What happens when mortals stop worshiping their gods? Many of them, being mortals, often mistakenly surmise that they cease to exist. Nobody forgot the gods of Olympus, though all save a small handful stopped paying them homage. Yet they lived, for they were gods. It was the Olympians, above all others, who got more fascination than any others from watching the mortals go about their lives, worship or no.
Hephaestus had one day fashioned a gigantic mirror and hung it in the grand hall of Olympus. It allowed the gods to observe any mortal they wished, at any time, without having to leave their mountain home. Hermes could always be counted on to find the most agreeable things to watch.
Those gods who gave Hephaestus sufficient payment also got small mirrors that they could carry with them wherever they went, should they not care for what the gods in the grand hall were watching. Many of the tensions of Olympus ceased to exist with no mortals to fight for the favor of, yet some remained, for without struggle, strength wanes.
The denizens of Olympus were reduced to shadows of their former selves, stagnating without mortals to win over. Zeus, despite his lethargy, lost none of his desire to bed mortal women, much to the never-ending consternation of his wife Hera. More than once, Hermes had told her of some impressive young men he’d seen that she could use to get back at him. “Even if you hide your divine nature, they’d be hard-pressed to resist you. So many of them have never even touched a pair of breasts.”
“I know, I know.” Hera sighed with irritation, rubbing at her brow. “But a romp? That’s just so cheap. I’d be no better than him. And when it’s done, what then? I’d go back to the way things were before, feeling just as hollow? No, Hermes, that’s not what I need."
The Messenger of the Gods knew how to get through to others. After all, he was the only one of Zeus’s bastards whose mere existence did not provoke Hera’s wrath. “No, I guess not. What you need is to feel appreciated, to feel loved, to feel needed. Tartarus, isn’t that what we all need these days?”
Hera’s brow wrinkled. “You’re not actually suggesting that we–”
“No, no, perish the thought! I’m just saying… I think I know of a mortal who could give you everything you need. A poor girl, who’s never felt the least bit of motherly love. Isn’t that your whole thing?”
“A girl?” It had been ages indeed since Hera had spied on Sappho’s island. It was nothing like it used to be, though she’d made some rather good memories there. “Yes, I think I could work with that. Where is she?”
“In a metropolis of a nation built on Atlantis’s ruins. Here, I’ll show you the exact coordinates.”
***
Hera’s brow furrowed as she stood before the tan rectangular building, shielded from view by a layer of Hermes’s magic under the shade of an oak tree. “What an ugly academy. And this is where they train artists?”
Hermes waved his hand and Hera’s outfit transformed. She now sported a long-sleeved form-hugging shirt with a small indentation in front to give just a hint of her breasts, a black leather belt, and tight blue jeans–what they’d seen these neo-Atlanteans (or whatever they were) wearing when they saw them in Hephaestus’s mirrors. “They say that design makes it easier to control the weather inside.”
“They have technology for that. I saw them using it before this building was built.”
The Messenger shrugged. “They certainly didn’t get this idea from Calliope. But you’re not here to tell them how tasteless their architecture is.”
“Yes, I remember. I’m here to impersonate an art student. Where will I find the girl you told me about?”
Hermes handed her a slip of paper. “Here’s a map. I’ve marked the room with a red dot. Right here.”
“And how will I know her? You didn’t show me her image or anything of the sort.”
Hermes merely grinned. “Oh, you’ll know her. She’ll be quite hard to ignore.” Before she could ask any further questions, the wings on his sandals flapped and he launched into the sky.
At her feet, Hera found a small bag with a box of different-colored pencils sticking out and a large pad of paper, the quality of which had never existed among her worshipers. Maybe there was something to what Hermes said, and the ugly building wouldn’t detract from the skill of the aspiring artists inside. She zipped the bag shut, flung it across her back, tucked the pad of paper beneath her arm, and stepped out from the tree’s shade. The heat hit her right away. It was hotter even than the Dodecanese islands, and the mortals had built a grand metropolis here. The boldness and ingenuity of such a move was even more astounding than the heat itself.
