Free Divine by Mistake by P.C. Cast Page A

to believe Rhiannon didn’t have any sense of humor at all.
    “My Lady, my Lord and honored guests. To demonstrate the Muses’ approval of your handfast, Terpsichore, incarnate Muse of the Dance, will perform.”
    The centaurs’ ears all pricked up (figuratively speaking) as Alanna clapped her hands twice and music began. I hadn’t noticed the three women sitting in the far corner of the room, but the silky sounds of harp and flute and some kind of heartbeat-like drum were enchanting. Then, from the arched doorway nearest the musicians, in floated the dancer. She moved with a ballerina’s grace, head down, arms beautifully rounded, to the center of the room, which was, of course, directly in front of my chaise. Being High Priestess obviously meant having the best seat in the house. There she seemed to melt into a deep curtsy, head still lowered, while the music paused. As the music began again, and she raised her head in time to the beginning tempo, I was caught swallowing and I did (delicately) spew wine out my nostrils. Thankfully, everyone was watching her and not me, so I had time to wipe my nose and regain my composure.
    Holy shit! The dancer was Michelle, a girlfriend I’d been teaching with for ten years! And here she was, Goddess Incarnate Muse of the Dance—that friggin figures. Michelle and I love to laugh about the paradox of two of the three passions in her life. Passion number one is dance, passion number two is science (and she really likes reptiles, which has always worried me, especially because my classroom is next door to hers and at least two or three times each school year some kind of snake escapes from its cage and gets “lost”). So she combined her first two passions by attending Northeastern Oklahoma University as a chemistry major on a dance scholarship. At our high school she combines them by teaching honors chemistry and choreographing the school musicals. Strange girl.
    Watching her move languidly in time with the sensual beat, I took another gulp of wine and smiled gratefully at the little servant who darted obediently in to replenish it. There was no doubt—it was certainly Michelle, or rather, as I’m sure Alanna would have clarified, Michelle’s mirror image. Same thick, dark hair and, as in Alanna’s case, her shoulder-length chic modern cut had been replaced by waist-length tresses that rippled and glistened with her every movement. And covered her petite dancer’s body more than the totally transparent shimmery pieces of gauze she was dressed in. As she danced, the slips of fabric floated around her, exposing enticing glimpses of her tight little body with every change in movement. Her body has always been sleek and gorgeous though she eats like a sparrow—ten times her body weight per day. She’s the only person I’ve ever known who can eat a full school lunch off the Main Line, complete with every fat and carbohydrate known to man, every day, and not get violently ill or gain weight. The bitch.
    The music was increasing in tempo, and Michelle/Terpsichore increased her seductive movements as she wove between the chaises. The centaurs sure were having a good ol’ time—they’d stopped chewing because they were so busy gawking. She really was a great dancer. Right now she was performing an amazing dance—sex and grace all rolled up together into one delectable ball. Kind of like Bob Fosse Does Swan Lake. Her sexy little hips were moving rhythmically and seemed to be calling every bit of erotic energy in the room to attention. She was making eye contact with each male audience member, and the nasty girl just touched herself!
    Which brings to mind the third of her three life passions—men. She adores men. Tall men, short men, hairy men, slick men, muscular men, lean men…etc., etc. She likes them all, as long as one part of their anatomy is big (no, I’m not talking about their wallets). Yes, she truly enjoys a big, hard penis more than any woman I know. With her it’s