November 2024 – Audio Version

Breathe. Don’t think. Breathe. Don’t think. Don’t laugh so loud! Another deep inhale. Focus on what they’re saying. What DID they just say? Was my answer too long?

Heaven above, I was an awkward mess. The green lace bodysuit hiding under my crimson sun dress with its scandalous V-neckline was digging cruelly into my neither region. Beauty, it seemed, demanded sacrifices, but this thin ribbon between my legs connecting the lace in the front to the latticework in the back was darn near rude in its tightness. Standing on the far side of the coffee table, I shifted as imperceptibly as possible, wriggling to find relief, but the stubborn fabric was merciless. Patience, I told myself. It won’t stay on long… if this goes as planned.

Smooth, confident, and utterly magnetic, the Woodsman, the Lieutenant, and my Consort lounged on the L-shaped couch across from me. Sipping water and light beers, respectively, their easy laughter filled the air. They were so effortlessly charming as they carried the majority of the conversation. 

Meanwhile, I clung to my small glass, finding odd comfort in the tinkling clink of the ice slowly melting in my Larceny bourbon. I savored the sting of its warmth down my throat and the cool contradiction as condensation trickled between my fingers—a welcome distraction from the disorderly butterflies fluttering tumultuously in my stomach. 

Breathe. Focus. Be witty. The hopeful mantra looped in my head, yet my anxiety paid it no heed. A second trip to the powder room beckoned, my nerves driving me to seek solace in solitude. Not surprisingly, my Inner Goddess, however, had grown tired of my dithering.  

“Enough,” she hissed, grabbing me by the shoulders. “Call it off or…lean in and surrender to the thrill.” She enunciated each word, her tone a challenge. “Make your move.”

Did I truly doubt my ability to orchestrate the whims of three gods, bending their will to suit my own desires? The very notion teased a wry smile to my lips—my Inner Goddess all but scoffed at such folly. We had danced on the precipice of limits, yet never tumbled. Her laughter undulated like a velvet purr against my thoughts. Limits? Such trifles had yet to cage us. And tonight, oh, tonight, she longed to trace the edges of infinity itself, daring the shadows to reveal their secrets and surrender to our unrelenting audacity.

Anxiety crept forward, an oily menace. The carousel of what-ifs began its dizzying spin, a cruel waltz of doubt and dread. What if they had changed their minds now that they stood here, so near? What if the dynamic between the four of us faltered, grew awkward and strained? And the cruelest thought of all slithered forth: What if I was… insufficient?

The weight of self-doubt pressed on my mind. My reflection whispered of passing time, of laugh lines etching my face, hips and abdomen softened by motherhood, shadows beneath my eyes too stubborn to be banished by mere concealer. Heavens, what was I doing? 

These three men—no, these gods—were each strikingly handsome, effortlessly charming, and disarmingly witty. They could have had their pick of 20-something women, all tight tummies and youthful glow.

Yet here they were. Waiting on a middle-aged mom torn between yearning and fear.

The question whispered, coiling around my soul with both seduction and fear: Why?

I caught sight of myself in the mirror, cheeks flushed—not solely from the bourbon’s warmth but something far more mysterious. My Inner Goddess’ confidence was unshaken by the indecision that lingered in the air like a breath held too long—deliciously suspended, not yet resolved.

Panic surged in spite of her bravado, and yet I found myself drawn back to the living room, my uncertainty trailing behind me like an unwelcome phantom. The three gods remained blissfully unaware of the sage negligee that clung to my trembling frame, its delicate lace, both armor and vulnerability. My fingers gripped the bourbon glass with quiet distress, sipping as if its golden contents could steady the tremor in my chest and infuse me with strength. The minutes ticked by with maddening leisure, each second a cruel reminder of my inner fraying composure.

Yet, there was undeniable joy in the company of these gods. Their voices wove together in a melody of wit and nostalgia, drawing me into their orbit with a charm so disarming it felt almost unfair. Genuine laughter escaped me—soft at first, then unstoppable—and before long, my side ached from their effortless humor. Their spell was subtle yet potent, loosening the taut strings of my nerves, leaving me just brave enough to let the moment linger.

My Inner Goddess shot me a withering glare, her patience thinning with every second I spent hesitating. My Consort, ever the cunning strategist, had woven a plan so flawless it should have quelled every doubt. All that remained was for me to strike the match—to ignite my readiness and step boldly into the moment.