On her way in, she saw several women sporting hairstyles quite similar to her own. Tempting as it was to visit divine wrath on them for usurping her style, Hera restrained herself, remembering her mission: To salve the pain her husband continually inflicted on her. She followed Hermes’s map and entered a door to find an enclosed amphitheater, each of the seats holding an easel, and students sitting at those easels with similar paper pads in them. None of the women in the seats looked particularly appealing to her. Had Hermes chosen wrong?
Soon, a door on the right of the stage opened and a young woman walked out, clad in a black robe and slightly bent over, as if she were ashamed to be there. The woman’s hair rolled down her shoulders in waves, all the way to her waist–that alone would have caught Hera’s eye, but she also had green eyes, and save the shy expression upon its features, her face was a thing of beauty to rival even that of Aphrodite–her hair was longer, her breasts were larger, and her cheeks were fuller. Hands trembling, the woman shed her robe and faced the students, her arms stiffly at her sides. At once, the students began drawing upon their sketches.
Hermes had not made a mistake.
As she drew, Hera did her best to strike a balance between her natural divine talent and trying to appear as a mortal with a novice mortal artist’s skill; An effort not at all unpleasing to the eye, but not the sort of thing that would be hung in the temples of any of the chief Olympians. Sometimes, the model would turn her head and look at the students. When she did, Hera noticed they would frantically look away. She made a point of not doing the same when the young woman’s gaze was fixed on her, holding eye contact and smiling.
After some time, a man came in and picked up the woman’s robe, holding it so she could put it back on. “Alright, everyone, that’s it for today. Let’s all thank Emily for so graciously giving us her time and letting us see her at her most vulnerable.” She slid frantically into the robe, gave a modest bow, and walked briskly out. Hera sent a small gem Hermes had given her across the room, where it clung to Emily’s hair, visible to nobody but Hera, and always telling her of the young woman’s location.
Hera caught up with the nude model, who was now wearing a modest long-sleeved shirt and a pair of long denim shorts. She tapped her on the shoulder. “Hello there.”
The young lady almost jumped. “Oh! Um…hello.”
“I didn’t mean to startle you.” Hera held out her hand apologetically.
“That’s okay. I was…off in my own little world.” Her eyes went wider as she shook Hera’s hand. “Ah, I remember you. You were in the class, weren’t you?”
“Indeed, I was. You have a wonderful body, dear. I don’t understand why you seem ashamed of it.”
“I-I’m not.” The young woman insisted. “I was just raised to keep it covered.”
“In weather like this?! Whatever for?”
“It… it’s how I was brought up. I was told I shouldn’t be a stumbling-block to the men around me. They might… think impure thoughts if they see me.”
Hera frowned and raised a brow. “Of course they will. They’re men. That’s what they do. They can’t help themselves. But why should you worry about that?”
“I…”
“I’ve seen the men around here. They seem civilized enough. But even civilized men have their urges.”
“I gave into those urges when I was younger. It…” She swallowed, looking away from Hera. “It cost me a lot.”
Hera doubted she could get further details out of her. “You were young. It wasn't your fault. But do you know what you could do instead of trying to hide your body from the men around you? You could use it to your advantage.”
“How do you mean?”
“Offer them a glimpse of it. Just enough to entice. When you do that, you’d be amazed at what they’d be willing to do just for the possibility of a favorable glance.”
“How has that worked for you?”
It was an innocent enough question, but Hera immediately felt a cutting pain in her heart. Her throat tightened. Nothing she tried could keep Zeus loyal. It was, after all, his nature as a man.
Then she remembered that she had just told this young woman about the importance of accepting that part of men. She had to put on a strong face for this young mortal. “I’ve had my share of admirers. Jason was a particularly helpful one. I got him to risk his life for me.”
“How did you do that?”
Hera draped her arm around Emily’s shoulders. “Oh, the details of that particular incident aren't worth delving into. To make a long story short, I granted him a favor, let him know who I was, and won his devotion. He became a household name because of me.”
“And… you think I could do the same?”
“Why, yes. Did you not notice the way those art students were looking at you?” Hera smiled at her.
“Like they didn't want to look?”
