Page 28 of Daddy's Game

“Yup.”

The Louvre escort provided for our private tour didn’t speak English. It’s probably for the best he did not. If he had heard what Grace said, he’d probably have thrown us in the street, no matter how well connected I was to the powers that be.

I’d been to the world’s greatest art museum on multiple occasions. I always found it to be a rewarding experience. Yet, it felt as if I were seeing it all for the first time again while I was with Grace.

More than that, I found myself noticing things I never had before. Like the way the curtains seemed on the verge of billowing out of the canvas in The Death of the Virgin. Or how the sailors on the Raft of the Medusa showed varying aspects of the five stages of grief.

We laughed as much as we talked, winding our way through the massive complex. I’ve never known anyone who could make it through the entire Louvre on a single visit, including myself. It’s just so easy to get distracted.

And speaking of distractions, it was hard to concentrate on much of anything with Grace so near. My mind kept drifting back to how it felt to have her nearly naked body in my arms, writhing all over me as I kissed and tasted her delectable skin.

It was enough to drive me mad.

Maybe my thoughts were prophetic, because the next exhibit we came across was Psyche Revived by Cupid’s Kiss. Grace stopped in her tracks, eyes wide, mouth falling open as she beheld the work.

“Wow, they didn’t show us this in high school art class.”

“Yet another reason I’m glad I never went to public school.”

Grace’s expression grew tight, and I knew I’d touched a nerve.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to sound elitist.”

The tightness fled her fine features, and Grace went back to examining the sculpture. A winged male figure caught in rapturous passion with a gorgeous young woman. One of my favorites.

“Are you familiar,” I asked, stepping a bit closer to her “with the legend of Cupid and Psyche?”

She shook her head, eyes shining as she met my gaze.

“When I think of Cupid, I think of a fat little baby with wings.”

“The older myths tend to depict him differently.”

I stepped behind her while I spoke. She started to turn but I held her shoulders, indicating I wanted her to keep looking at the sculpture.

“You see, Psyche was so beautiful that the goddess of love herself became jealous. So she ordered her son, Cupid, to shoot Psyche with a magic arrow to make her fall in love with something hideous.”

“You’d think an actual love goddess wouldn’t have such a fragile ego,” she quipped.

“Indeed. But Cupid, upon seeing Psyche, could not bring himself to condemn her to a horrible fate. So he scratched himself with his own arrow and fell madly in love with her.”

“And they lived happily ever after?” she asked in a semi mocking tone. It was then I realized just how jaded Grace had become in matters of the heart.

I wondered why that bothered me. It never had before, when I’d been interested in a woman.

“No, true love’s course rarely runs so smoothly. Psyche’s father, who was a powerful King, worried that the gods would wreak havoc on his kingdom. So he sent his daughter up onto a lonely mountaintop to die as a sacrifice.”

“Damn,” she whispered. “Poor girl.”

“Cupid saw what transpired, and he cast a spell on Psyche so she would fall asleep. He brought her to his castle in the sky, but because Cupid feared his mother’s wrath he didn’t want Psyche to know who had rescued her. Every day Psyche was treated to fabulous feasts and entertainment. And every night, she was led to a pitch black room, where a magnificent lover gave her the greatest heights of pleasure, though she could not see him.”

“Kinky,” Grace breathed in a voice barely above a whisper. I heard her swallow, and could feel the heat coming off her body. My palms slid down her bare arms, raising goosebumps.

“While Psyche enjoyed pleasures beyond imagination, she burned with curiosity to know who her lover was. So one night, she snuck a candle into the pitch black room with her. She waited until her lover had fallen asleep, and then lit the candle. She saw an impossibly handsome man with feathered wings, naked to her eyes. Then some candle wax dropped on his bare thigh and he awakened. The two lovers met each other eye to eye for the first time.”

Her chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. I leaned over and put my mouth inches from her ear to whisper.

“And yes, then they lived happily ever after.”

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