Apollus

In a world no different and yet not nearly the same as ours, there lived a young painter named Apollus. He lived in all contentedness, satisfied enough with what he had. He had his cottage, his sustenance, his paintings, his time, and his beauty. He was a thin, peachy skinned, green-eyed, handsome man. His dark brown hair flowed to his shoulder blades.

He painted many things, from the beautiful countryside he lived on to the intriguing creatures that trod on it . He believed he had seen true beauty, that everything he ever needed or wanted to paint was already there. And there were always people to buy his paintings, so he never went hungry. He had no reason to want anything more. He was happy.

Then, one day, as he was walking to the library, he saw a shining mess of full waves, a most curious shade, like sand. A straw wide-brimmed hat was placed atop them, covering unknown beauty. The lady was sitting at a small table in the cafe, reading a book and sipping tea, the teacup in one of her dainty, white lace gloved hands. Apollus entered the cafe with a strange feeling in his stomach.

He ordered himself some coffee and approached the small table. "Ma'am, may I accompany you?" he asked the lady. She looked up. Apollus' senses were flooded by her face. Her eyes, the purest shade of blue, her slender nose... She was pale and rosy, her small lips the same rose color. She smiled. "You may." Her smile was dazzling. Apollus grinned and sat down in front of her. She closed her book.

"Who are you, lovely?" Apollus asked, anticipating deeply for the answer.

"Calanthe, dear."

"Ah, Calanthe. 'Beautiful flower'. Derived from Greek, 'kalos', meaning 'beautiful', and 'anthos', meaning 'flower'." Apollus answered. Calanthe's left eyebrow popped up.

"Is it really? Or was that just a very educated sounding lure?" she asked, smirking. Apollus laughed.

"No, no, really, it is! I've studied Greek, it's a very beautiful language." he replied. Calanthe pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes, still not believing him.

"Alright then, Mr. Greek, how is my name spelled?" she challenged. Apollus sipped his coffee and smirked back, fully confident.

"Well, if you spell it the traditional way, it should be spelled C-A-L-A-N-T-H-E. Ca, lan, the." he said. Calanthe grinned.

"Very good! I suppose you do know your Greek. Hm, and I thought my name was only a type of orchid." she said, laughing. Her laugh was enviable by angels...

"Now, may I ask who I am speaking to?" Calanthe said.

"Apollus, love." he replied.

"Oh! You must be the painter in this town I keep hearing about. Interesting that your name is similar to Apollo, the Greek god of the arts..." she said, gazing at him, smiling, "Perhaps you could paint me something? I already know your skill; my good friend Dalia had a particularly insightful piece of yours in her sitting room. A butterfly landing on a slice of bread. You called it, 'Bread-and-Butter fly', did you not?"

"Oh, that one, Yes, I did. I do usually stray from puns, but that one just couldn't stay in my head!" he laughed, "And yes, Calanthe, I would love to paint something for you. Actually, I would love to paint you, if you would allow me to."

Calanthe sipped her tea very suddenly. Her eyes widened in surprise. "Me? Really?" she asked, taken aback. Apollus blushed, hoping he did not offend her.

"Well, only if you want to..." he said. Calanthe grinned widely.

"I would love for you to paint me! That's the best compliment I think I've ever been given!" she said, excited. Apollus smiled, relieved.

"Well then, why not next week? I still have orders to fulfill. Perhaps we could meet here again sometime before then as well." Apollus said. Calanthe smiled.

"I'd love to." she said, winking. She finished her tea, gathered her things, and exited the cafe.

To Apollus, the next week could not have come fast enough. He fulfilled his orders and painted what his buyers desired him to, but could not wait to paint her. At night, he saw visions of her, laughing, grinning, looking at Apollus with those eyes... The days never seemed so long.

He met her at the cafe again that following Monday. Their conversation was stimulating, and was hours long. Calanthe took even longer to leave. She finally did once she realized it was nearly midnight. She took his hand in hers and gently squeezed it, and looked in his eyes. "Goodbye, Apollus, darling..." she said sweetly. This made the day between Monday and Wednesday a grueling wait for Apollus.

Finally, Wednesday came. Apollus could hardly contain himself; his heart was pounding in his chest. After what seemed hours, he heard a gentle knock on the door. He opened it and nearly fainted. She was so beautiful...

Calanthe was wearing a flowing ivory dress. She let her hair down and free.

"Wow..." Apollus said. Calanthe's face flushed.

"Oh, it's not too much is it? It's one of my more flamboyant outfits..." she asked shyly.

"No, no, it's perfect! Here, sit on this chair. But, turn it sideways, and then sit on it... Yes, yes, like that." Apollus said.

"Should I... what should I be doing?" she asked.

"Hmm. Here, cross your right leg over your left, lean your arm on the top of the chair... fluff your hair out... Is that comfortable? Ok then, hold that." he said, and began to paint.

A few silent hours went by, and Apollus finished.

"Alright, It's done. But we'll wait till it's dry before you can see it. That's when it will look its best." he said.

"Apollus..." Calanthe said, standing up.

"Yes, love?"

She blushed and opened her mouth slightly.

"What is it? Is something wrong?"

