Planetary Passions - DoubleTrouble Part 2

The Athens of this day was obviously a prosperous place, so prosperous that the people could give away their wares and wines freely. All you had to do was give the smooth, thin card to the shop owners and they let you have whatever you wanted. It was astonishing.

Pol and Cas left the taverna to shouts of thanks and farewells and moved through the winding, narrow streets. They walked along, observing everything, out to wider streets with more of the rushing vehicles on them.

As they hesitated on a street corner, wondering where to go next, a small wheeled conveyance pulled to a halt. aTaxi?a the man inside asked.

They stared at him, wondering what he meant.

aYou gents want to go somewhere?a the man went on in Greek. aI know the best taverna in Athens. I can take you there.a Pol grinned and clapped Cas on the shoulder. aExcellent. We will see this taverna, and if it is truly the best, we will fetch Fiona and give her wine.a aA good plan,a Cas agreed.

The man inside had to get out and show them how the mysterious doors operated. Once Cas and Pol had stuffed themselves into the tiny seat, their long legs folded with knees high, the man hopped back in and the conveyance sped them away at sickening speed.

Cas held up the thin card. aI have this,a he said.

The driver grinned at him in a mirror hanging from the window. aGood for you. My friend at the taverna, he will give you all you need.a * * * * *

The demiG.o.ddess Selena, sp.a.w.ned from the mating of a G.o.d and a wild demon, woke on a hard floor. For a moment, the daylight stunned her and then she realized.

I am outside the jar. The spell is broken.

Well, s.h.i.t.

She sat up, fuming. Those two d.a.m.n walking c.o.c.ks, Cas and Pol, must have tricked her. She was supposed to be with them in that jar for eternity, having s.e.x on top of s.e.xa"shead made sure they couldnat escape.

Except all had been cold darkness, not ecstasy. So much time seemed to pa.s.s and yet none at all.

Selena gingerly climbed to her feet, touching her head that pounded with a h.e.l.l of a migraine. She tried to banish it and couldnat, which p.i.s.sed her off.

She was a half-demon, half-G.o.ddess, why couldnat she get rid of a little headache?

And why couldnat she figure out where the h.e.l.l she was?

She was in a building, in a room that looked unused. Empty shelves rested against a wall, wooden and broken. A shutter had been latched over a small window.

Selena opened the shutter then jumped back as a strange vehicle roared past, belching fumes.

What demon was this? And could he help her?

She craned to look out of the window, but the strange-smelling demon had gone. Below her was a little alley full of trash. She wrinkled her nose and turned to try the door behind her. It was locked.

That wouldnat do. She rattled the doork.n.o.b then stood back and tried to use her magic to heat the lock until it melted.

A wave of weakness. .h.i.t her and the lock remained intact. d.a.m.n.

The spell must have drained her more than shead thought, or else Cas and Pol had found a way to castrate her magic.

b.a.s.t.a.r.ds. As soon as she found them, shead castrate them in the literal sense. They had no business being so f.u.c.king gorgeous and then deigning to refuse when she invited them to screw her.

f.u.c.king a.s.sholes.

Selena pounded on the door. aLet me out of here!a she screamed.

Her language sounded strange to her. It was Greek, but different, as though the words and tones had subtly changed while she was stuck on the jar with the s.e.xy but elusive twins.

In a few moments a key rattled in the lock, and a man stuck his head around the door. He stopped in shock when he saw her.

Selena supposed it would give anyone a shocka"finding a voluptuous, naked woman with black hair snaking around her in a locked room must be the highlight of this manas day.

He wasnat bad looking, either. She ran an a.s.sessing gaze over hima"in his twenties, black hair, brown eyes, tanned skin, well-honed body. She put her hands on her hips and swayed toward him.

aThank you. I thought Iad be stuck in here forever.a aUhaa the man said. aHow did you get in here?a aLong story.a She hooked her fingers around the manas shirt and pulled him inside, banging the door shut. aIave been in oblivion forever and itas made me really h.o.r.n.y. f.u.c.k me.a His brown eyes widened. aWhat?a aI said f.u.c.k me. Has the meaning of the word changed?a aNo, buta"a aBut what? I need release and I need it now. So do it.a She hadnat lost all her powers, she thought with satisfaction. The man began hastily undressing, a look of astonishment on his face as though he wasnat sure why his hands ripped off his clothes.

