You Think Making Love is Easy?

He closed his eyes and turned his face to kiss one of my palms, then the other. "I love you too, Gwen. Very much."

Making love with Teddy was...nice. There were no fireworks, but it was sweet and slow and satisfying, I guess. I'd missed having a man wrapped around me, and his body was toned and muscular without being bulky. Afterward, Teddy rolled off of me and collapsed onto his back.

"Boy howdy," he breathed. "Not bad for an old timer, eh?"

I giggled. "Boy howdy?"

"Mmmm, you are delicious, darlin'."

"Thanks. You are too."

I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew, Teddy was up putting his clothes on.

"Teddy?"

"I'm sorry, sweetie. I was trying not to wake you." He came over and sat on the side of the bed.

"You're leaving?"

"I need to get back to the girls. God only knows what kind of mischief they'll get into if I leave them alone all night."

"The girls?"

"My cats."

He was leaving me because he had to get back to his cats? Okay, so there'd be no round two.

Teddy patted my leg. "Sweet dreams, darlin'. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

A couple nights later, he invited me to his place for dinner and to meet "the girls." Teddy's house was huge and brick, and his back yard butted up to the golf course of a country club. I followed the driveway around the house and parked, then made my way to the back door and rang the bell

"Well, hello, darlin'!" Teddy called, as he opened the door. "I'm glad to see you."

He ushered me into a mudroom, where he hung up my coat, then pulled me into his arms for a kiss. I gave a start as something swiped against my legs. A cat. I'd forgotten about them.

Teddy chuckled and picked it up. "This pretty lady is Midnight." To the cat, he said in a singsong voice, "Daddy's girl needs some attention, huh?" He rubbed its face against his cheek and kissed its nose.

I am not a cat person. I don't hate them, but I don't especially like them either. Okay, I'm not even really middle-of-the-road on them. Scale of one to ten, one being hate and ten being love, I'm probably about a three. Truthfully, this little display was doing nothing for me.

"Come on, darlin," Teddy called over his shoulder to me, carrying the cat out of the room.

I followed him down a hallway and into a large family room with a lit fireplace at one end and a bar in the corner. He set the cat on the floor and handed me a martini. A martini. Alrighty. Scale of one to ten on a martini? About a four, I'd say. I like them better than cats but not much. I took a sip anyway and nearly choked.

"Are you going to try to take advantage of me with all this alcohol?"

Teddy laughed and sat down on a sofa close to the fire, patting the seat next to him. Just as I was about to sit there, another cat hopped up and curled itself into a ball against Teddy's leg. This one was smaller and tiger striped. Answered to the name "Tigger" apparently. Teddy scooped Tigger into his lap and bade me to sit, so I did. Out of nowhere, a large calico jumped up and squeezed itself into Teddy's lap as well.

"And here's our Bitsy. You sure can't tell now, but she was a tiny little thing when we first got her."

Midnight was rubbing herself against my legs again, which I found annoying. It never ceased to amaze me that whenever I was around cats, they seemed to flock to me.

"You've made a friend for life, darlin'," Teddy chuckled.

Smiling politely, I sipped my drink. Suddenly, I felt a whoosh and something at my shoulder. Looking up into two big yellow feline eyes, I let out a startled yelp. The most enormous cat I'd ever seen was standing on the back of the sofa, hissing at me. I jumped up, sloshing my drink all over my hand. Honestly, I thought I was being attacked.

"Sally!" Teddy barked. The cat sauntered along the back of the sofa and crouched at Teddy's shoulder. He reached back and scratched her ears, while she stared at me with malice. "It's okay, darlin'. You can sit back down. Miss Sally's just a mite possessive at times."

"No thanks," I murmured, sinking into an armchair and downing the rest of my drink. No, I don't like martinis, but that slow burn in my belly felt good and told me I wouldn't be caring much about anything else in a short while.

Teddy explained that Miss Sally was a Maine Coon, one of the largest breeds of domestic cat, also known as "gentle giants."

Gentle my ass, I thought.

"Need a refill, darlin'?"

"Please." I held out my glass.

Teddy shooed the "girls" off of him and grabbed my glass on the way back to the bar. While he was there, Miss Sally forced me into a stare down from the sofa. She won, I think. I finished my next drink pretty quickly and ate the olives. I started to feel pretty happy then, in spite of that goddamn glaring bitch of a cat and Teddy's baby talking and stupid clichés.