"Why don't you do... another one? We have... plenty of daylight." she said. Apollus hesitated, but answered,

"Well, sure, I can... do another one, if you would like. I still have energy."

"Ok... say, why don't I..." she undid her corset, "...lose this?" She let her dress fall to the ground. Apollus' eyes widened, and his chest pounded heavily. He bit his lip. He had never seen a woman like this before... he had never even been when a woman before. He began to feel himself sweat.

"My God..." he said, amazed at her body. Calanthe smiled. She walked towards him and took his face in her hands. He looked at her everything, taking it in completely, absorbing it in his mind. So many thoughts he'd never had, flooding his senses, blinding him, making him numb. As she leaned in, he leaned away.

"Wait..." he said, holding up a finger. He turned away and reached for a paintbrush. He dipped it in red paint and turned to her. Curious, she looked at him, questioning with her eyes. Apollus smirked, feeling a sort of bad, forbidden feeling he'd never felt before. He liked it. He took the brush and placed it on her neck, just below the jaw line, where the pulse is taken. She shuddered from the coldness of it, and quietly moaned. He painted a streak down her neck and stopped at her chest, where her heart was. He painted a red heart there. Calanthe sighed and grabbed his face. She kissed him passionately. Apollus kissed her back, using his tongue to trace her lips. He stood up and smiled. Paintbrush in hand, he picked her up, taking her away to his room.

The morning sun rose and its light opened Apollus' eyes. He woke to her sleeping face. He smiled and looked at the red smear on her body. It was everywhere, including the sheets. And both their faces. He looked at her face... so beautiful and peaceful, even with the paint. He caressed her cheek and ran his fingers through her hair. She groaned and opened her eyes, smiling.

"Good morning, love." Apollus said softly. Calanthe smiled weakly.

"Oh, I'm so tired... how late did we stay up?" she asked, stretching. Apollus laughed quietly.

"I don't recall having the time to look at the clock, darling." he replied, bending down to give her reddened neck a gentle kiss.

"Mm... Apollus..." Calanthe murmured, "Why... why am I red?" she asked, looking around. Apollus laughed.

"I also don't recall waiting for the paint to dry." he replied again, running his hand down the red stain on her body. The feel of her skin awakened new desires in him, new longings that required all the strength left in him to resist. Calanthe took his hand and hers and guided it down her hip. Apollus suppressed a moan.

"Apollus..." she whispered. He sat up and held her to him, putting his lips to her chest, feeling her heartbeat through her skin. She relaxed in his arms, submitting to his touch. Apollus smiled wickedly and laid her down.

When it was done, Calanthe rose and went into his washroom. She ran water in the tub and sat in it, rubbing the stains with a soapy cloth. Apollus came in after her. He bent down to her and leaned on the edge of the tub, kissing her glistening arm. Calanthe smiled and bit her lip.

"Get in here, you're filthy." she said. Apollus obeyed and let her wash the paint off his body. Then he laid his head on her chest, dreaming.

"I love you." he said to her. Calanthe's face fell. Her mouth pulled into a tight line, and she swallowed hard. Suddenly, she got up, letting Apollus' head fall in the water. Calanthe walked across the washroom and got a towel. She quietly dried herself off and went into the living room to put back on her dress. Puzzled, Apollus dried himself off and put on his trousers.

"What is it, love? Calanthe, what is the matter?" he said, rushing to the living room. She was struggling with her corset. He went up behind her to help her. She pulled away from him.

"Calanthe! What's wrong? Just let me help you!" he said, raising his voice. She relaxed, letting him tie up her corset. She turned to him and looked in his eyes. The look in her own confused him. It wasn't the sweet, innocent, lively look as usual. This look was cold, dead, sad.

"Apollus..." she started. He grabbed her face and kissed her vigorously. She let him finish, and put her hands on his shoulders.

"I love you!" he said again. She began to cry.

"Oh, Apollus, forgive me! I lead you on, you poor man! Apollus, I wanted you, I wanted you so bad physically... your body, your hair, your eyes, your voice... all drove me to madness! I gave in to my deepest, most sinful desires... and I took away your everything! Darling, you are wonderful. But I simply do not love you in that way! Oh, Apollus..." she hung her head and wiped her eyes.

"Don't do this..." Apollus begged. She cried harder.

"Thank you. For a wonderful painting, and a wonderful night. Forgive me, Apollus. I may someday realize I love you, but, that day simply is not today." she grabbed her painting and walked to the door.

"I love you, Calanthe!" Apollus said, breathlessly, desperately, outstretching his arms. Calanthe swallowed and looked back at him.

"I know." she replied, and walked out the door.

Apollus stood there, staring at the closed door. A burning lingered in his heart. "I love you..." it echoed in his mind. He really did love her, love her deeply... He felt sick, weak... he had given her everything... And for what? A broken heart, an empty bed...

He looked angrily at his paintings. Ugly, childish drawings! He raged about his living room, knocking them all down. Nothing was beautiful to him anymore. The only thing in this world that was beautiful to him was Calanthe, his Calanthe, the woman who he made love to just the night before... His Calanthe. Lost and gone...

"Oh, God!" Apollus said, clutching his chest. He collapsed to his knees, weeping. Waiting for her was all he could do... And he would wait as long as he needed to.