She pulled him down on top of her. When he lay on her body, a look of incredible hunger came over him and he plunged his c.o.c.k straight inside her.

It always took them a few minutes, but they inevitably wanted her in the end. All except those d.a.m.n twins, sons of Zeusa"arrogant b.a.s.t.a.r.ds.

She took out her anger on the man, making him take her in many ways, because she was so hungry. Shead f.u.c.k him until he was her slave and then head do anything for her, even die.

When she finally let him up, he was whimpering in exhaustion.

aI need clothes,a she said. aI want to wander the world.a Shaking all over, the man drew on his own clothes and departed. She knew he wouldnat lock the door or run for help and he didnat.

She waited until he returned with a dress and some sandals, which she stared at in disbelief. aYou want me to wear these?a aIam sorry, Ia"didnat know what to get.a He bowed his head, waiting for her to strike him. Selena put her hand on the back of his neck and scratched just deeply enough to draw blood.

aYou can make it up to me,a she said, smiling sweetly. aI need you to help me find a jar.a He blinked. aJar?a aYes, two handles, had a picture of twins f.u.c.king a woman who looked just like me. I need to find out what happened to it.a The man looked blank and she slapped him across the face. aBut first, weare going to find me some decent clothes.a She put on the dress then took him by the ear and marched him out the door.

The unused back room turned out to be attached to a small apartment with a few tiny chambers and a small kitchen. A peasant, she thought in disgust. Shead chosen a peasant to introduce her to the world again. Ah, well, head be fine until she could find something better.

The man led her out into streets that had changed in some ways but were the same in others. The vehicles and clothes and buildings were different, but the way people moved about, living their little lives hadnat changed. They didnat know anything, poor fools.

The peasanta"Selena didnat bother asking what his name was because she didnat carea"led her along the streets. People stared as they went by, and she held her head high, knowing they must all recognize that she was a demiG.o.ddess. She would restart her cult of worship soon.

She caught sight of her reflection in a shop window. The windows of this particular shop, rather than displaying wares, had black curtains cutting off the view of the interior, even though the shop was open.

The reflection showed herself, b.r.e.a.s.t.s nearly spilling out of the tight dress, legs long and strong, her sleek black hair flowing back to touch her a.s.s. She smiled, liking what she saw.

But s.h.i.t, she had to get new clothes.

aWhat is this shop?a she demanded.

The man swallowed, face pale. aAn adult store.a aArenat all stores for adults?a aNo, I mean where they sell, umaa Selena solved the problem by striding to the door and shoving it open. aAh, you mean s.e.x toys. Excellent.a She dragged him inside. There she found exactly the clothes and shoes she needed and changed into them, watching in satisfaction while the man paid the bill. The black leather hugged her legs and pressed her b.r.e.a.s.t.s high. The black gloves fit perfectly, and the crowning touch was the whip.

It was a nice little whip which could be wound to a small coil, but she knew that its lash would sting.

Happy at last, she dragged her slave out of the store, back to his house, and spent the rest of the day playing with the whip and testing out her brand new black, spike-heeled shoes.

Next, shead find the jar and the twins and take out her anger on them, and that would be that.

By two-thirty, when shops were beginning to close for the afternoon siesta, Fiona still had not found Cas and Pol. Shead searched the Plaka, the district of narrow, meandering streets around the high, flat-topped Acropolis, and found no trace of them.

Shead lost them in the flea market, and from there they could have gone any number of places. At one point shead gotten it into her head that theyad probably gone back to the dig and shead raced back, out of breath.

They hadnat been there. Hans Jorgensen, though, had discovered the loss of not only two pairs of jeans and a t-shirt, but his wallet as well. He was furious and frantic. Fiona slipped away again.

Down one of the narrow alleys on the other side of the flea market, she found a taverna overflowing with men singing and drinking wine. She peered into its dark depths but saw neither Cas nor Pol.

aLooking for someone, my angel?a a man at a sidewalk table asked her.

