The Love God

"Yes."

"We've got donors in the crowd tonight, so break a leg."

"What a charming suggestion."

It was almost showtime. The orchestra finished tuning; the audience hushed; Andrew took his position, camera ready. Mia sat in one of the rear rows, splitting her attention between the stage and him. And as always, Eros hovered. He was nervous. He wasn't used to being nervous, and that made him even more nervous. Whatever was about to happen, it had better work.

The play began. The women of the chorus came on, dressed as Maenads, all fawn skin dresses and crowns of ivy. Their hair and makeup were supposed to make them look half-mad and dangerous, but tonight they seemed a little too well suited for the role, and those in the front rows leaned a bit away from the stage, alarmed.

The women all danced, and the gyrating of their hips, the sway of their breasts, and the way their hair whipped from side to side made the men in the audience sit up straighter. The actor who came on with them was a beautiful, golden-haired boy, with a crown of real ivy and a lion skin tied around his nubile body.

Andrew tried to take a picture of him, but froze; Mia stopped halfway through taking a sip of wine. Stepping downstage, the boy actor said, "I am Dionysus."

Eros spat out his wine.

"But I've disguised myself as a mortal man and come here, with all my women who dance my rites, to teach the people of this land how to honor me," he continued, his voice carrying all the way back to the back row and then up and out into the night, like birds escaping a cage.

The audience stirred. There was something strange about him. He was round-faced and childlike, but his voice was strong and deep, and the redness of his lips looked beautiful and obscene under the stage lights. The chorus seemed agitated being so close to him, twitching and lolling.

Eros put a hand over his face. Oh shit. What had he done?

"I've traveled to all lands in the east, bringing grape-bearing vines with me to the sun-drenched plains and the bleak mountains and the richest, most exotic lands of Asia and Arabia," said Dionysus, looking every single person in the front row in the eyes.

"Now, here, I'll drive the women from their homes and make them run in the forest, dress in the skins of deer, carry staffs of ivy, and dance under the pines, to prove that I am a god, powerful and terrible."

More murmuring. Some people shifted in their seats, while others stood up. The actor's voice intensified the potency of the wine in everyone's blood. The stage lights became brighter—or was the light coming from the actor himself?

The women in the chorus stepped off their marks, crawling and writhing at his feet. Their eyes rolled as they twitched and clawed their bodies.

"That's why I've transformed myself to a mortal shape. You, my women who worship me, my beautiful barbarian priestesses, go and beat the drums and raise your voices high, so that everyone knows we've come."

"Yes: I've come to dance," said one of the chorus actors, scraping her body over the stage. "I've come to cry out in glorious celebration of the great god."

Mia whispered, "Is this...is this how it's supposed to go?"

"I have no idea," said Andrew. He still wanted to take a picture of the actor playing Dionysus but he simply couldn't. The camera might as well have weighed a thousand pounds in his lap.

"I've come to sing," said another woman in the chorus. "Everyone, hear the hymn of the great god and know that I celebrate his holy power."

"Blessed are those who know our ways and join our Bacchic revels," said a third. She peeled her costume down, exposing her naked breasts. Several others did the same.

"Put on your ivy crown and flaunt your green yew."

"Taste the sweet fruits."

"To the mountains and the streams: Everyone dance!"

Twilight came into the sky. One by one, all the women in the audience stood up, reaching out to touch the feet and robes of the boy onstage. Other actors came on to say their lines when they were meant to, but they all looked stunned and afraid, and none of them could finish. The show broke down, but the women of the chorus only grew louder:

"The land flows with milk. The land flows with wine. The land flows with honey from the bees."

"He holds the blazing pine torch high, sweet smoke burning like Syrian incense. He dances and runs, stirring the straggler and leading them out. Join us! Celebrate the god of joy!"

The dam burst: Women pushed and kicked to get to the front rows, and those already there crushed onto the stage. Most clawed their clothes off, tearing fabric and spilling buttons and pearls. They poured wine onto their naked breasts and let it run in glorious streams, their hair flying free.

As one woman peeled herself out of a cream-colored gown and threw away jewelry as she pulled herself up onto the stage and crept to the feet of the Wine God, kissing his ankles and calves, Eros flew to the stage and grabbed his cousin by the arm.

"Dude! What the hell are you doing?"

