You Think Making Love is Easy?

"You can see it now, can't you?" I ask.

She rests a hand on my arm.

"It's incredible," she says. "I can see it for everyone in the bar. I can even see yours. It's almost a perfect match for hers. No wonder you like her so much."

"I don't like her," I protest, perhaps a bit too quickly and loudly.

We aren't supposed to fall in love with mortals. The story of Cupid and Psyche is a case study for every incoming class at the academy.

"Okay, sure," Octavia says before her mood suddenly changes. "Oh, Julius, God. Why didn't you tell me before?"

"How was I supposed to know you couldn't see it?"

She is crying now, tears diluting her drink and pooling on the heavily varnished bar.

"Octavia, what is it?"

"All those people I matched up," she says in spurts between her sobs. "I -- I could have . . ."

"Honey, no. You have a lower divorce rate than any other cupid in the Midwest."

"Except you!"

"But you've matched so many more people than I have. And most of them are still together."

"But maybe they should have been with someone else," she wails.

I have no idea what to say to that, but she has found an answer on her own. Her voice is breathlessly girlish when she speaks to me again, her hand extended.

"Julius, look!"

I touch her again. I see her memory of a couple that she saw on the street a few weeks ago, one that she matched up nearly five years ago, shortly after she took over the district. They have a small toddler walking between them, and the woman is pregnant again.

"They're perfect, Octavia. I couldn't have done any better than that."

She blinks and looks at me again. Her eyes are still rimmed with tears, but her mouth is turned up in a smile.

"That's not what I saw when I matched them, Julius. What I saw was this."

She concentrates to dredge up another memory for me, and it becomes obvious that the couple's auras have grown radiantly similar over the intervening years. I am stunned; we had never been taught anything in the academy about auras changing after a successful match has been made. Octavia, however, appears to be experiencing some sort of rapture. Her face is aglow, her eyes flashing with delight.

"So when do you get them together?" she asks.

"Who?"

"Your girlfriend, Gwen and, what was his name, Luke?"

"Luke," I agree. "I don't know. I have to find someplace, some event, that one of them is going to, and then push the other one there."

"Push?"

"You know -- influence."

She has no idea what I am talking about. Apparently it is my turn to surprise her again.

"You know, suggest that they go there?"

"You talk to them?" she squeals.

"Of course I don't talk to them. I just sort of push them, sort of like I just pushed that guy sitting at the table behind us to order one of those frou-frou drinks you're drinking."

"What do you need, Billy?" The bartender is looking straight through us at the table of construction workers in the corner.

"Gimme one o' them Pink Passions," Billy says.

He is the oldest and toughest of the four. Our side of the bar goes quiet in a heartbeat.

"A what?" the bartender asks in disbelief.

"Them Pink Passions," Billy repeats. "With the umbrella."

I look over at Octavia and waggle my eyebrows. She is nearly hopping up and down with excitement.

"Do it again, do it again! Show me how."

She extends a hand and I push Gwen to leave the bar. Billy is reacting to the ribbing from the guys at the next table with more than a little hostility, and I would hate to have Gwen in the middle of a bar fight. For that matter, I have no wish to watch a bar fight either. I push Billy to laugh and change his order to a PBR. The guys at the other table laugh as well, and buy Billy and his buddies a pitcher.

Octavia finishes her drink, and announces that she has to be going. She is the only close friend I have had over the two years -- ever since the cupid in the district to the west of mine was replaced -- and I am reluctant to let her go. But she is clearly eager to use her newfound powers, and so we wish each other luck in case we don't have a chance to meet again in the month before our shifts end. I watch her fly off and finish my beer in quiet before turning my attention back to the Gwen problem. Perhaps another visit to her apartment is in order. Maybe I'll get a clue there.

Five days later, I have the shot again. Gwen is in line at the local Borders bookstore, attending a book signing by Edward Rankin. She holds in her hand a dog-eared book of short stories as well as a much newer novel. I am overjoyed when I watch Luke walk in and get in line right behind her, and I find myself spending time watching their auras circle each other as they strike up a conversation. Luke asks why she has two books with her, and Gwen is adorably flustered as she tries to avoid explaining that the friend for whom she bought the book, and whom she still wants to have it, is her former lover. They are getting close to the head of the line, though, and I realize that I need to do my job. I have to move a little bit to make sure of my aim. The line has grown behind them, and my line of fire is slightly blocked by the guy standing behind Luke, a trim, tanned man in his 60s with a full head of white hair.