“Oh, nonsense. The human form is a wonderful thing! I understand they offered you a fair sum of money to pose.”
“I do have to eat, after all.”
Hera looked disappointed. “I'm sure you do. But you needn’t justify yourself. Did they really look disgusted with you?”
“...no.” Emily looked straight ahead, brow furrowed in thought. “They didn't sneer or anything. They looked nervous.” She looked back at Hera. “Except for… you.”
“I'm flattered that you noticed. Did I seem disgusted?” Emily shook her head. “You struck fear into them with a mere look, despite your nerves.”
Emily’s face took on a self-satisfied look. “I suppose I did."
"There's so much more I could teach you. That is… if you have the time?”
“I’d love to.”
***
A short while later, Emily escorted Hera into her apartment. “I hope you can excuse the place. I haven't been able to do much decorating.”
Hera managed to hide her disappointment at the lack of art. “It will do.”
“So… what will you be teaching me?”
Hera sat down her bag and sketch pad. “Classrooms are such an inefficient way to learn. I was thinking of a more hands-on approach.” She grabbed Emily by the arm and pulled her into a forceful, hungry kiss.
Emily didn’t resist, but neither did she reciprocate. Her eyes flicked side to side, avoiding Here's face. When Hera finally relented, she spoke. “What was that for?”
Hera kept her head tilted. “Did you not enjoy it?”
“I–”
“You are attracted to women, are you not?” Now Hera wondered if Hermes had made a different mistake.
“How did you know?” The color drained from Emily’s face.
“I have my ways. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. You’ve never indulged that attraction, have you?”
She shook her head. “Where I came from, it would’ve been dangerous.”
“But it won’t in this city. You find me attractive, do you not?” The young woman nodded. “And I am a willing partner, am I not?” Nod. “Then stop your fretting and kiss me. Right now, young lady.”
Emily breathed in, licked her lips, and kissed her. She could tell the woman was older than her, though she had no way of guessing by how much. At least, she was older than the average student at that school. Her skin was flawless and her brown hair hung in curls down to her chin. The older woman’s desire was real enough. She put her arms around her, pressing her lips against the older woman’s. Here she was, a lonely, confused girl who’d pined for other women even longer than she’d desired men, and she was being offered sexual mentorship by a beautiful, experienced woman. She’d be a fool not to jump at the chance. Since she had no idea what she was doing, submitting seemed the best course.
Hera kissed Emily even harder as she felt the young woman’s arms on her shoulders. The girl was tall, but didn’t have the personality to match. Yet. She slid a hand slowly down Emily’s back, moving it second by second until it enclosed her rear. You are mine, she said with her hands. When Emily leaned toward her, gripping her for security, she knew she’d succeeded. Time for the next step. “Now,” she stepped away from the girl. “Take your clothes off.”
Emily blinked. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
“Now, young lady. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” Her hands shook as she removed her shirt. “What part of ‘now’ was unclear to you?” The tiniest of gasps left the young woman’s mouth as her shirt came off the rest of the way, soon followed by her bra and bottoms, leaving her as naked as she’d been an hour before. Her pose, though, was a problem. “Stop covering your breasts.” Emily’s arms dropped to her sides. “And don’t slouch. Spread out your arms. Show me your body, in all its glory.” She did as Hera commanded.
The woman walked around, inspecting every inch of her. “Beautiful, quite beautiful.” Emily’s nipples stood on end, a shudder running through her again as she felt her body being appraised up close, bracing herself for disapproval over… well, whatever flaw might be found. The disapproval never came. Instead, the older woman stepped in front of her. “Now… take my shirt off.”
“Are you…?”
Hera remembered once again what it was to be a goddess. “Take. My. Shirt. Off.”
Emily gripped the sides of the woman’s shirt, untucking it from her waist and pulling it upward. The woman didn’t raise her arms until the hem was at her shoulders, forcing Emily to pull it off all the way. And she saw them. Not quite as big as her own, but still impressive, perfectly-shaped breasts, nipples of a dark, black cherry red. Another woman’s breasts, right in front of her. “They’re so gorgeous.” She caught the words after they came out of her mouth.
“They are,” Hera said. “What about them?”
