A New Bow for Cupid

"This way," he called to me. I flew up over the pedestrians and cars on the street. I spun wildly, laughing the entire way, until I came to a stop at Matt's side. He pointed to a handful of people waiting at a bus stop.

"One of those is in sore need of attention, Cupida. Can you tell me which one?"

I looked at the small group. When I saw nothing to separate any of them, I darted closer, grinning when I saw that like everyone else, they could not see me. Like with the two people he had had me touch, I went through the small group, putting my hands in their shirts, sensing their reactions, thrilling in the way my own reaction mirrored theirs. At last, I came to a woman to did not react at all when I touched her stomach. I could have touched her breasts, but it was quicker, easier, just to touch their bellies. Men and women both have subtle erogenous zones around their navels, as I discovered. When I came to this woman, though, a short, droop-shouldered lady in her mid-twenties, with heavy glasses and plain, straight hair, I felt no lust or desire at all. I pulled my hands back in a flash when I felt as if she was sucking my own arousal out of me.

"What did you see?" Matt asked.

"Nothing. Except, she's lonely. She has no love, no appeal."

Matt flew in beside me and handed me the silver bow. "Now you know what to look for. Those are the ones we have to fix."

I looked at him, then the bow, then the listless woman, then back to the bow. Cupid, I was telling myself. Cupid shoots a bow.

Only then did I notice that Matt had a quiver under his shoulder. He pulled out an arrow and handed it to me.

I frowned. "I have to shoot her?"

He smiled. "Special arrows. Now, we have to ask ourselves a question. Does this woman need a good night of passion, or does she need a solid romance?"

I shrugged. "Going on what I just felt, I'd say she needs both."

Matt nodded sagely. "Indeed, yet, did you observe her hands?"

I looked closer. She was married. "What does that have to do with..."

"Because, she doesn't feel love for her husband. Can you guess why?"

I looked into her eyes. As if I could read her, I saw how she went home to a husband who ignored her. Yet, there was more to it than that. Her husband didn't just ignore her, he avoided her almost completely. Through her eyes, I saw that her husband was afraid of her, afraid of hurting her, afraid because of a miscarriage several years ago. He loved her, but he avoided her, and because he never explained what he felt, and never got an explanation from his wife, the two of them had fallen apart.

"You see," Matt said, then grinned. "She doesn't need another lover. She just needs to get close to the one she has."

I held up the arrow. It was thin, coppery, with a metal head shaped like a leaf. A pointed, jagged leaf. I knocked the arrow. The bow fit my hands and arms better than any I've ever known. The draw was light, but I felt a peculiar rush behind it, as if the bow held far more power than I imagined.

"Are you sure this is the right thing to do?"

Matt shook his head. "Always keep in mind that love, and lust, are as fleeting as any bird. They come and go, and none, not even our master, can always predict what will happen. Our arrows are...hints...if you will. Suggestions. Tugs in a direction our targets have yet to see."

He flew up into the air. I followed, still uncertain. "Now, shoot her. Let the arrow find her. It'll instill an irresistible passion. Let it guide her. She'll go to her husband. They'll have a wonderful night. Maybe more than a night. Then, later, this rekindled fire will help restore what they lost. And you won't have to send her into another man's arms to do it."

Why did I trust him? Looking back now, it's easy to question why I went along so easily with everything. I suppose I did it because it felt right. When I drew the bow to fire, it hummed softly in my hands, as if stoked by the arousal stirring in my loins. Just as before, when I could see her problems in her eyes, I know saw what the arrow would do to her, I felt her lust begin to boil before it even happened. I felt her body loosen, open up, as if, somehow, I was momentarily a part of her. When that happened, I knew I was ready, so I fired.

The arrow sailed only a short distance, and there's no way I could miss from only thirty feet away. I watched the arrow pass through her and beyond. It sailed into the sidewalk and vanished. My link to the woman vanished when the arrow did. She looked up, looked around, as if coming to life, and again, this time from the real thing, I felt her passion welling. She slowly smiled, glanced up at the desultory sky, and stretched as if enjoying a fine spring day. Matt caught my hand and pulled me up, away from her.

"Excellent shot. Time for the next lesson. I want you to find your next target by yourself this time. I'm not going to narrow it down at all."

