Greek Mythology 1. Encounter

**For Old Time's Sake**

Zeus and Hera, long since divorced, meet again in modern Japan. Where will this encounter take them?

-** Encounter** -

Long, slender hands with silver-painted nails were holding on to the steam of a glass with white wine, large and almond-shaped dark-brown eyes shadowed by thick lashes regarding how the light bounced off the liquid as she slowly spun the flute around with gentle hands. The inertia of the wine was causing intricate effects of light and shadows on the dark wood of the bar desk and upon her pale, slightly olive-skinned hands. She had been looking at that glass now for a while, with melancholy tainting the beauty of her eyes, but hardly taken a sip of the wine. Looking at it but not quite seeing since her mind was wandering, plowing through tons of remembrance. What was she searching for, what was she trying to recall? Honestly, she didn't know other than that she sought something to banish the boredom and the forlorn loneliness that was grating at her old soul.

She didn't know what was worse, what she regretted the most, the things she had done, or those she never did. There was just one thing she was certain of – if she got a chance to do it all over again, she would do a lot of things differently.

"Is this seat taken?" the deep bass was mellow, the question kind and honest and without any tries at flirting, unusual at this hour in a bar and when it was so achingly evident that she was a lonely woman. Just because the gentle sound of it and perhaps a faint trace of an accent she remembered, did she cast the slightest of glances in his direction, noticing a vibrant shadow blocking the ambient resin of the overhead light.  
"No, you're welcome to it," her voice was modulated to be polite but not inviting. That timbre had she practiced for so long now that it was utilized without even thinking.

There was a soft scraping when he pulled out his chair, she glimpsed more than saw him sitting down, perceiving how he made contact with the bar tender, ordering a whisky on the rocks. She had to brace herself to not look at the man, look and become disappointed, because he reminded her so much of someone from long ago. Someone she had 'seen' and 'heard' so many times earlier, before realizing it was just been wishful thinking, that he had been someone else, just reminding her of the one she imagined she saw. Make-believe, what a cruel game!

Disappointed – and relived just the same, because her sensible self knew that a re-encounter would be tragic. Therefore she had shrouded herself in obscurity, retracted those parts of the woman he might recognize and turned anonymous, one of billions in the endless crowds. She wouldn't let him find her just as she had forced herself to not search for him.

Changing position marginally she finally took a sip of her wine, relishing the buttery crispiness of liquid sunrays. Once chilled, it had now grown lukewarm and didn't taste her as much as earlier, but she needed the diversion to neglect the gentleman to her right, to not begin making up little patterns of daydreams in her mind. Yet they were almost inevitably, those visions, those reminiscences came to her without her wish for it. The sun, the beach, the bluest of oceans, the salty wind in her nostrils. The sound of the children and the music. The airy white structures against the blue sky. Bulging curtains of semi-transparent and colourful silk woven with strands of silver and gold. His large hands across her chest, strong but tender as they cupped her breasts. His chin on her neck, his warm breath when he whispered wonderfully indecent things in the shell of her ear. The slight moist of his bodily perspiration dampening her skin. Why had she thrown it all away?

"Milady?" his voice cut right through her wandering thoughts, it was obvious he had directed it at her, and involuntarily she turned to face him while putting down her glass on the counter. "A yen for your thoughts?"

o=*=*=o

He had called it a night when the last of the emails had been sent off and there was nothing more of importance in the inbox. He then switched off the laptop, closed the brushed-silvery lid and stood from his desk, turning around and gazing out over the frozen explosion of lights that was downtown Tokyo. Being at floor 58 in the headquarter high-rise of Orinaki Corps he virtually had the city at his feet, like a treasure chest filled with the most wondrous of jewels and no matter that he had seen this very sight for so many years now, it still filled him with joy.

Taking a small step back, he regarded the face superimposed upon the glittering urban area beyond, his own reflection in the glass, another all too well known sight. Because when not envisioning something else, he always saw himself, no matter what he let other people see. The strong and handsome man with bronzed skin and hair so fair it was almost white, profound sapphire eyes regarding the reproduction thoughtfully.

It was in that instance he became aware of something, a sensation that hadn't run through his mind in years and years. Something different, something refreshingly unexpected. Something reminding him of...

It shook him in his very foundation, almost like the volatile ground of Japan occasionally would do. But the tremor was not a quake this time, this unsteady sentiment emanated from the inside of him.

She was here, he knew it. Here in Tokyo.

Still hiding however, still trying to keep herself undisclosed, doing her best to stay out of his perception. Itinerant beneath the radar. Regardless of having seen through her disguise long time ago, he'd refrained from letting her know, refrained from getting in touch. That much did he respect her, no matter what had passed between them.

Their marriage had been a sad excuse at its best, a disaster most commonly. In his own mind had he eventually come to the conclusion that it was mostly his fault, that his deeds had shattered their love, robbed them of the joy they could have experienced together. Too late had he accepted to take the blame for the misfortune. When he finally woke up and smelled the coffee had it been too late and she was gone. Permanently this time.

He hadn't deserved her, that was the painful deduction.

Retrieving his Armani jacket and adjusting his necktie had just taking him moments; he didn't even need a mirror these days. He turned off the lights in his office and left, crossed the now empty foyer hardly seeing its elegant blend of futuristic and archaic. The thick lion-yellow broadloom dampened his footfalls as he made it over to the row of elevators, polished brass doors adorned with meandering art noveau patterns gleaning and reflecting the warm light. Pressing a button he called up a coach; he had located her now and made the quick decision to encounter her. He had enough of waiting, enough of pretending that he didn't care for her. Whatever the reason for her to be in Tokyo now, she had more or less run right into his arms just by coming here, something he took as a sign. A sign that she was unconsciously ready now.

o=*=*=o

"My thoughts?" she sat up a bit more erect. "Those aren't worth even a yen, they are just dumb wanderings."  
"Let me be the judge of that." The voice was indeed conversant and shifting her position, she finally took in his face, his form, hardly believing what he was seeing since it was an all too familiar sight. Achingly familiar like melancholia covered in rust chafing itself across her soul. Not even centuries had banished this feeling of instant cognizance. His haircut and dress-code might be different, more aligned with this era and the people around him, but his tall, strong body was the same as were his chiseled features and most of all those glistening primary blue eyes, like two shining leds. There was no use pretending anymore, no matter if it had happened intentionally or being pure chance, it was her ex-husband sitting here opposite of her, centuries and miles from the place where they had parted.