But… was this still a go? Were they captivated, or had the spell begun to unravel? Had intrigue given way to the weight of obligation, leaving them feeling uncomfortably coerced? Fervently, I wished I could read minds.

Guided by an unseen force, my feet betrayed me, retreating toward the bedroom. Inwardly, I was screaming, “No! I’m not ready! It’s too soon!” But outwardly, my Inner Goddess had seized command, offering my Consort an absolutely ludicrous display of finger guns, accompanied by an enthusiastic nod and—oh heavens—a wink.

What. Was. That?

How was such an absurd gesture meant to signal my readiness?? The cringe was instant and visceral, my cheeks burning despite the dim lighting mercifully cloaking my humiliation. Without another thought, I spun on my heel and fled to the ensuite, desperate for one final pep talk with my Inner Goddess before I truly lost my nerve.

After briefing the gods on the carefully laid plan, Jack followed my hurried retreat, his footsteps deliberate yet unhurried. Before I could gather myself, he enveloped me in a commanding embrace, his arms a fortress against my fraying nerves. His presence was both magnetic and grounding, a steady anchor in the storm of my uncertainty. The sultry music thrummed in the background, slowly, irresistibly, my heartbeat aligned with his—steady, unwavering. I closed my eyes, drawing strength from him, letting his quiet confidence seep into my own trembling resolve.

Releasing me, Jack let his loungers fall with a casual grace, tossing them onto the bench at the foot of the bed. Meanwhile, I moved toward the bed, my movements slow and purposeful, though my mind buzzed with static, the edges of my vision blurring with every breath. I clung to the plan, focusing on the tantalizing pull of my Inner Goddess’s rapacious needs. She wanted this, needed this. My quivering mind was the only hurdle.

Jack and I would share this moment first—just the two of us. I’d ease into the intimacy, my lips finding their way to his already impressive glory, letting the rhythm of the night carry me forward. After a time, the Lieutenant and the Woodsman would join us, their presence adding layers to the unfolding evening. This sequence was a safeguard, a way to shelter my silly heart from the doubt or judgment I feared might flicker in their gaze. Those perceptive eyes, I feared, would pierce the veil of my facade and reveal the cracks my spirit was still mending.

My Consort’s intricate plan had ensured that my Inner Goddess would already be in full control, guiding both mind and body into the decadent web of their shared attention. She was so ready to surrender to the indulgence, to let the night unfurl with sensual grace, erupting into carnal fire, leaving all traces of anxiety far, far behind.

Jack settled himself on the bed, reclining lazily against the stacked pillows, his desire at stiff attention. It made me smile, a slow, deliberate curve to my cupid’s bow. His eagerness and quiet confidence were intoxicating and magnetic. With every shift, every glance, he stirred something deep within me, a flame that ignited my own surge of confidence. The things this god did to me!

For a moment, I considered leaving the scarlet sundress in place. But the thought was fleeting. This lingerie wasn’t merely for our guests; it was meant to captivate and entice him, too. With a slow, deliberate movement, I pinched the hem between my fingertips, lifting the fabric over my head and tossing it carelessly onto the bench, where it joined his discarded clothes.

Kneeling between his legs, I let my curves catch the light, flaunting my lifted hips, giving him a tempting display before bending forward. I could feel his lecherous gaze following my moves as I offered my mouth and throat for his pleasure. 

A cold shiver raced through my veins. Our guests would soon be joining us. Was I going to fail? What if they both left, uninterested? I knew I should have prepared snacks to nibble on. The first step to entertaining, and I had failed at my hostess duties. Or maybe it was my raucous laughter at some ridiculous anecdote that had given the wrong impression.

As if sensing the chaos unfurling within me, Jack’s taut glory pulsed with undeniable intent. Oh… yeah. I had a job to do.

Anchoring myself to him, I wrapped my right hand around his great length, feeling the warmth and heat of him. My tongue traced the flat underside of his rotund crown, exploring the smooth, round tip with practiced precision. Meanwhile, my left hand massaged and gently pulled at his tightening jewels, my fingers working to find the rhythm that matched the consummate heat building between us. 

My hyper-vigilance prickled as I sensed the presence of our guests. Balderdash. What did I do next? Kneeling between my Consort’s legs did not exactly give either gentleman a chance to join, at least not in the way I imagined. Not at first, when I needed touch and connection to weave their familiar network. 