I take a short flight to the right and pull out a pair of darts. I am smiling as I fit them to the bow, smiling as I pull back the string. I am smiling as I let them go, watching them as they speed toward their targets.

But I am not smiling any more. I am hovering there, stunned, as Luke sneezes, and his butt shifts ever so slightly to the left, turning his back right pocket, the one with his damn wallet, toward me. I heard a chiropractor once tell a patient of hers -- a patient with whom she has since had three years of blissful happiness -- that he shouldn't wear his wallet in his back pocket because it could have a bad effect on his posture. It can have a bad effect on your love life as well. The dart glances off Luke's wallet and slices into the older guy's thigh.

"Bless you."

Gwen and the older guy have said it simultaneously and are now staring at each other over Luke's head as he recovers from his unusually virulent sneeze. They are in love. Fuck me with a spoon.

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

About a week after Danae walked out of my life, Teddy Winkler walked in. We met at the bookstore while standing in line for a book signing by the author, Edward Rankin. I'd brought Danae's book as well as one of my own.

So, there I was, waiting in line and chatting a bit with the cute guy behind me. He was tall and broad shouldered with dark hair and a killer smile. I was just getting lost in that smile when his face crumpled and he erupted with an enormous, gut-wrenching sneeze that doubled him over. Teddy was behind him, and our eyes met over Cute Guy's bent form.

"Bless you!" we said in unison.

Before Cute Guy could recover and straighten his body, he sneezed again. And again. I fished a couple tissues out of my purse and handed them to him. Teddy's eyes never left my face, and I have to admit, I was quite taken with him as well. Cute Guy stood between us sniffling and blowing his nose for a moment, then sneezed again.

"God," he muttered, and walked away, giving up his place in line.

Teddy and I looked after him, then back at each other and smiled. He had the most striking blue eyes, made even more vivid by his dark tan and the shock of white hair falling over his forehead.

"I hope he's okay," he said.

I looked in the direction Cute Guy had gone and said, "Yeah, me too."

We continued to chat as the line moved forward. Teddy was a retired businessman and a widower. I thought he was very good looking for an older guy, well built but slim in his cuffed corduroys and sweater. He also smelled really good. His three grandchildren and his cats were the joy of his life, and he loved to read and listen to music and eat.

I was charmed, for sure. Teddy exuded old-world courtliness and sweetness and, strangely, calm. After the emotional roller coaster I'd been on, it felt nice. After we'd both met the author and had our books signed, Teddy asked if he could buy me a cup of coffee at the coffee shop attached to the store.

This sort of thing never happened to me, and now twice in one month I was being picked up by a perfect stranger. This was turning out to be a hell of a month.

We sat at a small table, I with a cup of Earl Grey and Teddy with a cup of coffee and some sort of Danish. Leaning back in his chair with his legs crossed, Teddy was the picture of confidence and ease. He listened patiently while I talked, and his comments and questions were thoughtful and interested without being too intrusive.

"So, fair Gwen, any New Year's resolutions?" he asked.

I thought for a moment. "Not really. I don't believe in them."

"Good." he patted my hand on the table. "I don't either. People rarely keep them and then become disgusted with themselves when they don't. You sure you don't want something to eat? I'll share my pastry with you."

"Oh, no thanks. I'm trying to be good." I rolled my eyes.

Teddy laughed. "I don't even try. I love to eat. I just make sure I exercise enough to burn it all off."

He loved to eat. Normal stuff, too. Imagine that.

"I've been very naughty lately, I'm afraid," I said, leaning my elbows on the table.

Teddy leaned to the side, and his eyes trailed down my body and back up to my face.

"You look good to me, darlin'. Damn good."

I cleared my throat, "Uh, thank you."

"Sure you don't want half?" He grinned.

"Positive. I haven't exercised at all this week."

"Why not?"

I hesitated and then thought, what the hell? "Oh, I had a messy break up last week."

"Gad, this is just awful!" Teddy exclaimed, laying his pastry down and wiping his fingers on a paper napkin. "Look." he picked it up again and tapped it on the table. "Stale."

"That's a dunker for sure." I laughed.

He pushed the offending treat away.

"No thanks," he said and took a sip of coffee. "I'm sorry you've had a bad time, sweetie. Want to talk about it?"