"Zeus?"  
"Hera?"  
"What brings you to Japan?"  
"I could ask the same."  
"Curiosity I guess," she tittered against her will. "It is an amazing country, challenging for the mind and the soul constantly in the midst of the huricane of endless transformation. And you, Lord Olympian?"  
"I live here these days, make my living as a CIO for the Orinaki, an international company manufacturing components for power plants and engaging in environmental research."  
"Ah," her eyes widened. "Zeus, the born manager. I should have guessed."  
"And you?" Hera could hear how he cut himself off before he reached that endearment having formed upon his tongue, and she felt an odd respect for him because of that.

"I left Venice a week ago. Had to, I've been living there for more than seventy years now, and my alter ego had grown too old. La Contessa Adriana Verselli had to die; being a 90 year old woman was too tiresome. There's absolutely nothing reasonably fun a mortal of that age can do." She saw him smile, a sight she had missed and which made her heart contract. She would trade anything for... no, she'd better banish these thoughts. This was a chance encounter, it had been stupid of her to not check Japan out before coming here, but she had figured that none of the others would be here. Especially not he.

"So now you're what? 24?" he asked of her, eyes glittering as he sipped of his drink.  
"Something like that, yes. I think I wrote that I was born in 1993 in the passport. I'm still an Italian citizen, but that may change when I decide to settle somewhere. I'm not sure if it'll be Japan yet or if I'm to continue elsewhere, I went to Tokyo mostly on a whim, nothing planned at all."  
"I have room for a guest at my place," he offered, trust him to be so self-assured that he thought she'd accept on a caprice.  
"No family?"  
"Orsiaon Aquila is a divorcee, no children."  
"Amaterasu?" she asked, reminiscing the latest known wife of Zeus.  
"That was long ago," he shrugged his shoulders.

"I thought you'd still be together," Hera traced a finger across the rim of her glass, her nail polish glistening.  
"No," he shifted his gaze, following the movement of her hand with partly closed eyes. His voice altered, grew softer and narrating. "The Japanese Sun Goddess and I divorced back in the early 18th century. As friends, perhaps with a faint hope to pick it up where we had left, should a chance present itself later on. Yet it didn't take me long to realize it was not going to happen. Especially after returning to Japan in the nineteen-eighties. It was nice to see her, to talk, but the spark simply wasn't there anymore. We had both moved on, our time together felt like past tense. As a matter of fact, it feels like it was longer ago and less tangible than our epoch, Hera."

She knit her brow, those words surprised her. Moved her.  
"How long were the two of you married?"  
"Four centuries," he was toying with his glass, half of the drink was left, the golden liquid swirling around to the sound of the clinking ice cubes.  
"That's not even half our time together. I hope for your sake that it also was less than half as disastrous."  
"Disastrous," he blinked. "Is that all you recall, Hera? The bad parts of what we had?"  
"No," she had to admit after a few heartbeats of silence. "There were better times too. The first centuries, those I tried so hard to bring back later. The children. I still see some of them now and then, nonetheless they have their own busy lives these days. What were we, happy for 300 years of something? Perhaps I should be glad for that instead of remembering what came after."  
"Those centuries are still vibrant in my mind. I remember also trying to get them back. I have to admit, Hera, I never got over you."

When that was said Zeus wanted to zip his lips, that was something he had promised himself to never admit, especially not to her. In frustration he downed the rest of his drink before turning to catch the eyes of the bartender, ordering another one. He offered Hera a drink as well, but she declined gently. Instead she tilted her head and gazed into the vast depths of his eyes, trying to understand what she just had heard him say.

"I thought you were glad to be rid of me," she bit her lower lip. "So you could get on with your life, marry that Norse goddess you met."  
"Eleodora," he almost huffed. "She had nothing against you, she was a mere pastime." When he found her not believing him, he went on. "Marrying Eleodora felt like a good idea at the time. Thought she was everything you weren't. And I thought right. Where you were fiery and temperamental, she was tranquil bordering on insipid. When you had humour she was wishy-washy. When you confronted me she kept making excuses, laying the blame upon herself. Pulling the martyr card. She failed to challenge me in so many ways. Finally our sex-life, let's say watching paint dry could be more exciting."

At his words, Hera felt the corners of her lips tug. A new whiskey appeared in front of Zeus and once again she declined another drink. But she raised her glass and they toasted. Their glass chimed when they connected and a cup of peanuts landed between them as the bartender returned Zeus' Amex Black.  
"For something," she heard herself say. "I don't know what yet, but perhaps we can think of something."  
"For a few centuries which weren't half-bad," he tried and they drunk to that in absence of anything better.

"And who else was there?" she asked, fingering in the cup, retrieving a few nuts and savoring them, the salt a welcome tang on her lips. "I mean for real, not just some ephemeral affairs."  
"What is this, a cross examination?" but Zeus' eyes were smiling when he asked. At the same time he felt oddly affected by that unassuming movement of hers when she sampled the nuts, her gracious fingers reaching those full, sensual lips, a short glimpse of shining white teeth and a moisty tongue. It prepossessed him on a primal level.  
"Why not, Zeus?" she dared. "This woman meets the man she was married to so many years ago. Naturally she's curious as to how he's doing now. And what he did all those years."  
"Then let me buy you dinner, and we can talk for quite a few hours more in a nicer surrounding than this comfortable but oh so anonymous gajin bar."

Hera almost blushed, now he had her, he had laid a clever trap and she had fallen right into it, baited by objects for her own senseless curiosity. Then again, it was just a dinner, and if she was careful with her emotions it could actually be nice.