Before dinner, Teddy filled my glass one more time, and I floated to the kitchen on the waves of my gin and vermouth buzz. The table was already set for two, bowls of salad atop the dinner plates. Teddy brought out a chicken and biscuit casserole his housekeeper had left in the oven for us and placed it in the center of the table.

As we were enjoying our salads and quiet conversation, Miss Sally leapt onto the table and nosed around the casserole.

"Sally!" Teddy yelled with one of his loud braying laughs. "You're being very rude tonight. Down you go." He plopped her on the floor.

Downing the rest of my third martini, I tried not to think about the cat digging in her litter box or licking her ass or whatever else cats do, before prancing her big hairy self across the table and sniffing at my dinner. The absurdity of it made me laugh, and Teddy joined me, thinking, no doubt, that I was laughing at Miss Sally's cute antics.

After dinner, of which I ate very little, Teddy leaned back, rubbed his belly, and said, "Whew! I think my eyes were bigger than my stomach."

Clichés were the mainstay of his conversation, I'd noticed, studying him across the table. Another thing—why was he "Teddy" instead of just "Ted" or "Theodore"? Wasn't that odd for a man in his sixties? I'd always wondered about that.

"Teddy?"

"Yes, darlin'?"

Okay, I was drunk at this point. I admit it. I couldn't ask him and keep a straight face.

"Never mind. How 'bout you show me your bedroom?" I wiggled my eyebrows in a suggestive manner. I thought some good sex might be the redeeming factor of the evening.

Teddy (or Ted, as I now preferred to think of him) led me by the hand up a grand staircase to the second floor and down a hallway and into a cool room with a king-size bed. I kicked off my boots and flopped on the bed, holding out my arms.

"Fuck me, Ted," I murmured.

"Gwen?" Ted sat down next to me. "You're three sheets to the wind."

"Yup. Let's fuck."

I sat up and pulled my sweater off over my head and unhooked my bra and pulled it off too. Undoing my jeans, I laid back on the bed, lifted my ass up and pulled them off, along with my panties.

Teddy just sat there staring at me. Miss Sally came strolling in at that moment and proceeded to stare at me, as well.

"Out you go, Miss Sally. I'm gonna fuck your daddy," I chirped, laughing at my own wit.

Finally breaking a smile, Teddy said, "What am I going to do with you?"

He shooed Sally out of the room and closed the door, then sat back down on the bed.

Rising to my knees, I crawled over to him and wrapped my arms around his neck from behind. Slipping my hands down his chest, I unbuttoned his shirt and thrust my hands inside. I stroked my fingernails up and down his chest and belly while I kissed his neck. Peeling the shirt off of him, I tossed it on the floor and pressed my body against his bare back. My hands wandered down his abdomen to that tight, hard package in his pants. I wasn't getting much reaction from him, so feeling his hardness was reassuring.

I scooted around him to kneel on the floor Between his knees. With my eyes on his, I unzipped his pants and reached inside for his rigid penis. As it sprang into view, I looked down and wrapped my hand around the shaft.

Teddy inhaled sharply between his teeth, then groaned, "Gwen, what are you doing?"

"This," I leaned down and licked from the base of his cock up one side of his shaft and back down the other. Sliding a hand underneath his balls, I gave them a gentle squeeze, as his cock head slipped into my mouth.

A trilled yowling from the hallway startled me for the second time that evening, and Teddy's dick slipped out of my mouth.

"Sally," he gasped.

I took him in again, sliding his cock in deeper this time, so that the crown hit the back of my throat. My tongue rubbed against the underside of the shaft as I sucked, while pulling my head back slowly. Quickly, I plunged it back in again, opening my throat and taking him in as far as I could. The plaintive yowling continued in the hallway, along with scratches at the door now and then.

Teddy's hands grasped my head, and he moaned, "Oh, God, Gwen."

Grabbing my upper arms, he hauled me up and pulled me with him as he laid back on the bed. He rolled over, pushing me onto my back, and thrust his cock up between my legs.

Meanwhile, the freaking cat kept up the ruckus outside the door, which I tried my best to ignore while Teddy rammed into me. Missionary position. Again. Whee!

Just then, Miss Sally jumped onto the bed, and I screamed.

"How the fuck did she get in here?" I shrieked.

Teddy collapsed on top of me, laughing. "She can open the door if she gets good and mad. Look, it's better this way. At least she's stopped her caterwauling."

"Does she have to be on the fucking bed?"