"What we planned. The Frenzy is on these women: Now my power here is absolute, and no god can interfere. Do whatever you want without fear of interruption."

"But this is way too much heat. I wanted to get this done quietly. Do you have any idea what's going to happen to me when word gets around?"

"I'm the god of revels. I do what I want. Are you going to stop me?"

The Maenads turned on Eros. The night air grew thick with murderous intent. He threw up his hands.

"You know what, never mind. It's cool. Do your thing, bro. I'll show myself out."

Eros flitted off the stage. By now the whole grove was in chaos. The men were all catatonic. And the women...well, none of them were having a dull evening, that was for sure. The power of the wine and the Wine God held everyone in thrall.

Looking at his bow and arrows, Eros said, "Mom is going to kill me when she finds out about this."

Suddenly he remembered his job. He zipped into the crowd and found Mia. She'd had lousy seats, and was just now approaching the melee, dazed and stumbling. Eros put his hands out to stop her.

"Take it easy, girl. Why don't we just have a seat and wait for...wait for...oh, where the hell is he?"

Andrew couldn't take his eyes off the scene in front of him: writhing, crawling women, nude and half-nude, baptizing each other with bowls of beautiful, crystalline wine, whites that gleamed and reds so deep they were almost black. They fell over each other to lick the precious droplets up.

Lips and tongues and fingers and breasts became stained. The grove was a writhing carpet of bodies. He felt desire stir but also heard a shrill, panicky voice of alarm in his head warning him to stay away.

In the reflected glare of the stage lights, the women's nails and teeth gleamed, and their loose manes made them look like wild animals. Andrew was sure that they'd tear him apart if he got too close. Still, it was tempting. His feet wavered, taking a curious half-step forward...

Someone grabbed his shoulder and turned him around. Through the dreamy, unreal miasma of the wine and madness, the stranger looked like...a man with wings?

"Andrew, buddy, can you hear me?"

"Yes?"

"I think we should go check on Mia. That sound like a good idea? Check on Mia?"

"Um...if you think so."

"I do. I really, really do."

The two were easy to lead, though they tripped over their own feet, like zombies. Eros found a tree far away from the Bacchanal and sat them down. They started to come back to their senses, though they still looked a bit tipsy and uncertain. He snapped his fingers in front of their glazed eyes a few times. Finally, he made them both join hands, and gradually they focused on each other.

"Mia, can you hear me? Well...look, you're not going to remember any of this except for one thing: From now on, you're going to be completely honest with Andrew, always. Andrew, that goes for you too. Do both of you understand?"

They nodded, but neither of them were looking at him. They only had eyes for each other. It was like watching little light bulbs go on over each of their heads. Andrew felt like he couldn't breathe. When he finally could talk, all that came at first was mumbling.

"Hey. Hi. I don't know how to say this, but..."

"I know," she said. "I mean, I know exactly what you're going to say, and..."

"You too?"

"Me too."

They kissed. The little hollow of the tree cradled them. Mia's hands traced the line of Andrew's back, all the way down to his rear, which she gave a squeeze just for the hell of it. He jumped. It was cute. She slipped her other hand down to get another feel. He certainly was enthusiastic tonight.

Andrew glanced over his shoulder. "Should we? We're right out in the open..."

"Everyone else is."

"I don't understand what's going on at all."

"Neither do I. Let's not worry about it. Kiss me."

Meanwhile, Dionysus left the stage and went down into the people, bringing his Maenads with him. Every woman he touched with his ivy staff became an animal in heat. The younger and the older alike stripped, and found their bodies more beautiful than they'd ever remembered.

They touched themselves, exploring the softness of their naked skin, cupping each breast in the palm as if weighing it, fondling the outline of their legs and thighs and calves and then flinging themselves back into the grass and shouting out to trees, feeling free and mad and alive.

Then they'd fall on each other, eager to feel more, long and untamed hair spreading underneath those who laid back and hanging over the shoulders of those who got on top. Soft breasts pressed together as open mouths met.

Hands and fingers found each other, wrapping in knots. Nearby, they were dimly aware of what the others were doing, and the wet ache coming on urged them on to the same thing. But not yet. It could wait until the time came. What a wonderful thing, to be free and not to have to think about anything except this moment and the feel of warm flesh, the taste of good wine, and the music of moans and cries.