My racing mind slowly quieted as I realized the frenzy of thoughts had nothing to do with either gentleman. My body, ever on guard against future harm, felt unexpectedly at ease—trusting both of these gods without a hint of hesitation. In distinctly different ways, each was resoundingly handsome, their calm and respectful demeanors speaking volumes of their integrity.

The Lieutenant was lithe, sculpted muscle straining against the crisp fabric of his button-down, and crystal blue eyes that shimmered with mischief and the promise of laughter. A full head taller than me, I adored rising on tiptoe to meet his dazzling kisses, feeling the rush of animation spread through me. He was certainly a favorite, having honored me with his company more than once. My toes curled in lustful memory of our previous encounters, each one a delicious mix of passion and titillating dialogue.

The Woodsman remained something of a mystery, though certainly not untested. Under the spell of Aphrodite’s influence, I once had the privilege of sampling the Woodsman’s vigor in the bowers of Mount Olympus, though never exclusively. Since then, he’d kept a steady connection with my Consort. Unfortunately, our busy schedules prevented us from further exploring until tonight.

We had never shared a conversation, so I sincerely appreciated our time in the living room. It had allowed us to become a little more acquainted—just enough to stoke the curiosity bubbling inside me, even if I still couldn’t quite decipher his silent intensity.

I can’t stand this another moment!” My Inner Goddess threw up her hands in exasperated vexation. “You have exhausted every angle of everything that could POSSIBLY go wrong. You not only feel safe with both of them, but you are also wildly turned on by them individually and jointly. ENOUGH!” 

My head still bobbing over my Consort, I cringed a little at her outburst. Guilt settled heavily in my chest. I had promised her no more shrinking fear or second-guessing. We had nothing but salacious accounts to share, and Jack, with his years of experience, had never failed me. Each affair had been exponentially better than the last. Yet, here I was, disappointing myself–and letting her down.

You’re still doing it!!” My Inner Goddess seethed, her voice laced with a low growl of frustration, the tension in her words unmistakable. 

She had had it. With a fierce determination, she wrested control of my mind and body, taking the reins completely. I released my Consort’s darkening glory, my lips trailing up his taut abdomen, finally reaching his lips. I lingered, savoring the honey of his embrace and the indecent glint sparkling in his eyes. My Inner Goddess wasn’t the only one ready to ignite the moment, and when his smile flashed, it was enough to send me scurrying across the bed, greedy to show off.

The Lieutenant was stripped of his shirt and…maybe his pants? The details blurred hazy around the perimeter. My Inner Goddess remembered the feel of my hands sliding up his naked torso, my body alive with the fire of his skin. I rose to my knees, chin tilted upward as I silently begged for his lips.

What a kiss! Long, strong arms encircled me, pinning me between them. His hands traced the swoop of my hourglass waist, sliding down to the soft curve of my derriere. I leaned into him, surrendering to the sensation, holding nothing back—except the thin lace of my lingerie that clung between us. MMmm…not nothing. The Lieutenant’s glory was alive, pulsing against my thigh in greeting.  

Without hesitation, I released the Lieutenant and dipped my head to his waist. Head down, hips up, my fingers wrapped around his stiff glory as I parted my lips. My tongue readily set to work, reacquainting itself with the monolith, flicking and rolling down its length as my head moved in rhythm. His large hand settled gently on the top of my sapphire curls—not with demanding insistence, but with a sense of balance, as his hips began to rock, urging a deeper penetration.

Nevertheless, the god in front of me was not the only one receiving attention. Curious fingers, tracing the curve of my hip, had slowly, almost reverently, slid to the inside of my thigh. I moaned a low purr escaping as I pressed against the Lieutenant’s form, his glory buried deep in my throat, cutting off my air supply. 

My Inner Goddess delighted in the knowledge that my flirtatious position—bent over the coverlet, hips wiggling in the cool air, head down, lips pressed against one god’s loins—had certainly enticed my two onlookers. The impertinent lingerie was doing its job. My Inner Goddess recognized that the finger now stroking my slit was decidedly not my Consort’s. 

The digits were thick and slightly rough in texture, awakening my pearl with their masculine gruffness. His skillful, yet almost tentative fingers moved the offending ribbon aside, granting him the maximum access in my bent position. I angled my hips toward him, silently begging him to proceed. 

