Cynthia Nixon opened her eyes and screamed.

There was a man sitting on the edge of her bed. He was perhaps four feet tall, with broad muscular shoulders, curling red hair and skin that was dotted with freckles. He also had a quiver full of arrows strapped to his back and a large bow. Hence the scream.

"Easy lady, easy," the man said. "What are you trying to do? Wake the dead?"

"What are you doing in my apartment?"

"You call this an apartment? More like a dive, ain’t it?"

Cynthia moved to a sitting position, causing the small man to readjust himself. "Easy, lady, easy. You want me to fall off this bed and hurt myself? I could charge you for workers comp, you know."

It was then that she noticed the wings. "Who the hell are you?"

The man winked at her and ruffled his wings. "I’m anybody you want me to be, baby."

Cynthia made a sound of disgust and pulled the blanket out from under him. "No, I mean what are you? What’s with the get up?" She held up a fist to the little man. "And you better start talking, cus I’m in the mood to scream."

"Okay, okay." The man huffed. He folded his wings around himself. "Jeez, lady, you really know how to mark up a guy’s manhood, you know? I never asked for this job, you know."

"What is it exactly that you do?" Cynthia asked.

He puffed out his chest. "I’m Cupid."

Cynthia snorted. "Yeah, and I’m Little Bo Peep."

Cupid wiggled his eyebrows. "Did you want to be? I’ve got a great Sheppard’s outfit and I’m sure I could find you a Bo Peep dress."

Cynthia’s mouth frowned in disgust. "In your dreams ... "

Cupid leered at her. "It’s happened," he said. "Most women find me very charming."

"Why, because you shoot them with arrows?"

"Nope, the arrows are for the men. Most men are too stupid to know when a woman fancies them. The arrow just gives them a gentle nudge."

Cynthia rubbed her eyes. She was not having this conversation. She was not talking to a four foot tall man with three day old stubble, wings and bad fashion sense. "I thought Cupid was all cute and cuddly," she said in resignation. "Aren’t you supposed to be like, a cherub, or something?"

Cupid scowled at her. "Lady, don’t make me gag. That’s just an urban myth," he narrowed his eyes at her. "I suppose you expect me to be wearing a diaper, or something too, right? Some sort of loin cloth?"

"Well, what about the hearts, the rosy cheeks, the floating on clouds?"

"Lady, what have you been reading? Do you really believe all the Hallmark crap? Look, I’m Cupid. I got the job from the last guy, who by the way was arrested for looking in at women while they were undressing."

"The last Cupid was a peeping tom?" Cynthia could not believe she was having this conversation.

"Yep, got into real trouble too; a woman went to take a bath and found more than a bar of soap floating in her bathwater."

Cynthia shuddered. "What are you doing here?" she asked.

"You’re taking this rather well," Cupid said, nonchalantly. "Most woman who wake up and find a guy in their apartment need a little convincing."

"This isn’t the first strange thing that’s happened to me," Cynthia said. "I attract a lot of freaks."

"Something weirder than a four foot guy with wings?"

Adina Starlight gazed deep into her crystal ball.

She could see the couple sitting on the other side of the table, wringing their hands; they were anxious for news. Adina could see nothing but their distorted image in the crystal, so she would have to wing it.

As usual.

"I see..." She lowered her voice. "I see..." Shit. What did she see? They had been waiting for ten minutes for her to "contact" the spirit world. She was drawing a blank. Normally she had several meetings with clients before a reading so that she could milk them for all the personal information she would need to be convincing.

But these two had been walk-ins. She hated walk-ins; she was never able to prepare properly and always felt like she was grabbing at straws.

They were a husband and wife. The husband’s mother had died without disclosing the location of her will and the husband was desperate for money. Adina sighed. So was she when it came right down to it.

Well, she thought. Nothing for it. I’m going to have bluff my way through this. "I see an old room," she said, making sure to keep her voice mysterious. "A dark room; there is lots of furniture, a large desk, there are shadows." Shit, she thought again. What the hell did an attic look like? "I see a red light coming from inside that desk, a red light that pulses."

The woman let out a gasp. Thank god, Adina thought. She had hit pay dirt. "What’s wrong dear?"

The woman was visibly excited. "That desk, Gerald’s mother had a desk. It’s in our attic!" She clapped her hands. "Do you see anything else? Can you see inside the desk?"

Adina scrunched up her face so it looked as if she was concentrating. "I see...I see...nothing else. It has gone black. I could hear your mother very faintly, whispering to me." She saw the look of hope on both their faces and hated herself, just a little. "It sounded like she was encouraging, like she was happy."

When a tear of happiness ran down the woman’s cheek, Adina despised herself a little more. Shaking her head to clear those thoughts, she asked the couple how they would pay for their "talk with the other side."

There had to be more to life than this. There had to be more than pretending to be something she wasn’t and faking something to pay the rent. I’m no better than a high paid call girl, she thought. She grimaced. At least call girls get to have sex. I haven’t had a man in my bed for months.

"Thank you so much Miss Starlight." The woman said. "I can’t tell you how much this mean to us. How much this means to my husband. Our family has been fighting over her money for so long and now we can finally end all the bitterness."