I darted off down the street, heedless of where I went or who I saw. I stopped to elicit lust from the people I passed, casually touching them with a freedom that might have appalled me earlier that day. Nude, flying, and carrying a silver bow. I found it exhilarating.

I found him after several minutes of watching. A tall, red-haired executive stood at a corner, waiting for traffic to change, or maybe for a taxi. He was in no hurry, and watched the ground when he wasn't watching the traffic. When I flew up to check him, he sighed slowly, as if bored. He checked his watch absently, and ignored the people around him. When I looked into his eyes, I saw an empty statehouse, unreturned messages from his mother on the answering machine, and a couch slept on more than his bed.

As before, his lack of interest seemed to be some sort of vortex that sucked away my energy. I pulled back, feeling almost repulsed by his nonchalant miasma of disinterest in life.

Matt came up beside me. "Good. How did you know he was the one?"

I shrugged. "I could see it when I looked at him. It wasn't a certainty, just a feeling. So, I checked."

"Excellent. You'll be seeing things a little differently from now on. Don't be afraid to trust your instincts. So, now, what do we do?"

I flitted back and forth in the air, thinking. "He needs a mate," I said.

"Right. So, who?"

I looked around. "Someone here?"

He grinned, his angelic curls bouncing when his head tilted. "Hard to shoot someone else if they're not here, right?"

I stared at him.

"You know the stories. Whoever you're going to pair him with, that person has to be right here too. You have to shoot them with the same arrow." He corrected himself. "Er, the same shot, actually."

"How do I know who to pick?"

Matt grinned at me. "Take aim, Cupida. Circle him. Watch the others. It'll come to you. She'll be right here with him, somewhere." He smirked. "Or he will. Whatever."

I flitted in a circle around my target. The man checked his watch again, then crossed the street. I followed, spiraling around him. Eventually, I saw a woman coming up. She was a red-head too, and as soon as I saw her along the sights of the bow, it was as if some sort of force gripped me, like a lifetime of happy love crushed into an instant.

"Heady, isn't it," Matt whispered in my ear.

As I pulled back to aim at her through the red-haired gentleman, the other woman suddenly turned and got into a taxi. I gasped.

"But...but....she was the one!"

Matt chuckled. "Not the one. A one. A possibility. We humans are a romantic bunch, most of the time, and that hunger for a perfect mate makes us think, hope, that there's one perfect match out there. What none of us ever really see is that there are potentially hundreds out there. Even still, it's a lucky few that finds one of the right ones."

I faltered. "You make it sound so...well...almost childish."

He grinned a wicked grin. "Why do you think our kind, cupids I mean, are always painted as children? Love is fickle. It crops up when you least expect it. It's only from the singular perspective in our minds that it seems so...fated. But don't worry about that. Keep with your target. There are other fish, so to speak."

I followed the businessman down the street. Down the arrow in the bow, I watched him, circling, looking for another. He rounded a corner, and I saw another woman with soft, cocoa skin intent on window shopping at a pet store. She longed for a puppy to fill the emptiness in her life. I grinned. I had one large, red-haired puppy lined up. Well, literally, actually.

"That's it," Matt whispered in my ear. "You have to get them both."

I watched the intervening pedestrians for a clear shot, and when it came, I released the arrow. It flew right where I aimed, almost exactly like shooting my own bow, only the arrow lost almost no altitude between my two targets. It pierced the heart of the red-head, then shot through the air to repeat the process on the other woman. For an instant, I felt a breath of the warmth that might come between them, if their love was allowed to grow.

As if guided by my arrow, the businessman moved closer and closer, until finally, just as he was about to pass the other woman, he tripped over his own feet and fell on his face directly in front of her. The woman yelped, but then dropped to help him up. Their hands touched, their eyes met. They smiled.

Triumphant, I shot straight up into the air. I was aroused and exultant at the same time. I found Matt racing up after me. He nodded once.

"Very good, Cupida. You know the way we work, now. It's your job to spread our lord's favors of lust and love across the city, wherever you go, whenever you can. Keep your other life, as you wish, or discard it and remain unfettered. The choice is yours."

He flew around me. "There are a few more details. As I said, you are immune to the dangers of open libidinousness, when in this form. If you copulate in your mortal shape, the risks all return. Keep that in mind. No, there's no guarantee that if you have a child, your offspring will become cupids. No, there's no guarantee you'll be a cupid forever. Some people get tired of it, or grow out of it."