She froze. How was she supposed to answer a question like that? “Um…”
“Show me you mean it.” Still, the young woman remained motionless. “Take your hands. Admire me with them. Do not make me tell you everything you have to do.”
Emily hurriedly cupped her hands over the other woman’s breasts. She got no reaction. She moved her hands underneath the breasts, hefting them, running her fingers along the seam where they came from the older woman’s rib cage, taking in the smoothness of her skin. Beneath her thumbs, she felt the little bumps around the edge of her areolae, flicking those nipples. Further down, she saw the perfectly round navel, ran her finger around the smooth inside, brushed her fingertips up the sides. The woman’s back was equally smooth to the touch, not a hint of a scar or a mole to be found anywhere.
This was exactly it: The form she’d lusted after for so many years, that excited and drove her like nothing else. Emily pressed her lips to the woman's, kissing her with an even greater hunger–that was created by a lifetime of gnawing denial. Denial, and a newfound determination to show this gorgeous older woman that she was worthy of her affections. She felt the woman's mouth opening and shoved her tongue inside. That other tongue seemed to respond to and circle hers perfectly. When she'd explored every crevasse, every tooth, both cheeks, she felt two hands on her shoulders, gently pushing her away.
“There’s more to me than my mouth. You’ve wanted to experience a woman, haven’t you?” At Emily’s nod, Hera pushed her head down, pressing her left breast against her mouth. The young woman’s mouth latched onto the nipple and she began sucking. “Harder,” Hera instructed. The suckling pulled the nipple between Emily’s teeth, but nothing further happened. “Bite it.” Emily stopped mid-suck, looking up questioningly at Hera, whose unflinching gaze said that yes, she was quite serious. She pressed her teeth down. Just enough to feel. “Harder.” Emily clamped down. “Harder!” Finally, she got to a pressure that sent tingles across Hera's back. “Ahh…” A gentle tap on the side of Emily’s face was all it took to signal her to move to the other breast. This time, she didn’t need reminders of the pressure. Then, Hera pulled her breast away and pulled her into her most forceful kiss yet.
Emily wanted to struggle, but she couldn’t. The idea of not being touched by this woman, whom she had met a mere three hours before, terrified her. She surrendered herself to her, eager to obey, an obedient moan in her throat.
That moan helped Hera loosen up. She was finally getting what she wanted, but there was a way to go yet. “You’re not a mindless slave. Go ahead–my body is yours to explore.”
The invitation made Emily swallow. It was what she’d wanted for ages. She put her hands on the woman’s sides, kissing her way down her body. She felt her lips, chin, neck, and navel beneath her own lips before coming across her jeans. She grabbed the sides, pulling down slowly, and the older woman helpfully stepped out of them. There it was, the Holy of Holies, the Grand Prize, the Finishing Line: Her pussy. She reached out for it.
Too slow for Hera’s taste. She grabbed Emily’s wrist and pulled it closer until her fingers were wrapped around it. “Don’t be shy. Really get in there.”
Emily slipped her fingers inside the woman, feeling the warmth around them. She felt this beautiful older woman’s insides squeezing on her. She was having sex with her, right here, right now. There was nothing for it but to do her utmost to please her. Emily thought about what she did when she was alone and moved her head forward, dragging her tongue across that small nub as she felt around inside the older woman. “Mmm…”
“Ah, you like doing that?” Hera asked. Emily nodded. “You like my pussy?” Emily nodded again. “Do you think I’m beautiful?” This nod was even more frantic, and Hera felt her sucking harder on her clit. She couldn’t ask for more sincerity, but why not milk it a little? “Am I not the most beautiful woman you’ve ever known?”
Emily pulled her mouth off for the briefest of seconds. “You are! You look like a goddess!”
“Then show me what I deserve!” Before Emily could answer, Hera grabbed her shoulders and pushed her onto the floor. Hera walked over her, saw those eyes both craving and dreading her, and lowered her hips slowly, carefully, until her sex was firmly inside the young mortal woman’s mouth.
