Paul walked into his favorite upscale restaurant and brushed the snow off himself. The snow had begun an hour ago, was picking up in intensity, and was beginning to accumulate around the city, looking like powdered sugar on pastry.

The gorgeous hostess looked up from what she was doing and gave him a dazzling smile, her long brunette hair spilling down her chest on each side, accentuating her ample cleavage and red dress.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Paul. Looks like it’s getting worse out there,” she said.

“Rebecca! My favorite hostess in the world, indeed it is,” Paul replied. “Reservation for two. I’m early, so I’ll go sit at the bar until my date arrives.”

“Very well, Paul. Come back to me when you are ready to be seated,” she replied.

Paul nodded and took off his long blue overcoat. He hung it on the coat rack while he checked his reflection in the glass of the front window. He adjusted his tie and decided his new Armani suit looked good.

Rebecca inwardly sighed as Paul walked away. Why did Paul always date such stuck-up bitches? He is such a down-to-earth nice guy despite being an investment banker. She often fantasized about asking Paul on a date, but always laughed it away. She was a hostess and could barely make ends meet while he was living the high-finance dream. When in bed at night, it wasn’t the only fantasy she had about him.

Paul surveyed the restaurant as he made his way to the bar. It wasn’t full but was still quite busy considering the snowstorm. Filled mainly with couples celebrating Valentine’s Day. The sound of cutlery, glasses, and dishes; low conversations; and occasional laughter filled the air as he walked over to the bar.

“Vodka martini, dry, stirred, with a twist,” Paul said to the bartender, who gave a curt nod and moved off to make his drink. When the bartender returned, Paul took a sip and gave the bartender a nod.

After twenty minutes, a man sat next to him. The man could only be described as the ugliest man Paul had ever seen. He was short and fat with a massive underbite and bulbous nose. His teeth were yellow and uneven. The stranger’s hair was unkempt and knotted as if he hadn’t washed his hair in a year. He was woefully underdressed for the establishment with a filthy “I ❤️NY” tee shirt and dirty gray sweatpants. Paul expected him to smell like extreme body odor or piss like many homeless around the city, but he surprisingly smelled like roses with a hint of cinnamon.

If Paul had been with some of his work colleagues, they would have demanded that the man be removed. Paul, having grown up in a rough neighborhood, didn’t mind at all. He had always found the homeless had interesting stories about their lives. About survival. Hell, some of his own family were counted in the ranks. He was fortunate. He made it out but never forgot his roots.

The bartender came over, and Paul expected him to shoo away the stranger as a bum off the street, but instead, he smiled.

“The usual, sir?” the bartender asked.

“Of course, my good man,” the man replied in a voice as ugly as he, nasally and gravelly.

Paul observed the bartender pull out a copper mug and deduced he was making a Moscow mule for the man. Further confirmed when he pulled ginger beer from the refrigerator under the counter.

The ugly man took a sip when the drink was presented and smiled, baring his ugly, yellow teeth.

“Excellent as always, Chris,” he exclaimed with a smile. “The usual payment and tip?” he inquired.

“If it’s not too much trouble, sir. Marlene,” the bartender said and nodded at one of the waitresses nearby.

Paul glanced over as well. Marlene seemed to be one of the waitresses, and he judged she was in her mid-40s. She was pretty and blonde and had nice breasts. He noticed she was wearing a wedding ring.

“Ah, good choice, Chris,” the stranger said with a crooked smile as he raised his right hand, stuck his index finger straight up, and twirled it in a circle. Paul thought he heard wind chimes of all things, but wrote it off to being on his second martini.

Paul watched as Marlene went to the far end of the bar and motioned the bartender over with a hungry look in her eyes and whispered something to him. Chris looked around, made sure all those sitting at the bar had full drinks, and disappeared with Marlene behind a swinging door marked Staff Only.

Paul looked over at the stranger who was giggling and said, “Those two looked like they were going to have some fun.”

“Oh yes, she gives really good head,” the strangely dressed man replied while still giggling.

Paul nearly spit out the sip of martini he was taking and laughed. He eyed the stranger again.

“I’m surprised they let you in dressed like that. They are usually sticklers about formal dress,” Paul stated.

“They see what I want them to see,” he replied quietly.

That’s an oddly cryptic response, Paul thought to himself.

“I’m Paul, by the way. Nice to meet you,” Paul said and toasted his martini glass towards the man.

The man turned to Paul and sniffed the air as if trying to identify a scent and nodded to himself.

“You are a good man, Paul. I am Cupid,” he said as he toasted his copper mug in return.

Paul laughed heartily.

“Did I say Paul? “I meant I am the Easter Bunny,” Paul quipped back, laughing.

The strange man rolled his eyes.

“Dear Zeus above, I never heard that one before,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You will inevitably say, ‘prove it’, so let’s move things along, shall we? Watch the red-headed woman at the end of the bar have an orgasm because I command it so.”

He raised his right hand in the air, extended his index finger, and twirled it. This time, Paul heard a faint, small gong instead of wind chimes. Cupid giggled and nodded towards the redhead.

