Chapter V
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Twanky tutted and fussed over poor beautiful Cupid, all wet, dirty, shivering and exhausted! Not only had her maternal instinct remained in high gear (despite what 'Dite might think if she knew, and since when was Twanky afraid of much of anything?), but her female hormones were still healthy and active enough, despite the fact that she was no longer young. And being around Cupid so much that day was having quite an effect on her.
Cupid also thought the Widow was pretty cute, as well. Any attractive female sooner or later had his divine hormones a-bubbling. Sure she was old as dirt...yet she had wide sky-blue eyes that danced when she spoke--and she seemed to be forever chattering, in tones and phrases that skipped and bounded just as her tiny feet did in a dance performance--a pink and white complexion framed by a wreath of bouncing golden curls, a sturdy but graceful body, not formed in the ideal contours, granted, yet...irresistible in its own mature way. Cupid soon found himself unable to keep his eyes off her generous bosom and thoughts of what that modest dress must be concealing. He caught a glimpse of trim legs through a rent in the long skirt and fell to considering how to get her into bed with him... He could see she was in a perfect mood for being romanced into a dalliance...where he felt certain they would "make beautiful music together."
He said exactly that to her, and at first the statement was misinterpreted. "Bein' as I do possess the honored title of The Mistress of Music," she boasted, "I shall have to teach you The Twanky Twiddle if you are very good boy."
"Sometimes," he grinned archly, "I have a little trouble behaving myself; just ask my Mom!"
"Indeed, I can see where any mischief in you comes from," Twanky said forthrightly, even as thoughts of her first encounter with his mother chased away her smile.
"But," he added quickly, "I'll try for your sake to be 'very very good' so that we can 'twiddle' together. That is, if you think you're up to it after this difficult day."
Twanky was beginning to see what he meant, even if he wasn't saying it right out. His admiring gazes and the way he gently caressed her hair and folded her small hands into his large ones were definite clues.
"I may seem old," she said with a wink, "but looks can be deceiving! And I would think you would be downright 'knackered' after such a day!"
Cupid's wings were shivering but he tossed off the sympathetic suggestion casually. "What's on my mind doesn't necessarily have anything to do with age or appearances." He winked back.
"Oh, it's the 'horizontal dance' you're getting at. Er, now what do you know, about rhythm?"
"I do know about the rhythm of the human heart."
"Pre-cisely! The instrument that leads all of life to its beat!"
Twanky had a little trouble continuing her chatter as Cupid had begun to "get fresh" with her, touching her firm and shapely body experimentally to see what he could get away with and not get his face slapped. At first she vacillated between indignance and submission.
"Why you nasty little boy, mucking about like that! For shame!"
"Pardon me, Ma'am, I never meant any disrespect...but you are surprisingly lovely and appealing for a woman of--erh, in her prime of life."
"I shall 'Pardon me' you into the middle of next week! you lecherous young-- Oh--! that's quite a strong hand, really. Such a shapely forearm. And just look at the size of these biceps!"
Cupid progressed to embracing her in both of his muscular arms, pressing her body snugly against his. He was only seconds away from kissing the smiling red lips below him. The pair were swiftly carried away on the flood of divinely inspired amorous emotion. Between kisses, the Widow couldn't avoid a sort of running commentary.
"Oh! They are huge! Hold me..."
"That's it. Yes. Lift--and breathe--and stretch!"
"Close your eyes--and feel the rhythm. That's it. Let it flow through you..."
"Oh! Ah!" The Widow was simply atremble, panting like a young girl in the throes of passion. "I need a strong man!"
"Frostbite or no, I am a strong god," Cupid grinned avariciously, lifting the agitated Widow up in his arms as if she were light as a feather...which, to him, she was. "Will that do, my tantalizing Twanky?"
"Silly boy, a question like that does not deserve an answer. And you may address me as Alice."
"Okay, Alice," he chuckled. "Another question--since we're both wet, muddy and dirty, is there a way I could get a cleanup around here?" He nuzzled her. "In a bath large enough for two?"
"SERVANTS!" Twanky sang out, snapping her fingers. Immediately two or three of Iphicles' attendants hurried over. "We would like a bath made ready, please."
