Calypso

"Thing is, you never really came back, Ryan. I know what you told me happened, but I don't believe it. Tell me, Ryan; tell me what happened to you."

I hadn't taken my eyes off her until this instant. I lifted the bottle, and drank as much as I could.

"You won't believe me. I don't believe it, any of it, Jess."

She placed her hand on my arm; she smiled.

So I told her; I had looked into the myths about the island, and the heroes who visited Calypso. She nodded her way through it; then I told her I could see them, the others who live away from our eyes; hers narrowed.

She asked me if I could see them now; I pointed outside, wordlessly, and she turned and looked.

"I can't see anything, Ryan."

She got up, and left.

********

She still let me see my son, which was good; she moved in with Darren. I dealt poorly with the thing; he came, Darren, and had a drink with me once a week. Made sure I was still with the living.

But I had no real interest with life; to me, life was what happened between the leaves, in the joy of watching the Hunt as it charged through the woods, near my home.

But I wanted to see her again.

All the gods were gone; there was no Poseidon, nor Zeus, nor Hades. No; all the greater gods, and not a few of the minor ones had faded. By Dionysis still kicked about, my woods full of his fauns; and creatures still died. I could not reach the Wine god; I tried, debauching myself on spirits as much as I could. Thus, I resolved to reach the one I knew of, in the place where I knew he'd be.

The Necropolis in Greece is haunting at best; but when I went there, the dark was closing in. The stone was bleached white by the darkness, and I could hear unsavoury things clicking, moving around me; brushing up against me, sighing. He was here; I knew it.

He sat upon a table, small enough on him to be a chair. He was pale, haunting; the Phantom of the Opera, before removing his mask. Beautiful, but o so very remote.

Thanatos. The god of Death.

He knew I could see him. He was occupied in a book; what was in the thing was beyond me. The cover shifted constantly, one second pale green, then the deepest crimson, before deepest magenta; pictures appeared, moving with the readers desire.

He regarded me.

"Do you desire death, human? Death before life, and after. Death is not an end, or a beginning; it is constant. And the underworld exists no more; for the dead lie darkness, blankness. Not Tartarus, to be certain; just absence. Do you desire death?"

I shook myself, and shook my head.

"You are the last god I could reach. Thus, I ask you, Thanatos; will you send me to Calypso's isle again?"

He placed his book down, and looked at me, interested; his head cocked to one side, as he considered me.

"Why would I aid you, human? I have no love for you, or yours. You have ever railed against me; your medicine has become so powerful that I cannot drag most to where they belong. "

"Because I love her. Because I want her to help me make sense of the madness that surrounds me since I left her island. I see things, things that shouldn't be. Greek things that I didn't see before. And, I..."

"You want to bring her back, hmm?"

I nodded; he looked at me, before turning himself into an owl; he was facing away from me, but turned his head all the way around without his body. He was still taller than me, by several foot.

"Death does not interfere."

"Death is patient; it will confront all men," I said, and held my hands out wide. "You will get my soul, as with all, eventually. You will not get Calypso's, unless she crosses over; imagine, bringing your duty to one of the undying."

He mused; something brushed the back of my neck. He straightened.

"Your task is beyond perilous. There is a reason none returned to Calypso. One must pass through the home of the Sirens; it is through there, that Ogygia lies."

He loomed over me then; his beak clicked. He was huge; growing bigger, his neck longer, more flexible.

He opened his beak, and swallowed me whole.

********

I awoke in a boat, surrounded in mist. His voice wafted over to me; he told me that I must listen to them, the sirens. I could not plug my ears lest they shred me.

I nodded, and took up my oars.

The mist only ever grew thicker around me; it swelled, and caressed my skin. The moon was huge, bigger than anything I had ever seen. It did illuminate the fog; made it harder to see.

Then, I heard.

Voices, wafting in across the fog. As seductive as barely concealed nakedness. I wanted the singer so badly, I could die.

I rowed faster, ignoring the caution I heard, resonating through my mind. I wanted to join in. It was not a woman the song sounded of; it spoke to me.

It sang of a home; not mine, not Jess', not Calypso's, ours. They liked each other, cooked together; they looked at me, both at the same time, with love. Ryan grew up loving both of them; Darren was an uncle.

I was lost, swimming in images of what I wanted most that I almost missed my first images of them.

They were hideous; the Sirens feed from the flesh of those they capture, and it turned them. Their hair was matted, fixed with algae and wet mold; their skin was pallid, and covered in warts. Their bodies resembled dugongs; blubbery, swaying, rippling flesh, straining to get him, wanting hungrily to taste the man's flesh.

I watched, from my little heaven, with Calypso and Jess to either side. The show on the TV was realistic, Jess said. Totally lifelike. And doesn't that man look just like you, before everything you ever wanted came true. I shook myself; hang on.

The water splashed at the man's face, and I awoke.

I was so close to the rocks; barely able to avoid them. The wind had picked up, blowing spray and ice into my face; I welcomed the cold, the wind; it kept the siren's voices at my back, too far away.

I felt it rather than saw it; the vortex, swirling. It caught the little boat, and I span with it, going ever faster, on and on; every turn another try at happiness.

