Vessel of the Gods

"I am. I am helping Danae with her dance."

"AhhHA! The three sisters of Aphrodite!" He says. "That is a shame."

"Oh?" you ask, suddenly concerned.

"Because with your beauty, you will outshine the other two dancers." He stands close, reaching forward and brushing a stray hair out of your face. You blush and take another quick sip of your wine.

"I will simply be playing my part." you defer. "I bet you say that to all the dancing girls." He gives a wicked grin.

"Well, I do have a fondness for beautiful women who dance, don't we all? Especially a woman who has traveled all the way from Gaul just to dance in my village. That is the sort of woman I want to meet." He refills your glass and his. You take it, wary of drinking too much but he pays that no mind, drinking deeply of his own.

"Tell me, how often do you hold this festival?" You ask. He gives a shrug.

"When Zeus moves the heavens so that it is festival time - the stars align, Artemis pulls her chariot to just the right spot and it is time for feasting, celebration and giving tribute to the gods." He lays a hand, hot and firm, on your leg.

"Giving tribute to all the gods and their blessings in this world. Tell me, which gods will you be paying tribute to tonight?" He asks.

"Well, Aphrodite, since I am dancing her dance. And then the others in their due time." You say, trying to cover your bases.

"Hmmm, I like that." He leans in close, you are quite aware of his muscular shoulders barely contained in his short wool shift.

"I must confess, there is but one task left for me to do before the festival begins." He says. "I am to pay tribute to Dionysus, God of wine and merriment, and bless these barrels before they are drunk. I could use your help with that."

You lean in close, careful not to tip over from your perch on the barrel, your face inches from his. "Oh, and how do they need to be blessed?" you ask.

"I must confess, it is a difficult task but as a dancing girl, you should be able to manage." He leans in and kisses you, his lips hot and soft, gently exploring. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, spreading your legs and pulling him close. His kisses become more urgent, as he folds you into his arms, pulling you tight against him. You feel his hardness, pressing against you from underneath his shift.

Kyril pulls up, leaving you breathless. "I'll take that as a yes? Will you help?" You nod, pulling him back in for more kisses. He grinds against you as you pull him tight with your legs. He reaches up and unties the knot at the top of your chiton, letting the fabric fall free and pool in your lap, exposing your full breasts to the night air.

He reaches over and grabs your glass of wine. "Io Dionysus!" he cries and dribbles it across your chest, dark red drops slowly making their way down your collarbone, and across the swell of your bosoms. He leans in and licks the drops, drinking lustily off your chest, his rough tongue swirling your nipples and sucking at your neck.

"Io Dionysus!" you moan, lost in the sensation. You arch your back, eyes shut as visions of a man decked in grape leaves and animal skins flashes before your eyes. You tangle your fingers in his hair as comes back up to give you kisses on your neck and face and lips. You reach down and stroke his cock through his shift. He impatiently unties his belt and pulls the whole shift over his head, leaving him completely naked. His body is muscular and olive skinned from the sun and the physical work of wine making. His cock is short and thick, already hard and tipped with drops of precum.

"Are you ready?" He asks, fumbling in the pools of fabric around your waist. You hop down off the barrel and let the rest of the chiton drop to the floor. After the excitement with Danae, you are still quite ready. You turn around, leaning forward and brace your chest on the top of the barrel. You spread your legs and give him a lusty grin.

"Io Dionysus." You moan as he finds your wet opening and presses himself inside. He doesn't reach far, but the thick bulbous head presses against just the right spot and you let out a low, deep groan.

He grabs your hips and pulls you forcefully to him, trying to get more depth. You push back, meeting him stroke for stroke.

"Oh gods, OH gods, OH GODS!" He moans, a chant to himself and Olympus as he thrusts into you, harder and harder, your butt bouncing against his muscular stomach, his taut arms lifting your hips off the ground with each thrust.

The barrel rocks in time with your lovemaking, sloshing and banging against the stone floor. He grabs your thigh and lifts your right leg up and back, giving you new sensations as he rails into your hot and wet sex.

"Uh huh! Uh huh! Right there!" You moan encouragingly, your breath coming in short gasps. The visions of Dionysus get closer, his mouth open in laughter, wine dripping off his naked body, grape vines entangling his wrists and waist. His thrusts are becoming more frenetic, you look back, his eyes screwed shut, his muscles churning.