Paul watched, transfixed, as the woman suddenly grabbed the bar with both hands while in mid-conversation with her date. Her eyes rolled back and closed. Her body shook. Her date got to his feet in fear that she was choking and said something to which she shook her head. She said something in return, stood, and headed to the restroom.

Chris and Marlene returned from parts unknown. Chris was sporting a big smile while Marlene looked like someone who is satisfied with their work. She was wiping some mascara that had run down her cheek. Based on what Cupid said earlier, Paul surmised the ruined mascara was not from sadness. Cupid continued his childlike giggling.

Paul shook his head, his mind trying to process what was happening around him. He decided it was the martinis.

“Still not convinced, are you?” Cupid asked. “Jessica is about to cancel dinner with you,” Cupid stated as he turned away from Paul to face the bar, taking a sip from his copper mug.

Paul was caught off guard. How did he know her name? He was about to ask when his phone dinged, and his heart sank as he read the text message from Jessica.

Paul, I will not make it tonight. In fact, I don’t think we should see each other anymore. Sorry, I was hoping to tell you tonight in person, but…

Take care.

If Paul’s attention were not on his phone, he would have noticed Cupid’s face contort in some pain as Paul read the message.

Paul felt taken aback; he had begun developing deep feelings for Jessica and thought maybe she was the one. Apparently, she didn’t feel the same way. He began typing a response to Jessica.

“Let it be, Paul,” Cupid said softly. “It has run its course. Trust me.”

Paul turned angrily towards Cupid and started to say something, but stopped. His mind was full of whirling thoughts of Jessica, what he had just witnessed at the bar, and sadness.

“I can help, Paul. What do you desire? Lust or Love?” "Cupid?" asked.

Paul looked at Cupid quizzically.

“I can arrange either; they are closely related. All love starts with lust, but not all lust turns into love,” Cupid explained. “Chris and Marlene, for example, pure lust. Lust is easy for me.”

Paul, still not fully believing in everything happening, said, “Ok Cupid, make Scarlett Johansson fall in love with me.”

“No!” growled Cupid. “It doesn’t work that way. Something. Some seed needs to exist. Unspoken love, admiration, and dirty thoughts. Something to which I can anchor my magic.”

A crash of dishes interrupted the conversation. Paul looked over to a waitress apologizing to nearby diners and beginning to clean up. Behind that scene, Paul noticed the hostess, Rebecca. She locked eyes with him for a moment and gave him a shy smile while playing with her hair, and then turned away when a couple entered the restaurant.

“Love. I want love,” Paul answered.

Cupid looked at Paul, sniffed the air like a rabbit, and looked over at Rebecca.

“Oh, Silly me. Of course,” Cupid said while starting to giggle.

Time froze.

Paul looked around the room in amazement and bewilderment. The bartender, Chris, was literally frozen, not moving. The stream of top-shelf scotch he was pouring into a glass was frozen and not moving. Everywhere he looked, everyone was motionless. Stuck in mid laugh, a fork stopped raised halfway to a mouth, a waitress carrying a full tray of dishes stopped in stride as if a cosmic pause button had been pressed.

A blinding flash of light and beautiful music erupted from Cupid. The ugly, disfigured man suddenly transformed into a beautiful cherub with wings, long flowing cloth wrapped around his body, and a bow in hand. On his back, a quiver with two different kinds of arrows, gold and lead-tipped ones. Cupid pulled two gold arrows from the quiver and notched them both. Paul heard the strain of the bowstring and the groan of the bow as Cupid pulled back. The arrows flew in physics-defying fashion, one zipping and hitting the hostess Rebecca, and the other hitting Paul in the chest.

Paul recoiled, almost falling off the barstool, his hands instinctively reaching to his chest. He felt something wonderful, not the pain he expected from being impaled by an arrow. He looked down but saw nothing except his hands clutching his heart.

Another flash of light, and Cupid transformed back into the ugly little man. Time resumed, and the motion of the universe was restored. The sounds of the restaurant filled the void again.

Paul felt wonderful but turned in his seat to take another sip of his martini to calm his shocked senses. A few moments later, he felt a presence behind him, a soft breath on his neck, and a faint smell of perfume. He turned; it was Rebecca. The expression on her face was one of confidence and shyness mixed together.

“Um, Paul, the manager wanted me to explain the frequent diner program to you. It will only take a moment,” Rebecca said with a smile. She grabbed his hand before he could say anything, pulling him off the stool. She led him around the bar to the staff door.

Paul could hear Cupid giggling as they walked away. They reached the door marked Manager. Rebecca held the door open for him, entered behind him, and locked the door. Rebecca took a deep breath.

“Paul, I can’t take it anymore. I need to tell you, I’ve been so attracted to you for a very long time. I don’t know what has gotten into me to finally be so bold with you, but I need you,” she said with a hopeful yet determined look in her eyes.

Paul’s response was instant. He pushed her against the door, his mouth finding hers. His tongue begged entrance, which she greedily accepted, their tongues swirling around each other. She sucked on his tongue while her hands roamed around his back and squeezed his ass.