Gods. He found my pearl with such deft skill, slowly, so slowly, swirling the moist jewel—just saying hello. The Woodsman wasn’t demanding my climax, but there I was, teetering on the precipice. My Consort watching, the Lieutenant’s hand resting on the back of my head, his glory pulsing in my mouth, and the Woodsman’s slow, languid caress setting my nerves ablaze.

With barely restrained control, my Inner Goddess knew it was time to better acquaint ourselves with the Woodsman. Slowly, I released the Lieutenant with a final, deliberate lick of my tongue before sitting up to greet the Woodsman. While not doubting, I allowed my Inner Goddess to dictate my movements. Crawling on my knees toward him, I reached up, wrapping my arms around his neck—cautiously but with intention—pulling him into my embrace. My Inner Goddess bit her lip as he eagerly leaned into me, the quiet intensity of his response sending a thrill through my veins.

It was that first sumptuous kiss that sealed the Woodsman’s identity—solid and muscular in build. I adored his frame against the petite curve of my body. But it was his kisses that utterly took me by surprise. He tasted delectably unique, a blend of wood fires, cool mountain air, crisp pine needles, and the sugary sweetness of marshmallows. I blinked in surprise as my senses were overwhelmed by the intoxicating pleasure of those forest notes.

My Inner Goddess made a mental note, growling softly as she pinned the intoxicating taste of that kiss for future memories. She deepened the embrace, curious if the second and third would hold the same unexpected magic as the first. To our delight, the taste and scent of the forest lingered.

And with that, our fate was sealed. My Inner Goddess slipped into me, filling every inch, as effortlessly as a hand glides within the silk confines of an opera glove. From that moment forward, my wishes and desires were no longer solely mine; with her mighty wings, she swept me away. She cast aside all doubt and anxiety, and with her enchantment, she sealed the boudoir, locking us in an intimacy that was both sexual and hedonistic—a bower of pleasure such as I had never known.

With my Inner Goddess in control, the lines between past and present, fantasy and reality, blurred into one. I was no longer myself—I was her, consumed by an unquenchable well of feminine yearning that seemed endless, a thirst that could not be satisfied. And she reveled in the unspeakable domination she wielded.

There are no words to describe the carnal lust that followed. I lay on my back, each god taking his turn between my legs. Great hands gripped my waist as they thundered into my sanctuary with all the raw power of divine authority. As one surged within me, the other two did not falter in their duty, kneeling beside my head, their outstretched glories keening for my attention. 

Even as I write this, the ache to be so utterly filled—one hand grasping a thick glory, another thrusting deep within my throat, while the third sought dominance at the very apex of my soul—cannot be understated. The burning need to return to such a holy union has me dragging my nails down the walls, scratching the paint in desperate longing.

In some unspoken, choreographed dance, the three gods moved and contorted my body, ensuring my pleasure from every angle and composition. My head was between two legs as I sputtered and gasped for air. My cocoon resonated, tightening and convulsing around the pounding glory within me. Time-shifted. I stroked one god and fondled the second while a third, with their broad hand, worked my inner jewel with precision. My nectar gushed, spraying the gods and soaking the bed beneath us. I tried to apologize, but the imperious gods shushed me, doubling down on their efforts, and forcing me to even greater heights of pleasure with their bodies and fingers. 

My Inner Goddess was on fire, floating in nirvana, every inch of her body alive. She basked in her mastery, her heart swelling with happiness at the sound of their moans and encouragement—their pleasure echoing her own. Each gasp, each groan, only fueled the flames of our desire, stoking the fire of joy that burned brighter with every moment as I surrendered.

Time blurred. 

The bed was soaked in a river of my joy, their bodies glistening, sparkling like a thousand diamonds in the pale light. It was beautiful and surreal. I apologized again, but it only incited them further. I found myself on all fours, weight on my elbows, struggling to support myself. The gods plunged deeper, testing my limits, while a prominent shaft dangerously impaled my throat. And I loved every second of it.

My body became a vessel for the gods, my identity irrelevant as time itself was forced to wait, suspended by the enchantment of my Inner Goddess. With every thrust, I was reborn; with every scream, my soul was rejuvenated. I became something untouchable—imperial, majestic. Their formidable hands could not clench hard enough, and my curls could not be pulled harshly enough as I stole the youth and vitality of the universe itself.