How good the grass felt against a bare back, and how much better still it felt to touch the pale white or dark brown limbs of a sister nearby and feel her body with yours and then taste her lips.

How good to always find another and another, for the circle grew wider and wider. Some danced alone or in groups while standing, and others danced with one another in twos or threes while lying on the ground. How comforting to know that a great god watched over all of it and was pleased, and that no one would defy him by breaking up the revel.

There were men nearby, but they did nothing. That was how they showed their respect to the god: By fearing him enough not to interfere. If anyone dared, his blood would fill the mouth of every sister here.

But they turned to more pleasant thoughts, like the touch of a sister as she put her hand on a knee, sculpting the length of the leg with massaging fingers until the heat and want spiked. Would she go higher? Would her fingers dare go where they were wanted most? Another kiss, harder than the others, and then the agonizing relief of a touch just where it was truly needed.

Oh yes...

Finding the last of the wine that nobody had gotten o yet, Eros toasted his cousin. "I've got to hand it to you: You always do throw one hell of a party."

"It's a lot of responsibility," said Dionysus. "But someone has to do it."

***

Sunday morning. Mia's bedroom. She and Andrew lay together.

"So...you'll do it?" she said.

"Tonight."

"I'm sorry. I know it's going to be hard."

"Don't be sorry. Besides, you have to talk to him."

"Yeah, but that will be a phone call. Not as bad. He'll be relieved anyway. I mean, he'll still get mad, but just for show."

"It's not too late to change your mind, you know," said Andrew.

"Yes it is," Mia said.

Eros reclined on the railing of the fire escape. He didn't have his bow or golden arrows. Instead, Hathor had them, and a long silver chain with a lock wrapped around the entire bundle. They both watched through the window. "What do they remember?" Hathor said.

"Not much. They think they got very drunk and blacked out, which is basically true. Most everyone else in the audience thinks the same thing. There were a few drunk and disorderly arrests, and a big scandal for the theater company, but no real harm done."

Hathor gave him another skeptical look.

"...well, all right, a couple of the actresses from the chorus have come up missing," he said. "But that will get sorted out. The Wine God does whatever he wants; all I did was point the damage in a direction that worked for me. What's so bad about that?"

"That's not all you did," Hathor said, inclining her head toward the two inside. Eros sighed.

"Yeah. What's the word on them?"

"You win. I mean, you're still busted, and you don't get these back." She hefted the bow and arrows. "But we're not splitting them up."

"I thought Nu Wa would scream and cry to get things put back the way she wanted them."

"Oh, she did, believe me. But the rest of us figured this pair had enough of gods meddling with their destinies. Better to leave them be."

She peered through the window at the man and woman who had been the cause of so much furor: So young and so naïve, both of them. "Why these two?" said Hathor. "Why did it matter so much?"

"I just like them, that's all. And I like getting my way."

"But there have been plenty of times you didn't get your way before. What was special now?"

Shedding a few feathers, Eros shrugged. He didn't like the way she was looking at him.

"I have a theory," Hathor continued. "What you said that night, about how they'd both regret it if they forgot each other? I think you've got regrets of your own, and you don't like seeing them happen to other people. That's what touched a nerve about this couple. Am I right?"

Eros sat up. Beneath them, on the city street, a long snake of traffic honked its way along. He looked Hathor in the eyes for a long time, looked down at his feet as if groping for the right thing to say, and then...

He grinned.

"Nah. What kind of regrets would a guy like me have? I'm the god of love."

"We're all the god of love."

"I guess that's true."

He winked at the couple through the window. Then he flapped his wings and floated up until the entire city was a great, sun-kissed panorama of glass and steel and people below him.

"How long am I suspended for?" he said.

"I'm not sure there are any numbers large enough to express the duration."

"Doesn't matter. I'll be back before you know it. A little vacation in the meantime sounds nice. What about you, my dear?"

He slipped an arm around her waist.

"Feel like going somewhere pleasant? A few weeks in the tropics? Somewhere we can get to know each other on a strictly non-professional basis? What do you say?"

Hathor looked shocked. Then she grinned. She took an arrow out of the quiver, considering its golden tip, turning it between her fingers and peering at Eros around the dove feathers in the fletching. And then...

She threw it away.

"Keep dreaming," she said.