All of Emily’s senses were rushing at once. She felt those thighs pressing against her face, the labia falling around her tongue. She saw the front of the woman’s body towering over her, her face looking down at her, her nipples pointing straight out. She heard the woman breathing heavily, telling her to dig her tongue in deeper. She smelled their combined sweat and tasted the older woman’s essence, a mixture of grapes, apples, and olives, coming right from her sex.
For years, Emily had imagined doing this with the girls at her school and a few of her teachers, all the time knowing that merely trying would be social suicide. Not that her social status in high school was all that high to begin with, but she’d have gone from being ignored and shunned to being attacked and hounded. So she’d kept it under wraps, satisfied herself with whatever guys were willing to have a go with the school slut, and even let the guidance counselor prey upon her just so she didn’t feel unwanted.
Here was this woman, breathtakingly beautiful, old enough to be her mother, and clearly experienced, who wanted her, lusted for her, and was asserting herself on her. She wanted her back, wrapping her hands around the base of the older woman’s thighs and shaking her head from side to side, burying her tongue ever deeper inside her. She had to get that elixir from her, the stuff she’d heard talked about so much, that she’d dreamed of. The woman put her hand on top of Emily’s head and smiled down at her, fingers running through her hair. “You’re doing wonderfully, darling. Just a little more… a little more… ahh!”
Emily drank down what the older woman let out like it was the only water she’d had all week. She was quenching a thirst that had been gnawing at her for years, and didn’t dare lose a drop of it. Unlike water, though, drinking from this fountain only left her wanting more. “Mmm… thank you.” She smiled up at the older woman.
“It’s quite the thing to taste, isn’t it?” Hera climbed off of Emily’s face, only for the young woman to put her arms around her neck and kiss her. She allowed it, then pulled back and laughed. “You're quite welcome. But are you satisfied?”
“Well… I’m never going to get tired of lesbian sex. And I really liked what we did just now.”
“You want more.”
“It's okay if I…?”
A mild annoyance came over Hera. She grabbed Emily by the chin. “What did I tell you earlier? My body is yours to explore, whether with your eyes, hands, or…” She pulled her face toward her neck. “Your tongue.”
Emily didn’t need to be told twice. She tackled the older woman, pressing her into the carpet and running her tongue across her neck. The moans that came from her only made Emily hungrier as she ran her tongue all over her face, then held her nose shut until she opened her mouth, and kissed her deeply once more.
Hera decided Emily was past the need for guidance and would let her do as she pleased. She’d taken to it like a fish to water. She raised her arms and felt the mortal licking across her chest, under her arms, up her arms. Holding a finger out was all it took for Emily to suck on it like she had on her clit earlier. The young woman certainly took her time with Hera’s navel, as if she could get wine from it. She even allowed Emily to flip her over and dive into her rear, and panted and shuddered as her feet were licked and her toes were sucked.
Her mind swimming in a haze, Emily could and couldn’t believe what she'd been doing. Seeing the older woman up close, taking in the many textures and tastes with her tongue, feeling her squirm and moan–all of it was oh so real. But the idea that such a beautiful, matronly woman would deem her worthy of this attention, that she’d expose herself so… that was the unbelievable part. It happened, though, so maybe more unbelievable things were possible. She lifted one of the older woman’s legs and slid her hips between them.
This was Hera's cue to assume leadership once again. “That’s a rather tricky one, darling, Nobody gets it right the first time. Here, let me show you.” She grabbed Emily’s calf and pulled her closer until their sexes were meshed together, carefully lining up their nubs. “Mmm… you’re nice and wet. Just the way you need to be.”
The moment the older woman started grinding against her, Emily felt a surge running from her hips, up her chest, buzzing in her nipples. She’d dreamed of this for so long–something she could only do with another woman. She pushed back as well as she could, against this woman who seemed to have the strength of a truck in her hips. Her pushing back only lasted so long before her legs gave out, wiggling side to side like a ragdoll as the beautiful woman scissored against her.
Hera grabbed one of those legs, bringing the calf to her mouth and clamping her jaw on it. Emily threw her head back, yelled, and thrashed her legs open and closed against Hera, who soon followed in turn with her own climax.