	2. Strangers in the night

**Strangers in the night**

Still the same Zeus in several senses he knew that she was still the same Hera in as many. So he took her to another part of Tokyo and a traditional restaurant of the upper-notch kind. One of these locations where every single platter of food was an exquisite piece of immaculate art and the flavours and combinations were outlandish yet appealing to Hera. They received their own tiny section, a room more than an alcove, softly lit and secluded by beautifully painted rice-paper screens and sans chairs around the low, red-lacquered table but with soft pillows covering the tatami floor. As Zeus was conversing in Japanese with the headwaiter, marvels began happening in a swift and almost unnoticed way, two lovely young waitresses in traditional kimonos and hairdos started producing delicacies, lit candles and incense and poured sake and other beverages, everything selected with the cordiality of the greatest care. Hera might be unfamiliar with Japanese culture but she sensed these things in the air more than recognizing them.

The goddess had never really managed the thing with chop-sticks, so Zeus gave her a crash course – which eventually lead just to a crash – a cup of rice falling down on the floor, spilling the grains all over. The accident made Hera burst out in laughter – and while doing so she felt herself relax. A mellow warmth was spreading inside of her chest and settling tenderly in her belly, a mood which had nothing to do with intake of alcoholic beverages. It rather felt like she had finally banished a ghost lurking for so long in an unkempt corner of her mind. The dread of her inevitable re-encounter with Zeus. When actually sitting opposite of her ex-husband again, for the first time in almost two millennia, it wasn't half as dreadful as she had feared. Hera knew now that whatever happened, or would not happen between the two of them she could continue her immortal life with a much lighter heart than before.

Two millennia yes – that craved quite a bit of update from both ends. Even though they skipped large chunks of their lives, fast-forwarded so many dull parts, it took them hours to wander through it. It wasn't until the gentle headwaiter cleared his throat and overly politely informed them that the place was closing before Zeus produced his credit card and paid for the lavish dinner plus a generous amount of tip. With a gracious bow the jovial Japanese gently wished them welcome back.

Still the former couple was far from done, so they set course upon a bar approximately across the silent side street, a West-meets-East site beneath a red lantern and with cold blue neon signs in the windows creating a faux-American atmosphere. Inside they found a bald old man handling a white grand piano, so after a drink each Zeus had to ask her if she danced.  
"I can dance in many ways, and you know that." Hera regretted the innuendo immediately but Zeus acted as if he hadn't caught it, no matter that she knew he did. When had he become this polite, had the centuries polished him off? The Japanese ethos?  
"I mean specifically to this kind of music," he clarified. The bald man was playing Strangers in the Night, the old Sinatra standard.  
"Why not?" With glittering eyes did she let him take her by the hand and lead her out on the tiny and unused dance floor beneath a sole and dusty mirror ball revolving slowly and sparkling off desultory reflections.

In an instant had they caught the mid-tempo rhythm, unexpectedly comfortable in each other's nearness. Hera recollected Zeus' unique body language, the way he moved with an almost liquid grace in spite of his hefty body, virtually floating through space. His large right hand grasped hers while he led her in the dance, the left hand gently pressed against the small of her back, the warmth of his body encompassing her as did the fragrance of his after-shave mixed with a faint trace of the food they had just ingested. Blue eyes held on to her brown, and in those sensitive orbs could she behold a strange mixture of emotions. Longing mixed with regret and a cleverly hid desire. He wanted her, it didn't take an Aphrodite to see.

It felt like they could have danced like this forever, however the music stopped after two more songs. Now Zeus let go of her, taking a small step back. Hera knew he was regarding her, memorizing her, just as she had caught him doing so many times earlier during the night. Taking in her eyes and her hair or the animations of her hands, listening to the ring of her voice rather than hearing her words. It almost appeared as if he was recording her, storing this encounter for eras to come. Simultaneously she was aware of faint applauses from the few other guests. They had been impressed by the dance!

"So where are you staying?" he asked while taking her hand, leading her back to their table.  
"Are you ready to call it a night already?" she challenged him, knowing he would take the bait this time.  
"No," he grinned as they sat down diagonally of each other in the corner booth again. "Just preparing to change the stage setting in a while. This place will be closing soon, I can feel it in the air. We can either find another bar – or stop postponing the inevitable."  
"As in?" she was not letting him win this easily, even if she had initiated the game.

He didn't answer her immediately. Instead he took her hand, gently rubbing his thumb across her palm, his eyes caught hers once more and didn't let go.  
"Let's skip the verbal 'hide-and-seek' games. I want to see if it's still there, and I know you want it too." His touch sent sensations up her nerves, triggered memories she thought she'd banished forever. It woke up traces in her brain which she hadn't threaded for eons, narrow neglected alleys she almost feared entering, scared that she would lose herself in a labyrinth of emotions and never find her way out again.  
"What are you looking for?" she swallowed against a torrent of emotions welling up inside of her, threatening to floor her altogether.  
"The fire, Hera," his voice was low, almost whispering, still laden with heat. "The fire in you and me both, it's still warming my inside. I trust you can feel it too, kindling in your heart."

Letting go of her almost empty glass of wine she placed her left hand upon his right and he inhaled rapidly when she squeezed it. His eyes widened faintly and her sensitive divine nerves could tell how his body temperature rose just the tiniest bit, his cheeks turning a feeble trace redder.  
"That fire you talk about, it burned us both severely, Zeus."  
"Perhaps we can be a bit more careful this time," he began. More words were on their way but he stopped them, instead he laid a hand upon her shoulder and then traced it up her neck, carefully pulling her towards himself.

The kiss was hesitant first, cautiously threading on safe ground, still to Hera it felt so natural, as if no time had passed since the last time she tasted his lips. Closing her eyes she searched for his tongue while being brought centuries back in time. Back to lost Hellas, and their first time together. When she gave him a silent acceptance, Zeus became more daring, more eager, pulling her closer to himself, taking her in his arms again, exploring her mouth more thoroughly while his hands was rubbing her back, tracing circles across it making her almost astonished that the thin and silky textile of her blouse didn't catch fire. Her hands in turn found the way inside his jacket, somewhat mimicking his moves, pressing him towards her. She felt her breasts squeezed against his hard chest, her nipples hardening with desire.

"Yes," she exhaled when they finally disconnected. "It's still there, Zeus! Perhaps this is the wrong thing to do, but let's not be responsible people tonight. Let's do this! For old time's sake at least." With those words she stood and took his hand and within moments had they left the small bar and were out in the Tokyo night again, scurrying down the side street to one of the broader avenues in search of a taxi.