The bath chambers of Iphicles' castle were renowned as being some of the most luxurious in the known world. He had borrowed ideas from Rome such as marbled walls, mirrors and silver fixtures. There were also beautiful paintings and tapestries on the high walls depicting lush restful scenery. Flowers thrived in large urns, colorful and fragrant in the tall shafts of sunlight that would stream at midday through overhead windows. Now in late afternoon, their hues appeared deeper and richer in the mellow torchlight. In the basins, reached by gracefully carved stairsteps on either side, a bather would find rose petals strewn generously over the water, which would contain milk or honey or spices. And in every chamber would be found an altar to Hygieia, daughter of Asclepius and goddess of good health. Bathers could worship there, leaving offerings; give thanks for health and wondrous gifts, including pure water; or pray for the return of departed well-being.
At present, the plucky Widow and her godly companion were much more interested in each other than worship of Hygieia. They took turns undressing each other and then, with his arm and one protective wing curled around the little woman, Cupid gently escorted her down the steps and into the warm liquid, which at this time of day was in shadow but streaked by the reflections of candle light. Their bath was pure milk, mixed with honey and a hint of cinnamon, and sprinkled lavishly with dark red rose petals. They laved each other with a mild herbal soap that would foam even in milk, giggling and trading lewd remarks the whole time, elated by the sheer luxury and beauty of their surroundings. Even Cupid remarked that he couldn't remember ever being in a more extravagant bathing chamber.
He made love to her under the pale liquid surface...handling her gently, bearing her "advanced" age in mind; but Twanky insisted she wasn't a china figurine after all. "Me 'usband, Three Legged Willie they called him, used to say I was a wildcat in bed!" Upon hearing this, Cupid's attentions became more vigorous until their shouts echoed off the walls and Twanky was certain the entire contents of the bath would be splashed out onto the floor...even though the floor was actually some six feet above their heads.
When they had finally finished their lovemaking and cleansing, Cupid said he felt like a new god (even the frostbite on his wings was gone) and Twanky declared that she felt 30 years younger! She was so proud of her newly smoothed and silky skin and the glow that resulted not only from the bath but Cupid's attentions, that after they left the basin, she had to do a perky, strutting little song-and-dance for him--while still au naturel and her head wrapped in a towel--as he sat at the edge of the basin. He looked on with open admiration and a silent promise to himself to return sometime to enjoy more of this pert little Dame!
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Although not as ornate, Iphicles' private bath had other delights. And as he was looking forward to trying as many as possible, therefore Kull was wasting no time, peeling off Zara's ruined leathers. A tray of meat, bread and other dainties had already been delivered by an obviously-amused Liza. She had also included an unusual-looking flask of wine but no glasses; "I didn't think you'd need them, Sire," she had answered, giving him a sage wink. Laughing, Zara demonstrated how the device worked, and soon each was happily squirting wine into the other's mouth.
"Yep, you won't be wearing this again and...okay, this is not coming off." Kull began tugging at a particularly tough knot on a strap on Zara's bodice.
"Do you want some help, Your Majesty?" Zara asked mischievously. "I thought you wanted to 'do' that yourself."
Kull, clad only in a deep frown, yet ever the industrious and resourceful, growled. "No, you did me, I do you." He grinned in triumph. "AH, success!" He chuckled and held out his arms to a now equally-unclad Zara. "I don't think King Iphicles' indoor fountain is the best place to try that move you suggested, anyway. I'm going to get me one of them, though." He wiggled his eyebrows sensuously. "Lots of erotic possibilities."
He slid them both into the steaming water, to which Zara had added some blue liquid from one of the containers. "Smells good, but feels better. Now, let's get all the hay off."
Zara smiled back, and replied in a voice as meek she could make it without laughing, "As you command, Your Majesty." She turned into his waiting arms, and began kissing him in earnest. "Any other commands, Milord?" she murmured seductively. "They've been fun so far."
"Oh, a few more."
Kull was finally starting to relax, and he could feel Zara beginning to let go of the tensions of the day, which had been stressful for both. And as he washed off the dirt and grime, memories of other lovemaking sessions flooded his thoughts.
'Easy, man, she's had a rotten day, go slow,' he chided himself. 'You've waited this long, give her a minute or two.' "Are you feeling better now, love?" he asked aloud.
"Oh, I feel SO much better." Zara beamed as she 'read his thoughts.' "Let me show you how much better I really feel."
Frankly, she was 'in the mood' for some loving, and there are advantages to being an Amazon. Soon, they were both locked in a passionate embrace. A low moan from Kull let Zara know the attention was definitely appreciated. A few whispered words let both know exactly where each was 'in need of attention.' Kull crushed her in his arms as they made sweet love, each trying to erase and 'make up for' the awful day, and finished in an ear-splitting climax.
