Freyja arrived in Chicago on a Saturday. The howling wind and sheets of rain reminded her of home, though it had made her flight rather uncomfortable. That was another advantage of being a deity: your magic didn't destroy technology.
Freyja grabbed her backpack from the overhead luggage and shuffled along the isle. Behind her in the slow-moving line was a balding middle-aged white man. A few feet further down, she felt a bump. She turned around and the man was smiling. She glared, but dared the man in her mind. Come on, she thought. Test me. Unsurprisingly, he did. Only a few seconds later, she felt a hand on her well-rounded ass. Freyja grabbed his hand and turned around quickly, twisting the hand 360 degrees and towards the ground.
"AAAGHGH!" the man said. "Don't. Touch. Me." Freyja said before flinging him into an empty row of seats. She may be the goddess of sex, but she hated creeps as much as any woman. The only difference was she could fling them into a wall with the strength of three Ronda Rouseys.
"McAnally's pub," she said, climbing into the cab. She needed a drink.