Later Hera couldn't recall much of their ride through the neon-drenched Shibuya, just their kissing in the backseat of the cab and their impatience with the length of the ride, where every red light stop seemed to last for eternities. That and all those frustrating clothes which were in the way, she wanted to rip them off him right away in the taxi and to heck with consequences. When the car finally pulled to a halt, she recalled faintly that she hadn't told where she was staying after all, so she comprehended that they were now at his place. There was that ceremony with the credit card again and after that were they stumbling out of the vehicle and up on a side walk, once again in a quieter surrounding, another silent side street. It had begun to rain, red, yellow and green neon gleaning in puddles in the street and small streams gurgling in the gutters. From an exhaust emitted vapors of whirling mists and a pot-puree of noises were spilling out from the pachinko-place further down the street.

"Sorry for not having an umbrella, but it isn't far," he said as he pulled a card through a reader and a silent click was heard. The next moment the heavy iron gate in front of them began to open, silent on its hinges but grating against the sidewalk concrete.  
"No umbrella," she smirked. "What kind of god of rain are you really?"  
"This isn't my doing," Zeus excused himself. "I leave the Tokyo weather mostly to its own devices. It does rain a lot during this season." He guided them inside the gate and across a small garden, well kept in that charming Japanese way with small resin smelling pines, stone lanterns and an assortment of boulders cordoning off a meandering, pebbled path. A granite Buddha with a raised hand was greeting them by an entrance which looked affluent enough for Hera to know that nothing changed when it came to Zeus' exclusive taste. This might be Japan in the 21th century, still so very little was really different from old Hellas.

The foyer was just as extravagant, all black marble and gilded details, large potted plants and antique art noveau brass lamps with bud-shaped frosted glass orbs emitting a soft, pinkish light. Still Hera caught very little of it because what she really had eyes for was Zeus. The double nature of familiarity mingled with novelty became a spice in itself when he caught her head in his hands and began kissing her anew.

They were undressing already in the elevator, the ride up saw them relieving themselves of a bit more than the upper layer. At one instance Hera caught sight of herself in the mirror, finding her half-closed eyes imbued with passion, her cheeks flushed and her whole self radiating eager lust. When the elevator stopped and the doors to Zeus' flat slid open, they were tumbling out in the entry hall more or less head over heels, almost colliding with a small table, and more by a reflex did he steady the vase with fresh flowers before he backed her up against the wall and started kissing her all over. She heard her purse smack the floor tiles even before she noted that she had dropped it.

"Zeus!" she gasped, ecstasy thickening her voice.  
"Hera," he answered. "How could we ever let this go? How could we ever destroy THIS!"  
"Hush now," she put fingers across his full lips and he flashed a quick grin before he started nibbling at them. A small interlude before he buried his head between her breast then tracing his tongue across her collar bones and up her neck in a way she had missed so much, no matter that it was something she hadn't ever wanted to admit – not even to herself.

Stopping again, he hoisted her up in the air and then he was quickly walking through what was obviously an opulent penthouse apartment, swift bare feet across parquet flooring followed by soft carpets, kissing her all the time. She lost one of her high-heeled Pradas somewhere along the way, still she couldn't care less and it wasn't like it was going anywhere by itself regardless.

The bedroom rested in dusk, lit only by the ambience of the city outside, but the headlight automatically began dimming up until it stopping at a guiding light level. Zeus placed Hera on the top of the king-sized bed before letting go long enough to rapidly deliver himself of the shirt and the pants. Notwithstanding his quick movements and the murky light did she note his shirt being torn at the collars. Had she done that? She smiled at that notion, the outfits of the 21th century had a clear disadvantage as harder to be rid of than the togas and himations of the ancient world. She didn't know how many times she had pushed togas off his body, they never used divine powers for such things, eager hands getting rid of textiles were always an important part of their foreplay.

Meanwhile Hera had eased off her bra and he took the flimsy black silk garment out of her hand and threw it somewhere before he joined her on top of the bed cover.  
"You sure are more beautiful than I recall! I was an idiot letting you go! Just imagine that I thought Eleodora, Amaterasu or Bridged were good enough to take your place! None of them were even halfway there. Idiot Zeus!"  
"Dearest," she placed her hands on his shoulders. "We were two idiots back then."

And perhaps we still are, came her thoughts, but she shooed them away. Not time for that now!

They began kissing again, Zeus rolled over on his back, pulling Hera with him, able hands on her shoulders, eager lips setting her body on fire while she answered in the same silent way. He murmured something as he suddenly reached with his hands across her back, finding the soft silk of her strings, and this time he was too eager to do anything but whisker them away with inhuman powers. She chuckled in her throat at that.  
"Cheating, heh," she murmured.  
"Hera, I've been waiting more than a thousand years for this."  
"And unable to wait three seconds more?"  
"Guilty as charged," he smirked, in the dusk his teeth were almost luminescent. Then he turned serious as he groped her back and she let out a small gasp, feeling her entire neither region contract forcefully. Indeed, there was no denying it, she wanted him like crazy.

As she craned back, he found one of her breasts with his tongue and charged against her hardened nipple, tasting it with tongue and lips, even gracing over it with sharp teeth, making her inhale sharply and moan his name. Zeus smiled against the warmth of her rounded breast, he could still prompt those responses in her, this was better than he had even dared to hope. Triggered by her comeback he went on, ran his lips and tongue down her torso, challenged her other nipple while she churned her hands through his hair, muttering something about it being too short. He grinned at that while sliding keen fingers down her back until he could reach down and grope her firm ass once more. He then pressed her towards himself, and she felt his eager erection against her tight. In that instance she could hardly wait anymore.

"A thousand years," Hera breathed out. "I know what you mean! I'm not sure I have three seconds now!"

It was the rejoinder Zeus so eagerly had awaited and when she split her tights he was not late to enter her, re-joining her in love for the first time in eons. It felt so right, it was here he belonged. With Hera, buried deep inside of Hera. Now he knew that he could never again fool himself into believing anything else.


