It’s an Aphrodite Thing
His name was Miles Waverly and everyone said he had a future in this business. Miles appreciated the votes of confidence but as his grandfather Milos had told him, the very same man who Miles actually shared a name with, as grandfather Milos had told him when he was a very young boy, “Anyone can be good, but there’s only one best,” and Miles wanted to be the best.
He was watching as yet another audience cheered his latest masterpiece. Wicked, the critics called it. Bitingly satirical. A masterpiece of parody, and all that was good but already, Miles was thinking about what would be next.
Someone clapped him on the shoulder. “Great job, man,” the fellow said and Miles nodded. He wished he could enjoy the moment but all he could think about was what was next.
“I love your play, Mr. Waverly.”
Miles nodded at the girl. He would have thought more of what the teeny bopper said if it weren’t for the fact that he was pretty sure she was just parroting things she’d already heard other people say.
It wasn’t like the play was going to end anytime soon, the playwright knew. It would have a long and substantial run and then it would move on and it have a long and substantial run somewhere else but what was he to do for an encore.
That thought still haunted him on his way home. He was still young. Heck, he was only 28 but already he knew you were only good as your next play.
That night, he tossed and turned in bed. His on again, off again girlfriend was more off than on so he was sleeping alone and even in his sleep, that thought kept going through his mind.
What was he going to do next?
“Milos.”
The voice had seemed to come out of nothingness and yet at the same time, Miles suddenly found himself calm and at peace. He was in a darkened room and he was sitting in a chair.
“Milos,” the voice said again.
Miles had the feeling the speaker was getting closer although for the life of him, he couldn’t see the man.
There was now a light in the room. It was almost inconsequential for it did nothing to light the room. Indeed, it barely lit the desk at which Miles now found himself sitting. There were papers on the desk and a pen.
“Milos.”
The voice was softer and it was closer even as it spoke his name.
An old man dressed in a toga stepped into the light. “Do you see me now?” the man asked.
Barely, Miles thought. As ineffective as the light was, much of the man was still hidden in the shadows, but yes, Miles saw him. “I see you,” he said.
“That is good. So you want to know what you should write next.”
“How did you know that?”
The old man just smiled. “I know a great many things,” he said. “I know more than you will ever know.”
Miles didn’t doubt what the man said nor did he take offense at the old man’s words. It was merely a statement of fact and Miles knew that it wasn’t meant as a slight.
“So you have trouble writing.”
He didn’t have trouble writing, Miles wanted to say, but he said nothing.
“Never fear,” the old man said. “Momus will help you.”
Momus? He knew that name, but ...
The old man smiled just a little. “I see you know me.”
Milos nodded but even as he was nodding, he was telling himself that it just couldn’t be.
“You know you know me.”
“From my grandfather,” Miles muttered.
“But you know me, too.”
“It can’t be.”
“What can’t be?”
“Momus is the God of Satire.”
“Yes.”
“But he—”
“You mean me?”
Miles couldn’t help but gulp. “But you were cast out.”
The old man scowled. “Some people just can’t take a joke.”
Miles gulped again. “So, um, so what do you want from me?”
“Relax, Milos. I merely want to help you.”
“You want to help me?”
“I heard your plea and I want to help you write a great play.”
“Oh.”
“Now we will begin. Pick up your pen.”
Miles picked up his pen. It was an old quill pen.
“Now write what I say.”
Miles sat up in his bed. Whoa, he thought. That was a weird dream. He wondered what it meant. He wondered if there was something in his dream, something that would help him in his next project.
The writer stood and stretched and it was only then that he noticed his computer was on. Funny, he thought. He would have thought that sometime overnight, the computer would have gone to sleep but there it was, still active and ready.
He leaned in and peered at the screen. It didn’t take him long to recognize what was on the screen. No way, he told himself.
The show was an amazing hit. The critics were astounded. So close on the heels of the one blockbuster and now this. “It’s an Aphrodite Thing” was an even bigger hit than Waverly’s first hit and the critics couldn’t help but wonder just how much higher Miles’ rising star could go.
But as impressed as the critics were with the scriptwriting, they were even more impressed with the play’s leading lady.