All his companions were mena"in fact, there wasnat a woman in the place. Fiona blushed, remembering that Greek women usually wouldnat approach an all-male place, and foreign females who did could be mistaken for women on the make.

aHave you seen two men?a she asked in her best cla.s.sroom Greek. aThey are very tall and look alike. Twins.a All the men at the table nodded.

aThose two?a another man said. aLike the G.o.ds themselves came down for a cup of wine? They were here. Very generous.a Fiona hid a groan. aDid you see where they went?a The men shrugged. A man at another table, younger than the others, gestured down the street, a cigarette stuck between his ring and middle fingers. aI saw them get into a taxi.a Fiona glanced at the corner as though Cas and Pol would conveniently materialize. ad.a.m.n,a she muttered.

aIt was Platonisa taxi,a another man said. aHe only takes tourists one place, and thatas the Plataria, a taverna.a aThey werenat tourists,a the younger man argued. aThey are Greek.a aBut not from these parts.a The men shook their heads, murmuring agreement.

aWhere is this Plataria place?a Fiona asked. When the men went stone-faced, uniting against a scolding woman, she said, aI need to find them. Please, itas important.a The younger man seemed to understand her distress. aItas in Omonia.a He named a part of town that was a bit of a red light district. aNot for ladies. Wait at home, love. Theyall come back.a Fiona choked back a frustrated snarl. Shead worked with academics and archaeologists so long she was not used to men who advised women to stay at home and leave their men alone.

Of course, these men couldnat know that she was chasing demiG.o.ds from 500 B.C.E. whoad stolen her colleagueas wallet and were busy enjoying themselves on Hansa credit cards.

As she hurried down the street, trying and failing to hail a cab, she wondered when shead started believing they were truly demiG.o.ds come to life. Maybe thatas the most convenient explanation, she thought. I should just report them to the police and go back to work.

But as she frantically waved at taxis that wouldnat stop, she remembered the twinsa warm weight on either side of her and the curious magic of their voices as they sang her to sleep the night before. The melody, so alien, had haunted her and given her dreams a brightness and incredible sensation, though they were blurry and half forgotten now.

Whoever the twins were, they werenat normal men. And they were out there in twenty-first century Athens with fifth century B.C.E. knowledge. She admitted it. She was worried about them.

Fiona would never have found them at all if it werenat for the music.

She at last persuaded a cab to stop for her and then used all her persuasion to get the driver to take her to Omonia, even though it was the beginning of the siesta time.

When she descended and paid the disapproving driver, the sun was hot overhead and doors and windows were closing against the heat of the day.

She had always approved of the siesta time, during which people rested out of the sun and started up again around six in the evening. It made sense to live in such a fashion in a warm climate, and the camaraderie she and her colleagues found in the coffee houses and tavernas at night more than made up for the inconvenience of closed shops in the middle of the day.

But this afternoon she ground her teeth as she walked past dark shops with locked doors, trying to find the taverna called the Plataria. The cab driver, like the men by the flea market, hadnat wanted to tell her exactly where it was.

She ducked into a tiny side alley to escape a motorist hurtling up the narrow street, and then she heard it.

Someone behind a window down the row was plucking a slow, sweet melody from a stringed instrument, and a warm, sensual baritone voice accompanied it. As the notes flowed over her, the music seemed to heat her skin, much like the sun that trickled into the alley.

She knew the voice. It was Cas, humming a song similar to the one head sung to her last night. He slid in words now and again, mostly about beautiful limbs and sweet honey on his tongue.

Slowly Fiona walked down the alley, drawn by the music, no longer frantic. The song soothed her, convincing her that all her worries were for nothing.

Come and listen, the melody whispered. There is no hurt here.

A blue painted door stood open, leading the way inside a dim taverna. The place was deserted, customers obviously gone home for siesta, except for Cas and Pol, sitting on painted wooden chairs before a cold fireplace, and a woman.

The woman was a belly dancer, replete with gauzy harem pants, tiny top and veils. She lay nearly flat on the floor, her legs folded under her while she leaned all the way back, her arms and hands moving sinuously. It was a position that must have taken much practice to master, and Fiona felt a twinge of envy and admiration.

The woman was likely Turkish, or descended from the Greeks made to leave the mainland of Turkey years ago. She had long black hair that blended with her veils and a lovely face painted with makeup.

