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"Surprise Greek delicacies? That sounds intriguing. Almost as intriguing as this restaurant," she rubbed her hand down the side of the chaise. "Silk velvet - my personal favorite upholstery fabric." As if the familiar touch of the velvet was grounding, the thick feeling in her head began to clear. Her fingers lingered on the beautiful fabric. "Silk velvet always reminds me of water; it's so slick and soft. I adore it."
"I am glad you approve," Apollo said, relieved that she seemed to be recovering from the power he had sprinkled over her.
Pamela looked around the dimly lit room. Not only were they the only patrons, but their table was the only one set up in the whole place. It was obviously a big space, but unlike the rest of Caesars Palace and The Forum, someone with taste and style had decorated it. Which meant that it wasn't loaded from floor to ceiling with gaudy pseudo-Roman opulence. The flooring was incredible. It appeared to have been fashioned from a single sheet of marble, even though she knew that was not possible.
"This flooring is amazing. It looks like fine Carrara marble, but I've never seen Carrara with veins of gold going through it like this has." Her eyes traveled from the floor to the walls, and they widened. "They've used the same marble for the walls and the columns. And I really like the minimalist style. The decorator was right on here; the marble is too beautiful to cover with a bunch of paintings. The single tapestry adds the perfect touch," she gestured at a large hanging that covered most of the wall in front of them. It was of a naked man. A gorgeous, young, naked man. She squinted, trying to see it better in the dim lighting. He was standing beside a chariot, and he was holding a harp in his hand.
"He looks familiar," Pamela said.
"Probably because you're wearing his likeness around your neck," Apollo said quickly.
She touched the gold coin and smiled. "That's right, you did say that the name of this restaurant is Mount Olympus. I guess this must be Apollo again. You know, I really can see a resemblance between you and him, especially how he looks in that tapestry. It's kind of weird."
"Coincidence," Apollo said nonchalantly. "Shall we drink?" He handed her one of the goblets and then raised his own. "To feeling lucky."
Pamela grinned and patted the sparkling purse that rested by her side. "To feeling lucky." She sipped. "This wine is delicious! I usually don't like white." She looked into her goblet. "But this isn't exactly white." The color of the wine was as unusual as its taste. If Pamela had been asked to describe it for one of those wine-tasting magazines, she would have said that it was light and crisp on the pallet, like the scent of pears or melons, and the color of sunlight. "What is it, a Pinot Gris?"
Apollo shrugged. "I'm not certain. I asked them to serve us the house's finest." And about that, he was telling the truth. Artemis had planned the dinner, along with the wine. Apollo took another long drink. He would have to ask Artemis about the wine - it was delicious as well as unusual. It was chilled, but as he drank he could feel it fill his body with warmth that seemed to radiate from his core. He looked at Pamela. Her cheeks were flushed, and she had quit inspecting the design of the room. She was smiling softly at him. Her lips were gently parted. They looked full and inviting.
"I did not like being away from you this evening," he said.
"I missed you, too."
"How will I bear being apart from you for the next five days?"
"Five days?" That would make it the weekend again when he returned to Vegas. Wasn't she planning on flying back to Colorado then? This job was only supposed to take a week. Five days without him... Her thoughts were suddenly sluggish and disjointed... The time seemed at once interminable and unimportant. She didn't want him to leave, she knew that, but he was here now, almost close enough to touch. How could any man be so handsome? She had to force herself to stay on her chaise, when what she really wanted to do was to join him on his... to pull off his shirt... and begin licking her way down his body.
"Yes, I..." he faltered. What was it he and Artemis had decided to tell Pamela about his "trip"? He was finding it difficult to concentrate on anything except her lips.
The stream of maidens carrying food-filled platters interrupted his impulse to push aside the table and devour her mouth.
On golden plates Apollo and Pamela were served food of the gods.
"The finest grape leaves, stuffed with morsels of meat and cheese," one of Artemis' handmaidens proclaimed in a soft, hypnotic voice as Pamela bit into the fragrant bundle.
"Lamb, from a beast raised on honey and milk," another maiden murmured.
Apollo tasted the meat, then smiled, eating with relish. His sister was usually not at all domestic, but tonight she had outdone herself.
"Cheese from goats that nymphs care for as if they were beloved children."
"Olives and figs picked from Mount Olympus by the smooth, knowing hands of Aphrodite's priestesses."
They were undoubtedly the best waitresses Pamela had ever had. She wanted to ask Phoebus how he had managed this evening. He must have reserved the entire restaurant for their private use, which meant - amongst other things - that he must be an incredibly successful doctor. And he looked so young! She meant to ask him exactly how old his was, when was his birthday, and where had he been born - not that it really mattered. She was just curious. She should also ask him about... about... about... what? She couldn't concentrate...
... Because the food was so completely, absorbingly delicious. The taste filled her senses. It was more than food. It reminded her of summer sunlight and heat and desire... her eyes lifted from her plate to find Phoebus watching her with a sapphire intensity that made her breath catch.
"We leave you alone; for the night we retire..." the handmaidens sang. And as they faded from the room their sweet voices whispered an almost inaudible prayer: "... Intoxicate... arouse... flame their desire... fog inhibitions... set them afire."
Apollo and Pamela barely noticed the handmaidens' departure. They stared at each other, and everything else in the room, in the world, faded. Their skin tingled with growing heat and desire.
"I need you to love me," Apollo's voice was thick with lust and longing. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, where common sense still lurked, he knew his reaction to her was too raw, too uninhibited, but he couldn't stop it - he didn't want to stop it.
"Yes." She breathed the word.
