Paradise Lot: Interludes (Dionysus's Story)

Chapter 2 - Lay Me Down in a Bed of Vipers

I pointed out that I didn't have coffee. Astarte said she had some in her room. I protested, claiming that I was far too busy to take a break. Astarte got EightBall and Penemue to promise to cover for me. I told her that my room was a mess. Astarte said hers wasn't.

Of course, what she didn't mention was that her room was lit in red with soft lavender incense burning, and that she had no chairs to sit on, which left the large bed or the dozen or so throw pillows on which to rest.

And her room was hot, as in take off your clothes hot.

I took off my jacket.

Astarte pulled out a tray with coffee and cakes on it and I realized that she had planned this. They had planned this. And I was a sucker stupid enough to fall for it.

All that we needed now was to be left alone, and as if reading my mind, Astarte's phone rang. Reception—Penemue needed help with the fairies. Before I could say anything, Astarte was gone, and Medusa and I were sitting on a bed that had more firsthand carnal knowledge than the entire 1960s free love movement.

Hellelujah!

↔

"So," Medusa said, absently petting Marty as she nervously looked over at me, "the coffee is good." More of a prophecy than an observation, given that she hadn't tasted it yet.

"Yeah," I agreed. "It is." Hey—don't judge me. It was good filler. "So, how's work?"

Her eyes lit up, "Great! I got promoted and Officer Gruff thinks I got the chops to be a beat cop."

"Chops?" I giggled, "Who does he think he is ... Dick Tracy?"

"Dick?" Medusa's eyes widened.

Being an Other, she was unaware of most pop references ... and I should know enough to avoid making references to them. Especially the ones with suggestive words in the title. "It's a comic book from the 1950's and a word like 'chops' is quite archaic." Medusa gave me a blank look. "You know ... stuff like, 'Look here, copper' or 'Hit the bricks'," Medusa's expression drained of all comprehension, "Or ... oh, never mind ... it was before your time."

"Oh... OK." Medusa looked around the room. "Astarte does have very specific tastes, doesn't she?"

"No kidding," I agreed.

"I remember her temple in ancient Sumer. It was kind of the same, except more candles. You know, because of not having electricity back then." She delivered the line in a deadpan manner. "What? Before your time?" she fluttered her eyelids in mock surprise.

"Hah..." The corner of my lips took an upturn, "I deserved that."

"Indeed, human Jean-Luc. You have a decided advantage over me having lived here all your life, but I'm learning," she said. "For example, I've learned that when courting, one generally waits three dates before making love." I choked on my coffee. "And given that this is not an official date, but rather a ... non-date date, we are under no obligation to have sex."

"Ahhh—" I started, but Medusa lifted a finger, silencing me.

"And the Tyra Banks Show taught me that not all courtships end in mating. Some end in friendship. Some end in love. Regardless, we don't know what the future holds for us and given that we are having a coffee together in an admittedly strange setting, I'd like to just talk. Can we do that?"

I eyed the queen of gorgon, seriously impressed by how far she'd come along since I'd first met her. She was learning this world and what's more, she was smart, brazen and direct about it. Hellelujah! I was prepared to turn down a bubbly teenager—but the woman who sat before me was far more difficult to dismiss.

I nodded in agreement.

"Good. We'll decide on sex later."

"Ahh—OK," I agreed uncertainly.

↔

Over the next hour we chatted—mostly about the things she'd learned since becoming mortal. Stuff like how it was inappropriate for her snakes to bite people that annoyed her or how much she loved soft ice-cream and how everything was made better if you added marshmallows. You know, the important stuff. It was great conversation and if I'm honest with myself, I was really feeling a connection with the gorgon.

And then it happened. I didn't intend it to, but I had let my guard down and the conversation was going so well that I didn't notice her leaning in until it was too late. She kissed me. It was one of those firm, hard kisses—pleasant and warm. And for the moment before my brain caught up to what was happening, I kissed her back.

It probably lasted a second, but after seven years of never touching another woman's lips, it felt like forever. It was more than that—it felt good and right, warm and safe. Like when I was with Bella. Oh crap ... Bella. An image of her smiling down at me broke the spell I was under.

I pulled away from Medusa.

"Sorry," she blushed, "I know I said we were just talking but you were giving me that look. You know—where you really look at someone and Vogue Magazine said that the modern woman isn't afraid of making the first move. And a kiss is not sex. Teen Today says that is OK to kiss on the first date as long as it doesn't go past first base. I don't know what first base is, but from the context of the article, kissing isn't past first base, it's before it. Waaay before it and ... Oh! I'm messing this up." She looked down in defeat, all thirty of her snakes lowering their heads in commiserative misery.

"No, Medusa. Please, you're doing great ..." I said standing up. I wanted to tell her that I wasn't ready yet, and that I might never be ready ever. I wanted to say that she was a sweet girl who would find someone or someOther who deserved her. But instead I staggered, grabbing my head in confusion as the world blurred.

"You ..." I slurred. "You ... Ahh ... why is the room spinning?" I asked suddenly feeling very, very drunk.