She’d come out of nowhere. Her name was Cytheria Jones and she was perhaps the most stunning woman that Miles had ever seen and from what he could tell, he wasn’t alone. It seemed as if there was always an ever-present entourage of hangers-on somewhere around her.
But still, Miles didn’t hold a grudge. Why should he? He was a writer and he was used to living in the background.
The play had been running for nearly a month when he had another dream. He was lying in his bed but someone was at his desk hunched over his computer. He sat up and tried to rub the sleep from his eyes. “Who is it?” he asked groggily.
The man turned and Miles could see him for who he was. “My boy,” the old man said. “I think you should recognize me for who I am.”
And indeed, Miles did recognize him. “Momus,” he said. “What are you doing?”
“I’m just looking over your script, my boy. I think there are some places where some changes can be made.”
“Some changes, but it’s already playing. How can I make changes now?”
The old man smiled. “You can always make changes,” the man said, “and if you’re like me, no one will ever know.”
“But—”
“Never fear, my boy. I give you my word. No one will ever know.”
Something wasn’t right. Miles was certain of that and yet he couldn’t seem to accept what the old man said. The script shouldn’t be changed, he told himself and yet every time when he tried to tell himself that, he found himself getting even sleepier.
He drifted off to sleep with the uneasy thought that his script shouldn’t be changed.
The next morning, he woke up to find his computer on and the text for “It’s an Aphrodite Thing” was up on the screen and once more, his dream from the night before pushed its way to the front of his mind. His script shouldn’t be changed, he told himself and yet ...
He began to scroll through the script and it wasn’t long before he found the one change. He should change it back, he told himself and yet every time he tried to do that, he couldn’t. Helplessly, he stared at the edited lines. “Momus,” he said. “What are you doing to me?”
If the god of satire heard him, he apparently didn’t bother to give him a response.
All that day, Miles fretted over the changed lines. Of course, just because the lines were changed on his computer, that didn’t mean that they were actually changed in the scripts that everyone knew. The actors would all be running off the old texts wouldn’t they? It was just his copy that had been changed, right?
And yet as much as he tried to convince himself of that, he had the feeling that that wasn’t the case. Somehow, the text had been changed everywhere and so it was with some trepidation that he watched the play that night.
They were coming up on the changed scene and Cytheria Jones was up on stage with one of her leading men. What she was supposed to say next was, “So do you think I’m beautiful,” but Miles held his breath. This was it.
“So,” the blond said, “do you think my breasts are beautiful?”
“I do,” the other actor said.
“But how would you know? Perhaps you need a better look,” and with that, the blond easily slipped her arms out of her dress straps and she let the dress fall down around her waist. “How about now?” she asked. “Can you see them now?”
The man nodded.
“I don’t think so,” the actress said. “I think maybe you need a closer look. Come here.”
The actor took a step forward.
“I said come here,” the blond said.
The man took another step forward and then the blond was pulling him forward and then she was shoving his face down between her tits.
“How about now?” she asked. “Can you see them now?”
All that came from the actor was a muffled response and the crowd roared with laughter but they weren’t laughing at the script. They were laughing at the situation with the actor whose face was planted firmly between the blond’s tits and they were eating it up. No one, not the audience, not the actors nor anyone else seemed to sense that anything was different than it had been the night before.
And it was hot, too. Every time Miles saw it, he couldn’t help but wonder what it was like to be the actor with his face planted firmly between those tits. There was just something about the blond’s tits, something so alluring and so hot. Just knowing that the scene was coming was enough to get his dick hard and it stayed that way all the way through the scene.
It was a month later when he woke up to find someone writing at his desk.
“W-who are you?” he asked groggily before he saw who it was. “Momus? What are you doing here?”
“So how did you like my changes to your script,” the old man asked.
“Your changes?” It took Miles a moment to remember the dream a month earlier and what the God of Satire had done to his script. And to think that he’d actually convinced himself that those had been his own words. How could he have done that? “They’re good,” he said sheepishly.
“Oh, I think they’re better than good,” Momus said.
Miles couldn’t help but admit the truth. “They’re very ... very arousing.”