With a feral, liquid movement that Pamela thought made him look like a large, tawny lion, he stood. He hurled the table separating them out of the way. Pamela realized that the table flew away from Phoebus' touch with an inhuman force, but the thought was vague and only partially formed. When he ripped off his shirt and roughly tore his pants from his body, all she could think of was her body's reaction to the guttural sound of her name on his lips and how magnificent he looked stalking towards her naked.
"Yes," she moaned again, coming off the chaise and into his arms. His mouth devoured her. She slid one hand around his shoulders, feeling his muscles tremble with the force of his desire. With her free hand she yanked her shirt over her head and then quickly unzipped her slacks, which slid fluidly from her body. Phoebus found the hook of her bra, struggling to open it.
"I can't... I need..." he groaned in frustration. "I must feel you against me." He tore the strip of lace from her back, and her breasts came free. She rubbed them against his chest as she kissed a hot path down the side of his neck.
A curse wrenched from his throat as Apollo tried to control his lust. Then Pamela took his hand that was kneading her breast and guided it to her panties, and all thoughts of control flew from his mind.
"These, too." She tugged at his bottom lip with her teeth, pulling it into the slick den of her mouth and sucking enticingly. "I want you to rip these off, too."
With a growl he obeyed her. Then he splayed his hands around her naked waist, and with the strength of a god, he lifted her and impaled her on his throbbing shaft.
Pamela was incredibly slick and ready for him. She wrapped her legs around his waist and dug her fingernails into his shoulders. Throwing her head back, she arched into him, totally consumed by the overwhelming need to sate herself in his touch... in his fire.
He was fire. Under her hands his body actually glowed. Her senses acknowledged it, but her mind could not hold the thought. It seemed that the light that glistened from his sweat-damp skin was just another part of his arousal; it tempted her and teased her and goaded on her own passion. His hair curled around his face, thick and golden and glorious. And his eyes... his eyes burned her. She wanted to be burned by him; she wanted to be licked by the flames of his lust.
She felt gloriously, wondrously out of control.
"Harder..." she gasped into his mouth, hardly recognizing her own voice. Phoebus lunged forward, and Pamela felt the cool smoothness of one of the marble columns against her naked back. She used the strength of the column to brace herself, so that she could meet his thrusts with her own inflamed passion. "Don't stop... not yet... don't stop," she panted, feeling herself tip over the edge of the world. Her orgasm was like nothing she had ever experienced. It engulfed her, rippling through her body with an intensity that verged on pain.
And then she was no longer being pressed against the column. His erection still impaling her, Phoebus carried her from the room. They passed through an arched doorway that led to a chamber adjacent to the dining room. In the center of the new room was a large, canopied bed. Logically, Pamela understood that they had entered a bedroom and that that shouldn't make any sense, but her mind was as filled with Phoebus as was her body - nothing was real except his touch, taste and smell.
"What's happening?" she whispered as he lay her on the bed beneath him.
"I am loving you. Forever, Pamela. This is what it is to be loved by me."
He began moving against her in the ancient dance of lovemaking, withdrawing his hard length from her body, and then plunging into her - again and again. Pamela ran her hands across his slick chest as he lifted himself over her. His skin was a golden glow. Dazed, yet ultrasensitized, she gazed down at where their bodies joined. They were both glowing... on fire... flames were licking their skin... driving them on... engulfing them...
"Look at me, Pamela." His voice was raw.
She locked her eyes with his.
"See me," he said. "This time really see me."
As they joined together she looked at him. He was power and beauty and love all melded into one being. How had she ever believed that he was just a man? Her mind struggled to grasp the elusive truth of what she was seeing as their bodies flamed in his blinding, immortal light. What was he? What was happening to her?
Apollo saw panic flicker in her eyes, and he framed her face with his hands, forcing her gaze to remain locked with his. With an enormous effort of will, he commanded his body to still.
"Look deeper," he said. "Look beyond the strangeness that you fear. Can't you see your reflection in my soul?"
The blue of his eyes held her even more intimately than their joined bodies. She was trembling with the intensity of her emotions. And there, beneath the new power that radiated from him, she found Phoebus - the heart of the man she knew. In that heart she saw the reflection of her own longing and need and emptiness, and she suddenly knew that by filling him, she would complete herself, too.
"What are you?" she whispered.
"Your soul mate."
His voice shook, and despite the awesome power that so clearly radiated from him, Pamela thought he suddenly looked very young and vulnerable.
"Yes," she breathed, feeling the fire begin to reignite deep within her. "You are my soul mate."
She pulled him down to her, and with a wrenching moan he thrust into her again, unable to hold back any longer. When the world began to explode, she buried her face in his glowing shoulder and hung on.
In the Great Hall, Artemis suddenly sat straight up. She drew a deep, cleansing breath. Gone! The bond with the mortal was gone. Apparently, her magic had tipped the scales in her brother's favor. And it was about time. She stretched luxuriously, enjoying the absence of the ever-annoying itch that had been Pamela's unfulfilled heart's desire. Then she settled back on her well-stuffed chaise. She would have liked to have retired to her forest - a run in the moonlight would be refreshing - but, no, Apollo still needed her to ensure no nymphs would glimpse him returning the mortal to her own world. It was really of little consequence; their dealings with the mortal were almost completed. Now that Apollo had won her heart, Artemis predicted that he would tire of Pamela quickly. Soon everything would return to normal, and their escapade in the Kingdom of Las Vegas would be nothing more than a semiamusing memory...
Artemis ignored the prickle of doubt that niggled at her mind as she remembered her brother's earnest proclamation of love. Apollo's soul mate was a mortal woman? It was simply not possible.
Hidden in the shadows, Bacchus smiled and waited.