I lost count of the positions and the countless shifts, each more animalistic than the last. Every orgasm was higher than the last. I took one monolith after the other between my lips, my throbbing core crying out as I switched gods. In those moments, only the hands pinching each nipple, the palm leaving a crimson imprint on my hip, fueled my Inner Goddess to even greater heights. Nourished by their touch, my eternal fire blazed brighter, and still, my Inner Goddess showed no signs of weariness.

My triumph over my Consort’s twin release was pure sin—and my victory, as I swallowed and licked the creamy essence of the Lieutenant from my lips, was downright shameful. Yet there was no room for embarrassment or shame as my Inner Goddess reveled in her power. She surveyed the gods with a satisfied smirk as the four of us lounged in a brief but glorious respite.

Half-consciousness returned me to my senses, and I felt radiant in my nakedness—triumphant as my chest rose and fell, lungs expanding and contracting in an effortless rhythm. Jack, ever the attentive host, served water around the room, and my Inner Goddess couldn’t help but smile, feeling she had sustained a perfect evening with elegant magnificence. 

Amiable conversation flowed, but it was the sly Woodsman who truly caught my attention. Reclined at the foot of the bed, he took my feet in his hands, his touch deliberate and tender. With a practiced ease, he caressed each arch, lavishing attention on the delicate curve of my high arch, lingering on every toe as though savoring the moment.

The sensation was categorically relaxing, though a thin ribbon of guilt tugged at me. No one should feel obligated to massage another’s feet. Still, I adored his touch, and despite the hesitation in my soul, I didn’t pull away. My Inner Goddess scolded my hesitation, but the Woodsman’s gentle yet possessive touch kept me grounded. He was a gentleman and an astute lover as well. My Inner Goddess could not help but admire him, feeling both impressed and deeply appreciative.

My skin began to burn, and sentences formed on the tip of my tongue, yet never found completion. Did the Woodsman know the emotions he was stirring? Did my Consort and Lieutenant realize the hunger they were rekindling as they lounged on either side of me, their fingers lazily trailing along my arm or abdomen? Once more, my rational mind and my Inner Goddess fought for control, each having tasted dominance before.

My lust and eternal appetite demanded to be satisfied. Riding him, I found my stride with the Woodsman, committed to expressing my gratitude for his touch. My yearning was unrelenting. The cavernous void inside me screamed as I selfishly used him, my desires overwhelming. My nectar ran thick and fast down his hips, turning the bedding into a drenched sea. 

Embarrassingly, I realized the spray was showering his chest, the awareness of my body’s release flickering through the haze of passion. I could not let it drench his face. Frantic, I folded over his broad chest, my sapphire locks cascading down to shield him. Once that was done, my pace quickened, our bodies adjusting, the crown of his unyielding monolith angled just so, and I nearly wept, overwhelmed by the astonished delight of it.

The Woodsman had yet to find his own explosive release, and tenaciously, I pushed forward, my hips moving in a frenzy of blinding need, chasing that mutual explosion. My Inner Goddess tasted victory threefold. With uncontainable zeal, she was determined to claim him for herself as well.

I toyed with my positioning astride him, using his bulbous head as I rode above the poor Woodsman. In hindsight, how did it feel to be seized by the unrestrained force of my Inner Goddess? Was he caught off guard by the raw intensity of her assault? Was I treating the divine figure beneath me as naught but a plaything, so lost in the pleasure of the moment that I failed to regard his own needs?  Also…when did the protection slip into place? When had I so freely taken control, mounting him without a word? Had there even been an invitation, or was I too self-absorbed, allowing time to slip away, ignorant of the collective needs and desires of the group? 

As I neared the pinnacle of my release, the pull of my own desires became inescapable. I lost all awareness of the world around me, the gods there for my bidding, consumed by the singular focus of pure, divine ecstasy. All that mattered was that carnal triumph. I screamed to the heavens.

Aphrodite blurred my vision, and the remainder of the evening unfolded into an unspeakable delight, leaving me feeling every inch of my body worshipped, touched, and adored. My Inner Goddess teetered on the edge of euphoric joy, overflowing with gratitude. Pinnacle after pinnacle was surmounted, my euphoria unmatched. The gods showed no weariness, no hesitation—each of them displaying strength and stamina that were truly unmatched. They were, without a doubt, Gods of Olympus.

