Goddess of Desire

Goddess of Desire
In the dreams of slumbering mortals, she dances and sings, her voice a siren's call, her hips a mesmerizing sway. They know her as Aphrodite, Astarte, Isis, Freya, by a thousand names across the ages. The Goddess of Desire. Mistress of the Erotic Arts. But her true name is whispered only by those who know her...

Lilith.

And so she came again to the Metropolis of New Babylon, drawn as always to the pulsing heart of humanity's lusts and longings. In the smog-choked skies, the skyscrapers glittered like gems, their steel and glass peaks scraping the clouds. Down in the neon-drenched streets, the mortals scurried to and fro in their cages of concrete and steel. Unaware that their Goddess had returned.

Lilith chose the rooftop bar on the 72nd floor as her first earthly stop. She alighted gracefully on the polished wood deck, the warm breeze billowing her sheer gossamer gown. The drinkers and dancers parted before her, eyes widening in stunned reverence and unbidden arousal. Women and men alike felt the heat of her gaze on their flesh, the ache of need between their thighs.

Lilith smiled, drinking in their hunger like fine wine. Then she glided into their midst, a gardenia blossom behind one ear, an emerald choker around her throat. In the pulsing purple light, she moved through the crowd like the moon ruling the tides.

"What's your poison, gorgeous?" asked the bartender, his voice husky, his fingers trembling as he polished a glass. Lilith leaned forward and his breath caught at the unbound generosity of her breasts.

"Mmm...on the rocks," she purred, her voice honey and smoke. Then she let her lips curve into a smile that held a thousand sinful promises...and a thousand more unspoken. The bartender made her drink with a hand that shook, then set it before her with a fumbling bow.

Lilith sipped the amber liquor and let it burn into her veins. The crowd began to throb with need now, drunk on the heat of her presence. In the pulsing lights, she saw the first couple slip away, hands roaming, mouths finding each other. Then a second, a third, a fourth. Quite soon the rooftop was empty save for the Goddess of Desire and her chosen mortals, locked now in violent coupling.

Lilith watched, a lazy smile on her lips, as women and men joined in violent congress, no longer able to control their lusts. The thick musk of sex hung in the air. Guttural grunts and desperate cries of climax echoed off the skyscrapers. In the ancient tongue, the mortal's prayers to her...

"Enough," she said, and spoke a word of power. Instantly the copulating mortals flew apart, collapsed in sweaty heaps gasping for breath. Unashamed, unrepentant, sated.

Her work here done, Lilith rose, downed the last of her drink, and strode to the edge of the building. With a wave of her hand, she was once again garbed in her true form - a body of moonlight, hair of stars, eyes of molten gold. And so the Goddess of Desire took wing for her next calling, to answer the prayers of more of her worshipful, lustful mortals.

For in the city of New Babylon, pleasure was a sacrament. And Lilith was its high priestess.

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