Early morning, in the City of Paphos on Cyprus Island.
Brilliant sunlight pierced through the carved windows, illuminating the inside of the room, scattering across torn garments and disarray sprawled all the way to the big bed made of fragrant wood.
With the shifting light and shadow, a graceful figure beneath the gauzy canopy yawned lazily, awakening leisurely as she stretched her jade arms and lifted the silk velvet quilt that barely concealed the glow of spring, revealing an ivory, flawless, perfect form.
The remaining traces of red marks on her snow-white skin did not detract from the beauty of her stunning body; instead, they highlighted the mature charm of a figure nourished by love's aftermath.
Aphrodite, on the bed, let out a long yawn, her descending arm covering the abundance of her body as she rubbed a few tooth marks etched into her skin, with her enchanting eyes casting a reproachful glance outside the canopy.
This adversary...