He reached an arm out and scooped the goddamn cat off the bed, then continued to pump away at me. Miss Sally jumped back up onto the bed, of course, and laid down close enough to be intimidating but far enough away to be able to glare at me. My hair, which was fanned out behind me on the duvet, must have been moving back and forth as Teddy continued to drive into me, because Sally pounced on it with a suddenness that scared the hell out of me.

I screamed again and tried to bat her away with my hands.

"Goddamn it, Ted! Can't you do something about this fucking cat?" I sat up and pulled away from him, wrapping my arms around my nakedness.

"Do you always swear like a fishwife when you get tipsy?" he asked.

"Uh, no, I don't, Ted," I bristled. "I usually only fucking swear when I'm pissed off."

"Well, I can't say I like it much, darlin'."

"I can't say I'm liking you much right now, Ted."

He stood and looked at me, his deflated penis drooping in front of him.

"I'm sorry you feel that way," he said, and walked into the bathroom and shut the door.

Miss Sally apparently felt that her work was done, because she sauntered out of the room with her voluminous tail swishing smartly.

"Bitch," I whispered.

I gathered my clothes and got dressed. The sound of water running in the bathroom had stopped, but Teddy hadn't come back into the bedroom. I found him in the family room, wearing a bathrobe and drinking a martini in front of the fire. He didn't look at me.

"Teddy? I'm sorry. This isn't working out for me at all."

"I understand," he said, still staring into the fire.

"Okay, I'm going. Thanks for dinner."

"Gwen?"

I turned back.

"Are you okay to drive?"

"Yes." I smiled. "I'm perfectly sober now."

"I'm sorry too."

I nodded. "Thanks. Goodbye, Teddy."

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

"Julius Cupidus."

I raise my hand and call out, "Present!"

"I know you're present, you ass. I'm staring right at you. And you will rise when we address you, out of respect for the court."

I raise an eyebrow and survey the "court." The room itself is very impressive. The desk at which the "accused" are sitting is a beautiful walnut, but it is overwhelmed by the carved wall paneling and the elegant raised bench with its three leather chairs. Behind the middle chair is a portrait of Valentine, our order's patron saint. It is flanked by smaller portraits of Cupid, our founder, and Abelard and Heloise, whose love is still considered our greatest achievement.

As nice as the room is, it is nonetheless difficult to summon respect for a cupid who had put me on dart-filling detail for a week during my academy days just because I shot him in the butt. Then again, it is difficult to believe that Antonius has been elevated to headmaster of the academy, which entitles him to preside at this disciplinary hearing.

To his left sits Valerius, a cupid whose appearance, like those of most immortals, makes his age impossible to determine. My guess is that he is about 500. I had been informed that he is the head of the academy's Office of Cupidicial Law. If I had known we had our own law, I think I would have tried to stick it out as an elf.

To Antonius's right is Tiberius, my regional supervisor. He is studying me with sad eyes, as if my presence here is not a big surprise to him. In addition, he is clearly uncomfortable to find his prized pupil "in the dock." For her part, Octavia appears disconsolate, as if five years of cupiding have been erased by whatever it is that she and I are supposed to have done.

There are no spectators, although the hearing is being broadcast on the closed-circuit Cupid News Network because it is the first such hearing in some 100 years. The room's only other occupant is the bailiff, a stuffed shirt who solemnly intoned "all rise" and "oyez, oyez, oyez," whatever the hell that means. With a glance that accuses him of failing to instruct me to rise this time, I push myself to my feet.

"Sir?"

"You are accused of apostasy and subversion. How plead you?"

"Plead I not guilty," I sing out.

Tiberius gives me a murderous look, and I return a small shrug. Even here the wiseass cannot be suppressed.

"Octavia Cupida."

"Sir." Octavia rises as well.

"You too are accused of apostasy and subversion. How plead you?"

"What do I do?" Octavia whispers to me, her eyes brimming with tears.

"Speak up," Antonius demands.

"Pleads she not guilty as well." I give Octavia a wink, which infuriates Antonius.

"You cannot possibly have the unmitigated effrontery," he thunders, "to deny that you have consorted with other cupids with the intention of undermining the teaching of this Holy Order."

It's news to me. Antonius wipes saliva off his lower lip as I ask if that was intended as a question.

"Bring in the first witness!"

The first witness is Stennius, the prissy supervisor of the region immediately to the west of Tiberius's. He describes how two of his newly assigned cupids returned to the headquarters with an unbelievable tale of enhanced aura perception.

"Naturally, I immediately alerted the academy."