The husband, Gerald, nodded. "This will keep our family from splitting apart over money. You’ve saved our family, Miss Starlight."

Adina grimaced again and put a fake smile on her face. "Think nothing of it." She said. "It’s my pleasure."

God, I need a drink, she thought.

FIRE

Cleopatra woke to the sun slashing across her face.

Ra, the Sun God, was beginning his voyage across the skies. Soon, he would be at the middle of the blue expanse and Egypt would be at its hottest. The sound of the Nile’s rushing waters reached her ears and there was the smell of salt in the air.

Stretching, she rose naked from her settee. Mark Antony, naked and barely covered by a thin linen sheet, rolled onto his side, sleep still claiming him. Cleopatra smiled. It’d been so long since her body had felt so satisfied; with Mark Antony, she was never left wanting.

She laughed softly when he stopped her from leaving the bed and rolled on top of her. Cleopatra could feel his hard cock pressing into her belly, its head resting in her belly button. "Leaving so soon?" He said huskily.

Cleopatra laughed and swatted at him. "You just had your fill of my body. Are you always so insatiable?"

"Only for you," he said. He kissed her softly, pressing his lips to hers. Cleopatra’s breath left her as it always did when he kissed her. She kissed him back, her tongue to exploring his mouth. Her fingers reached up to feel his stubbled chin. She pulled away from him.

"I’ll make some tea." She smiled at him. "I won’t be long."

Mark Antony grunted and rolled off of her. "You really know how to make a man weep and beg."

Cleopatra looked down at him, hard and ready. Liquid formed at the tip of his penis like droplets of rain.

Still smiling, she went to the hearth and started a fire. She put a pot of water over the fire to boil and got out a large earthenware cup and some tea leaves. While she waited for the water to boil, she wrapped herself in a thin cotton sheath and went outside onto the small balcony. The sun peeked over the horizon. It would be blindingly hot today. She loved the heat, looked forward to it. A breeze rippled the sheath she wore, causing it to flutter around her.

The breeze chased away the dreams of the night. Dreams filled with dark stone and a man with a dog’s head. There was a glass globe filled with light and the dog man was talking to someone. Cleopatra couldn’t see the other man in the dream, couldn’t understand what their words were; they were covered in shadows.

This hadn’t been the first dream. She’d been having dreams, nightmares, for weeks. Last night’s dream had been soft and gentle in comparison to the others. Those had been dreams of blood and sacrifice. So much blood she could bathe in it.

No longer smiling, she went back inside. The water was boiling now and she made herself a cup of tea to calm her nerves. Thinking of dark things always vexed her. She knew that dreams were sometimes premonitions of things that had yet to take place. She shivered despite the warmth.

Taking her tea with her, Cleopatra went to the back of the house and opened a wooden door that was locked for anyone else but her. She picked up a candle in a holder and waited for the candle to light itself. She always enjoyed this bit of magic. The flame would start small, licking at the wick and then grow bigger when the flame caught hold. Fire always thrilled her, warmed her blood, and filled her with heat.

Satisfied that the candle wouldn’t go out, Cleopatra descended the stairs. When she reached the bottom, she used the candle and set the flame to the candle sitting in a wall scone. When that candle was lit, the others lit, too. The fire moved from candle to candle, filling the small space with a soft, warm glow.

There was a small fire pit and a large, silver mirror in the center of the room. Its frame was scrollwork of silver filigree and there were words she could not read in the partial darkness that decorated the outer edges. She put her hand on one of the stones surrounding the fire pit and a small fire sprang to life in its center. That done, Cleopatra went to a cupboard that held her magical spices and powders. Taking a pinch of a few powders, she swirled them with her finger in a small silver bowl until the powder was red. Soft light pulsed from the mixture.

Turning to the fire pit, she began to sprinkle the powder on the flames. The fire itself seemed to drink in the color, until the flames were blood red . Cleopatra sat in front of the fire pit, watching the flames dance in the mirror, their image reflected back to her.

Soon, a breeze began to form in the small room, as gentle as the one she’d felt on the balcony. Cleopatra closed her eyes, trying to calm herself and relax her body.

Breathing deeply, she uttered the invitation, "Isis, Mother, come to me. Isis, Sister, let me see."

The breeze around her began to hum. The sound intensified until it suddenly stopped and Cleopatra opened her eyes. There in the mirror was the goddess Isis, queen and mother to all.

Whereas Cleopatra had straight black hair, cut in a short bob, Isis had long blond locks that trailed over her breasts. There was no child at her chest, only nakedness. Blue moon bright eyes looked at Cleopatra from the mirror. Isis’ full lips curved in a smile. Her beauty always stunned Cleopatra. Isis radiated a soft glow that she could see even in the mirror’s surface.

"Sister," Isis said, her voice thick with pleasure. "It’s nice to see you. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I’ve been having nightmares again. I don’t know what they mean, or why they come to me."

Isis smiled. "I have told you before that you were meant for great things. That you have a purpose beyond your body. Years from now, you will unite Egypt, its great Upper and Lower lands."

"But I’m only twenty. How can I unite Egypt? I don’t know the first thing about politics."