Cas continued to sing. He leaned negligently in the chair, a cup of wine dangling from his hand, eyes languid. Next to him, Pol softly played a laota, a mandolin-like instrument, accompanying his brother and watching the woman.

The taverna hung with heat and a sensuality that tangled Fionaas senses and pulled her inside.

When the doorway darkened, Cas looked around, breaking off the heady music. He smiled, his gaze smoldering all the way across the room. aFiona.a Pol also grinned at her, but he didnat stop playing. aFiona, our G.o.ddess. Come in and dance.a What Fiona should have done was scold the pair of them, demand Hansa wallet and drag them back to the dig to make recompense.

What she did was lean against the doorframe, twining her hands together. aI donat know how to dance.a The woman rose from the floor with enviable grace. She held out her hands to Fiona but said nothing, likely not speaking English.

Cas gestured to the dancer with his wine cup. He truly looked like a G.o.d, lounging in the chair that emphasized his large body, his curled hair missing only its crown of leaves. Head acquired a t-shirt somewherea"this one reading aAthens, City of Wondersaa"but it didnat take away the divinity she sensed from him.

aShe will teach you,a Cas said. aDance for us, Fiona.a The young woman smiled and came toward Fiona. She seemed to understand what Cas wanted and drew Fiona to the center of the room.

Pol played a little faster and Cas hummed along. The woman began snapping her fingers to the beat, which made Fiona think of harem tents and sheiks and men smoking hookahs.

Smiling at Fiona, the young woman moved her arm softly to the side, fingers bent, and nodded at Fiona to imitate her. Fiona held her arm awkwardly, knowing d.a.m.n well she was not a dancer. The Turkish woman gently reached over and positioned Fionaas fingers correctly, middle finger pressed inward, as though she held an imaginary cymbal between finger and thumb.

The woman swayed her hips. It looked so easy, but Fionaas legs refused to move in the sensual swirl. She tried, then laughed at her own efforts.

Cas continued to hum. His eyes were dark, almost inky black, like the heavens with no stars. He did not laugh but watched Fiona in her knee-length shorts and loose blouse as though she were the s.e.xiest creature alive.

The belly dancer showed Fiona simple arm movements, how to circle her wrists while lowering her arms in front of her, how to rotate her hips by swirling her ankles.

A smile creased Polas face he watched Fiona try to master the moves. She didnat mind his teasing looka"a gorgeous-as-sin man grinning at her didnat bother her in the least.

Pol increased the beat. Fiona shot him an exasperated look, and he laughed out loud. His laughter was beautiful, velvet and warm. Cas continued to hum, the throaty sound making Fiona warm all over.

Suddenly, she caught onto the moves the woman was trying to teach her. They danced together, legs and arms moving in unison.

Fiona was delighted. aI never knew belly dancing was so much fun.a Cas rose from his chair. Pol continued to play, and the woman continued her dance. The temperature in the room increased, Fiona sweating from the heat and her movements and the look on Casa face as he crossed the room to her, still humming the unnerving melody.

He stood behind her, his tall body towering over hers. Fiona halted her dance as his strong, sun-bronzed arms slid around her waist from behind. His hips moved against hers, the zipper of his jeans pressing to the small of her back.

He gathered her to him and swayed in time to Polas music. His hips rocked with sensuous grace, and he pulled her to sway with him, legs strong against her thighs.

Fiona closed her eyes. His broad chest pressed her back, his hands rested on the curve of her waist. Without thinking about what she was doing, she eased her hands onto his, feeling the sinews of his fingers. The heat of his body covered hers like a blanket.

The feel of his c.o.c.k against the crease of her b.u.t.tocks pooled warmth at the join of her legs. His breath in her ear as he leaned in to nibble it only stirred the fire.

The music went on. Cas continued the dance, his chest vibrating with the strange tune, his body seducing hers without him saying a word.

Fiona lost track of what the other woman did and where she was. Pol played on, the sound of the strings weaving through her mind, making her sleepy and wide awake at the same time.

Time slowed and moved like thick syrup on a winter day. Her senses narrowed to threea"she heard the notes of the mandolin and Casa song, she smelled the musk of Cas wrapping her body and she felt his tall form against her back.