I felt myself get drawn in, and spliced, as I entered the middle; I shut my eyes, and screamed.

********

Bliss; complete, utter, silent. I was unaware, really, of anything, at first.

It all hit me at once.

Lavender, salt; dim, comfortable moonlight. My eyes weren't open, but I could feel it dancing across my skin, welcoming me here again.

The waves crashed against me, over and over; my boat was gone, but the water was not threatening. It was the perfect temperature, and I found myself without fear of drowning, or falling.

The sand was soft, when I found it under me; it settled me on my feet, ever so gently, as though welcoming me home.

I remembered it all. It was so familiar, and so strange; it was the first time I had been truly alone for the longest time. Nothing whispered on the wind here, no creatures arcane or forgotten toyed around, skipping around in places no-one could see. There was nothing here, except the plants and the breeze and the waves.

And her.

She was standing outside her hut, blinking her eyes as though she felt the force of the sun after years underground. She had not changed.

She wasn't smiling, was completely frozen. Her hair blew in the wind; her skin was still so pale.

I smiled, everything I was spinning around, welling out of me.

"As you asked me, Beloved."

********

"Odysseus." I said, as I walked towards her. She flinched at his name; her arms wrapped around her body.

I knew her. I knew what she had said to me- she had never kissed a man before me. So that left one thing the bastard could have done, to father children on her; children who were free of her curse.

She looked at me, stricken.

"R-Ryan, I... Odysseus took me. I cannot say I was exactly unwilling, but he..."

I moved to her, and gently I brought her to me; she broke down against me, still rigid.

"I'm sorry, Calypso. Sorry for having left you; sorry to remind you of him."

"But..." She began, pushing me back. "I let you go. None other has ever returned, none."

I nodded. "I know, beloved."

She wept then, holding me as firmly as she could against her; she looked away, into the surf, shaking as I held her.

She looked up, smiling finally; the smallest of things. She was black and white, stained so by the moon; I felt the warmth of her pressing against me, and I felt the desire I had for her burning, dashing me to cinders.

Her hand found the base of my head, and ran her fingers through my hair, toying out the knots idly. She looked almost impudent, playful, as she looked up at me.

She drew my head down, and kissed me.

********

Her hut was much the same, that much I dimly thought as we pressed against each other, stumbling inside. We were too wrought, too in need, to be slow or anything other than furious.

She bit me; I moaned, unable to hold the sound inside, as her fingers felt for the clasp of my pants. I took a handful of her hair, and drew her mouth back up to mine.

She pushed me down, and tried to mount me; I held her hips forwards, and shimmied myself lower. She looked down at me, confused and frustrated. She looked mad.

I breathed in her scent; she was not quite what I had expected. She shivered, and the frustration disappeared.

I placed the forefingers of both hands either side of her centre, tracing the edges with the tips. She moaned; I smiled, forcing myself slower, my breath coming fiercely between my teeth.

I wet my lips, and looked up, to make sure she was watching.

I dove in.

I started low, lower than her pussy. My tongue pressed against her, slickly seeking her depths; when I found them, she brought her hands to my head, and forced me to tongue her harder.

I brought my hands to her wrists, and took them away from the back of my head. I then raised a finger, in the manner of a school teacher; uh-uh. She half laughed, half snarled at me, but she let me set my own tempo.

I moved higher, and toyed around the edges to her clitoris; instead of the normal alphabet technique, I used more than just the tip. I placed the flatness of the middle of my tongue over her, and used the edges to run around her clit. The only contact she got was when she bucked herself against me; she was so surprised, the first time, and she started to do it deliberately, before her intention faded away and ber desire took over.

She thrust at me sporadically; her mouth was moaning constantly, sometimes words, sometimes nothing.

Her orgasm began.

I felt her shudder, her thighs clenching closed around me. Her hands took my head, and she pressed me into her, hard. I had time for the most shallow of breaths before she closed around me; I changed tack, moving away from teasing to actively seeking to drive her higher.

And higher she went. She burnt on and on, pressing me against her harder and harder. She would readjust, unconsciously, if her hold became too loose, and I lost myself in her desire.

When she sank, weakly, to lean back on my chest, I was drenched. She was making little mewling noises with her mouth, her hips still spasmodically thrusting.

"R-Ryan..."

Her voice was a broken, weak whisper, and I sat up, adjusting how I held her. She pressed against me, before looking up with those massive eyes shining at me.

"I... I didn't know you could do that," she said, her voice a little stronger.

She was sitting on my lap, my legs splayed out, across the furs; her legs were straddling me, as she leaned against my chest. I was breathing hard, drunk on her; my head was spinning, spinning. She took my face between her hands, and held me, locking my face to hers.

"I've... dreamt about this, Ryan. Since you left, every time I've closed my eyes, I saw your face." She swept her hair out from in front of her eyes, as she pressed her head to my chest.

"I saw you, your world. I thought you were happy, there; I saw you meet your son." She took a deep breath. "Did I take you away from them?"

I held her tighter, and pulled her to me. "No."

She looked up at me. "What happened?"