I barely registered the courtly gods’ departure, hoping my politeness and gratitude had shone through—that they knew how deeply I appreciated their gifts and what I owed them. But my attention had already shifted to the last remaining survivor: my Consort. He stood there, a wide, playful grin curling on his perfect lips. Sleep seemed a distant thought; my well was far from filled.

I pushed him onto the couch, my hands curling around the back of his neck, pulling him into me with a hunger I could no longer contain. His playful smirk transformed into something darker, his eyes burning with the same desire that coursed through me. I savored his intoxicating musk and the renewed heat pressing between us.

Something heavy and unignorable whelmed inside me, a leaden weight that pressed down harder with each passing second. The world tilted and shifted—not with the dizzying magic of the night but with something darker, something wrong. My vision blurred, and an awful wave swept through me, tightening my chest and turning my stomach into a churning knot.

Trying not to panic, I stumbled, half-running to the ensuite. A cool cloth, the porcelain throne—anything to stop the storm brewing inside me. But nothing happened. My body refused to obey, leaving me trembling in helpless nausea and dread.

To my deepest embarrassment, Jack appeared in the doorway, his face etched with worry. I was absolutely torn—half-relieved by his presence, this strong, steady force I could lean on as my panic swelled, and half-mortified that he should witness me at my most vulnerable, spiraling in physical distress. The sight of him grounded me just enough to keep the chaos at bay, but the horror of being seen like this gnawed at the edges of my resolve. 

What followed was a torturous hour of uncertainty and confusion. My vision blurred, and my thoughts muddled in a fog I could not escape. I barely had the strength to stay upright, and my arms braced against the cool bathroom counter. What was happening? What had gone wrong? The bourbon… surely it couldn’t have done this. I never allowed myself to lose control like this. This wasn’t who I was. This was not right.

Panic scraped at the edges of my mind as I searched through the chaos, my hands trembling, unable to locate the nausea pills I knew should be there…somewhere. Worse, the words I needed to explain to Jack remained just beyond my reach. Helplessness coiled in my chest, heavy and suffocating. I longed to cry, but there was no strength left.

Jack, as steady as ever, moved in without a word. Crackers, cheese, chocolate, and Gatorade appeared on my lips before I could even speak. His quiet resolve anchored me, a lifeline I could not grasp on my own. I wanted to protest, to explain, to apologize—but all I could do was breathe, clinging to the fragile hope that this storm within me would pass.

It felt like an eternity before my symptoms finally began to ease. They did not vanish completely but retreated just enough for me to crawl beneath the fresh sheets Jack had tenderly replaced, utterly spent. Every muscle ached with a weariness that seeped deeper than the body, into my very bones.

Jack pulled me close, drawing me into the curve of his body, enveloping me in a protective embrace. My heart swelled with a quiet warmth, knowing that my deepest love had not left me in my darkest moment. That thought alone was enough to lull me into a deep, dreamless sleep.

The next day, after careful reflection, we pieced together the cause of my near collapse. A salad for dinner—lacking any substantial carbohydrates—had seemed like a prudent choice, given the nature of our evening’s indulgence. But coupled with the extreme fluid loss from the Triads, hours of vigorous exertion, and my hypoglycemia, it had culminated in the perfect storm. A trifecta of miscalculations that nearly led me into hypoglycemic shock. The Fates, however, had seen fit to place Jack at my side—calm, steady, and clear-headed—providing exactly what I needed to recover.

Thankfully, Jack was no stranger to hypoglycemia. He recognized the symptoms almost immediately and never once doubted me. His steady presence, calm reasoning, and quick actions ensured my safety when I was unable to advocate for myself. He provided exactly what I needed without judgment or hesitation, grounding me when I felt most lost.

Even so, it took days to shake off the sting of mortification. I replayed the events over and over in my mind, desperately searching for where I had gone wrong. Had it been the bourbon? But no—I’d been nervous, yes, but never out of control. Control had always been my constant, except perhaps when it came to my salacious Inner Goddess.

Yet, for her, each moment had engraved itself deeply— a symphony of touch, taste, and raw kinetic energy that defied anything I had ever known. Even now, my body thrummed with the aftershock of their devotion, the unmistakable imprint of gods who knew exactly how to wield their Olympian power.

My Inner Goddess stirred, already yearning, already imagining the untamed heights we had yet to explore. The only question left was whether they would return. Had the evening’s intensity etched itself into their minds as it had into mine? Only time will tell.

Until next time… XO, Elsie.