"Ooooh, that was great, Your Majesty." Zara murmured, when Kull released her at last... "What a perfect birthday present."
Kull was finally having a wonderful time, but now, he felt he needed to address an issue that had been annoying him. He released her gently, regarded her solemnly, and intoned in his best 'official royal' voice. "I do hereby decree that any woman who--"
Zara burst into laughter.
"Woman, you DO NOT laugh when a KING is making a pronouncement." Kull scowled even though he was clearly jesting. "I didn't finish; what was so funny?"
"'I do hereby decree'," Zara chortled. "No offense, Your Majesty, but this is a very strange time and place to make a pronouncement!" She added, "And, besides, all KING'S decrees must be officially recorded to be valid. Shall I leave and come back with a scribe, Your Majesty?" she teased.
"AS I was saying, before I was interrupted," Kull continued, forcefully, feeling somewhat irritated, "ANY woman, who has been in the KING'S arms, and who the king has made sweet and vigorous love to, has permission to--no, make that is COMMANDED to--address SAID KING by his given name." He raised an eyebrow, inquiringly. "Are we quite clear on this point?"
Zara, seeing that Kull was sincere, as well as annoyed, answered. "Yes, crystal clear. And," she paused, "Kull--is she ALLOWED to request a repeat performance?"
"Of course," Kull said in surprise. "As many times as she likes."
"I think once more should do it," she smiled. "I wouldn't want to be too late for my party."
"You are feeling better." Kull approved, as he turned her over. "I'm SO glad."
Servants meanwhile cleaned and mended the clothing of Cupid and his own unlikely lover. And at her previous instructions, one of Twanky's best dresses had been extracted from her travelling bag and made ready for that evening's wear. The amourous pair took their time in dressing, continuing to enjoy each other even as they slowly put their clothing on and prepared for the upcoming party and entertainment.
Twanky was still in a rosy haze from the divine lovemaking. The nearest hourglass showed that time was hurrying by and she still had final rehearsal with her dance troupe. Not to mention teatime, which was being held at an appropriate hour in honor of the British guest at the castle. When Twanky was barely finished dressing, a servant came and curtseyed, announcing that tea would be served immediately. "The hour grows late, Madame," the maid reminded her. Twanky was tempted to get snippish, but merely told the young woman that she would be there straightaway. She felt so wonderful that she was in a rare benignant and all-forgiving humor, and felt certain that nothing would fluster her this night.
"And SUCH a night 'twill be, Cupid darling!" she exclaimed as Cupid helped her with a glittering necklace. "My young ladies and gentlemen--and yes, there are a few very talented young men--in my troupe will give a performance the likes of which this castle's inhabitants--nay, this entire kingdom--has not seen before!" She spun, twirled and even did a backflip for emphasis. "Would you care to join me for tea, my beauteous young divinity?"
"Of course!" Cupid offered his arm and again curled a wing around his new lover as they strolled in the direction of the dining area.
Even in Greece, the greatest and most benevolent of the kingdoms had extensive knowledge of international customs. Twanky was delighted by a most beautiful fireside tea setting, complete with every appropriate utensil to be desired by the most discriminating of Britons. She was grateful to see that even the teapot was porcelain rather than metal. Various savory delicacies and more substantial items surrounded a large centerpiece of winter roses. There was Bubble and Squeak, biscuits and other heavy cakes, a platter of meats and cheeses, scones and English trifle for dessert. A sumptuous meal indeed, but Twanky had scarcely had time for even breakfast that day at an inn, on her way into Corinth early in the morning. She was as hungry as any athletic and extremely busy Englishwoman in the world of professional dance had every right to be. It was definitely time to "tuck in" to the royal fare before her. And Cupid had wisely chosen the option of experiencing a sense of mortal appetite as well.
Cupid served her tea first as befitted a gentleman, but Twanky informed him that she would have cream placed in her teacup first before he poured the steaming hot beverage for her.
"'Tis the only proper way to drink one's tea. Remember that fine point...in case your next paramour is from Britannia," she said in a voice meant to be airy and casual. But Cupid could detect the question behind her words and in those blue eyes.
"I think...I would prefer to have only ONE British paramour," he said with a meaningful wink, while pouring the cream to her desire.
"Liza said she would read the tea-leaves for us," Twanky smiled over her steaming cup. "Perhaps we shall learn what the Fates have in store for you and me."