god’s eyes. His full lips
quirked into the hint of a smile and he leaned forward to kiss her nose, a
quick, soft dampness that made her smile in return. “You think you’re the one
who can break the curse,” he said.
“Out loud it sounds pretty egotistical, doesn’t it?” Jaime
scoffed at herself.
“No.” Dionysus was grinning outright now, the spark of
laughter back in his eyes. “No—it doesn’t at all. I think you’re right.”
“So, what do we do about it? Figure out how to break it?”
“You want to break the curse?”
She tilted her head at him. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I? You
want to get out of the bottle and go back to doing godly things, right? What is
it you do anyway, other than run around in the woods with women and drink
wine?”
“I just thought—if you free me, then you won’t get your
remaining fantasies. It’s very selfless of you.”
Really? Jaime didn’t see it as selfless. Why would anyone
want to keep another person—or supernatural being, or whatever a god counted
as—from being free? Wasn’t that just natural? Of course, she supposed, Dionysus
came from a time when slavery was normal. Where he was from, women couldn’t
vote, and were treated as chattel. Jaime had never considered herself a
militant feminist, but it was hard to go to an arts school in Canada without
having at least some exposure to it.
Maybe that was the explanation for the myths she’d read.
Dionysus had shown her nothing but respect, and had the same for her friends.
Though he’d used his powers to exert influence and calm them this evening, he’d
never forced them or her to do anything against their will. In the tales, he’d
simply opened up women’s individual desires—for sex, or nature, or art.
It must have been pretty threatening to the men at the time.
“Maybe I can still have one of my fantasies,” Jaime said.
She ran fingers through his hair slowly, tangling in the curls. She tugged at
them and he murmured in pleasure. She leaned in and touched her mouth to his
throat, then kissed up the side of his neck. She whispered in his ear, “We’ve
got tonight. I think I’m too mentally exhausted for curse-busting and planning
right now—that can wait. But my body still has energy, and I’m all warmed up
from painting.”
“That’s a plan I can handle.”
They left the mess in the living room and moved to the
bedroom. He stripped out of the paint-splattered overalls and Jaime gave him
one of the bags she’d brought home from shopping. They dumped it out on the
bedroom floor, clothes tumbling over hardwood, laughing together. They were
both relieved to be having fun, a break from worrying over what the djinn’s
next move might be.
She had picked up a few items and they both reached for a
shirt at the same time, laughing.
“You choose something,” she said. “I want you fully clothed
so I can remove them later.” Feeling bossy, she added, “And shower the paint
off. I want a fresh canvass.” She sent him to the bathroom so she could change
herself, slipping on the lingerie she’d purchased under her silk robe. Then she
busied herself around the room.
She lit a few candles, placing them on the bedside table and
dressers, an artistic touch that Jaime couldn’t resist. It would be mostly for
her benefit, since she planned to blindfold the god. The scent of plum and wax
filled the room, covering the lingering scent of paint. She would have to be
careful not to touch the walls. A light rain pattered on the roof above them.
It was the perfect night to spend indoors. Jaime felt cocooned by it, safe in
the house with the god nearby. The sound of the shower turning on complemented
the rain overhead. She could almost forget the vision of the djinn she’d seen.
Almost.
Now, though, the evening was about their pleasure, not fear.
Jaime wanted this fantasy to be about both of them. Although she was his
mistress, his pleasure mattered just as much, especially after what he’d
quirked into the hint of a smile and he leaned forward to kiss her nose, a
quick, soft dampness that made her smile in return. “You think you’re the one
who can break the curse,” he said.
“Out loud it sounds pretty egotistical, doesn’t it?” Jaime
scoffed at herself.
“No.” Dionysus was grinning outright now, the spark of
laughter back in his eyes. “No—it doesn’t at all. I think you’re right.”
“So, what do we do about it? Figure out how to break it?”
“You want to break the curse?”
She tilted her head at him. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I? You
want to get out of the bottle and go back to doing godly things, right? What is
it you do anyway, other than run around in the woods with women and drink
wine?”
“I just thought—if you free me, then you won’t get your
remaining fantasies. It’s very selfless of you.”
Really? Jaime didn’t see it as selfless. Why would anyone
want to keep another person—or supernatural being, or whatever a god counted
as—from being free? Wasn’t that just natural? Of course, she supposed, Dionysus
came from a time when slavery was normal. Where he was from, women couldn’t
vote, and were treated as chattel. Jaime had never considered herself a
militant feminist, but it was hard to go to an arts school in Canada without
having at least some exposure to it.
Maybe that was the explanation for the myths she’d read.
Dionysus had shown her nothing but respect, and had the same for her friends.
Though he’d used his powers to exert influence and calm them this evening, he’d
never forced them or her to do anything against their will. In the tales, he’d
simply opened up women’s individual desires—for sex, or nature, or art.
It must have been pretty threatening to the men at the time.
“Maybe I can still have one of my fantasies,” Jaime said.
She ran fingers through his hair slowly, tangling in the curls. She tugged at
them and he murmured in pleasure. She leaned in and touched her mouth to his
throat, then kissed up the side of his neck. She whispered in his ear, “We’ve
got tonight. I think I’m too mentally exhausted for curse-busting and planning
right now—that can wait. But my body still has energy, and I’m all warmed up
from painting.”
“That’s a plan I can handle.”
They left the mess in the living room and moved to the
bedroom. He stripped out of the paint-splattered overalls and Jaime gave him
one of the bags she’d brought home from shopping. They dumped it out on the
bedroom floor, clothes tumbling over hardwood, laughing together. They were
both relieved to be having fun, a break from worrying over what the djinn’s
next move might be.
She had picked up a few items and they both reached for a
shirt at the same time, laughing.
“You choose something,” she said. “I want you fully clothed
so I can remove them later.” Feeling bossy, she added, “And shower the paint
off. I want a fresh canvass.” She sent him to the bathroom so she could change
herself, slipping on the lingerie she’d purchased under her silk robe. Then she
busied herself around the room.
She lit a few candles, placing them on the bedside table and
dressers, an artistic touch that Jaime couldn’t resist. It would be mostly for
her benefit, since she planned to blindfold the god. The scent of plum and wax
filled the room, covering the lingering scent of paint. She would have to be
careful not to touch the walls. A light rain pattered on the roof above them.
It was the perfect night to spend indoors. Jaime felt cocooned by it, safe in
the house with the god nearby. The sound of the shower turning on complemented
the rain overhead. She could almost forget the vision of the djinn she’d seen.
Almost.
Now, though, the evening was about their pleasure, not fear.
Jaime wanted this fantasy to be about both of them. Although she was his
mistress, his pleasure mattered just as much, especially after what he’d
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