I told her how Jess and I split; she was silent throughout, and her usually expressive face showed me nothing. Then, she sighed, looked up, and smiled.

"You know, I probably should have done that before I... well, you know." She said, a little mirth in her voice; she used it to hide her guilt.

"Before we made love, you mean?"

"Ryan, I let you go," she began. "You need to go back to them; you-"

I didn't let her get any further. I kissed her fiercely, and silenced her completely with my mouth. My erection had faded during our conversation; it pressed up, between her legs, as she pressed into me, moving upwards, in preparation.

She seemed to know instinctively what to do, as my cock found her cleft, and she sunk down onto me, slowly.

She was still wet, still aroused. She gasped at my length, entering her; her eyes opened wider, and I watched her awareness grow- this was it, we were finally here, doing this, together. She moved her head to my ear.

"Ryan... please..."

I thrust upwards, and gently bit her neck, my hands on her hips, guiding her down to meet my thrusts. She wrapped herself around me, her body clenching; her sheath tightened around me, over and over, pulsing. I felt her passion like a living thing, her sex like heat. She was heat to me; it was with total abandon that she clenched closed around me, and erupted into utter pleasure.

I was so in need, that I hesitated at her orgasm. I held back; I wanted to last, to stay in her, to make her want me so to forget her guilt. She ground her orgasm against me, and I felt my wave recede.

She was scarce finished when I moved upwards, into her, pushing my head deeper. She moaned loudly, the sound deep, intense. I felt her ripple over and around me, her pussy sucking me deeper, wanting me. It was as though her sex was a wet furnace, she burnt so brightly; I lost control, as I moved hard, into her.

She slammed down, onto me, over and over; I met her in kind, growling. She looked at me intensely, fiercely, as she bit my ear.

"You're mine, Ryan! Mine!"

I felt myself tense at her words, as her moans grew, swelling; I swelled in her.

I screamed, as I came within her.

********

"And I'm yours." She whispered, into my chest. She smiled as she said it; it was in her voice. "Beloved."

I felt myself slipping, lower and lower, into sleep. She rose over me, looking alarmed.

"No, Ryan, don't go, please don't go!" Grey clouds enveloped me, as I sank into unconsciousness.

********

The Necropolis was deserted, as I awoke to an early morning sun. It seemed brighter, for some reason; more powerful, more beautiful. I remembered all in an instant; I had been there, to Ogygia. I had seen her; I had claimed her. I even remembered slipping away.

I looked around, looking for her; she was nowhere. I could still see Thanantos, sitting on his pedestal.

"Where is she?" I demanded.

He didn't even look up from his book; the cover took on a deep red.

"Mortal, I do not treat with your kind often, or at all, so I will say this once. Speak to me with the respect my station above yours demands, else I place you in a dark deeper than the swirling pits Dante imagined." He looked up at me, and I saw them, in the back of his eyes; swirling, hungry, horrific emptiness. He returned to his book, which changed to a pale green.

"I assume you are speaking of Calypso. She is not here; instead, her spirit is reborn into the mortal coil, as it would have if she had never been placed within the prison of Ogygia. As for where she is, I cannot say; she could be anywhere, anyone. Does that answer your question, mortal?"

I shook my head, then I shook it again. I walked away.

********

I cannot tell you exactly how long I wandered Greece before I ended up leaving; it may have been a day, it may have been a month. All I could think about was her; her words, the last ones I heard from her, echoing over and over in my mind, driving me insane.

When I got off the plane, Jess and Darren were waiting for me anxiously, with Ryan. He was still so small, but he had more hair and looked at me inquiringly.

"How are you?" Jess said, her brow furrowing. "Did you find whatever it was you were looking for?"

I shook my head, and put a smile on my face; it didn't convince Darren, but it did Jess, oddly enough.

They drove me home; I played three little piggy's on Ryan's toes, and he giggled happily as I tickled his feet.

There was precious little change about the street my house was in; the trees may be a little greener, since I left in late winter, but the houses were the same. The sun still shone- still, that strange, beautiful warm feeling, from it- and the grass was as green as I had ever seen it.

There was a removalist's truck, opposite my house, and there were two or three men carrying a cream couch inside, before a woman came out and began to berate them.

My heart stopped when I saw her; she was exactly the same. Her hair was shorter, and cut in a modern way to sit and wave just above her shoulders; she wore jeans and a university hoodie, but I knew her as I knew myself.

Before the car stopped, I had opened the door, and I half walked, half ran over to her. She looked at me inquisitively, before smiling.

"Hi," she said, brightly. "I'm your new neighbour. My name is Andy."

I smiled at her, breathless. "Mine's Ryan. Would that be short for anything?"

She looked a little annoyed as she responded. "Yeah, Andromeda. I dunno; my mother's Greek." She looked me up and down; it was everything I could do not to laugh out loud, or take her in my arms. "Sorry, have we met? You seem a bit familiar."

I couldn't help it; I smiled wider. "Maybe. Could I offer my house, perhaps, as somewhere for you to eat until you get unpacked?"

Her eyes lit up as she smiled at me, and I was as caught as I had ever been.