“But if what I've heard is true, your own marriage wasn't always a happy one. Didn't you get divorced?"

“We did. And soon we're going to be un-divorced." Her voice was tart, and she forced herself not to sound defensive.

“And we did have our own troubles, no doubt. But that was never a result of us falling out of love. Never that. We always Loved each other. It was more a consequence of our own pig-headed stubbornness. Especially mine. The inability to admit a mistake. Or that the person you're arguing with might be right.

So we owe Althea big-time for helping us get back together. She helped me realize just what a fool I'd been, so I invited Josh back up here for a weekend. That was...about a week ago." She shook her head.

“Wow.

It seems longer. Time flies when you're having fun, I guess.

“Anyway, I'm not sure there's anyone on the planet who knows more about love than Althea does."

Yasna blushed. "I'm not talking about sex.”

“Neither am I," she said, becoming somewhat irritated with the younger woman's thick-headedness. "I'm talking about love. Althea is more than just a half-angelic woman who gets power from sex, Yasna. She is full of love. What do you think a succubus is, when you get down to it? She is just a great big ball of Love wrapped in a sexy shell. Think about it. Her entire life has been an act of love. How incredibly easy would it be for her to just give up, say ‘fuck it' and stop? But she doesn't.

She keeps on. Day after day. Every day protecting people who never say

"thank you.' Hell, who don't even know she exists.

“But she also needs someone. A husband." Her voice grew Low and gentle.

“Or a wife."

“She has you. And Josh and Jeremy and Maria and all the rest."

“Oh, Yasna." She kept her voice low and loving, the way she used to counsel her own children when they made a silly mistake. "There is a great deal of difference between a lover and a mate. I love Althea to distraction, but I would never consider marrying her, even if I could get away with bigamy. You, on the other hand..." she trailed off suggestively.

“You are perfect for her."

Yasna looked down at her feet. "I wish I could believe that."

“Silly woman. It's not what you believe. It's what she believes." sem

Alex paced back and forth in his bedroom. It was nearly five o'clock, and his stomach was swarming with butterflies.

For years, he had dreamed of this day. The day when he would finally take the first steps of a new journey. For years, he had fought against the iron will of his mother, who if not actively opposing his career, certainly didn't do anything to aid it. It was only with Althea's influence and his father's cooperation that he had won the chance to transfer to Northwestern at the beginning of the fall semester next year.

And the beginning of that journey would not take place at Second City or Julliard or the Yale School of Drama, but at a small theater on the campus of a second-tier community college outside of Chicago.

Life was funny, sometimes, but he wasn't laughing now. He stood by his bed, the tattered, dog-eared script in his hands, and ran his lines for the thousandth time. He was caught between his confidence in his own skill and the inevitable first-night jitters.

“At least it isn't Macbeth," came a voice from the doorway. He turned, smiling, to see Althea.

“The Scottish Play?" he asked, using the euphemism many actors gave to a work they considered cursed.

She nodded, slipping into the room. Without her hands moving, the door swung shut behind her. The back of her white skirt twitched, and Alex caught a glimpse of her tail as it slipped back under the hem, which barely reached to mid-thigh. He swallowed. While Althea had been present a few days ago when he and his mother made Love for the first time, she had not yet taken him to her bed as her lover. Alex had not suffered for Lack of attention, however. Between his girlfriend, Maria, his mother, and his sister, he was getting enough female attention to sate even his enthusiastic young libido.