hi, sweetie.”

Matt looks up sharply, and Aphrodite’s standing there in a dress the color of a ripe peach. She smiles at him with full lips, and the feeling blooms in him the way it did before: a sense of beauty that goes through him like a lance.

“A—Aphrodite,” he murmurs. “Hey.”

He’s experiencing a keen lack of gestures—bows, kisses to the backs of hands, something courtly. But the goddess just giggles.

“Can I sit down?”

And, well … stay on her good side or out of her way.

“Of course,” he says, “totally.”

Once Matt has pushed his books and his coffee to one side, and once Aphrodite has stretched out her long legs under the table (and Matt has moved his own), he says, “What brings you, ah …”

A rueful smile touches the goddess’ lips.

“My cousin,” she answers. “More or less.”

Under her gaze, Matt strives not to blush. “Epimetheus.”

She laughs again, softly.

“You do have a way of saying his name.”

… His efforts not to blush may not be going all that well.

“All right, yes,” Aphrodite says. “Epimetheus. You know how it goes with family, sugar—you just want the best for them.”

“In my experience, family doesn’t always share your definition of ‘best.’”

“That’s what I’m discovering.” The goddess purses her lips. “I tried asking, but I’m afraid Eppy doesn’t make much sense.”

“What makes you say that?” Matt asks.

“Well he doesn’t like sex much, for one thing.”






Matt doesn’t have an immediate response for that.

His expression must be funny, because Aphrodite bursts into golden laughter.

“Oh! I’m wrong, then?”

Matt stammers, “I, don’t—“

“All right, don’t kiss and tell. It’s okay.” Aphrodite holds a finger to her lips. “Anyway, your guess is as good as mine what he really means by anything. Personally, I can’t imagine not finding sex important.”

Matt smiles ruefully. “Well, ah … I mean, I can imagine it. Sort of. Not very well.”

The goddess cants her head to one side.

“Can you?” She lets out another giggle. “Gosh, you’re just adorable! I’m almost mad Eppy got to you first.”

Matt is pretty definitely sure he’s blushing now.

“Sex is, um, it’s a little bit different for me than for most people,” he says. “It has to do with the way I practice magic.”

“Magic.” Aphrodite sets her chin in one hand, regarding him intently. “I’ll bite: What do you mean by that?”

Matt glances to her face, and manages to lose his train of thought entirely. But in the deep, bright blue of her eyes, the luminous gleam of her skin, the curve of her cheek—he finds it again.

“The way I learned to practice magic begins in the body. So, your body is the instrument, and sex is the way you channel something bigger than yourself, usually but not always with someone else. It’s … sacred.”

As he talks, the goddess’ smile slowly fades. Matt finds the expression that remains difficult to read.

“Maybe Epimetheus didn’t get to you first, then,” she murmurs. “Not really. There used to be temples dedicated to me where they did things like that, did you know that?”

Matt nods. “I’ve read about it. Yeah.”

“Mortals don’t go in for it much anymore.”

“Not where I’m from,” he agrees.

“Does that get lonely?”

Matt frowns.

“I don’t know, sometimes. I think a lot of the time, I feel … very lucky, and very … connected.”

Aphrodite’s smile now might be called wistful.

“I suppose you can’t beat connection,” she says. “Or getting lucky. Be good to my cousin if you cross paths again, okay sweetheart?”

“I promise,” Matt tells her. (There’s really no other answer.)

“Good boy.” The goddess’ smile brightens. “Oh, hey—and how do you feel about cats?”

[eppy]

Feb. 27th, 2015 08:46 am
callipygos: (Default)
Aphrodite has been feeling hungry for gossip.

Well, 'hungry' may be too strong a term. Peckish, perhaps. In need of a light nibble. And, since there is no place in the manifold universe better for the acquisition of interesting tidbits than Milliways, she's sitting at the Bar with a fragrant drink that seems primarily to involve whiskey, cherry, and orange bitters.

She has on a sleek black trenchcoat (for secrecy) and a pair of high high heels (for the femme fatale in her).
callipygos: (from the seafoam)
There's a chill seeping into the air, and a fog drifting down from the mountains, and everywhere in this city, people look out at the damp streets and roll their eyes over the sudden absence of summer.

On this particular night, at a lone stool in a darkened bar, there sits a woman with hair as golden as a sunrise.

Her drink is mostly water by this time. People turn to look at her, men and women both, but even the men seem to know not to speak to her. There is a stage taking up one end of the space, on which a girl in blood-soaked white is doing a slow striptease.

The burlesque is pretty good tonight. With Stephen King as source material, Aphrodite wasn't quite sure what to expect, but she thinks the girl dancing Carrie is doing a lovely job. It's hard to be sexy when covered in pig's blood.


... At least, unless your significant other is into that.

Meanwhile, the ice in her glass continues to melt.
callipygos: (smug!)
Aphrodite's New York loft is done up to the nines.

The first good look as one enters is of twinkling Manhattan through the big windows, lights bright against a dark winter sky. The windows take up most of two walls; the rest of the space is largely empty, the star of the show a glowingly polished hardwood floor perfect for dancing.

There's a cluster of low-slung couches and chairs at one end of the room, velvet and leather and very inviting. They're situated by the fireplace, which lends them a cozy glow-- though it isn't cold anywhere in here, despite the windows.

Aphrodite is very proud of a few things about tonight:

1) The music, which spans a decent range of time periods and tempos, and will be playing for most of the evening.
2) The decorations, understated but quite lovely: softly glowing lights, silver and gold ribbons wound around columns and draped from the ceiling ... the occasional strategically placed bit of mistletoe.
3) Her dress.

And yes, darlings, there is a very well stocked bar and counter full of snacks.

That's what happens when you enlist the Three Graces to help you plan your shindigs.

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Aphrodite Dionaea

March 2015

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