You feel the excitement building, you reach down and stroke yourself, finding a rhythm with Kyril's frantic ministrations. He gasps as you tighten around him, clenching, shuddering and then blessed release as you cry out your orgasm.

It sets him off as you feel him swell inside of you, spewing a thick load inside your pussy.

"Uggnnnnnn" he groans in satisfaction, slipping out of you and setting your leg back down on the ground. You turn around and give him a playful kiss.

"All properly blessed?" You inquire with a goofy grin. He nods, taking you in his arms for more kissing. You tangle your hands in his hair and enjoy the warm feeling of his lips, and the cool evening air on your skin. You feel alive, your heart racing as those endorphins pump through your body. Finally, you come back to earth, noting the moon making its ascent into the night sky.

"Will I see you at the temple?" Kyril asks as you retie your chiton. You smile. "I hope so! Thank you." You snag a quick kiss and then duck back out into the streets, leaving him dazed and naked.

###

The street is now full of revelers, laughing and jumping, shaking music makers and joshing each other. You slip back across the street to Danae's house, pulling back the rug to her main room.

"There you are!" Danae says. She's just finishing pinning Maurie's short hair up with an ivory comb, giving it not exactly a classic look but certainly a Greecian flair. "I was worried you had left without us."

"Nope. Just visiting a friend." You say obliquely. Maurie briefly makes eye contact.

"Hey." She says, her cheeks blazing. Danae turns Maurie around. "There, you look like a proper Aphrodite dancer now. Okay, let me grab a few of my things and we can be on our way." She disappears into her bedroom, leaving you and Maurie alone next to the heart.

"Are you doing okay?" You ask, genuinely concerned.

"Yeah. Sorry I bugged out." She says. "This is not really... none of this is what I expected."

You come over and take her hands in yours. She looks at you in alarm at the sudden contact.

"It's okay. Really Maurie. I know this feels like a lot but we will find Marquis and we will return to our world. And once we are back home, you can write whatever you like for your report, okay? I'll go along with whatever you need me to. But for now, just go with the flow and we will be fine."

The stiff expression on her face falters for a moment, her voice trembling just the slightest, "I just... I don't have alot of experience with... " she begins.

"Girls!" says Danae, bouncing back into the room. "We've got to go! The parade to the temple has begun!" Maurie gives a firm nod, all business in an instant.

"Let's go." You grab your bandolier and real world clothes, neatly tied in a bundle by Maurie and the three of you join the parade up the hill.

###

As the revelers toss flowers on the trail, beat their drums and blow their pipes, it is hard not to get caught up in their enthusiasm. Danae sings like a bird, loud and clear and beautifully, joining voices with the others as they twirl and dance their way into the Olive grove.

Glancing up at the Temple, nestled in the cliff, you can see the bold columns and the lit braziers burning brightly at its entrance, a warm invitation to all, before the tall Olive trees close in above you.

"So when do we dance?" You ask Danae, as she pauses her singing to accept a skin of wine from a tall man in animal skins.

"We are near the middle of the celebration - after the toasts and offerings but before the feasting." She says. "That's the idea anyway, although really, it is whenever they call for us."

"They?" asks Maurie.

"The vessels of the Gods." Danae offers without hesitation. Maurie nods as if that makes sense.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see figures flitting amongst the trees.

"Brenna." You hear a voice, just on the edge of your perception. Peering into the darkness, you see two or maybe three short men waving at you, urging you off the path and into the forest.

"Come play with us Brenna." The voice sounds like a whisper, delivered just to your ears. You look around, Maurie and Danae showing no signs of hearing it. The strange figures hop along parallel to the parade, keeping pace with you amongst the underbrush.

"We've got something for you." The voice has a wicked undertone, naughty and teasing.

You glance at the long line of slow-moving celebrants. You could probably step out of the line and catch up later if you hustled. But to leave Maurie and Danae?

"Hey, can you hold this? I'm going to check on something." You hand your stuff to Maurie.

"What? Where?" She looks around alarmed.

"Don't worry, I'm just going to check something out. I'll be right back. If I get held up, I'll find you at the temple, okay?" You try to sound reassuring and then duck out of line and into the woods.

