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by Daisy Harris
Category: Erotica/Gay-Lesbian Erotica/Romance
Description: Take a sexy romp with the gods in this hilarious and hot ménage! Over-extended - and closeted - charmer Mercury the Messenger struggles to accommodate all the factions of the Deities International Conference and Kibbitz. However, his skills at diplomacy stretch to the limit when the object of a chance tryst turns out to be his assistant, and his arranged fiancée arrives at the scene. Dillon Rodriquez, Mercury's executive aide and a soon-to-be MBA student, refuses to be the closeted god's side-dish. But when an accident at the conference strands the god in the human world, Dillon agrees to act as his guide. Traveling from San Diego down the Baha Coast to Cabo, Mercury experiences a side of life he never imagined, and he learns that if he wants to earn the love of the one man who matters, he has to stop trying to please everyone else. Warning: contains male-male loving, male-female loving, male-male-female loving, male-male-male...well, you get the idea!
eBook Publisher: Ravenous Romance/Ravenous Romance, 2011
eBookwise Release Date: May 2011
1 Reader Ratings:
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [234 KB]
Reading time: 145-203 min.
Three fucking days. That's how much notice Dillon Rodriguez's rat's cock of a boss had given him about the latest convention. Dillon--first college graduate in his family, soon-to-be MBA student, and very unfortunately executive assistant with a major cruise line--should have been at the Cal State L.A. Business School orientation already.
Dillon shoved his clothes into his backpack. His fingers beat Cal State's number into his cell, and he pinned the phone between his shoulder and ear. He listened for the answer while kicking his grimy sheets into the pile of laundry in the corner of the studio apartment he shared with his mom.
"Admissions!" The voice on the other end of the line all but shouted.
"My name is Dillon Rodriguez." His words flew out as he started packing again. "I'm supposed to arrive today, but I'm going to be a week late. I need to find out--"
"A week late?" The lady on the other end sounded disbelieving. "Have you told your professors?"
"Well, no." He dropped his bag and raised his eyes as if pleading to heaven.. "I only found out I needed to work a couple of days ago. I've been trying to convince my boss--"
"You are aware this is a full-time program, correct?" The crisp-voiced female cut him off again.
Dillon bit at a piece of his nail. "It's a seasonal job."
"If you want to apply instead to our program for working adults, you can look into it on our website. However, in the meantime, you need to contact your professors directly."
Dillon opened his NetBook and positioned it on his dresser top. He logged into the University's student interface and drew up his course schedule.
"It's very busy here as you can imagine, Mr. Rodriguez. If you need any further assistance please call back during business hours."
He rushed to thank her, but the secretary had hung up.
His screen's display showed it was nearly 4:30 p.m. The cocktail party he was supposed to work started in three hours, and it would take nearly that long to get there. His gaze swung to the tiny sliding glass window and the plastered concrete wall beyond.
Dillon closed his eyes. He made the sign of the cross to seal the hope he wouldn't catch too much shit for being late and clicked on the first professor's email. His fingers flew in response, but he made sure to keep his frustration and hurry in check. He clicked send, and opened a new message for the next professor. Rolling his track pad to copy his text, he pasted it into his next message, doubting his professors would take the time to compare.
Forty-five minutes later, he snapped his computer shut and hoisted his pack onto his shoulder. His mother's note sat on their little plastic table. It said, "I'm so proud of you! See you next year."
Dillon scrawled below his mom's neater handwriting, "Te amo, Mami." Knowing she wouldn't get home from her shift for hours, he made sure to lock the door behind him.
* * * *
Tell the fucking Viking to get his nose out of my shit.
Mercury the Messenger, Roman god of oration, contracts and, above all, compromise, hid in one of the staff passageways aboard the cruise ship Norwegian Solstice and read through his text messages. He pressed his forefinger to the throbbing point on his temple. Not for the first time, he questioned his decision to employ Norse personnel to oversee the security team for the Deities International Conference and Kibitz, known affectionately as DICK.
He turned his cell phone sideways and texted a response he hoped would soothe the complaining Roman's ego until he could discuss the matter with everyone involved. His thumbs kept mistyping on the tiny buttons, but eventually he drafted a decent note.. When he'd arrived in the human realm a week earlier, he'd received a crash course in the current era's communications technology. Though he visited Earth what seemed like every few weeks in the otherworld, the time-difference meant he only touched down amongst humans a couple times per century. If there was one thing he'd learned about humans it was that they loved to change things around.
Noise carried into the blue-walled passage from the salon beyond, signaling his boss's arrival. Mercury checked his appearance in a pocket-sized mirror. After a day spent mediating squabbles, his blue-black hair hung wilted and limp, his teeth looked dull and faded. He turned his face to profile and frowned at the almost-human-looking tone of his skin.
Ignoring a pang of concern that he might run out of power later that evening, he drew on his energy stores until his flesh glowed, his teeth shone, and his hair molded to sculpted perfection. He couldn't tax his powers indefinitely, but Mercury hoped they at least would last the day.