Another revolution in his orbit. "Last, but certainly not least, love for you. To take a lover as your own, kiss, lick, or otherwise moisten your arrowhead with your own moisture. Whoever you shoot will be yours for a day, maybe two. Treat them well. If they feel anything worse minor guilt afterwards, our lord will become vexatious. On the other hand, if you want someone's love, you have to earn it. To start with, you have to show them who you are. A simple kiss of their eyes will suffice. Now, I know, it sounds silly, but this rule is one of the few things not designed into our very being. The kiss will allow them to see you as you are, as a cupid. The rest, showing them, revealing the truth, it's a choice our master expects you to follow then the time is right. For instance, if you want to try to get Jennifer's love, for life or whatever, then this is what he requires you do. The rest, the bow, the flight, the lust, it's built in. None of us can change it. But, he chooses that our love, if we pursue it, must be from the heart, and honest. Your mate has to know what you are, what you do, and what you will be doing when you're away. As I said, it's our one real directive. Don't break that rule, and refrain from harming the mortals with your power over them, and Eros' rewards will find you."

"Is there a supervisor or anything?"

He grinned. "Best job in the world. Your body is your supervisor. It'll tell you when to quit, it'll tell you when to start. It'll tell you who to choose, who to ignore, everything you need to know. And if you get into trouble, which I really can't imagine ever happening, then call me."

He flew upwards, his shimmering curls bouncing around his face and ears.

"Wait. How do I call you?"

"Easy," he said with a laugh, then a little spiral of flight. "Use your body."

And then he was just gone. I was left, floating over New York, holding a new, shiny, silver bow, with not a stitch of clothes.

Suddenly he was behind me again. I felt his breath on my ear. Thunder pealed through the streets. His breath moved down over my breast, tweaked one of my nipples as easily as his fingers might have. As if mirroring the storm, little flashes of lightning spread from my breast down to my belly, where they zapped and boiled my already seething cauldron. I felt his warmth along my spine. Matt's manhood slid down through the groove of my buttocks, touched my nether mouth, and pierced my sex with one, slick thrust. I whimpered and trembled as his length rested within my honeyed folds, and I was certain his touch, and his member, were the only things holding me aloft. Lightning cracked overhead.

"Ah, lovely," he whispered. "But Jennifer. Go back to your apartment. I've taken care of everything. Go. Take your time to compose yourself, if you want, but not too long. And don't forget that your stuff is waiting on the roof."

With that, he pulled back out of me, kissed me once on the shoulder, then zipped skyward, into the heavens and out of sight. The winter thunderstorm howled after him. For a brief yet maddening moment, I wondered at the wisdom of flying in the air during a storm with my one accessory a metal bow. I looked up into the sky.

"What about arrows?"

No sooner than I had spoken, I noticed a small shoulder sling holding a dozen arrows under my left arm. Once I acknowledged them, they vanished again. I slung the bow over my head, the way the ancient archers carried them, and like the arrows, it vanished. I smiled. Neat.

Jennifer.

I drifted back to the street. I felt almost dirty, the way I had reveled in the sensations of Matt's flesh inside me. All this time I had yearned for her, and there I had been as wanton as I could ever imagine being, all for him. This was the part he had talked about, where I had to come to grips with the fact that I could find myself engaged in sex with anyone, any time, all because of what I had become. A cupid. A stirrer of the pot of lust, bestower of the kiss of love, redeemer of the lonely.

I walked back towards my apartment, somewhat surprised at how far we had gone. I tried to formulate what I would say to Jennifer. I tried to find the words to express the pent up feelings I had been trapping deep inside for so long now. I wrestled with the words, and the feelings behind them. I felt ashamed, both that I had fallen for a woman and that I had tried to hard to hide it. I felt guilty for spying on her during all those outings, watching her make out with her dates, watching her hands in their back-pockets, wishing it was me in her arms. I felt angry with myself for being so shy, so confused, so helpless. I felt a little angry with Jennifer for never noticing the way I must have trailed after her, hung on her words, clung to her brief touches the way a simple friend never should have. Not like girl friends, but like a girlfriend.

