Untitled Story

It was a very hot day in Chicago. The heat seemed to radiate not from the glowing orb in the sky but rather from the concrete and stone making the whole city feel like an E-Z bake oven. Women ran around in tank tops and short shorts and men wore no shirts and played basketball. Children found sneaky ways to open up fire hydrants and the older generation found themselves out in the parks feeding the birds. The entire city was engrossed in the summer time weather save for one person.

Couples psychologist, Claire Allen, sat sullenly in the small amphitheater tapping her pencil and thumbing through the textbook on classical Greek mythology. She was lost in thought, not even bothered by the heat of the room. Checking her watch, she looked around. She was the only student in the class as of yet and neither the professor nor any other students had shown up. Picking up her yellow #2 pencil she started to nibble on the end while she absently flipped the pages on the book.

At the back of the amphitheater a door opened stirring a breeze in the room. The page Claire was half paying attention to was lost. The breeze picked up enough speed to turn the pages of the textbook leaving her looking at a beautifully done painting of Eros and Psyche. Raising an eyebrow she scanned the face of Eros for any traces of her favorite patient, Trevor Hale, the man who thought of himself as Cupid. Peering intently at the faces in the painting she had the sense of dejavu prickle down her spine.

“If you are here to learn about Classical Mythology, young lady, I am afraid that the class has been canceled.” A voice said from behind her.

Claire tore her face away from the book and looked at who was speaking. Standing towards the back of the room was a young lady no more then about 23 years old. She was wearing light khaki linen pants, a jacket of the same color, and what was inevitably a white tank top. She was frowning slightly and she had a hand on her hip as if she felt like she was wasting time.

“Are you sure the class has been canceled? Just last week I was told the class was full. I had to finagle my way into getting into this class.” Claire responded with disbelief clearly written on her face.

“Yes, every single student dropped out this morning upon seeing the sunshine when they awoke. Except one, that is. I presume you are,” the woman paused squinting at the paper in her left hand dramatically. “Claire Allen?”

“Yes, I am. Does this mean that the class is totally canceled?” Claire asked looking a little upset by the news.

“Yes, completely, totally, 100% canceled.”

Mumbling to herself, Claire gathered her book and her purse and proceeded to leave. As she passed the woman she paused. “Will there be a refund or will the class be rescheduled? Its very important.”

“Well, we weren’t planning to reschedule this course until the fall since this is normally part of the freshmen core classes. You can have your money refunded at the student store and sign up again for it in the fall.” Looking a little closer at Claire, she stopped and smiled. “You look a little old to be a freshman reject from Greek Row. What sorority are you from? Or are you a mother going back to school?” The woman smiled, looking like she thought that she was the smartest person in the world.

“No, not all. I graduated from UCLA over four years ago and due to a project that I am working on I wanted to brush up on my mythology.”

“Oh, I am sorry about that.” The woman smiled at Claire and gave her a most stunning smile. Somehow it still looked to Claire as if she was trying to stick her foot in her mouth through her closed teeth.

“No problem at all.”

Attempting to recover from her embarrassment the girl continued on. “I am the Professor Arisistoli’s assistant. My name is Venicia. Nice to meet you.”

Taking the girl’s hand, Claire smiled in spite of herself and laughed. “It appears you already know my name. Since you are the teacher’s assistant, I was wondering how well you know this subject?”

“I know Greek mythology back wards and forwards. If you wanted, I could probably recite the Iliad and the Odyssey in ancient Greek if you wanted me to.” She smirked.

“Really? I may not need to take this class after all. Do you know anything about the god, Cupid?” Claire asked.

“Cupid, of course!”

“Great! Since the class is canceled would you mind coming along and getting a coffee with me? I want to know all about Cupid.”

“Well, since I have nothing better to do... and the professor is out running errands any way. Why not!”

“Oh, and the answer to your other question is Tri-Delt.” Claire said.

“Delta Delta Delta? That is my sorority, too!” Venecia exclaimed as both her and Claire walked through the door way, it shutting softly behind them.

Trevor was staring at his beads. He couldn’t remember when the last one moved but some time during the night another bead had crept over to the other side making him one more couple closer to home, Mount Olympus. The heat was bothering him and it felt like he was being suffocated sitting in the hot stuffy apartment. Champ, his room mate, had left earlier in the week on another audition some where leaving him with strict instructions to not drink milk from the container and to make sure the apartment stayed as Champ had left it, well cleaned and not the least bit dirty.

Trevor scoffed at the pile of clothes that had turned into a small mountain outside his bedroom door and contemplated going down to the laundry room. Instead, he picked himself off his bed and ambled out to the kitchen. Spying the refrigerator, Trevor’s face broke into a wide grin. With a jump of exuberance, he whipped open the refrigerator door and backed his bottom up into the coldness. Sighing, he grabbed the milk jug, and began to rub the sides of his face with the cold exterior. Setting the milk jug, on the counter and turning slightly, he reached out for the boxer shorts he had put into the freezer last night and nonchalantly put them on.

As soon as he had reached for the milk jug to take a “bad boy” drink straight from the container he heard a knock at the door. Frowning, he regretfully left the coldness of the fridge and went in search of a shirt to throw on. Spying one on the top of the Mount Vesuvius that didn’t appear too stained and didn’t smell all that bad, Trevor tugged it over his head and sauntered over to the door.

“God of Love is in. How can I help you?” Trevor smirked as he whipped open the door, and striking a dashing pose.

Too be continued...