The olive trees have thick gnarled trunks, wider than the douglas firs you are used to. Instead of ferns and Oregon grapes, the underbrush is mostly long grass that comes above your knees forcing you to tromp through the vegetation after the laughing figures, ducking behind the tree trunks in the dim light.

You hear voices in the underbrush, indistinct with the mocking jangle of laughter. With a burst of speed you push into a dense circle of trees to a small meadow, illuminated by the moonlight.

"Where are you? Who are you?" You ask, peering into the shadows. Out of the darkness, three figures materialize. They are short men, maybe five feet at most, with muscular chests and dark matted animal skins for pants.

You do a double-take. Those aren't pants - that's fur. Their fair torses turn dark like a horse's hide, through their waist, blending with their thighs which sprout thick dark brown hair along their legs and down to their... hooves.

"Satyrs!" You exclaim in glee and delight, clapping a hand to your mouth in embarrassment. The three men, well, creatures, no... Their dark thick cocks hanging low from their waists marks them as men. The nearest one cocks his head, the short stubby horns jutting from his temples catching the moonlight.

"Pardon miss?" He gives a wicked grin. "Me and me mates here are respectable woodland creatures." You take a quick glance away to notice the two others are circling around to the edge of your vision to the left and right. Still a good distance away, but clearly... admiring your backside in the chiton? Yes. Definitely Satyrs. The one with a short cropped goatee ending in a stubby little beard, standing a few paces before you, continues his tale.

"Now here we are, just enjoying a light evening drink," You now notice the handleless cup in his hand carved from a pale piece of driftwood. "And a whole mess of folks come marching through our woods."

"Mighty noisey like." Says the one to your right, with wavy chestnut hair down to his shoulders, his face clean-shaven. Was he younger? His voice was a little higher but they all looked so similar in build and height.

You quickly glance over your shoulder to see the third, with tight dark little curls and thick, Colin Firth-like sideburns, lewdly rubbing his cock at you, his thick shaft pointing forward like a missile., He drops it when he realizes you've seen him but does not look the least bit embarrassed.

"And we, naturally, were a little perturbed." the lead speaker resumes. "We were thinking, here we are, three fun-loving individuals famous for our merriment and good cheer, and we have not been invited to the party."

He looks you up and down, your breath still coming up short from your run through the woods, causing your chest to rise and fall. You are suddenly aware of how little the chiton covers.

"Yes, well..." you begin. But he continues undeterred.

"So tell me," he swaggers forward, his voice low and throaty, "Are you here to invite us to party? Do you want us to party with you?" He gives a sharp grin and leaps forward a few steps in a little prance. The other two bark a short little laugh, drawing a little closer.

Your face lights up with all the wild possibilities.

Suddenly, all three drop their arms to their side and stand up straight. Their faces grow blank, like someone shook the etch-a-sketch on their facial features and left just their bodies, empty wax figures.

Greetings she-who-walks-amongst us. The voice, that was not a voice - a chorus in your ears, many speaking as one from another room. Will you help us? Will you help us return?

Yes! After all this, you've made contact again! You nearly jump for joy, but try to keep calm.

"Yes! Please, tell me what I must do?" You plead."I want to help!"

You must return to our world. Find the Vesper, the fallen seraph. Help him. Reunite our people. The voice... flickers. There is no other word for it. It was as if their faces momentarily returned to life.

I cannot hold... The voice flickers again.

"How? How do I reach your world?" You whirl, trying to figure out who or what to speak to.

You must build the doorway to the stars! The voice flickers again. We cannot... this world is fragile.You see them, hairline little fractures in the edges of the Satyrs skin, like a painting left out in the sun, faded and flaking. But the flakes were becoming something darker than black, more empty than silence.

"I will build it! I will find you. Hold on, I'm coming!" You cry out into the woods and then like a sudden gust of wind, the presence was gone and the Satyr's faces came to light, fully formed and gleaming in the Grecian moonlight.

The first one, the Head Boy, you dub him in your head, is shaking his head and blinking as if he had stared into the sun. Pretty boy had fallen over, somehow and Colin Firth was gazing somewhere past your right shoulder.

Head Boy looks at you, his teeth glinting in the full moonlight.

"Well boys, let's party!" And he leaps forward, arms outstretched.