	3. Comes morning

**Comes morning**

Struggling through a maelstrom of dreams, one more peculiar than the other, Hera was making her way towards awareness again, as if swimming towards the undulating and scintillating green surface of a deep sea, fighting the kaleidoscopic currents with forceful strokes of fervent arms. Seeking an exit – or perhaps an entrance. With a jolt her eyes fluttered up – to a startling view. She was definitely not in her own bedroom in La Casa Dolorada in Venice, Italy. Daylight radiated from the wrong direction and the texture of the bedding felt different, the duvet too thin. Not to mention that the mixture of smells were dissimilar – yet oddly familiar in their lush muskiness, triggering a torrent of remembrances one more bittersweet than the next. Most of all, she was not alone in the bed, there was someone asleep next to her, someone who's warm chest her head was contentedly resting next to, the rhythm of his heartbeat reverberating snuggly in her ear, a strong arm encircled with such an astonishing ease around her waist.

The next millisecond it all came back to her. Zeus. Tokyo. Zeus. Leaving Venice. Zeus. Terminating her Italian identity as La Contessa Adriana Verselli, 92 years old. Zeus. Creating a new persona, Adriana Fabriciani, 22 years old. Zeus. Going to Japan for the first time since the nineteen-sixties. Zeus!

After an irresolute beginning did their night turn spectacular, an adventure ending right here in his bedchamber with the most fabulous sex she had experienced in eons. Hera could fairly claim she'd never enjoyed a hotter, more sensual, more fulfilling acuity of the good old act after parting with this man still sound asleep next to her. Any recollection of such love-making was tainted by the excruciating memory of how they later blew it all sky high.

How had she dared this, Hera questioned herself. How had she dared following Zeus home against better judgment? Why had she submitted herself to this explosion of emotions she was so convinced would only lead to agony when the firework was over and the last cracker had faded, the final catherine wheel disappearing in the clouds of powder smoke? Come to think of it, she had actually been the one to take the lead. She flirted him down at that little American style bar in the Shibuyan side-street. Knowing exactly which buttons to push, she pressed them gently but firm and in the very correct order. A little flattery, a little mystery, a little shyness and he was eating out of her hand. Not to mention upon other parts of her.

But there was no regret; the only thing she felt was a blush and a stupid smile curling her lips. Shifting in the bed she traced with her hands between her tights, then she let go and turned again, she did after all have something so much better than fingers available now.

Zeus was gorgeous in his sleep, his face smoothened out sans worries, his full lips slightly split apart and his eye-lids twisting as he was dreaming and Hera edged just a little bit closer, so she could reach out for his fair hair. Running her hand through the silky strands, she was overcome with the familiar sensation; the whirls were just where she remembered them to be. Too short for her taste though, Hera had never liked short hair upon men, that was why the last century had seen her in the arms of one hard rocker after the next, in spite of not really liking the music. There had been this Austrian bodybuilder turned American governor and that Swedish MMA-athlete and after-shave model who later went into politics too, something with her old queenly influence, she took it. The number of bed comrades had been immeasurable, all the same she knew now that she had only been looking for the real thing all the time.

Must have been some kind of self-preservation preventing her from grasp it until she finally had him next to her.

*o*o*

The tactile sensation of something in his hair woke him up. Damn, he had had the finest of dreams, he had dreamt of Hera again, something he tended to do with regular irregularity and often when he had been without female company for quite some time. The dream had been so vibrant, the dance, the taxi, the elevator, the sex... So... Real?

"Hera?"  
"Yes, sweetie!"  
How many times hadn't he said that very name to some Maria or Fatima or Claudyne or Antonia or Jelena or Tomoko or Marilyn or Britney or Rihanna or...

"It IS you, right? Isn't it?"  
"That, I guess, depends on who you mean, handsome?" That clear contralto finally pierced through the clouds of sleep and Zeus grinned in delight as the well-known tessitura caressed his eardrum.  
"Queen Hera of Olympos," drowsy sky-blue eyes meeting two cocoa beans shadowed by long lashes, traces of make-up still staining her cheeks. That plum-coloured, glitter enhanced lipstick was gone though, he suspected strongly that smudges of it was to be found upon him.

"I haven't heard that title in ages," she smiled, the tip of her tongue darted quickly across her full lips, dampening them, her slender but strong right hand still in his hair, running through curls and trying to entangle itself.  
"No," he reached up to touch her cheek, skin soft and warm beneath his hand. "Olympos is no more, but you will always be my Queen."

He found he had rendered her speechless, her eyes got moisty, the smile evaporated from her face and he feared saying something wrong. Then she tried a smile again.  
"Kings and Queens, that's so medieval. As a matter of fact, I've become quite the democrat over the years. I've even held office for a while."  
"In Italy?"  
"Yes. But you never last long in Rome; they still have one and a thousand ways of dispose of their politicians, even if they don't stab them in the back anymore. Not literally at least."  
"What happened to you then," his hand ran down her peachy chin, across her slender neck until it came to rest at the backside of it, strands of her chestnut hair getting caught between his fingers.

"The irony of it, your old slipup, Zeus. I took a young man to bed. Turned out he was a spy for the other side. I was set up, there were pictures in the press and La Contessa Adriana Verselli had to resign in disgrace, and return to her family estate in Venice and lick her wounds instead of running for president. Money didn't save my reputation but it gave me enough protection to not having to finish her off, I could continue being Adriana for almost 40 years more."  
"I believe I remember that story," Zeus was chuckling inwardly and to his delight Hera began laughing at the blunder too. "I remember thinking it so odd, since it was the 70ies, free love and all. Those crazy years between the pill and AIDS."  
"It never really was that way in Italy," Hera returned, letting go of his hair and then fingering his ear with her hand as well as her sweet voice. "You know the Catholic church."  
"The Catholics," he huffed. "Those bothersome charlatans! How could I forget about them? Still playing the world's oldest and most expensive role play down in Vatican City."

Then Zeus figured the conversation topic too dull, instead he pulled her head closer to his and gave her a deep kiss. Tender yet hot, craving yet fulfilling, and Hera responded with the same eager desire. In that instance it seemed to him as if no time had passed since that night on Olympos when they had reconciled for the very last time. He still remembered that night with painful clarity. Painful, because there had been an undercurrent of destruction in their passion, a painful distance between them, a distance covered in thorns. A dreadful certainty that they were both pretending, both glossing over the understanding that their marriage was failing bitterly.

