Bacchanal

He brought his head closer to her face. “Lift off my mask, maiden.”
Ariadne squinted her eyes, trying to bring the fuzzy world into focus. Confused, she shook her head. “Mask?”
“Grasp my head and pull. Then perhaps you’ll cease your worrying and grip something else that is in great need of attention.” The tenor of his voice sent tingles through her as much as the drums had before.
Doing as he’d instructed, she grasped his horns with both hands and pulled, releasing the bull’s head to reveal features too beautiful to belong to any human male. Dark black curls tumbled around a face where eyes as blue as the summer sky stared down at her. Lips so soft, yet strong, beckoned her to kiss them.
She gasped. “Who are you?”
“Does it matter?” Desire showed clearly on his face, and now that the mask no longer confused her addled brain, she could see the hard, muscled, nude body of a very aroused man.
“No,” she breathed.
He grinned. “In that case, I shall reward you with a hint. Who do you come here today to honor?”
“Dionysus.”
Nodding at her answer, he continued. “And what is the purpose of this rite?”
“To take the god Dionysus into our bodies.”
Was he the leader of the cult? If she answered correctly, he’d surely reward her further and relieve her ache. Please, gods, he would because she would die if he didn’t take her.
“What is your name, maiden?”
“Ariadne.”
He smiled. “Your answers please me well, Ariadne, and so you shall take Dionysus into you. Take me inside you. Take me now because in all my many years I’ve never desired a woman more.”

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