"Teddy." I laid my hand over his on the table. "We barely know each other. Surely, you don't want to hear about my sorry love life, do you?"

Laying his other hand atop mine and turning the one on the table palm up so that my hand was sandwiched between his, he said, "I think I'd like to hear anything you want to tell me."

Teddy's hands felt warm and dry and comforting. I stared into his blue eyes and felt tears prickle my own. His sincerity and kindness blew me away. As I looked down at our joined hands, a single tear overflowed and plopped on my cheek.

Teddy reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded and pressed white handkerchief and laid it on the table in front of me. I didn't know men still carried them, and the sweet gesture touched my heart.

"I'm sorry," I blubbered, holding the hanky to one eye and then the other.

"Don't be," whispered Teddy, still holding my hand on top of the table. "Tell me. You'll feel better."

Tell him I did, though I don't know why. I tried to keep it brief and wound it up with the book, which I'd opened to the inscription I'd written.

"And here I am," I ended.

"So, you're a lesbian?" Teddy looked a bit disturbed.

For some reason this made me laugh. "No, I'm not."

"Then why the woman?"

"Honestly, I have no idea. I've never been attracted to a woman before. It just happened." I shrugged.

Teddy sat back and blew out a deep breath between pursed lips.

"Would it bother you if I was?" I asked.

"Yes! Yes it would. I'm very attracted to you. More so to you than to anyone I've met in a long, long time, Gwen."

Somewhat taken aback, I glanced at my watch.

"Oh, my God. I didn't realize it was this late. I have to go, but I don't want to."

"And I don't want you to," Teddy said, taking my hand again.

As I looked into his eyes, the warmth of his hand traveled along my arm, down my chest and abdomen, and landed in my groin, creating a dull, empty ache. Yes, this was turning out to be one hell of a month.

"Would you have dinner with me some time?" he asked. "Tomorrow?"

I nodded. "I'd love to."

My car seemed to find its own way to the Pilates studio. I didn't remember driving there, my head was so full of what had just happened. Teddy's handkerchief was crumpled in my pocket, and I pulled it out and held it to my nose. The light ghost of his scent clung to it. I sat for a moment, smelling him and gathering my courage, then grabbed my duffel bag and headed inside to find Danae.

Afterward, the relief was tremendous. I'd given Danae the book, and both of us apologized. We talked for a while and agreed that we'd missed the other's company and should hang out once in a while. My class had gone well, and it felt good to be exercising again.

Closure on the past and the prospect of a potential new relationship had me feeling optimistic and wearing a smile on my face. When I arrived home, the message light was blinking on my machine. Teddy's voice made my smile grow even wider.

"Hello, sweet girl. It's Teddy. Uh, I know it's probably too soon to call, but I wanted to make sure you were all right, since you were upset earlier. I can't stop thinking about you. I'm sure it's soon to tell you something like that too, but there it is." He paused for a moment. "Well, if I don't have you convinced that I'm a perverted old stalker, give me a call back. I'm usually up late. Bye, darlin'."

I was hoping he'd call. The next message was also from Teddy. He'd forgotten to give me his phone number. Chuckling, I wrote it down and dialed. He picked up on the second ring.

"Teddy?"

"Gwen! How's my sweetheart?"

"Your sweetheart? Already?"

"Hey, I know a good thing when I see it," he replied.

"I think you're the sweetheart."

"Well, thank you, darlin'. I'm glad we're on the same page. You haven't answered my question though. How are you doing?"

"Great! I had a long talk with Danae, and it felt really good to get back to working out."

"Wonderful. I'm happy for you. So, did she like the book?" he asked.

"Yeah, I think so. It's hard to tell with her. She seemed touched that I had it signed for her though. She also seemed happy to see me. We've decided to hang out just as friends once in a while. I think that's the part of our relationship I really miss the most."

"Good for you. So, the bad stuff is water under the bridge now, and the two of you can move on."

"Yep," I paused for a moment. "I'm glad you called, Teddy."

We talked for a long time about all sorts of things. Teddy was as comfortable as an old pair of slippers. We agreed to have dinner the next night at an Italian restaurant he knew.

Teddy picked me up the next evening promptly at seven o'clock, looking very nice in a turtleneck and sport coat. Again, he smelled wonderful. The weather was mild, and I was able to get by with just a leather blazer over my jeans and blouse.