But now – with surprised delight did Zeus realize that there was no such anguish. The only things he experienced when that warm body covered his was delight and joy. And with it a wish to never let go, to always hold on to this treasure worth more than all the combined fortunes on this planet. He'd trade anything for the opportunity to keep this lovely woman with him this time.

As they disconnected, she was facing him with a serious expression.  
"Zeus?" her voice a few notches deeper than before, her eyes a bit larger. "Do you think?"  
"What, honey?" this time he dared uttering that endearment. It was still a bit more neutral than the others, old ones he had used to call her.

"Do you think we can make it work this time? With you and I? I'd..."  
"I'd love to," he replied, as he ran his hands across the small of her back, traced circles, drawing a heart upon the canvas of her soft skin. "I'd love to give it a try at least. To dare giving it a try, rather than freaking out and then regretting not taking the chance later on. There might never be another one, Hera."

"But what it we, uh, what if we end up hurting each other again?"  
"You know something?" he stopped the movement of his fingers, locking her eyes with his firmly.  
"Tell!" her voice but a husky whisper, eyes still large – bemusing him.  
"I believe both you and I have learned quite a few things over the centuries apart from each other. Like how to be careful with the dearest of hearts. We won't repeat stupid old mistakes, will we?" Silently she shook her head and he went on. "So how about breakfast in bed?"

Her response became a ringing laughter.  
"That is the Zeus I know!" she giggled as her eyes teared up. "Changing subject as if you switched channel on a radio. Abruptly from one thing to another, that was always you. The rest of us had to struggle to follow your train of thoughts without mentally careening down in some roadside trench. Yes, I'd love breakfast in bed."  
"Then wait here!" he told her as he wormed out beneath her. "By the way, should you need, the bathroom is that door." He indicated the door opposite of the bed and then he cupped his hands into a heart gesture.  
"Thank you, handsome," she grinned at him, while returning the gesture and then she snuggled down beneath the duvet again, curling up and inhaling his residual fragrances.

Yes, Hera thought. She had grown older too. Wiser. She was sure going to appreciate this second chance with the love of her life. That was what Zeus was to her, she had to admit it to herself after this night, she couldn't make it without him anymore. There was no way she could lose him one second time without breaking apart completely. This time she was going to fight, but not like she had fought back in the old days, with weapons that hurt and destroyed, she had a new arsenal this time. A more enduring one, she knew. She had made up her mind. She was going to love bomb this man until total surrender.

*o*o*

"For you, dear Queen – the world at your feet," Zeus smiled as he placed his hands upon her hips, squeezing lightly making her sense his gentle strength and warmth through the cotton texture of her white slim fit pants. "Or at least Tokyo!"  
"Tokyo is fine," Hera giggled. "Tokyo is very very fine! A beautiful city indeed!" Leaning back against his firm body, she knew he was smiling, amazing how quickly she recalled all those small changes in his body, the way his shoulders strained slightly when he cracked into a grin or how he drummed his thumbs against things – this time her hips – when his mind was preoccupied. Not to mention the way he blew hot breath across her neck when he wanted her attention.

To be true, these little things about him were even more interesting than the view from Tokyo Skytower. Doubtlessly Hera had wanted to stay the whole day in bed, catching up on at least a small part of all the time they had lost because of their earlier foolish and destructive stubbornness. At the same time Zeus couldn't wait to show her Tokyo, there was pride within him, as if the city was his creation – which it more or less was, at least the modern parts, she realized. Everywhere there were glass high-rises and an abundance of colourful electric lights she could spot the traces of this man.

They had ridden the subway across the town, stopping at quite a few places. The imperial palace where Zeus and Amaterasu's descendants lived, the shopping streets of Ginza, the crowds of teenagers in Harajuku and the neon of Shinjuku and a few other places her ex-husband thought memorable.

Finally, while the sun was setting over the Japanese capital, they had made it up here to admire the mighty city beneath their feet, seeing it slowly lit up and turning into an opus of sequins. Divine sight let them see details no ordinary humans could. The people and the cars in the streets, things going on inside of the buildings, a 747 crossing the sky. In a peculiar way this vista reminded Hera of Olympos and their era as active gods.

"Do you miss Hellas?" she asked of him after a few heartbeats of comfortable silence, in which she placed her hands on top of his, enjoying the slightly hairy texture against her palms, another familiar perception.  
"Sometimes," he admitted. "But most of the time not. I've never been much for nostalgia. Through the centuries I've come to realize that I prefer the here and now. Still treasuring what once was and learning from past legacy, but always striving for a better tomorrow rather than looking into the bygone. Which ought to be our motto, if we are to resume this relationship, my sweet peacock."

She giggled. There it came the endearment she had been waiting for, and he repeated it in Japanese just for the heck of it. Kujaku. She actually loved the ring to it.  
"Still," she insisted. "Olympos was so beautiful. One day I'd love to re-create it."  
"I wouldn't," he stated.  
"Why not?"  
"Just as I said, I've never been much for nostalgia. Besides, I don't think we could ever reinvent it. The old blueprints are gone, the world has moved on and no matter how careful we are with replicating it, there'll always be that feeling of something missing. Something not quite right. Most probably it would be our brains playing tricks upon us, tampering with our recollections. Making us disappointed, then angry at usselves for our inabilities to remodel what ones was. Or what we believe once was when we envisage it in our mind. Alas we'll never reach that imagined perfection. No, Hera let go. Let's enjoy the now and our future instead!"

"You know what, Zeus? I think you're right." Then she began to beam. "Most of the time at least." After that she started to hum silently over the song which was being played at the surround system.

_Baby Love My Baby Love_  
_I Need You Now My Baby Love_  
_Oh –Oo-hoho_  
_Baby Love My Baby Love_  
_I Need You Now My Baby Love_

She rejoiced in his soft laughter as she turned around and placed her hands upon his shoulders, and they took a few dance steps at the floor next to the large window wall, not giving a damn about people turning their heads and staring.

"Honestly I prefer the original to this J-pop version," she admitted when the song rang out and was replaced with another. "The Supremes, hard to match, whatever you're into nostalgia or not."