When Emily was a shuddering heap on the floor, Hera lay in front of her and put her mouth on her sex, drawing out her climax with her tongue. She used the same methods she’d taught the mortal to squeeze every last drop of arousal out of her, drinking them down and licking the young woman’s body until finally, she stopped twitching altogether. Hera lay next to her, an arm around her shoulders, and stroked her cheek, kissing her repeatedly on the face until she regained her wits.
When her thoughts and feelings had all flowed through her, Emily turned toward the older woman, rolled onto her side, and returned her kisses. “That was amazing. I mean, I knew making love to another woman would be amazing, but still… wow.”
The young woman’s praise warmed Hera’s heart. “Thank you, darling. That means a lot to me.”
Emily laughed in spite of herself. “It’s funny, you just gave me the best sex of my life, and I don’t even know your name.”
“You can call me Juno.” She kissed her again.
“YOU CONSIDER ME THE YOUNG APPRENTICE CAUGHT BETWEEN THE SCYLLA AND CHARYBDIS–” Emily’s arm twitched as her phone rang. She turned, as if she wanted to answer it, but didn’t want to turn away from Juno.
“I think you should answer that,” the older woman insisted.
She sat upright, retrieving the phone from the pocket of her discarded shorts. “Hello? Oh, Professor Beckinsdale! Hmm? Well… I don’t know… they did? For… how much? Alright, yes, I’ll be there! See you then!”
Hera put a hand on her thigh. “You’re wanted as a model again?”
Emily nodded. “In two days. And they’re offering to double my pay.”
She rubbed her hand along the skin. “You must have left quite an impression on the other students.”
“That’s what he said. A bunch of them asked for me to come back.”
“I certainly wouldn’t object. But if you’re going to be paid more, it would only be fair if you put in more effort next time, wouldn’t you say?” She stood and walked to Emily’s closet, pulling out the robe she’d worn to the class. “I suggest you wear this when you enter the classroom. Take it off with a bit of a flourish.”
The next morning, Emily awoke in her apartment. She reached on the futon beside her, hoping that maybe Juno had returned, but found her futon empty. Empty, save one thing she could not explain: A drawing–she couldn’t tell if it was ink, charcoal, or a mix of the two–that appeared to be of Emily, nude, in full color against the night sky. She could have sworn she saw it move on its own, but when she looked at the spot, it stopped. What kind of student in a 1020 art class could have drawn something like that? She’d have to have it framed when her next modeling paycheck cleared. Before beginning her day, she took a deep whiff from where Juno had expressed herself during their session.
The next day, she strode into the classroom, scanning the students for Juno's familiar face. Just managing to hide her disappointment at not finding her, she stood in front of them, pulled the sash at her waist, and lowered her arms, letting the robe slide off her body and crumple on the ground. She stood in front of them, arms spread out at her sides as she once again moved her eyes across the class. Again, no sign of Juno, but she did see a girl with long, curly blonde hair in the front row with a pink tint on her face that seemed to fade whenever she looked away, and return when she looked back. That was her ticket.
After she’d collected her check, Emily saw the girl heading out of the classroom and caught up with her. “Hello there, darling.” She decided to borrow one of Juno’s mannerisms.
“Oh! It’s you!”
“I couldn’t help but notice the way you were looking at me. What’s your name?”
“Samantha. You're Emily, right?”
“Ah, you remembered. Did you enjoy drawing me?”
Samantha nodded. “I did. You’re really hot. I-I mean, beautiful!”
“Darling, you needn’t be shy. I find you attractive, too.” She slipped an arm around Samantha’s shoulders. “Would you like a chance to draw me in private? Just the two of us?”
The blonde’s breathing eased. “You’d do that for me?”
Emily reached into her purse and pulled out Juno’s gift, showing it to her. “It wouldn’t be the first time. Just a couple days ago, one of your classmates drew that of me.”
Samantha looked it over. “That’s impressive. What was her name?”
“Juno.”
“Huh. I don’t remember there being a Juno in the class. Are you sure that was her name?”
Emily shrugged. “Who knows? But seeing me made her capable of drawing that. I’d like to see if you’re capable of the same.”