Teddy's car was a sleek, black BMW that smelled like new leather inside. He drove for twenty minutes before arriving at the restaurant. The place was rich in atmosphere, with checkered tablecloths and drippy candles stuck in Chianti bottles on all the tables. Italian music played in the background, making me feel as if I'd just stepped into a movie.

Our waitress, an aged Italian woman flirted with Teddy shamelessly. Teddy seemed to enjoy it, and at one point had her sitting on his lap briefly. I let him order for me, against my better judgment. The food was delicious though, and I ate and drank too much and enjoyed myself tremendously. We ended the meal with tiramisu (at Teddy's insistence) and coffee.

I hadn't felt so comfortable with anyone in a long time. When I told Teddy as much, he reached across the table, took my hand and laced our fingers together. The wine and the music and the candlelight gave the evening a soft romantic glow. Teddy moved his chair closer to mine, his fingers sliding up the hand he held, under my cuff, to feel the pulse at my wrist.

"I'm dying to kiss you," he murmured.

Breathless, I leaned toward him and laid my hand on his cheek. Teddy touched his lips to mine, very gently at first, then more urgently. His lips tasted of coffee and sweet tiramisu, and he parted them and touched the tip of his tongue to mine.

I broke the kiss first and whispered, "You're a really good kisser."

"I should be. I've had a lot of years to practice," Teddy said with a chuckle. "Let's get outta here."

Back at my place, we sat side by side on my couch, Teddy's arm around me, my head resting against his shoulder. I slipped my boots off and tucked my legs up on the couch, wrapping my arms around Teddy's waist. He stroked my hair back off my face and began kissing my forehead, my cheeks, then my nose—light, feathery kisses, a mere brush of the lips. He finally reached my lips and grazed them with his own. I'd grown impatient and kissed him full on, my lips open, and my tongue swiping across his bottom lip. His arms tightened around me as his lips parted, and he sucked my tongue into his mouth.

We kissed for a long time, though he made no move to take things further. I didn't feel comfortable taking the lead, thinking Teddy, in his old-fashioned way, might not appreciate it.

So when he leaned his head back on the cushion and said, "I should probably go. Don't want to wear out my welcome," I said nothing.

I walked him to the door and said, "Thank you for dinner. It was wonderful."

"Any time, Gwen. Any time." Teddy pressed his lips to my cheek, then opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. "Good night, dear one."

"Teddy?"You don't have to go.

He turned back to me.

"Um, nothing." I shook my head. "Good night."

We spent a lot of time together over the next several days, sitting together reading, walking in the park, going out to dinner and to the movies. It was nice. Comfortable. Sweet. We'd kiss and touch, but whenever things started to heat up, Teddy would pull away and give me some homespun cliché about not rushing into "hanky panky" or not being an "eager beaver" or whatever.

On Friday night, we'd planned to return to Angelo's for dinner. I wore my "little black dress" with some sexy underwear underneath. During the meal, I ran the pointy toe of one of my black pumps up and down Teddy's leg. I leaned forward a lot so he could look into my cleavage. I flirted and batted my eyelashes at him. I drank a lot of wine so I wouldn't lose my nerve. Tonight, I was going to have him.

Back at my apartment, Teddy sat on the couch, and I excused myself for a moment. In my bedroom, I took off my dress, turned back my bed, and lit several candles around the room. I spritzed perfume into the air and walked through the mist, scenting the room and myself. When I strolled back into the living room wearing only red and black ruffled rumba panties and matching bra, black thigh-high fishnets, and black pumps, I thought Teddy's poor eyeballs were going to pop out of his head.

"Holy smokes!" he gasped.

I smiled. "Do you need anything, love? Another glass of wine, perhaps?"

"Uh, no. I'm fine, thanks."

"What about me, Teddy? Do you need me?" I sat down on his lap, draping an arm across his shoulders.

"Yes," he whispered.

"Yes, what?" I trailed the backs of my fingers under his chin and along his neck and wiggled against his erection, which was pressing into the back of my leg.

"Oh, yes. I need you."

"That's good," I murmured between kisses. "Because I need you too. Now. Tonight."

Standing, I held my hand out to him and led him to the bedroom. I turned in his arms, and we kissed again.

With his face cupped between my hands, I looked up into those blue eyes and said, "I love you, Teddy."