The docks down at pier nine were almost abandoned and if it weren't for the courier ship being unloaded there would no signs of life here. The ship looked like one of those giant oil tankers that sit low in the water. It smelled of salt, seaweed and cantankerous old men that spend most of their time on land in dark musty bars.
A hollow nasty air drifted around it, polluting any chance of a nice evening for Joseph. He waited near the large vessel, a cigarette dangling from his lower lip, his mind lost in contemplative thought. He hated using cargo ships like this, they made him feel like he dealt in children, narcotics or frozen organs. It felt as if at any moment inspectors would come barreling around the corner like in a bad cop show.
The precious cargo of the tanker-like ship was boxed and boarded up, almost ready to see the aftermath of World War 2. Too many wonderful pieces of art were lost during that horrible event and it took Joe almost five years to locate this particular piece of history. He almost expected it to be decorating some small Jewish woman's porch or back yard. The woman was actually Polish.
It always amused Joe the quaint nature of the universe.
During his scouring of Europe he had come across a few other artifacts, left over from World War two, that had been thought to be lost forever. Most of the treasures were Roman and Grecian artifacts that beyond WW2 were just thought to not exist anymore. Statues, icons to the gods of old. Tomes of knowledge and paintings of astounding beauty. All would have never come back if it hadn't been for his relentless zeal to collect them.
Somebody else may have found them, but it could have been decades longer before it happened. Joe was a being of the moment, of the now. He pursued the things he desired. He didn't want to hit eighty and find that everything he had achieved so for would fall on blind, old eyes. He wanted to see ancient works of artistry with bold new eyes. Eyes that picked up the minute cracks, the slight wear of time. Eyes that saw the perfect craftsmanship displayed within each curve, dip and edge.
This latest one was his favorite, it was something that should not exist. Made of green marble it was a monument to Aphrodite, goddess of love. The problem with this piece was that although it was inscribed in old Grecian as being Aphrodite, the statue was definitely that of a man.
"A rather well endowed one at that..." Joe mused this to himself, standing there waiting for his crate to be moved over the edge of the boat.
It was possible that some creative sculptor thought that the god of love could look both male and female. This thing was elegant, though, done by an amazing talent. Other than being in marble you would swear it was another person, staring back at you. With those dead, empty eyes.
The statue had survived amazingly well, too. Dating had put it at nearly two millennium old, but it appeared as if it had been carved within the last fifty years. This was the find of a lifetime, his greatest find. Sure, museums don't pay well, but private buyers at auctions do. That was why he did this, find a wonderful piece like this and auction it off. That's where the real money was and fuck the general public. With a wife like his, he couldn't afford to live a pauper's life.
The crane was moving the box, easing out over the edge of the ship and down to the pier. It would still need to be forklifted into the back of his van, but it was so close. He had gone through the whole hassle of shipping it back to the states. Not just the states but to San Francisco. Would have been cheaper had he lived in New York. He just loved this city, though, and had the funds needed to live here.
He heard a slight bump on the pier when the crate touched down. He dropped his cigarette down and smashed it out with the heel of his shoe. Walking over to the crate he could see a bit of the hay protruding out of the edges. Packing material eventually began to protrude, sometimes even out of the most well put together crates.
He ran his hand along the edges, a splinter shooting into the palm of his hand. No cracks, no tamper marks, he thought to himself as he dug out the small piece of wood. A smile worked onto his face as he thought of how much he might make at the auction on his anatomically correct friend. Blood started to lightly pour out of the wound on his hand.
He waved the forklift over to haul it the rest of the way to his van. Joe was beyond proud of himself tonight, digging his cigarettes out of his jacket pocket, "Five fucking years, but it was all worth it. Even that wench of a wife." His zippo lit up under his thumb, the flame brought to the tip of his cigarette.
He looked at the crate, being moved into the van, the smile never leaving his face. Smoke creeped out of the corners of his grin, running along the sides of his face. He felt so immensely happy, perhaps the queen bitch would even fuck him tonight in appreciation of what he's brought home.