"Quite properly," Antonius says. He thanks Stennius and calls for the second witness, only to have Valerius whisper to him. Antonius glowers at his fellow jurist and then sneers at me.

"You must excuse me. Would either of the accused care to examine the witness?"

Cupids are congenitally incapable of lying, so the likelihood of Stennius breaking down under my withering cross-examination is slim. I wave a denial at the court. Octavia answers with a barely perceptible shake of her head.

The next two witnesses, rookie cupids Romulus and Livia, tell an unfortunate story. It is unfortunate that on the night that Octavia heard that her rebirth request had been approved, I was out emptying my quiver in order to obtain another shot of "anti." At the time, I had thought it an excellent night. I had discovered an ability to predict the growth of people's auras, and felt much more confident in the "minimum congruence" shots I was taking. It is unfortunate, however, that my unavailability led Octavia to turn to her western neighbors to help her celebrate. It is unfortunate that she had a few too many of those umbrella drinks and spilled what she had learned from me a few nights earlier. And it was unfortunate that those two, who have just now finished testifying, have the discretion of town criers.

"I'm so sorry, Julius," she sobs as the second one leaves the room.

"Don't worry, Tavy. We'll be fine."

That is not a lie; I am as incapable as the next cupid of lying. It is more of a prediction, albeit one in which I have only the tiniest amount of faith.

Octavia's testimony, which comes next, is more than enough to inculpate me in this heresy of enhanced aura perception. It establishes that I am, if not the ringleader of our little mutiny, at least its guiding spirit. Antonius is particularly incensed to learn that I stopped Octavia from shooting Gwen in the bar. When it is my turn to take the stand, he starts spitting again.

"And for what great and glorious purpose did the all-knowing Julius Cupidus interfere with a cupid acting in her own district."

"I believed that Ms. Williams, who lives in my district, would be better matched with a Luke Turnquist, who is also of my district."

Based on your superior aura perception," Valerius states.

"Yes."

"And have you matched her with him?"

"Yes."

"How many shots did it take?" Antonius sneers at me again.

"Three." It was a direct question, sarcastic thought it may have been. I adopt a look of embarrassment.

"Three?" the judges ask in unison.

"You mean both of those doses of "anti" you requisitioned were for men you shot when you were aiming at this Turnquist?" a shocked Tiberius asks.

That, too, is a question I would rather not have gotten.

"No, sir."

"Then who were they for?" asks Valerius, the niggling little bastard.

I explain about Danae. All of us can hear the explosion of laughter coming from the hallway. Apparently they are broadcasting the hearing out there as well.

"And did you finally manage to shoot the people you were aiming for?" Antonius asks.

"Yes, sir."

I lose myself for just a moment in the memory of that triumph. Gwen was on her lunch hour, sitting by herself on a park bench on an unusually warm day for early February. She was wondering if she would ever find her true love, and counted herself fortunate only that her friends and co-workers had never met either Danae or Teddy. They would perhaps always think of her as unlucky, but they wouldn't think of her as a promiscuous slut who threw herself at the first single person she met, man or woman. I could feel my cheeks redden slightly as I sat next to her; that was probably my fault.

As I sat there, though, simply enjoying the pleasure of her company and racking her brain to arrange another meeting with Luke, fate came to my aid. I watched Gwen's beautiful eyes track a man walking down one of the paths. Miracle of miracles, it was Luke, out for a walk on his lunch break as he contemplated his own negligible love life. He had apparently asked out another woman he'd met at the bookstore, a woman with whom not even the rawest cupid fresh out of the academy would have matched him. It had lasted only two dates, and fortunately had not resulted in any bloodshed.

I was startled enough that I nearly let the opportunity slip away. By the time I had the darts in the bow, it was the cupidist equivalent of a 7-10 split. But for once, my aim was true. Luke turned. Their eyes met.

I feel the bailiff tapping on my arm, and then directing my attention to the court, which I had been snubbing.

"Sir?"

"Take your seat," Antonius says, his voice that of a hissing snake. "We have heard enough. We will retire to consider the sentence."

Valerius whispers again.

"Yes, yes." Antonius is annoyed. "I meant the verdict."

We "all rise" again, and when Octavia and I are alone, she falls into my arms, her body shaking with uncontrollable sobs.

I hug her to me, hoping that perhaps the court will blame me for the entire fiasco. It is unlikely that Octavia will now get her dream rebirth, but perhaps they will not punish her with a recycle. For myself, I envision another five years of shoveling reindeer poop.