It had been a long time since Erato had last woken on the inside of a room belonging to a college student. She slowly opened her eyes with the rays of the rising sun, a hanging maidenhair fern taking shape in front of her.
“Rosy-fingered dawn,” she murmured. She’d known this one had a poet’s heart. An embrace of nature proved it. Looking around, she spotted several other potted plants, tucked in amongst the text books and vintage records, and her dress discarded over the back of his desk chair. She turned her head. Dear Tanner. He was such a sweetheart. He’d come and found her after her argument with Apollo, brought her her cup of juice she’d left on the counter, and just sat near her while she wiped her eyes and tried to get herself back together. They’d talked about hopes and dreams and loves and family, and eventually Erato had kissed him and then blushed prettily like she didn’t know what she was doing, and Tanner had taken her hand and kissed her back.
He was young, but what he lacked in experience he made up for in enthusiasm. He responded to Erato’s soft direction with alacrity, and she was so touched by how gratified he was when she climaxed to his fingers. And she tried so hard not to let a single thought of Apollo enter her head when Tanner made love to her.
She slipped from the bed and went to examine the fern more closely, running her fingers over the fronds, naked in the morning light.
“Hey.”
She looked over to Tanner, propped up on his elbows looking all sleepy, and smiled. What a sweetheart he was, such kindness in his soul. Boys who loved their mothers were ones to encourage. Erato crawled up the bed and drew back the covers, wordlessly taking the young man in her hand until she could straddle his hips and sink down on him, letting the warm morning glow fill her as she moved and he filled her too.
She didn’t see Apollo when she left, but it was for the best.