By Emcee
The afternoon sun slanted down through the rose-windows of the clerestory, squeezing through the polished quartz panes and breaking up into tiny rainbows. They poured down on the six muses lounging on ivory inlaid couches of cypress wood, then spilled onto the green marble floor, puddling in crystal prisms at their feet.

“I’m bored,” complained Clio, sighing heavily.

“Thou shouldst have accompanied the golden god and thyne sisters Terpsichore and Polyhymnia; thy tales wouldst gladden the august gathering,” replied Euterpe in a soulful murmur.

Calliope gave her sister a sour look, “Why don’t you cut that crap out? There’s no one but us here, so you can speak normally.”

“OK, then, but if I slip up next time the boss is around, I’ll blame you,” commented Euterpe.

“We should all have gone to the damn party. I’ve got a bone to pick with Artemis: she’s letting the blasted moon shine so brightly I can’t see the stars these days,” muttered Urania, glaring in disgust at the half-completed chart of the night skies. “How can I do my job if that frigid cow--”

Melpomene interrupted in a mournful plaint. “Stop moaning Urania, there’s worse things that not completing your dratted charts, like the murder of--”

“Ughhh! stop talking shop. We’re on a nectar-break here, I don’t wanna hear about how tough you have it,” Thalia snarled, disgruntled that Apollo hadn’t taken her to the party, preferring the company of Terpshichore and Polyhymna. Just because they were the better dancers and singers. It was bare-faced favoritism. “Let’s talk about something amusing, like how Daphne gave Apollo the slip last week.”

“You call that amusing? She’s now a stupid tree, and he’s going around wearing her leaves like some kind of trophy.” Melpomene never saw the bright side of anything.

“Yeah, he looks like a twerp,” Thalia chuckled. “Should have heard the God of War when he saw the boss with that wreath on his head.”

“Talking of War, I thought I saw him wandering around the stacks earlier on,” Calliope commented, crossing a line in Vergil’s latest effort that she thought needing rewriting.

“What!” Clio sat up with a bounce. “Ares is here and you didn’t tell me?” She looked accusingly at her sister. “You know what a mess he makes of the scrolls when left to his own devices.”

They all gave her a meaningful look and she blushed. “Well, you know, he’s...messy.”

“Yeah, right,” jeered Thalia. “You mean he doesn’t care where he fucks you. Just because History’s your gig doesn’t...”

“Where’s Erato?” Euterpe asked softly. They all looked around, as if she might be hiding under the couches, or the walnut writing tables.

“Why, the little tramp.” Clio was thoroughly incensed; Ares was her particular er, client and every one knew it, though Calliope and Melpomene always claimed they had as much right to him as she had. “I’ll kill her, I’ll kick her sluttish ass so hard--”

“Shut up and let’s go find them.” Thalia was the more practical of them all, the only way for her to get any respect from her serious siblings.

They glided on softest suede sandals to the History section of the Library, but the errant pair were not there. They looked at each other, wondering where they could be.

“Geography?” suggested Urania. They crept, quiet as butterflies to the stacks and cabinets holding the maps and charts, but found them deserted.

“Where could they be?” Euterpe intoned musically.

“They wouldn’t...? nah, he’d never go there,” Thalia wondered aloud.

“Where wouldn’t he go?” Clio demanded impatiently; time was awasting and her reprobate sister was stealing a march on her.

“Could Erato have taken him to the Poetry section?” Thalia asked doubtfully; the God of War wasn’t big on poetry, not his scene he always claimed, specially Erato’s section. Still...

As one, they marched to the stacks holding the Poetic works dedicated to Love. It was the largest section of all, after History. The soft moans and sexy laughter drifting out of the section on Erotica told them they had found their quarry.

“Well!” Arms akimbo, Clio glared at her errant sister Erato who ignored her completely, much too busy working herself on the massive cock that was pistoning into her enthusiastic cunt.

She gave a tender scream which faded into a lush moan as she wrapped her ecstatic orgasm round the pounding rod of burning flesh buried in her dripping sex, and the mighty God of War erupted in a fury of blazing rapture as...

“Shut up Erato,” Euterpe interrupted the outpouring gushing out of her sister’s mind. “You’re hopeless at prose and you know it.”

“Yeah, it sucks,” agreed Clio, thoroughly disgruntled. That cock should have been in her.