The old man smiled. “I’m glad you think so but then I’m sure you’re not the only one who thinks so.”
Miles nodded. He’d heard the comments. He wasn’t the only one. “So why are you here?” he asked.
“I want to help you.”
“Help me?”
The god nodded. “Your script is good but I think it could use something more.”
“Something more?”
The god nodded again. “Just a few tweaks here and there. Just a little something to make it pop so if you don’t mind ...”
Like he could stop Momus, Miles thought. “Go ahead.”
Miles leaned into see what the god was doing. He watched text being scratched out and he watched new lines being inserted. “Are you sure?” he asked when Momus was done.
“Are you questioning me?” Momus said.
“No, but—”
“So you are questioning me.”
No, it’s just that ... it’s just that it’s rather intense.”
“Of course, it’s intense. That’s what this script needs. It needs intensity. It needs passion.”
Miles had thought his script had had passion before but he certainly wasn’t going to correct Momus so he merely nodded his ascent. “I understand,” he said.
“Good.”
Miles woke up the next day. Oh my God, he thought. It had all been a dream ... but had it.
Moments later, he was at his computer and it wasn’t long before he’d found the changes from the night before. They were definitely there. He just stared at the screen. As much as Momus had said that this was something his script needed, Miles still wasn’t sure. The gods had never really taken the accounts of men to heart except of course, when those accounts served their own purposes.
Still this ... Miles knew he wasn’t going to be able to change this ... but this, this was very intense.
And it was exciting as well, Miles realized. He couldn’t wait to see what would happen next.
He wouldn’t have long to wait. There was another show that night and as Miles watched, he couldn’t help but see the new parts of the scripts in his mind.
“So,” the blond actress said, “do you think my breasts are beautiful?”
“I do,” the other actor said.
This was the new part. The actress now pushed the man into a chair and then she straddled his legs even as his hands came up to grip her ass. “But how would you know? Perhaps you need a better look,” and with that, the blond easily slipped her arms out of her dress straps and she let the dress fall down around her waist. “How about now?” she asked as she pulled his face against her breasts. “Can you see them now?”
“I can.”
“Mmm, the blond purred. I know you can. Do you want to know how I know?”
The actor nodded. “Tell me,” he said.
“I’ll do better than that,” the blond cooed. “You know I’m not wearing any panties so how about I let you show me.”
“Show you, how?”
“I think you know how,” the blond cooed.
Suddenly, the man’s cock was out although the audience couldn’t see that but they could definitely see the blond as she bounced on his member.
“I told you you could show me,” she said.
“Yeah,” the man groaned.
“Now, all you have to do is to finish it off.”
The man groaned as his cock unloaded itself inside the blond’s pussy and even if the audience couldn’t see exactly what had just happened, it didn’t take much for them to imagine just what exactly was going on on stage.
“That’s what I wanted,” the blond said.
The audience loved it. Miles knew it. They’d been hanging on the edge of their seats as if waiting for this thing to happen. It didn’t matter that it hadn’t been there before. It was there now and that was all that mattered.
If anything, the applause for the play was even greater than it had been before.
The leading lady met up with him one night after the show was over. “I sure do like that scene,” she said.
“Which one?”
“You know the one. The one where Ronald fucks me. You should put more stuff in there like that.”
Did she ... did she actually know, Miles wondered. She couldn’t know. No one else seemed to know but she almost seemed to have a sense about her that seemed to say she knew. “I ... um ... I’m glad you liked it.”
“I didn’t like it,” the actress said. “I loved it. In fact, I can’t wait to do it again.”
“I ... um, okay. That’s ... that’s good to know.”
“I’ll see you around, stud,” the actress said with a laugh. “Maybe next time you want to write a scene like that, you can invite me around. I’m sure I could give you some pointers.”
“Um, okay,” Miles mumbled.
“See you around,” the starlet said and with that, she went off to find other admirers to talk to.
Did she know? That was what Miles wanted to know and if she did know, did it matter. She certainly didn’t seem to care.
Still, Miles had to talk with Momus. The only thing was that gods if there was to be an answer at all, gods always answered when it was most convenient to them.
