Chapter 22
Zeus decided he couldn’t meet Maggie for dinner in the nude. He had to wear something. So he colored himself with golden pigments, and had his service droids paint to vivid blue lightning bolts across his broad chest, meeting just below his navel. Then he had his droids braid his long hair in tight knots, weaving metallic blue beads into it.
When he finished, he put on his eye shadow and mascara, painted his lips, sprayed his hair with lightly scented pheromones, and put on his only article of clothing-a bracelet for his right thigh, which emitted a soft pink, pulsating light. In the darkness, it would draw Maggie’s eyes downward, focusing them in regions of delight.
At last he checked himself in the mirror, just as the serving druids arrived with dinner. For the evening’s repast, he’d chosen a number of dishes that could be eaten lukewarm-one pudding to be eaten on the chest, one saucy meat dish to be eaten on the navel, and a sticky compote of fruit to be eaten … elsewhere.
Zeus selected three potent wines from Felph’s own vineyards, began spiking each with a capsule of Delight, a drug to lift the mood, alleviate fears, leave one giddy and euphoric. It was simply a concoction of natural amino acids found in the human body-a distillation guaranteed to make a woman feel as if she were living the best and brightest moment of her life.
Yet Zeus frowned as he dropped two capsules into the first bottle of wine. Maggie hadn’t reacted as strongly to the drugs last night as other women did. Perhaps it had to do with her pregnancy. The hormones in a woman’s body at such times might dilute the natural effects of the Delight. Zeus was not sure. He doubled the dose, putting it in a delicious pink wine. If Maggie didn’t react to one of the weaker wines, he’d bring out this bottle as a last resort.
For music, he ordered the players-a set of twelve portable droids that each had speakers mounted inside-to set the mood for the evening by playing Asplund’s Symphony to Erotica in D-minor, a magnificent arrangement composed around the different stages of foreplay, leading to a musical climax most women found enormously arousing, whether they were with a sex partner or not.
Once the feast, the drinks, and the music were chosen, he sent the service droids ahead to arrange things. He ordered them to hide in various parts of the garden, so the music would float ethereally from the distance, while food droids appeared one by one, wheeling in from different directions.
Last of all, he sent a droid out with a simple mat, something to let him and Maggie make love in a warm, dry environment, should she want it that way. If not, there was always the pond.
Zeus checked himself in the mirror one last time, then strode through the corridors of the palace out to the North Garden.
The pebbles on the garden path crunched softly beneath his bare feet. Air perfumed by a million roses stroked the hairs of his bare chest, hardening his nipples, playing between his legs.
Already, the strains of Symphony Erotique began rising from the garden-a stirring serenade of violins and violas over bassoons, a sound of flowers opening, of release.
As usual with Zeus, when a passionate mood took him, his focus narrowed. He’d been daydreaming about this tryst all afternoon. As he strode along in the starlight he did not notice the towering columns of roses along his path, the magnificent draping flowers, larger than plates, nodding from perfect vines.
He did not even hear the symphony, or the sound of the gravel crackling under his feet. Instead, his mind filled with images of Maggie in the starlight, her tender lips, his hands stroking her red hair, the full mounds of her breasts.
Only barely did he keep from breaking into a run. Eagerly he rounded a corner among the high hedgerows, following the scent of spiced meats, came in full view of the peacock fountains.
Things were not as he’d expected.
A table sat beside the pool, a circular table large enough for ten. Above it stood a wooden gazebo, with soft dark netting. In the netting hung tiny lights, like dozens of fireflies.
Maggie sat at the table-along with Gallen, a young stranger, Hera, Arachne, Athena, and the bears. Only Herm was not at the table. They all spoke softly, enjoying a sumptuous meal. None of them seemed to have noticed him.
Zeus turned, creeping to run back for some clothes, when Hera called, “Oh, My Sweet, we’ve been waiting for you!”
Zeus was trapped under the gaze of them all, naked. He could not hide his arousal, dared not put his hand in front of him to cover himself, lest it draw more attention to his state.
“I… uh,” Zeus stammered.
“Come back here. I know, you thought we would dine alone,” Hera called, her voice muted from under the gazebo. “But Father arrived early, so I invited everyone.”
Zeus found that his arousal had ceased, so he turned slowly. Zeus was more embarrassed by the presence of Gallen than of the young stranger. Then Zeus understood. All this was planned to humiliate him. The cloth over the gazebo was a sound-muting net, so he would not have heard their voices on approach. The tiny lights, no brighter than starlight glimmering off the dim pools, worked as camouflage.
From the exultant grin on Hera’s face, from the cruel smile Arachne bore, he knew Hera had contrived this. She’d lured him here, naked and aroused, before the others. Herm, Arachne, Maggie, Hera-all of them played the Game against him.
Arachne flashed two fingers. Two points, then. They’d played the Game. Hera won.
Zeus smiled, even as he fumed. Well done, my love. You played me like a puppet, and I danced to your tune. In spite of his chagrin, Zeus could not help but be proud of his wife.
“I love your new look,” Arachne called to Zeus. “So … manly.”
There was nothing to do now but try to seem nonchalant. Perhaps most embarrassing was Gallen’s reaction. His jaw had dropped in such a way Zeus knew it went against all his principles to appear naked in public. Ah well, thank the heavens for a bit of body paint. At least he hadn’t come totally nude.
The stranger beside Gallen said, “Well, I must say I don’t care for it at all, Zeus, you’re taking this nudity entirely too far.” Only then did Zeus recognize his father’s clone.
“If you looked as fine as I do,” Zeus told him, “you’d run naked, too. I must say, Father, a young body has not strengthened your appeal.”
“Oh, don’t say that,” Arachne grinned. “He looks very handsome. I’ve thought of nothing but incest all evening.”
Lord Felph smiled appreciatively, and Zeus saw that Arachne was trying to appease the old man. She wanted to head off any arguments before they began.
Felph must have recognized it, too, for he made certain to get in the last word. “At the very least, consider wearing a breechcloth. If you look in the historical archives, you’ll find that they reached the height of fashion under the Beeorso Dominion. You’ll see some tremendous examples of what can be done with a simple piece of cloth.”
“Well, Father,” Zeus said to change the subject, “I see that you had a successful expedition.” He decided then and there that if his father didn’t want him naked, he’d damned well run around naked for the next three hundred years.
“If you call getting eaten by sfuz successful, then, yes, I suppose this was an astonishing triumph. I don’t doubt that at least a hundred of them are sucking the marrow from my bones at this very moment.”
“Successful, I mean, in that Gallen and Athena at least made it home alive, and you did find some sfuz.”
“Oh, yes,” Felph laughed. “Gallen fought gloriously. I do believe that he might actually be capable of making his way down to the bottom.”
“Not likely,” Gallen said, “with so many.”
“Ah but you see their limitations,” Felph said. “They are not very bright.”
Zeus took a seat next to Hera, and she smiled at him, a sweet, confident smile. Perfectly lovely. She reached down and grasped his knee, then massaged his leg.