Goddess of Love

394
December 15th, 2018
Back Goddess of Love
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Classified ads have always intrigued me, especially those personal ads that appear in alternative weekly newspapers like the Los Angeles Free Press and Open City.

When I lived in Lake Elsinore, CA., I was a regular reader of a weekly newspaper published in nearby Palm Springs, where many Hollywood film stars, producers and directors lived in mansions with olympic-sized swimming pools shaded by imported coconut palm trees.

One morning I was seated by the pool at the Sahara Dunes card room when I caught an intriguing ad in the classified section: GODDESS OF LOVE will make all your sexual fantasies come true. I deliver chilled champagne, intimacy and erotic love at an affordable price. call me. Diane.'

It took me about 15 seconds to find my cell phone and give Diane a call. The voice that answered was low, sultry and enticing. I told her I was a writer and poker player who was interested in her story. We shared thoughts for about 10 minutes and she invited me to visit her in Palm Springs.

She also told me she was thinking of writing a book about her life.

"I have some pretty impressive clients," she added, laughing. "While I am discreet in protecting their identities, I think I could impress you with the names of actors, mayors and even a police chief."

We set the appointment for 1 p.m. the following day.

"Ciao," she said.

"Ciao," I responded.

That night I played in a poker tournament at the Sahara Dunes. There were 50 entrants and I placed second, collecting several hundred dollars.

The Goddess of Love was already bringing me good luck!

As I collected my winnings from Nick Notos, the casino owner, he said, "Congratulations. Where are you going to spend all this money." I told him I had a date.

"Anybody I know?"

"I haven't met her yet, but she calls herself the Goddess of Love and she lives in Palm Springs."

Nick removed his glasses, blew on them, and said, "Can I go with you?"

The drive to my destination took me past mansions of splendor and opulence. I was impressed with the wealth that surrounded me. As I followed the winding well-manicured road, I could imagine all the past stars of the Silver Screen who had lived in this legendary community -- Frank Sinatra, Gary Cooper, Susan Hayward, Esther Williams and.... I could go on and on.

When I arrived at my destination, I entered a winding driveway that ended in front of a splendid home. There were statues with flowing water fountains surrounded by flowers. I exited the car and rang the doorbell.

a_smiling_maid_answered

A smiling maid answered.

"You must be the writer," she said. "The Goddess is expecting you."

We entered the spacious living room. Diane was seated on a long beige divan reading a magazine. She was an attractive blond with short coiffured hair wearing a long revealing gown. When she saw me, she dropped the magazine and introduced herself.

"I'm Diane," she said. "Welcome to my love nest." Then she burst into laughter and told the maid to fetch the champagne.

For the next 30 minutes we talked:

She told me she had been born in New York and fled to California to escape the ferocious winters. She had worked for a film producer in Hollywood as a script girl and moved up the ladder until she had earned enough money to move to Palm Springs.

"I married a prominent film producer," she said. "But like most Hollywood marriages it went sour. I came up with the Goddess of Love idea because most men lose interest in having sex with their wives after they've been married for a while."

"Why is that?," I asked.

She shrugged. "It can arise from many reasons," she said. "But I think the main reason is that women, especially wives, aren't adventurous enough for their husbands. Men are always interested in sex. They love variety. I provide that and my clients love it."

When the maid served the champagne, Diane surprised me with a question.

"Do you smoke the herb?," she said. "I have my own plants and they provide a blessed high."

Of course, I accepted her generous offer! And the high was, indeed, blessed.

She gave me a tour of the mansion. There were origina paintings, statues, a magnificent hot tub room where she described some of her sexual techniques. I listened without blushing. She told me about some of her clients. I promised not to reveal their names, but they were impressive. And she introduced me to her cat, an impressive feline named Cleopatra. The cat rubbed against me purring.

"She's in heat," Diane said.

"Yes, I can tell," I said.

I won't tell you what else transpired between us that day. That would be naughty and a gentleman is not supposed to kiss and tell.

All I will say is that the Goddess of Love deserved her title. Viva the art of love!

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