And besides which, Miles wasn’t even sure about how one was supposed to attract the attention of the God of Satire and Mockery.
It was hopeless, Miles thought. He wasn’t going to reach the God of Satire and just about when he’d accepted that fact, Momus once more made an appearance.
Once more, the God of Satire made his appearance in one of Miles’ dreams. “I understand you wanted to see me, Milos.”
“Momus, you’re here.”
“Of course, I’m here, but then that should be rather obvious, don’t you think?”
“But I’ve been looking for you.”
“I knew that,” the god said with a laugh, “but I’m here now. What is it that you want?”
“I think we’ve got a problem.”
“We’ve got a problem?” the god said with a laugh.
Miles understood what Momus meant. Even if there was a problem, it wasn’t their problem. It was his problem.
“Perhaps I can help you with your problem,” the god said. “What seems to be the matter?”
“It’s the latest changes you made to the script. I think the leading lady knows what the changes are.”
“Well, I would be surprised if she didn’t know.”
“You would?”
“Of course.”
“But ... but why?”
“Milos, my boy, hasn’t it occurred to you why you and everyone else finds her so beautiful? Hasn’t it occurred to you why just the sight of her, heck, just the thought of her makes your dick hard. Hasn’t it occurred to you that whenever you’re around her, you want to fuck?”
Miles shook his head. It hadn’t occurred to him but now that the god had brought it to his attention, he had to admit that his leading lady did in fact have that effect on him.
The old man laughed. “Sometimes I have to remind myself that for all the things you humans can do, you are still sometimes little more than children. There’s a reason why your leading lady is the way she is. Your leading lady is in fact the Goddess of Love.”
“The what?”
“The Goddess of Love. Aphrodite.”
“You mean I have the real Aphrodite in my play?”
“In my play actually, but yes.”
“But ... but how.”
“You didn’t think there was ever a way that she could keep away from taking a peek at a play that had her name in the title, did you, so of course, once the play was created, it was a foregone conclusion that she was going to want to come see it.
“But ... but—”
“But what?”
“Oh my God. She’ll think, oh my God, she’ll think it was me who was trying to make her fuck on stage.”
“I imagine she would ... if she ever came to her senses.”
“If she what?”
“If she comes to her senses. Do you know why I wrote that play, Milos?”
Miles shook his head.
“Do you know why I was cast out?”
Miles shook his head.
“Ostensibly, it was because of her but the truth was that gods don’t have a sense of humor and they hate to be mocked so what kind of place would there ever be among them for one such as myself. It was only a matter of time before something like that would have happened.
“Still, in the end, it was because of her and I’ve been waiting for a moment like this.”
“A moment like what?”
“She came here to see your script because she wanted to see what a mortal had written about her. If she’d ever suspected that that script had been written by an immortal, her defenses would have been up but as it was, she thought that this was the work of a mortal and so she was perfectly willing to let the script do exactly what it did to her.”
“What did it do to her?”
“The words cloud her mind just as they cloud the minds of whoever watches the play. On one level, she still knows who she is but on a whole level, she can’t imagine that she is who she is so of course, she can see the changes that are made to the script but she welcomes those changes and the more she is put on display, the more she welcomes it.”
Miles shook his head. “She’s going to kill me,” he said.
“Who? Aphrodite?”
Miles nodded.
“You’re probably right. If she ever found out, that is, so we need to take steps to make sure she never does find out.”
“How are we going to do that?”
“The same way we do everything. At the tip of a pen.”
Miles sat up in bed. Had that really happened, he wondered. Once more, he made his way to his computer and sure enough, his script, no, he corrected himself, Momus’s script, the script had been changed again. Oh my God.
That night, the play was once more playing out again and once more, the woman he now knew was Aphrodite had shown her fellow actor her tits and then she’d let him fuck her tits before sliding down over his cock and letting him fuck her pussy good.
But Miles knew this was where the new stuff was coming in.
“I feel so confined,” the blond said on stage.
It was a new line but no one in the audience seemed to notice it.
“I feel so confined,” the blond said again, “but I know what I need to do.”
Everyone was watching her.