"Ruling isn’t about politics." Isis explained. "It’s about being loved, and you are loved plenty by the people."

"I don’t think the nightmares had anything to do with ruling. Not yet anyway." Cleopatra told Isis about the previous night’s dream, how the man with the dog head frightened her, and how the globe of light danced in the darkness.

Isis was silent for a moment. The only sound in the room was the crackling fire. The flames leaped and moved, casting shadows across her face.

Finally, the goddess spoke. "I want you to come to my temple today. There’s something more we must speak of and I dare not use this channel. We may be overhead. I would like to speak to you privately."

"Is something amiss, Sister?"

Isis smiled at this. "Darling girl, this is Egypt. Land of secrets and of shadow. Something is always amiss. Meet me at high noon in the temple. Don’t be late. Blessed be, Sister.’

Cleopatra needed to know more. "But what has happened? Is there something wrong?"

"It’s a puzzle. I need your help with it, darling girl. I need all the help you can give."

"Consider me your servant."

Isis smiled again. "High noon. Don’t forget."

Cleopatra watched as Isis’ image faded from the mirror and the fire began to die. All that was left was a smoldering pile of ashes and a deep feeling of unease. Cleopatra stood and poured water over the ashes and made her way back up the stairs. Closing the door behind her, she placed her wards upon it, so that no one else could enter.

Despite being back in the heat of the main house, there was still the chill of unease around her. She went in search of someone to warm her blood.

More than anything, Owen remembered the taste of him.

You never forget the first one. Nineteen and horny, they did what guy friends did together. Daniel and him used look at porn in Owen’s bedroom. He could smell it even now: the scent of fresh paint, sweat and heat. He remembered the way Daniel smelled sitting beside him: spicy, as if his skin was burning.

Sometimes, after they were really turned on, they would lie next to each other, rub their crotches together. Sometimes, Daniel would even lie on top of him, pressing his crotch into Owen’s.

He remembered how good it felt to rub his body against Daniels. How flushed he got in his cheeks, his crotch so hot it felt as if it would go ablaze. He knew that it wasn’t right to get hard when fooling around with another boy.

But Owen wanted to, needed to, anyways.

It had been an eye opener. He had not been able to get an erection while thinking of girls, but one thought of his friend�fs body pressed against his and he felt hard all over.

Daniel always said he was straight. "I’d never fuck a guy," he’d say. "I wouldn’t know what to do." But there would be a look in Daniel’s eyes that had made Owen wonder. Sometimes, Owen caught Daniel looking at his crotch, at his hard dick straining against the front of his jeans.

At night, after Daniel had gone home, Owen would lie on his bed and think of Daniel. He pictured Daniel’s straight brown hair that framed his face in crude spikes, the greenness of his best friend’s eyes.

He would picture the tight mound of Daniel’s crotch as his own dick strained against the fabric of his pants.

These thoughts would take him into sleep. In his dreams, he was able to do what he knew could never happen; he was able to touch Daniel. He was able to run his hands all over Daniel’s hard body.

He would wake, his sheets soaked with cum, his dick still hard and dripping.

After the euphoria, a slight sadness would settle in. Owen knew that dreams could never be reality. Daniel would reject him if he knew how Owen felt. Owen knew Daniel would never talk to him again if he had any inkling of Owen’s feelings.

If Daniel found out, he would leave Owen and Owen would lose the man he loved. He had been friends with Daniel so long that the boy he had been was a thing of the past. Instead, all Owen could see was a gorgeous man.

But Daniel would never love him back.

All that Daniel worried about came into sharp focus on a hot summer afternoon. The windows were open and a light summer breeze filled the air. Owen’s parents were at the cottage and he had the house to himself.

Except for Daniel that is. Knowing that Owen had the house to himself, Daniel had rented some porn and was bringing it over with a few stolen beers. Owen wondered if it was wise to drink something that would lower his inhibitions around Daniel.

He had enough of a hard time controlling himself around his friend as it was.

But Owen could never say no to Daniel. Not for anything.

Every time Owen saw Sebastian, he felt his heart swoon, just a little bit.

Sebastian was straight, so there wasn’t a hope in hell, but a boy could dream. He was over six feet with dark hair. He had serious blue eyes and pouty lips, framed by a closely shaved goatee.

They worked as copy editors for the same publishing house. Owen had yet to hear him utter a word even though they sat only a few cubicles apart from each other. Sebastian would come in, do his job and go home.

Owen fantasized about him all the time.

He wondered what Sebastian’s cock looked like. What Sebastian looked like shirtless. Owen wondered if Sebastian’s chest was hairy. He wondered what Sebastian’s voice sounded like. Would it be deep or a soft, smooth baritone?

At home, late at night, he would let his imagination play. Owen would close his eyes and picture Sebastian naked: toned but not too muscular, a scattering of hair on his chest leading down to his crotch. Owen wondered what it would be like to kiss him and to have Sebastian kiss him back.

Picturing Sebastian, Owen would stroke himself, letting the thought of Sebastian’s hands roaming over his skin drive him over the edge.

He wondered about the size of Sebastian’s cock.

Owen soon got his answer.