It's Not Easy to Be a Love Goddess

He moved in with me then, if you can call a toothbrush and a hairbrush luggage.

"Angels travel light," he told me. "But I always carry my own toothbrush, and the hairbrushes in this dimension are just too hard on angel hair. They hurt like hell!"

I could believe that as I stroked the mane of silk that cascaded to his shoulders. That hair alone had the invitation of all my body parts to come and visit any time—any time honey!

The reunion took place in my womb sometime in the wee hours of the morning, and "she" came to "be." I was soon to learn why they're called the "wee" hours—when my hormones started the processing of extra fluids which had to be released several times a night!

However, at this point, all I knew was that within me had occurred a seismic implosion which was to affect my life, and the lives around me, in ways I could not even guess at this moment.

I welcomed her to my womb, directing her silently to the comfort of my heart, which beat out its music, steady and true; and was to be her loyal nursemaid during the long months of her confinement in that watery state.

My little mermaid would swim peacefully in Neptune's kingdom until she reached the shores of this world. Then, unlike me, she would have a proper welcome into the priesthood and the Holy Mysteries in this place.

In the morning, I greeted my husband with a smile, and he greeted me back with a warm kiss.

*****

We spent our days singing, playing musical instruments, acting out charades, taking walks in the garden down the street which some referred to as Mapleleaf Park. Darian not only played the harp, but the violin, the flute, and the saxophone to boot.

It was so wonderful to have an angel providing for me. I thought of the prostitute I had interviewed at the restaurant on the 35th floor when Darian rubbed his thumb across his fingers, and green paper appeared in his hand to pay for our trips to the grocery store, movies, shops, and the landlord's mailbox. The prostitute had had the right idea. She just didn't quite know how to turn that trick.

My belly grew round and smooth, and its passenger let me know with flicks and nudges that she was saying, "Hi."

Darian massaged my feet and hands often, sending cleansing light through my bloodstream to nourish the placenta through which Angela got her sustenance. Whenever the energy moved through my body like that, Angela danced and sang inside my belly, and blew her father kisses, which I delivered for her.

And, of course, if he massaged my feet and hands, then my calves and arms had a few requests; and if he stroked my calves and arms, then my torso needed a few things; and when my torso had his attention, my thighs spoke up; and since my thighs were so happy, my breasts got notified; and when my breasts heard from him, then my pleasure hub sent a message and . . .

Well, you know he always found his way to the dancing palace, where his tongue and lips paid their service within the secret folds hidden from my vision by my majestic belly; followed by his prodigious magic wand, as his wings shimmered over us like silver drapes above the bed.

*****

When the day of Angela's birth arrived, I was reclining in one of my many rapacious couches. Only Darian could hoist me out once I had lowered the pendulous weight of my body into them, but they sure were comfortable—until it was time to get up.

A sudden flush of water from my lower quarters signaled the beginning ablution which was to culminate in the Opening Ceremony later in the day. I retired to the bedroom, where we had prepared all the vestments of the room for this occasion, while Darian toweled the couch dry.

Darian sat above me with my head in his lap, his hands a golden helmet around my head. Warm energy moved down my body, bringing with it a languid relaxation akin to sleep.

I felt very heavy and drowsy, as the golden threads of revolving light wound down my torso to the Bunyanesque egg on its lower half. Like fingers, the cords moved in undulating waves, contracting the muscles and drawing the puckered door of my cervix open.

I breathed slowly, closing my eyes and letting go completely; giving the sentry at the door of the womb leave of duty; asking the red carpet to roll out; opening wide, wide, wide the cervix to allow passage to Her Lady.

As I focused upon the preparations for her coronation, she began to move into the outer corridor. The fingers were pressing now with peak intensity, as she traveled down the red carpet, through the Holy of Holies, to the threshold of the vestibule.

She crowned then, and Darian moved to the end of the bed. With one long, protracted thrust, she was catapulted into his hands, trembling with joy; and we laughed with relief and gladness.

He laid her upon my belly, and our eyes met for the first time. I felt that I had never been in love before this moment, as I melted into her clear, intelligent, knowing baby blues.

She suckled then, while Darian covered us both with his wings, too choked with silent worship to speak. She was sweetness personified, and I felt like my body had never been at the disposal of a more deserving soul.

In the next few days, my breasts grew into magnificent orbs, releasing rivers of teeming nourishment to Angela and Darian.

Darian had a proposition for me: he would feed me every delicacy and dainty I desired, if he could sup at the springs of my bounty. In those days, I think I was his exclusive source of sustenance just as I was for Angela.

But how could I refuse? And why would I want to? I had nothing to do all day but eat and suckle, and it's hard to say which of my loves was more pleasant to have at my breast.

Angela's tiny hands grasped at my arm and the long tendrils of my hair, while Darian's long, graceful ones caressed my thighs and waist. He petted the fleshy folds which had opened to welcome his angelic daughter into the third dimension, fingered the bud of my delight, and drew paroxysms of pleasure out with my milk.

Angela's eyes squeezed shut, while his stayed open sometimes, giving me a penetrating gaze; and they both made soft, rhythmic sounds of contentment as they savored the soothing libation.