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"Fly to your freedom, son," his father shouted after him.
With one last wave in farewell, Icarus turned and headed off along the cliffs. Dipping and swooping, he flew above the rugged coastline, following it until he knew it was a good place to cross the sea to Sicily, where he would find safe haven.
As he made his way he marveled at how different the landscape looked from high above, and it intrigued him to see it so.
Later in his journey, just as he was about to head further out to sea and in the direction of Sicily, he caught sight of movement amongst a cluster of trees that were heavy with blossom. It was two young nymphs were cavorting together down there, and beautiful they were too, one dark haired, one fairer. Fascinated, he watched a moment, hovering low on the air currents, as the darker haired woman untied her chiton at each shoulder and let the thin woolen shift slide down over her torso.
Dusky-skinned and lusciously feminine in her figure, she captured his attention completely, making him forget his task and his fragile state of being, so high above the ground on makeshift wings. Then she moved closer to her companion and kissed her, and Icarus grew hard with longing.
He glanced back over his shoulder. He was a long way from the place where his father had launched him into freedom, perhaps far enough to be safe. His father had, however, urged him to stop for nothing and to fly to Sicily—or for as long as his wings lasted—but would it really hurt to land for a few moments to observe the two women?
His experience with the fair sex was far too limited, and his curiosity immense. If his escape plan was ill fated, he might be glad that he'd dallied a while
to observe such a delight, for he could think on it during the lonely nights. Perhaps if he went down there into the woods, he could hide between the trees and observe them, unseen. If he did that, however, would he be able to stop himself doing more, perhaps even approaching them? It was a risk.
The dilemma raged on in his thoughts, but when he caught sight of what the two women did to one another next, his reason was lost. He drew his wings lower and began his descent into the woodland.
* * *
The heat haze shimmered, but beneath the shade of the trees it was pleasant. Melete, naked and eager, urged Aglaia to undress too. Aglaia stood by the tree trunk and eyed Melete's naked form. Melete's nipples knotted as desire coursed through her. Aglaia's gaze on her always did that.
Aglaia's beautiful face was flushed with arousal. A legion of callow youths had already sworn their hearts to her, offering her tender words of poetry, their loins vital with desire. It was Melete to whom she came most often though, and an eager lover she was.
"I have longed for you today," Melete said. "Let me see you."
Aglaia lifted her skirts as far as her waist, slowly revealing her slender thighs and her intimate flesh to her lover.
Melete looked at her bare slit, where a drop of dew already glistened between the delicate folds of skin there. "You are already wet."
Aglaia nodded eagerly.
Melete brushed a fallen blossom from Aglaia's hair, unhitched her metal girdle then released her linen peplos from its catchments at her shoulder. Aglaia's breasts jutted out as she cast her girdle and robe aside, up tilted nipples the color of wine. The mound of flesh at the juncture of Aglaia's thighs was as rounded and firm as a ripe peach. Melete's mouth ached to bite the flesh, to suck on it so that her lover would squirm and beg.
Once undressed Melete pushed her against the tree and kissed Aglaia's mouth to quiet her moans while she plundered her womanly flesh with eager fingers. Aglaia's juices flowed rapidly and she shuddered and moaned, her graceful body supine in submission. Melete stroked and stroked, until she found her fingers delicately crushed and her hand completely drenched as Aglaia peaked.
"Oh, it feels so good," Aglaia whispered. "Too good. If the gods were to see us…should we not be ashamed of our lust?"
Melete smiled at her question. Aglaia was so candid and ripe, yet so unworldly. Melete was only a year or so older but she had indulged in many pleasures of the flesh. Chuckling, she lowered her head to suck at the firm berries of Aglaia's nipples, distracting her with actions instead of words.
An ebbing breeze suddenly came from somewhere beyond and wafted the scent of flowers back and forth over Aglaia's body. The sensation felt strange to Melete and her pulse tripped. There was a faint noise in the air, growing louder. Aglaia grew still. Melete lifted her head in response to Aglaia's sudden tension, as she did she noticed a stray white feather floating down beside them.
A shadow fell over them.
Aglaia's eyes widened, a strangled cry escaping her when she looked beyond her lover's shoulder.
"The gods saw us...they have sent a messenger to punish us," Aglaia stated.
Melete let go her hold and rolled back, turning to see what had frightened her friend so. As she did she gasped and clutched at Aglaia. The shadow had been made by a great winged creature, a huge bird with the body of a man and a masked face, who had apparently swooped down upon them. The two women clung together as they watched the creature landing. His wings moved slower, the draft from them slowly ebbing away as his flight ended. His eyes were bright within his mask, his chest rising and falling from his exertions.
Even in the grip of her fright Melete was becoming aware that the creature was interested in them, as they were in each other, for he looked at them with hungry, eager eyes. "I do not think that he has come down to us in anger."
The creature nodded at her words, his wind-ruffled hair falling forward as he did so. He drew his winged-arms across his bare chest and bowed his head before them, indicating that they should not be afraid.
Melete was fast becoming intrigued. What manner of creature was he? That he could change his physical form indicated that he must be of the gods. He was strong and well built, handsome and desirable to any lusty maiden. As well as that, the thin fabric belted around his hips could not disguise the arousal in his loins. His manhood stood erect and vigorous, jutting proudly towards them beneath the cloth. Melete's pulse quickened. Perhaps he had seen them from the heavens and had taken human form in order to come down and join them. She had heard stories of such happenings.
"I think he has come to us for pleasure, not punishment." She nodded down towards the tumescent bulge below his belted waist.
Aglaia looked and gasped. "He is desirous of us?"