At that moment the elderly gentleman next to them turned and grinned.  
"How wonderful with young people who can still appreciate the old standards," he said in a gentle voice as he fingered his camera. "Makes us oldies feel not quite so old."  
"Perhaps you're right about that, my friend." Zeus said and blinked one eye at the Japanese.


	4. Santorini

**Santorini**

The sun was beaming charitably over the little village of Oia, tracing gentle warm rays over snow white, cubistic buildings handsomely divergent against the bluest of seas, the yonder islands envisioned as darker indigo shades in the haze of the distance. It was one of those serene afternoons when nothing really happened save for the ticking of the clock in the tower of the old court house across the street. Even the tourists were sparse this time of the year, when the season had yet to begin in earnest.

So for the elderly men by the small bar the thundering sound of the motorcycle made them all perk up from their glasses of ouzo. It was a heavy and powerful Yamaha, large as a bull and bright red, but the brawny man riding it was handling it with astonishing affluence as he drove across the square and over to the sole parking lot in a place where the alleys were too narrow for motorized vehicles. As the monstrous machine came to a halt, the rider and his female passenger stepped off with ease and with graceful movements they relieved themselves of their shiny helmets.

The tall man appeared to be in his twenties, his hair was ash-blond and spiky and the woman who lovingly took his hand appeared to be of the same age, perhaps one or two years younger and her long hair was a lustrous dark brown. It flew like smoke around her head as she churned a slender hand through it to push it back from her lovely face and get rid of the resident static from the helmet.

"Lucky him," one of the men was saying to his friends. "He caught himself a photo model!"  
"You know who he is?" another asked as the duo started to close in on the bar.  
"Never seen him around here before. They don't make them this blond at our island, you know."  
"And seldom twice the size of regular men either, what can he be, seven feet five?"  
"More than eight, I bet my car on that."  
"As if anyone would be interested in that piece of junk anyway."  
"It's a BMW, show some respect!"  
"Yes, an antediluvian one. Are you sure it runs on gas and not hay?"

The blond man shot them a quick glance before he and his exquisite companion disappeared inside of the bar. The stout, middle-aged woman by the bar looked up from her accounting as the duo passed through the door and a small bell chimed. Her brows rocketed up halfway to the hairline when she noted that the blond man had to duck in the door opening to avoid hitting his head.

"Good afternoon, milady" he greeted, holding out a hand big as a shovel, while he and his companion came up to the counter. "The name is Leon Aquila; I'm here to acquire a key. I'm letting a bungalow in the vicinity, see." He then reached inside of the inner pocket of his red biker's jacket, produced a folded letter and a driver's license and placed them on the counter. With a frown the barkeeper retrieved them. Sure the name on the license was correct and she did recall Orsiaon Aquila from about two decades back when he had visited Santorini and bought the place. This lad was apparently his nephew; he seemed to be quite the chip from the old block, just as hefty and handsome as Orsiaon had been. But his Greek was odd, old-fashioned and with quite the exotic lilt.

She disregarded the painful memories this encounter brought through, bent down beneath the counter to retrieve a small plastic envelope she had been keeping for quite a few years. Standing up again she handed it over to Leon Aquila who in turn gave it to the stunning woman next to him.  
"I'm June Verselli," she held out a slender, well-manicured hand and a bit awkwardly the bar-keeper took it. "Can you tell us a good place nearby where we might stock up groceries?"  
"Um, yes, there's one right around the corner from here. Mr. Veolis' place," she indicated with her thumb. Now that was an accent she recognized, June Verselli could be nothing but Italian. These people came here all the time.  
"Thank you," June Verselli flashed off a charming smile. "We sure must stop by here for dinner one day," she added before she tucked her hand under the arm of her large companion and they turned and walked out the door.

"Oh my," the bar-keeper suddenly heard her daughter Irini's voice from behind. She'd exited the kitchen during the conversation with the newly arrivals, and with her was her friend Julia. "What a man! Did you see him?"  
"God-like," Julia replied. "I'm sure he's some kind of actor. Too bad he seems to be taken."  
"Ain't them all," Irini replied sadly.  
"Don't you have work to do, girls?" the bar-keeper huffed.  
"The bread is in the oven, mother," Irini protested. "We were just checking if we could be of some aid."  
"Well, you can't! Now you'd better start with tonight's dinner or nothing will be ready on time."  
"As if we're going to get that many guests tonight, save for that stuck-up French film-producer," Irini shook her head, but she and Julia complied and returned to their job.

"What was it with her?" Julia asked as soon as they were without hearing range.  
"Guess it was that Naruto look-alike," Irini shrugged it off. "I presume he reminds mother of my long-gone dad. He was also ash-blond and twice the size of regular men."

*o*o*o*o*

"Was this really such a good idea?" Hera asked as they turned the last corner and walked down a winding blend between an alley and a staircase and up to a small house sitting a bit to the side, perched on the edge of the cliff. "I mean, the old country, you know, it brings up so many weird recollections inside of me."  
"Wait 'till you see the view from this place," Zeus promised her as he opened the slightly rusty gate, listening to it creak as it fanned open. So different from the hyper-modern entrance to his apartment-building in Tokyo. "Besides, almost everything here is different these days, there's very little remaining of what was once Hellas. Greece is its own place and I like it because of its beauty and its languid pace, so different from the constant volatility of Japan."

"Yes, I noted those men by the bar," Hera grinned. "They looked like they had all the time in the world and that my leather clad ass was the most interesting happening today."  
"But it IS interesting," Zeus returned and Hera huffed and showed him gently.  
"Besides you've got your admirers as well," she went on as Zeus unlocked the door to the bungalow. "Those girls in the bar, they looked like they couldn't stop ogling."

Zeus nodded his head almost uncomfortably. He sure remembered Cecilia and those hot nights in the early nineties, back when she had been pretty and slender and without that spleen marrowing her features. He was certain that the tall and lanky redhead in the door opening had been the results of those nights. However, he didn't intend to bother his mind with that, not when he had his number one price here with him, re-gained against all odds.