Ares slid out of the Muse of love-poetry, and smiled toothily at the covey of Muses that surrounded them. He noticed their hungry gazes were glued to his erect cock, glistening with come and Eratos’ juices, and shamelessly preened before them.

“Ladies, nice to see you all looking so eager You’ve come just in time to give us a hand.” His voice was a caress, his eyes full of seduction.

They clustered around him and tousled his flowing locks, releasing the ensnared rainbows that shone there like a peacock’s feathers. They ranged over his body with graceful hands and peppered the warm, velvety flesh with butterfly kisses; one of them, Thalia, trailed a daring finger down into the shadowed cleft of his tempting ass and gently tickled him. Clio nibbled possessively at his lips; he was hers, damn it.

“How can we help you?” Euterpe breathed steamily over the jutting cock, making it jump and seek her welcoming mouth.

“What? Oh, yeah. There’s this--Ahhh.” Ares lost the thought as Melpomene on one side and Calliope on the other, nibbled with pearly teeth on his tight nipples. “Um, there’s this new scroll...”

“Scroll?” inquired Thalia, now that she was rimming Ares with her fingers instead of her tongue.

“Yeah, yeah, a scroll, a great scroll. Hmmm.” Euterpe and Thalia had achieved a working rhythm and Ares was swaying between the expert fingers working his ass and the even more expert mouth sucking his cock.

“Go on,” panted Urania, leaning on his shoulder as he rubbed her clit with a thumb while burying three fingers in her cunt; through a haze of lust she noticed the other hand was similarly occupied with Clio. Ares excelled at multi-tasking.

Erato, who had managed to have Ares to herself for a good while, took pity on him and explained.

“It’s this manual on sex. Apparently it comes from some place south of Chin, Ind something.” Geography wasn’t her scene.

“A sex manual?” groaned Melpomene throatily; she had changed places with Urania and was having a great time.

“The Kama Sutra,” murmured Ares, his brain functioning again after the last orgasm. “It’s got some great positions. Thought we might try them out together, decide which work best. You can write it up as a guide for the inexperienced reader,” he added slyly. They could justify it as research, should his stupid brother complain afterwards.

“Research, yes, we definitely ought to help you do the research,” Thalia agreed, happily grabbing at the excuse Ares had so thoughtfully suggested. The God of War was a great guy. She just couldn’t understand why the other gods were always complaining about him. Probably jealous. Definitely so in Apollo’s case.

“Right then, let’s start with the first one. Who wants to go first?” Clio had the scroll spread out so they could see all the different positions. She noticed with glee they could have at least two goes each.

The moon peeped shyly though the rose-windows of the clerestory, creeping through the polished quartz panes and dissolving into silvery drops that pooled in dark corners, shying away from the radiant flames of the lamps scattered about the Library.

A contented silence floated over the seven Muses lounging on ivory inlaid couches of cypress wood, broken only by the odd little sigh of satisfaction echoing up into the frescoed ceiling. They had been very busy that day and were now taking a much deserved rest. Such was their exhaustion that they didn’t even stir when Golden Apollo and their two sister walked in, garlands of yellow irises, blue Hyacinths and pink damask roses trailing from their necks and waists.

“So, how have my favorite handmaidens been?” Apollo inquired in a hearty voice. They had not been happy to be left behind, but none of them danced very well, and Urania’s singing voice could drive a god to voluntary exile.

“Fine, just fine,” Thalia answered for them all, a secret little smile hovering over her lips.

“Huh. Well, good, good,” Apollo murmured, somewhat perplexed. They didn’t seem mad at him; if anything, they looked as if they had been to a better party than his. “So, what did you do?”

“Oh, research. You know.” Melpemone sounded unusually happy.


“Yeah, there’s this boring scroll from Indus; it was written in Sanskrit so we had to write a critique on it, and add some footnotes for the uniformed. It was hard work,” Clio explained indifferently.

“Anything that would interest me?” Apollo went to pour himself a cup of nectar and missed the smirks.

“Nah, it’s more up the God of War’s alley. But you can have a look if you want,” Clio said with perfect seriousness.

“Oh, that’s ok then. Just archive it with his stuff,” Apollo murmured dismissively. If Ares liked it then it wouldn’t interest him.

“Will do. But we still have some work to do on it. ” Clio smiled salaciously. They would ask Ares to help them, that way their research would be more complete. Yeah, they would finish the job while their boss was busy down at Delphi. He didn’t like them getting outside help but it wouldn’t be the same without Ares. No, it would definitely not be the same.

The End