Paul spun her around, pressing her into the door. His mouth moving on her neck, nibbling and gently biting her neck and earlobes. He pulled back and looked into her eyes deeply and found a kindness for which he had been searching.

“What’s wrong with me? Why did I never think of us before?” he asked her earnestly.

“Better late than never,” she said, smiling, and dove her mouth back onto his while beginning to remove his coat, then his shirt. She moaned into his mouth as his hands reached her ass. He pulled her skirt up, and she felt the coolness of the room on her legs; the black thigh-high stockings she was wearing, and the red thong left little warmth. Her nipples became even harder, pressing into her red bra like two diamonds on the tip of a drill. She sighed deeply into his mouth as his hands ran along the outline of her thong.

Rebecca dropped to her knees and quickly undid his belt and opened his pants, Paul’s hard manhood springing up to her face. He quickly stepped out of his shoes and pants. She grabbed his shaved balls with one hand and stroked his cock from base to tip, twisting her hand at the tip.

“You have no idea how many times I have thought about this,” she said, looking into his eyes. She pulled one of his balls into her mouth, teasing it with her tongue, then the other, all the while stroking and twisting her hand on his cock. He looked down at her and groaned.

She gave a long, slow lick from the bottom of his shaft to the tip. She made a little satisfied sound as she found his precum and spread it over the head of his cock. She fondled his balls while slowly lowering her warm, wet mouth down his manhood, her tongue out and sliding on the underside. She got a rhythm going, her hand following her mouth and twisting as she got to the top. Paul was mesmerized watching his cock disappear into her beautiful mouth, groaning as his hips began to naturally thrust without thought. She started moaning on his dick as she felt him losing control and beginning to fuck her face.

After some time, Paul felt the familiar feeling and stopped her before he erupted and pulled her up to her feet and kissed her deeply. He spun her around and unzipped her dress, letting it fall to the floor. When she was only in her bra, panties, and black thigh-high stockings, he picked her up, and she wrapped her legs around him. They kissed and stumbled like drunken sailors to the manager’s desk, and he sat her on it, papers, pens, and knick-knacks absentmindedly pushed off the desk and hit the floor.

Paul knelt between her legs; she smiled and lay back on the desk. Grabbing under each knee, she pulled her legs up, offering her pussy to him. Paul moved her thong to the side, flattened his tongue, and started with long licks from the bottom of her slit to the top, but stayed away from her clit.

After she began squirming more and more, he finally slid a finger into her deeply while his tongue drilled into her clit.

“Fuck! Yes!” she exclaimed. She put her hand on his head, pushing him hard into her.

His finger sought out her G-spot and teased it, causing her to growl. His tongue assaulting her clit. When she was close, she pulled him up by his head, kissing him deeply, enjoying the taste of herself.

“I don’t want to cum without your dick in me,” she said between heavy breaths. She pushed him up and spun around, her torso lying on the desk.

“Fuck me now, Paul. Please!” Rebecca growled.

Paul moved in behind her, admiring her ass in the red thong. He pushed it to the side and teased her for a bit, just putting the head of his cock into her, then pulling it out and sliding his dick over her clit. She was whimpering.

“Paul! Stick that cock in me now! Please,” she whimpered.

Paul slammed his cock all the way home into her wet and wanting pussy, causing her to grunt like a wild animal. He slowly but steadily picked up speed until he was like a machine without thought or reason, lost in the moment. He sensed and felt she had reached under herself and was playing with her clit. He gathered some of her long hair and pulled her head back roughly, causing her to squeal in delight.

“Fuck, I’m going to cum, Rebecca. Where do you want it?” Paul managed to ask between breaths.

“Cum in my pussy!” she yelled in a panting breath.

Paul slammed his cock home and left it there. His white-hot cum spurted deeply into her in the most incredible orgasm he had in a long time. When Rebecca felt his cum and his cock pulsating in her, she went over the edge. Her body started shuddering, her pussy clamping on his cock and milking every last drop.

He collapsed on top of her but kept most of his weight off her with his arms. She looked over her shoulder at him, her shoulders still heaving from labored breath. She gave him a loving smile with a twinkle in her eye.

“Damn, Paul, that was as amazing as I fantasized it would be. Is it crazy for me to say I love you already?” she asked.

“Today has been crazy for sure. But not this. Not you. I love you too,” Paul said and kissed her shoulder.

One year later, Paul and Rebecca entered the same restaurant, not only to celebrate Valentine’s Day but also their engagement. Paul had proposed to her that morning, and she gladly accepted.

Paul had visited the restaurant many times over the last year, looking for Cupid, but never found him. He wanted to thank him. Rebecca was the best friend, lover, and partner he could have ever wanted.

As Rebecca sat, Paul went to the bar in hopes of finding Cupid. It was fairly busy, but there was no sign of the strange little man. He did notice a handsome, impeccably dressed man holding a copper mug, but that certainly wasn’t Cupid. As he was walking back to their table, he remembered something.

They see what I want them to see.

Paul whirled and ran back to the bar. The well-dressed man was gone, an empty copper mug sitting on the bar. Paul could smell roses and faint cinnamon. He swore he heard a distant giggle.