She took her dress down and every eye followed her as she wriggled out of her dress and her hands played with her tits. “There now,” she said. “I’m not nearly so confined as I was there before.
“But I still feel confined,” the blond said with a pout.
“What do you need?” asked one of the male actors on stage.
“I don’t know,” the blond said, “but I need something. Perhaps if you were to help me.”
“Help you to do what?”
“Just come here,” the blond said with a pout.
The man came and stood as he was directed to do.
“Can you help me out of my panties?”
For a moment, the man looked as if he were going to say something but instead, he just knelt and he took the girl’s panties down.
The blond ran a hand through the hair of the man still kneeling in front of her. “That feels so much better now,” she said. “I don’t feel confined at all, only ...”
“Only what?” the man asked.
“Only,” the blond purred in a sultry tone, “now that you’re down there, I was wondering—”
“You were wondering what?”
“I was wondering if you could eat my pussy.”
For a moment, the man just knelt there but then he was moving forward and it was clear his tongue was moving in to slide between the blond’s thighs.
“Oh yeah,” the blond purred. “That’s what I want, only ...”
The blond looked at the other men on the stage. “I could use some help here,” she said.
Almost as one, the other three men stepped forward.
“Oooh,” the blond cooed. “That’s what I like.”
She purred as men stepped up on either side of her and her hands seemed to drape so naturally around them even as their hands pawed at her perfect breasts.
The last man just stood there and he looked out at the audience. “She looks ready,” he said. “She looks ready but I wonder how I should take her. Methinks that the how is not nearly so important as the taking itself.”
The man turned and he faced the blond. “On your knees,” he ordered.
The blond dropped to her knees and she looked up at the man who now had his cock out.
Once more, the man turned to look back at the audience. “Look at how she looks at my cock. Methinks she really wants it, but there’s one way to know for sure.”
The man stepped forward and then he was pushing his cock up against the blond’s face and in no time at all, she was sucking on his cock and once more, the man looked back at the audience. “Oh yes, I can tell she wants my cock very much.
Even as the blond sucked the one man’s cock, another man was stroking her butt and then he was letting his hand slide between her legs.
“Is she ready?” asked another of the men.
“She is so ready,” said the man with his fingers between her legs.
“Let me at her then.”
“Wait your turn,” said who was stroking her pussy and with that, he positioned himself to take full advantage of his position.
For a moment, the cock slipped out of the blond’s mouth and she moaned as she felt the other man take her from behind but just as quickly, the man whose cock she’d been sucking once more took advantage of her and once more, she was sucking his cock even as she got fucked from behind.
The audience seemed to hang on the edge of their collective seats every time the blond took another cock inside her and every time one of those cocks came inside her but finally, she was down to just the one last cock.
The blond looked out into the audience even as the last man filled her pussy with his cum. “Don’t blame me,” she said. “I can’t help myself. It’s an Aphrodite thing,” and with that the curtains closed to thundering applause from the audience.
The curtain came up again to reveal the still naked actress and the audience went wild and when she came out to take her bow, she was still naked and the audience cheered even louder.
She came offstage where Miles was waiting for her. “How’d I do?” she asked.
“You did great,” he said.
“You think so. You think it wasn’t too over the top?”
“Too over the top? No way! It was just fine. It was better than fine. It was great.”
A still naked Cytheria threw herself into Miles’s arms. “Thanks,” she gushed. “It means a lot to me to hear you say that.”
“Perhaps you’d like to show me just how much it means,” Miles said.
“Why? What’d you have in mind?”
“Come back to my place after the show.”
“And do what?”
Miles couldn’t believe he was saying these words. It was almost as if he were being controlled. “Oh I don’t think I need to spell it all out for you, do I? You don’t need me to tell you everything to say, do you?”
The blond smiled. “No, I suppose I don’t.”
Remember, Miles heard a voice in his head, she talks too much.
Anyone ever tell you you talk too much, too, old man, Miles thought back.
In his mind’s eye, Miles could see the old man grinning. “You might have a point there,” the old man said, “but what’s satire without a little dialog.”
The old man had a point, Miles thought, and besides, talk or no talk, in a very short while, he was going to be fucking the Goddess of Love and really, did it get any better than that?