(Aphrodite–seen here on the left–dances with one of her favorite hoofers on casual Friday at the towers that are A Word with You Press!) Literati, a question… When you lose your libido, why is it always in the last place you look? KYLE Katz has misplaced hers and finds it in the next 750 to …
(Aphrodite–seen here on the left–dances with one of her favorite hoofers on casual Friday at the towers that are A Word with You Press!)
Literati, a question…
When you lose your libido, why is it always in the last place you look?
KYLE Katz has misplaced hers and finds it in the next 750 to 1,000 words, as her final entry into The First Annual Peggy Dobbs Write-of-Passage Contest. This is posting # 16 of the 24 I started publishing on our site since Thanksgiving, but having found two more in my Pandoras’s–oops!–I mean IN-box, that means I have ten more stories to post before I can announce the finalists,who will then write 250 words to the prompt “…but by then, it was too late.”
by Kyle Katz
The first time I wore my blue sassy boots was at a pole dancing class a decade ago. My libido had it’s own drum now…beating to the rhythm of nothing. No smoke, no sound, no leap of faith. I was just too tired to leap anywhere. In desperation I thought of answering a Craigslist ad.
Return to balance, grace and harmony.
Be a goddess at any age.
Call Afrodite-911. Serious inquires only!
I know…what was I thinking?
I called my friend Diane the physic, who would either give me the red or green light on these matters. She was my confident and I had total trust in her abilities. She looked for the ad, but it wasn’t there.
“There’s no ad here… a scam. Sorry my dear. It’s a red light.”
“What does she know?” I dialed the number in the ad.
“Hellooo” a sultry voice extended its reach, teasing my brain.
Her voice… so enchanting. I wanted to learn to say hello just like that.
“Hi there.” I responded.
“This is Afrodite-911. What is your emergency?”
“Well it’s not really an emergency, but I’d like to know if…”
The phone went dead. I re–dialed.
“ Somehow we were disconnected.”
“ No, I hung up. Didn’t you read the ad. Serious inquires only! Now call me back when….”
“No, no, please don’t hang up. It’s an emergency. I’m dying inside my own body.”
“We don’t deal with humans with medical problems. It’s a racket. Make love not war. You have a medical emergency, call that Dr. Oz fellow.”
“ Don’t hang up, it’s not medical, although the anxiety is starting to take its toll. The panic attacks are…”
“Lady, do you have sexual frustrations or not?”
“Well sort of…I mean yes.”
“Good. I’ll send you our questionnaire and you e-mail it back. Then we’ll see.”
“ We’ll see what ? Where are you?” I asked. “Where do you live? I didn’t recognize the area code.”
“I’m from Cyprus.”
“What’s your real name, if you don’t mind me asking.”
“Afrodite. My mother wanted to name me Tiffany, which I love. But my father Zeus was so controlling and stubborn.”
“Your father is Zeus? Really…”
“Please read up on your Greek Mythology. I can’t help you if you don’t know the basics.”
The phone went dead.
Her voice now only a whisper in my mind, rolled over me like a lustful rage of halleluiahs as I answered the questionnaire.
What would you be willing to do to express your desires?
Anything I answered.
What would you be willing to learn?
How would you act, if, you knew you were God’s gift to man?
Oh no! You can’t put God and my lost libido in the same sentence. They’re some things that just can’t be brought back. I was raised catholic. The guilt, the shame. My mom had nine children. No birth control. She hated life, I hated all those kids. Sacrificed every creative endeavor she aspired to. My father drank to relieve the tensions.
The past ponders and revelations twisted my trembling hands. Hyperventilating, my brown paper bag of panic attacks, fell to the floor and undressed themselves.
If you had a serious meltdown answering question three,
Congratulations! You are definitely a contender. Signed Aphrodite/ aka Tiffany, goddess of love.
We’ll be in touch…soon.
A pang from my computer interrupted my meltdown. I hope it’s my new friend from E-harmony, skyping me again. I quickly brushed my hair and applied red lipstick.
“Hellooo, I’m Aphrodite.”
A stunning woman penetrated the screen.
“Well you’re not at all what I imagined you to be.”
“Yeah I’m black. My dad… Latino, very hot tempered. Humans live in such a stereo type fantasy world.”
“ I meant ,you’re a lot more conservative and businesslike…for a goddess.”
“Woo hoo. Surprise. We’ve talked it over with the committee. You’ve got one quest to complete.”
“Go out into the world fearless and do something you would never do!”
“Don’t get arrested! You must have your event documented so we can tweet it. We need more viewer hits. Hopefully it will go viral. It’s all about content.”
I called Stefanie and ask her to meet me at Starbucks and to bring her new Smartphone and be ready for action. I bribed her with a six month supply of coffee.
I burst through Starbucks, screaming and singing at full capacity… “You Can’t Always Get What You Want” by the Rolling Stones. I Shimmied toward Stefanie who yelled, “I don’t know her!”
These long legs, nestle in my blue sassy boots clung to muscled calves that danced and strutted across the floor. A thunderbolt of divine enlightenment from Zeus himself rumbled its way through a room full of hot caramel mocha frappachinos. The gods were pleased.
Like Aphrodite, I rose again from the foam of the sea, enchanting anyone who saw my goddess revival dance. My libido released from its prison. My vibrato escaped. The crowd stood, then chanted…“You get what you need.” I whipped my hair back n forth. “Hell, YEAH YOU DO!” My quest was complete.
I lay quietly on the sofa at home… exhilarated. The ping got my attention.
“Helloooo, It’s Afrodite. You went viral. The committee has selected you for our Global Goddess community extended life program. Women are living longer. We need help with the hot line.
“Madonna is busy. Tina Turner is meditating. Look I don’t have time for indecisiveness. You’re in or you’re out.”
The phone went dead. I called back.
“I’ll send you your handlers name. Follow the protocol. You start tomorrow.”
“You’ll do just fine.”
“Hellooo. This is Pandora. Yes…I understand. Don’t be afraid to unleash your sensuality. Open the box… then let it loose sista. I swear to you its not to late.”
“And how old are you Gladys?… What?
88?” The phone went dead.