By the time I reached my apartment, I was exhausted, and I had gotten no further with what I should say to Jenny. I followed the elevator up to the top floor. As before, it opened on the roof and I gathered my things, then trudged back through the slush. Rain started falling, blown by stormy winds, and lightning clapped, impossibly loud and echoing off the many tall buildings like the stutter of a movie machine gun. I was shivering by the time I got to my floor. Water dripped off my black hiker-style boots as I moved towards my apartment. Was I supposed to go to her? What, exactly, had Matt set up? A date?

When I got to my door, I saw a sliver of paper peeking from beneath the door. I stuffed my things under one arm and leaned down to grab it. Just as I reached for it, a gentle gust of air sucked the paper back into my apartment. I straightened, curious, and pushed my key into the door.

I pushed the door open, and the lights went out. I blinked in the darkness. Emergency lights out in the hall provided mild illumination. I saw the paper, an envelope, on the floor. When I picked it up, I saw in the faint light the shape of a heart drawn in red pen. Confused, I put my stuff down and stood in the doorway to open the envelope.

"Cassie," the note inside began. Cassie. My name, scrawled in beautiful, feminine pen. Cassie. Cassiopeia not Cassandra. "I've been watching you."

Thunder rocked the darkened apartment, echoed down the hallway. That one had been close. More lightning flickered, a momentary strobe. I saw someone in my apartment, silhouetted against far windows. I froze, but when the lightning returned, I saw no one. Nervous, I waited, trying to convince myself I had been seeing things.

"Matt?" I called out. I hesitated. "Jenny?"

More flickers, with no one in sight. I glanced back to the note.

"All this time, we've been together, but not really. I've been watching you, how you always defer to me, shadow me. Sometimes it feels like simple friendship. Sometimes it feels like worship. The only thing wrong with how I think you feel is the fact that I can't understand why you'd be interested in anyone like me. After a while, I guess I sort of thought you weren't actually interested enough to say anything. Sometimes, I told myself you were just that way, a shy person's friendliness feeling awkward only because it's awkward for you. One night I actually came to your door, in my nightgown, because I couldn't sleep without knowing what was going on. I panicked, though, and I was afraid you'd think I was nuts. Or, I was afraid you didn't feel anything for me and you'd now hate me because you thought I was weird."

I sighed. It was Jenny. And she was as screwed up as I was. You could never tell it, not from looking at her. Jennifer Bridges, modern woman, straight, successful, empowered.

"We spoke earlier, right? Do you remember what we said? You were in the lobby, just past the doors, and I was leaving the elevator. There was that creepy but good-looking guy standing over by those ridiculous fake ferns. You said 'Hi.' I said, 'Hi.' It was a short conversation. You were dejected over something. I guessed it had to do with your bow. You've never talked about archery, though I see your bow all the time. But you said it was just another day. I shook my head. 'Don't you have a date lined up for Valentine's Day?' 'No,' you told me. 'No one. No friends, no dates. No nothing.' Just you and your bow. I left after that, because the conversation fell apart."

I stared at her beautiful words, enraptured by her recital. Is that really how I talked? Hadn't I told her about my competitions? I realized there was so much of my life I had never bothered to reveal to her. Was her gentle distance my fault? Because I was so obsessed with her I never gave her the chance to do exactly what I wanted. I swallowed. Another blast of thunder ripped through my apartment, and I jumped. I took a deep breath, and returned to the note.

"That short, failed conversation haunted me all the way down to Laura's place. I was supposed to go shopping with her for her boyfriend's present. He's a sweet guy, I guess, so she wanted to reward him before she rewarded him. Lucky her. All the boys I've dated only ever wanted one thing, and it wasn't my inner light, my free-spirit, or my friendly laugh. Last week, after I got home from Jerome's party, I remember thinking I should have spent the night with you on a couch somewhere, just talking. Why do we get along so well together, yet remain so distant, aloof, like a married couple about to become separated, but without the fighting? While I rode around with Laura, I came to a decision. I want to know you, and I want to know what you want. Is that too much to ask, after all this time? After all the jilted evenings of trailing on my not-so-private dates, helping me shop for clothes, and that one time holding my hand on the way back from my cousin's funeral? We drink from the same glass, sometimes. Yet I don't know what your favorite color is. I don't now what music you like, or who your favorite movie star is. You've seen me all but naked a hundred times, but I don't know if you have a birthmark, or if you even shave your legs. I'm guessing you do, but you see, though we're so close, it's like we're not really in the same world."