And Hera – she had stopped by the threshold and took in the room, first with a small gasp of surprise and admiration, then with a gentle smile dawning on her lips while taking in the two-roomer. This was nothing like the opulence she was used to from Zeus. This place was quite small, yet airy and simple bordering on rustic. A combined living room and kitchen with a large panoramic window facing a terrace with a small pool and the most breathtaking view over the sea. The pantry part was tiny still it seemed to have all the commodities needed and there was a round meal table made out of tough wood with place for four, five if you were prepared to huddle. Next to it was a sofa suite which looked worn but comfy. Pretty art with local motifs hung on the walls, but there was also a Miró, which looked like it had been included by mistake. It probably hadn't. Through an open door she could glimpse a bedroom with a large four poster bed resting in dusk and her grin grew wider, she could imagine them spending quite some of time there.

"I take it you like it," her beloved smiled as his arms encircled her slim waist; it still felt surreal to her. Ever since that hot night in Tokyo two months ago, when they had re-united in more sense than one, had she feared that she was living a fragile dream, waiting for wake-up time at any moment. That this wonderful experience would shatter into irreparable fragments. But it hadn't. For some reason it worked between the two of them, feeling almost like those early years back in the ancient days. However they were older now, more mature and more attentive to the other one's feelings. Zeus had improved just as she and they were both fully intent on treating each other with all the esteem and care there were. Still without backing the other one into a corner, instead offering room to breathe as well as nearness.

"I don't," she replied and felt him tense for a millisecond before she added, "I love it!"  
"That gladdens me so much," he whispered in her ear. "I spent a lot of time getting this right, you know."  
"You did?" she caressed his hands.  
"Yes, acquiring this look of naturally assembled randomness is quite a bit harder than bringing out the big moneybag and strive for luxury. Then it's just about paying the correct amount. Now I had to spend years to find the very right items, like that worn old cupboard in the corner, which hides the stereo system. Or the sheep skin in the sofa. Or the wrought iron lamp in the ceiling."  
"Looks like you had fun doing it nonetheless," she let hear a tiny laughter and he joined in.  
"Not as fun as taking you here, I admit." Then he shifted position. "Now, the bags will arrive in about an hour. We'll have time for a quickie before that, I assume."

"Okay, when will I get a slowie then?" she teased him, turning her head so she could reach his cheek for a small peck.  
"Later tonight, I suggest. After a walk around the village, when there's still daylight and then a dinner somewhere, what you say?"  
"That I can hardly wait 'til after dinner."  
"Oh, you're insatiable!"  
"Look who's talking!"

*o*o*o*o*

Hours later, and way into the night, Hera and Zeus were laying together in the large bed, listening to the sound of the crickets mingling with the distant voices of some late night strollers outside the window. Slanted moonlight was glittering in the outside pool, painting glittering mercury patterns in the ceiling and the evening might be crisp but there was a promise in the air that the chill was ephemeral, that warmer weather was on its way, drifting up from the south.

"I'm beginning to dare hoping now," she said as she felt across his broad chest. "Dare hoping that we can actually make it work this time."  
"You do," she heard the mirth in his voice. "I might be braver than you in that sense then, my love; because I began hoping the very day I was able to convince you to come here to Santorini."  
"But you're right; it's such a beautiful place. It's like made for mending old relations. There's something in the air, like a remedy. You wind down, feel your shoulders relax, your brain catch up and the pieces in the puzzle finally beginning to fit in."

"And do I fit in?" Zeus asked as he stroke her arm, cupped his hand across her shoulder and feeling the velvety warmth beneath his palm, the fragrance of her hair mixing with that of the bed linen and the ambient salt of the air from the sea.  
"Yes you do," she breathed across his collarbone. "You were always there, painted upon some pieces which I had hidden in the drawer and didn't dare to bring out. Over the time I forced myself to forget they were there, and I tried to fit other pieces into that puzzle. Later manufactured things."

"Other men?"  
"Yes. A few gods but mostly random mortals. But they never did conform. There was always some gap here some chafing there, colours and textures that were unbecoming."  
"And now, is your puzzle looking better now?"  
"You bet it does."

He was silent for a while. Somewhere a dog let up its voice, three rapid barks, before becoming silent again and far in the distance a lorry or a bus blew its horn.  
"I won't disappoint you again, Hera. That's a promise you deserve and which I'm willing to give. All those things I did, the womanizing, the betrayals, the pitching of the children against you and against each other, I know they hurt you. I hurt you. I did it so bad that I destroyed what we had, hardly ever giving it a second thought. Not until it became too late. I won't do that again."

"I was at fault too, Zeus," she snuggled up closer to him, heard the echo of his heart beat as she rested her ear against his chest. "I became spiteful and bitter. Hateful and arrogant as my emotional life dried up and I became unable to perceive the small aspects of life which is so important in a relation. You weren't the only one who made mistakes back then."  
"But I forced you into that cul de sac. Then I blamed you for getting stuck there. Failed to comprehend I was in the way for your chance to leave it."

"Zeus?"  
"Yes?"  
"Can we not talk about these things anymore," she whispered. "What has been has been and we cannot go back and change it. What we have instead is now and the future. Let's make the best things happen here and now and in the days to come instead."  
"You're right sweetheart," he breathed out.  
"And there's no use analyzing who did what and to whom either," she said with a gentle smile. "It's just painful."

"Hera?"  
"Yes?" she sighed, fearing he was going to insist on analyzing the past. But he wasn't.  
"I love you," he said. Finally he dared to let go of the bannister by saying these words. Finally he dared to open his soul to her without fearing to scare her off and to destroy this fragile-feeling vision.  
"I love you too," she answered, her voice filled with a blend of passion and safety. They were the truest words having formed upon her lips in a long time, but first when saying them did she know how much she really meant it. She loved Zeus, she had always loved him. And she would always do.

"Do you know there's a beach here with black sand?"  
"Really?"  
"Volcanic sand," he said. "Do you wish to go there tomorrow?"  
"Yes, indeed, that would be exciting."  
"And we can pack goodies, and have a picnic."  
"And sex on the beach."  
"Yes," he laughed. "Seems like we're turning into quite the cliché you and I, heart of mine."  
"I guess lovers do. Because love is old as mankind itself, it's hard to be original, everything has already been tried."  
"I guess so too," he chuckled. "But I don't care. With you it's always new."

Sex on the beach, he could hardly wait.

_\- The End -_


End file.