*****
It was well past midnight when he had gotten home, driving his black BMW, the van with his newest treasure was following him closely. Joe didn't speed, not because of the cops but because he didn't want that van out of his sight for a second. Constantly his eyes darted up to the rear view mirror to make sure the blocky vehicle hadn't left its pursuit.
His car glided up the driveway and entered his garage, the powerful engine purring for just a few more moments before he shut it off. Joseph had a back entrance that went straight to his den, he had it built just for moving his objects of love into and out of his home. The van pulled up around the side and to the patio in back. Joe felt a rush as the movers started pulling his giant crate out of the back.
Four guys had to cart it into his den, making sure that the "this side up" arrow still pointed in the correct direction. Bits of hay poked out of the edges of the crate. Joe tipped each of them forty dollars then showed them the way out.
After shutting the outside doors to his den he turned to the tall crate. He grabbed the crowbar on his desk, placed there just for this purpose. He jammed it into the box, tearing off the panels, letting them fall to floor. Loud thuds came with each, waking up his booze sedated wife. Joe began to gain a powerful erection with each bit he uncovered of the statue.
He had gained just as powerful of one when he had first seen the statue. It was almost unbidden. He wasn't gay, but for some reason when he saw this statue it turned him on like nothing ever had before. As Joe peeled away the hay from the statue his erection grew in girth and strength. It was easily seen straining against the crotch of his pants.
His wife, Anna, walked in to his den, a bottle in her left hand and a cigarette in her right. She was naked, other than a bathrobe that she seemed to refuse to close. Her large breasts poked out the front, the sides of the robe curving around them. A small patch of hair could be seen on her crotch, nicely trimmed. Her long bronze hair flowed down around her shoulders.
She was a dame to kill for, though not to die for.
He could smell her as she came closer to him, she smelled of bourbon and cheap sex. Probably what she was doing all day, possibly with an employee of his. He never cared, she was his wife by circumstance. A marriage of convenience. He had more than enough money to cover her vast spending, and when Anna sobered up she was perfect to drape over his shoulder at social gatherings.
Anna saw the statue under the hay, a man of marble, amazingly well crafted. The object looked so real, like a human frozen in time. She felt an itch grow in her crotch the more she looked at it, a wetness dampening her legs. The statue was turning her on, the well hung, perfectly proportioned obelisk of a man.
Joe peeled off the last bits of hay, his erection at full attention now. Before him resided a goddess in male form. Venus, Aphrodite built like a man. The man must be six foot five, but the statue itself was no more than six foot. Aphrodite was hunched over, muscles in his back rippled out, one massive arm wrapped around his chest and the other one resting hand on thigh. A mane of long hair flowed solid down his back, his face contorted into a bestial snarl. Viscous, teeth shown from one corner of the mouth. A face, though, as smooth as hard silk.
Anna, Joe's wife, looked longingly at the statue. To her mind images of a beauty and a beast combining ran rampant. Tales Joe had told her of the almighty god Zeus turning into a bull, violating some girl, rose to mind. This is what their child would have looked like, she thought amusingly to herself, this is the son of a bull god.
Joe had been perplexed as to why somebody would have made a statue of the goddess of love in male form, but looking upon it he felt it was justified. Men scared to death of losing their heterosexuality would worship this sightly god. Joe himself, was sporting the largest hard on he had ever had.
Anna herself had forgotten about her cigarette, ashes falling to the floor then shortly after the butt of it. The hand that had been holding the cancer stick had been crawling down her own curves to her drenched pussy. She had never felt this wet before, her hand was covered in her juices after only a few short moments.
Joe looked over his shoulder at the woman, bare skinned, standing behind him. He never really cared that the marriage was a facade for their affairs, especially since times came and went that they actually fucked. Like beasts tearing at each other in a panic. He looked at her eyes and saw the burning lust there, he saw the desire in them. He felt his lust for her flesh build more, this close to the statue he felt like a god of sex and this was his new vessel to infest. The stink of another man surrounding her didn't bother him in the least.