Luckily, eight years of dealing with an overeager son were well-spent. With lightning quick speed, you give him a stiff-arm and shove that sends him sprawling into the grass. You whirl and catch Colin Firth by the stubby horns as he shoves his face into your neck, his throbbing erection slapping lewdly against your leg. You yank on his head, jerking his neck back as he grapples with your hands, trying to free himself.

You suddenly release him and he pitches back, falling on his butt with a satisfying smack. Pretty Boy is closing the distance, uttering some sort of barking ulelelation, and fuck that. You run.

You dash through the trees, the underbrush tugging at your chiton, branches lashing your arms and face. Behind you, the three Satyrs leap after you, their muscular animal legs propelling them in fits like a jumping goat.

Grabbing a sturdy limb, you wheel around the tree truck, hoping to confuse your pursuers. You frantically scan the mottled dark outlines of the forest, hoping to see the torches of the parade.

"AHH-HA!' Pretty Boy head butts you in the shoulder, with enough force to knock you to the ground. You land on your hands and knees as someone, Colin Firth you think, leaps on your back, driving the breath from your lungs and pressing you into the grass.

The two of them cackle maniacally, tearing at your clothing. You try to roll Colin off your back but firm hands grip your wrists, Head Boy holding you fast.

"No! No!" You shout at Pretty Boy tears at the back of your chiton. You feel Colin's cock, hot and moving like a live snake, slapping against the back of your thighs, inching upwards.

CRACK! "Get the fuck off of her!" Maurie shouts, a smoking pistol in her hands. She levels it at Colin. "Get. Off. Of. Her."

You feel Colin's weight shift as he clambors to his feet, all three of the Satyr's watching Maurie closely. Head Boy speaks, "What do you have there in your hands, pretty girl? Seems to make an awfully loud sound for such a small thing - rather like you, I imagine." Maurie manages to keep from rolling her eyes.

"Oh fuck off, you frat boy tool." She levels it right at him. "It was forged by the gods and will blow a hole right through your fucking forehead, want to see?" She cocks it aggresively and takes a step forward.

Head Boy blinks, glancing back nervously at Pretty Boy and Colin. "Alright, alright. No need to get all hot and bothered. We were just getting the party started with your friend. But I see you have it all in hand." He gives a jerk of his head and all three, slowly move off into the underbrush, back the way they came.

Maurie watches them, not lowering her weapon until they had moved several paces off and then was at your side in a flash.

"You okay?" Her voice is tight but level, concerned but a professional. You are already on your knees, picking yourself up.

"Yeah, I'm alright." She helps you up, as you brush the grass from the chiton. "A little scuffed up, little assholes."

Maurie holsters her weapon. "Reminds me a little too much of UCLA." The two of you move swiftly back towards the trail. "Just so we're clear, those guys had horns, right?"

"They aren't devils." You say swiftly. "They are actually called Satyrs." She nods as you see the tail end of the parade, a couple of half-hearted drummers, a pretty drunk man in a half-mask and a donkey hauling a cart loaded with barrels.

"They had the little pipes, right? I think I remember some paintings of them from art history, but that was a long-time ago and I was pretty wasted for art history." You two share a brief laugh and fall in pace with the tail end of the revelers, clearing the Olive grove and ascending the hill towards the gates of the temple.

"How did you find me?" You ask quietly, not wanting to interrupt the drunk man's off-key singing or the clearly out of sync drummers.

"Followed you, duh. I am an FBI agent, after all."

"So you were spying on me. That's twice now." You catch her eye and give her a smile. "I didn't mind this time either." She stutter steps, her cheeks glowing bright red.

PREET-RUM-PAAAAAA. A pair of horns are blown up ahead, echoing through the valley. The great stone doors to the temple groan, stone grinding on stone as they slowly open. A cry goes up among the revelers, the Anthestaria has begun! The night sky is full of stars, seeming to shine brighter than ever before, the moon full and blazing from the zenith. You shuffle your way up the marble steps, past the blazing braziers full of sandalwood and lemon tree branches and pitch, the heat driving any evening chill from your skin. The drums echo from deep inside the temple, drawing your inwards.

Maurie nudges you and points towards the inscription across the top of the doors. MARQUIS.

"Something tells me, we are in the right place." She notes wryly.

"Definitely evil madman territory here." You say. "Or maybe it is just a big name tag?"