He pushed the panic bar to open the door and stepped into the spacious, ornate room where Jupiter and the Pantheon's delegates to DICK awaited.
"I trust our lodgings have been arranged?" Jupiter wore his white hair short and slicked back in an impersonation of the current American style. His entourage filed into the Aqua Lounge behind him.
Mercury shot him a dazzling grin and winked at the delegates before acknowledging their human servants with a solemn, but respectful nod. "Yes, sir. You and your staff will occupy the ship's Excelsior Deck. I've heard the view is spectacular." He opted not to mention how much wrangling had been required to ensure the Romans received the ship's finest.
"Our staff?" Jupiter's eyebrows drew together.
Mercury's nostrils may have flared ever so slightly in irritation, but he kept his voice chipper. "I've arranged for each class of the delegation to have its own deck."
"So why are the humans not staying on the human level?" Jupiter gestured to one of his servants and then to a carafe of scotch he conjured into existence on the polished wood table. The human hurried to pour him a glass, and then looked questioningly at the other gods who accepted or rejected the offer without saying a word.
Mercury smiled at the servant and nodded for his own drink. Out of the corner of his mouth, he addressed his boss. "Um. Please remember to pay for that."
Jupiter's forehead creased with confusion.
"With one of these." Mercury held up a set of plastic room cards and handed them to Jupiter and the others. "These cards act both as a key to your room and a form of currency aboard the ship."
The older god flipped the thin plastic rectangle in his hands. His deep voice boomed. "I do not understand."
While his temple pounded a non-stop drub of over-burdened annoyance, Mercury turned to Jupiter's human. "You know how these function, correct?"
The servant's eyes widened. "Yes, of course."
Mercury thrust a copy of Jupiter's key card into his hand. "Can you manage his payments?" He ignored Jupiter's frown. It was the king's own fault for eschewing the Time and Place Orientation sessions.
Jupiter blustered, searching his modern-day clothes for an opening in which to store the card. "I ask again, why are the humans to sleep in our quarters?"
Not looking his boss in the eye, Mercury cleared his throat. "I thought it best..." He hedged and re-considered. Knowing Jupiter's fragile ego, Mercury swerved his argument in a different direction. "I didn't want any of the human diplomats to feel as if they were relegated to servants' quarters." He raised his palms, and hoped Jupiter would interpret the gesture to mean, "You know how touchy humans are."
The servant shoved a highball glass into Mercury's hand, and bit of liquor jumped from the cup onto his Armani shirtsleeve. Mercury's lip curled in anger, but he couldn't afford to offend the staff any more than the attendees. He forced out a laugh. "Ha! Sorry I grabbed that too quickly. Hope I didn't splash you."
The servant rolled his eyes.
Mercury pretended not to notice, just like he pretended to survey the leather couches, gilded tables, and floor-to-ceiling windows while he awaited his boss's response.
The older god cleared his throat. "You're right. It's important the human delegations feel that we're taking their concerns into account."
The God Of Compromise didn't miss the emphasis, and from the look of it neither did the wise-eyed servant still doling out liquor. Mentally cursing his boss to Hades, Mercury lowered his eyebrows into a knowing countenance and nodded. "I knew you'd agree."
He didn't give Jupiter the opportunity to correct him. "I'll show you to your rooms. The conference staff is having its orientation now, but should be in full attendance in time for the cocktail party this evening." Mercury gestured to the door and encouraged the delegates to file out ahead of him before stepping out onto the ship's open-air deck. The humans trailed behind, carrying luggage.
Jupiter leaned towards Mercury and spoke in hushed tones. "I assume security is in place?"
Mercury fixed his smile to counter the jumping in his pulse. "Of course, sir. They've been on duty since I arrived."
"And you believe it wise to trust the Norse?"
The younger god refused rise to the bait, instead choosing to lie through his teeth. "I have every confidence Loki will do a stellar job." They arrived at the doorway to the Roman Delegates' suites. "Loki's been living in this current world for over fifty years and he's been a great help organizing the conference."
His boss snorted. "Hardly a week in the heavens!" Frowning, Jupiter stared at the digital watch attached to his wrist. "Speaking of which..." He tapped the timepiece. "What time is it in the Pantheon?"
Mercury opened the door to the suite. "I have no idea." He bowed. "I'll leave you to get comfortable and rest. Tonight then?"
Jupiter stared hard into Mercury's eyes. The younger god felt pinned, but he refused to squirm under the scrutiny. He lifted his chin and scoured any doubts from his mind, lest Jupiter find some weakness to exploit.
The silver-haired god relented. He rubbed at the stubble on his face as if confused by how quickly it had grown. "Yes." He peered into his cabin, frowning. "And another thing--"
"I have a meeting, Sir. Later?" Mercury inched away.
"I suppose..." Jupiter's eyes locked on something within his room. His forehead knit with lack of understanding. "What is that?"
"Text me if you have any questions," Mercury called over his shoulder as he ducked out of the room.