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Olympe's Valentines 2022

This year, Olympe's list of the Valentines she wants to send is longer than usual. She makes the job easier by bulk buying luxurious hand-made selection boxes from Iain Burnett, the Highland Chocolatier, and puts a card in each, anonymous as per British custom.

The first box goes to her sex friend Roger. The card is marked with a carefully bestowed lipstick imprint of her vulva. He'll guess it's from Olympe because of the chocolates, which are the same make he treated her to after the tea dance, the time she let some melt inside her stick-on bra for their mutual delight.

Detective Takayuki Komai, still yearning and unsatisfied, gets the next box. A Japanese man knows a carton of ready-made chocolate on Valentine's Day is just *giri choko* -- duty chocolate -- but these are so expensive, so luxurious, they have to mean more, especially with the card 'signed' with an extravagant kiss mark and heart in Olympe's favourite lipstick. No-one gives an $80 box of chocolates just for *giri*. It must be from Pia-chan and mean something!?

Darios Kazemi, a brilliant though disorganised aeronautical engineer, receives a card clumsily cartooned with some kind of bird, or plane -- an ornithopter perhaps -- imagined by someone who isn't technical and can't draw for toffee. It's carrying a love heart. Olympe believes in Dari's mission, though she probably can never fly in his new creation, due to her irrational fear of heights. She's not yet sure if they can be lovers in the fullest sense, but she hopes they will.

The next three cards are sent to girls whom Olympe met briefly and was deeply attracted to, and nothing came of it but she thinks something might if she could contrive to meet again. Long shots, in other words. The cards have no identifier except an QR code which if accessed will bring up indirect contact details.

Joelle, an empathetic redhead journalist from an excruciatingly early morning session in Sadie's Diner, when vampires were discussed. Olympe craves the chance of a mutual investigation.

Maryellen, a tall, elegant blonde whose shoe let her down and Olympe was privileged by chance to help, one fine day. Olympe lost her heart and hopes against hope the emotion is returned.

Dee, a blue-haired girl, a cabaret artiste who may or may not be a mermaid in human disguise. Olympe longs to cavort with her, preferably ashore since merperson sex must be very different to what she's used to. *But mermaids, IDK, it's different to when I was a merboi, maybe it would be okay... Everything's worth trying once, surely?*

.
Olympe had a good Valentine's Day. She received three cards and easily guessed two of the senders: Dari and Roger. They didn't know about each other and it had to stay that way. She suspected the third one was from Taka-kun. She couldn't be sure; while Japanese men don't usually send cards, he had been living abroad long enough to get involved in the custom. And probably he was still interested in her, or he would have gone back to Tokyo months ago. So that was good. *I'll know for sure on White Day* she told herself.

Happy with her haul, Olympe ordered a lazy delivery curry and opened a bottle of red wine. She was eating slobbily in front of the TV, watching 'Komi Can't Communicate' on Flixnet, when the doorbell announced a surprise late package, excitingly heavy.

* * *

A small but heavy box arrives at Olympe's door late at night on Valentine's Day with a courier, wrapped in silvery paper. Inside is a bottle of Mermaid's Tears vodka. A card is attached, fine stationery in blue shades, sealed with blue wax and handwritten in subtly glittering ink. A few drops of water have blotted the writing here and there.

Dearest Olympe, I have received your message with great pleasure. I have to admit, you simply have not left my mind since the joyous occasion of working together. I do give private performances for a selected audience and would love you to attend - and stay afterwards for a drink.
Yours, awaiting your reply,

Dee...

* * *

Olympe's heartbeat accelerated as she read Dee's note, the invitation to a private performance and drinks. She examined the bottle of vodka - *What a clue!* She conjured a scene *très intime* in her mind's eye.

*I can't believe my card worked! The chocs helped naturally, cause all girls like chocolates. But is she really into me as a human? I'll have to go, of course, opportunities like this should never be passed up.*

She grabbed her smartphone and searched where to buy a bottle of Mount Gay Black Barrel rum for a gift. *Should I take some oysters? No!* The potential of mermaid sex was actually rather worrying without involving extra seafood. *I mean if we... Where is the... How does it all work?*

That night, Olympe had some interesting dreams. She sent her grateful acceptance the very next morning, and began to plan her outfit.

At the appointed time, Olympe knocked at Dee's door wearing her couture Atlantean Strachiton, drapes and figure-hugging swathes of silver, black and blue which rippled and glowed from living magic woven into the fabric.

The address in the card had lead Olympe to a former warehouse, converted into lofts. Dee's place was on the ground floor. After knocking, Olympe heard the soft electric whir of a camera installed above the frame of the steel door, which shortly afterwards buzzed open. The spacious room behind it had a concrete floor and red brick walls with steel framed windows near the double-height ceiling.

The only source of light was a round, illuminated swimming pool framed with terracotta tiles at the center of the room. It nearly took up the whole floorspace. In front of it, facing the gleaming water, stood a loveseat, covered in dark green velvet, beside it a small table which supported a black glass étagère holding a selection of horsd'œuvres (no seafood), two flutes and a bottle of champagne in a cooler. At the far end of the pool a folding screen painted with an underwater scenery partially hid an iron-wrought spiral staircase, leading upwards toward a mezzanine, hidden by the shadows of the dim pool light. Soft steps could be heard, bare feet on metal.

"Hi," said Dee, who slowly descended the stairs, gripping the rails of the staircase and keeping her eyes on her feet, as if afraid of missing a step. Halfway down she stoped to look up and smile at Olympe. Dee, on her own terms today, didn't wear any make-up or jewelery and only a simple black bikini top. Her blue curls hung loosely around her shoulders, a simple tie-dye sarong was wrapped around her hips.

"So glad you came. Please take a seat."

"I feel overdressed."

“You look absolutely lovely.”

By force of habit Olympe had shed her high heels on entering the domestic space, lining up the strappy sandals neatly to face the door, since a guest will inevitably exit in due course. She paced sure-footed to the couch, upright primate heritage unconsciously displayed. Though her naked feet mirrored Dee's, her face was painted subtly, her earlobes pinned with small crescent moons of white gold and diamonds. The folds of her Strachiton were held in place by a brooch, another moon, larger, silver, which reflected the light from the pool. As she moved, the magical threads in her drapery flexed and glowed; a fantasy sky of stars and tenuous clouds rippling across the midnight blue. She put down her clutch and a larger bag, and half reclined on the loveseat, arranging her skirts to maximum effect. Her right hand sparkled with an outsize cocktail ring of yellow and white gold and diamonds, formed into the rays of the resplendant sun.

"Actually I brought a swimming costume but I'm so fond of my Strachiton, please don't ask me to change yet."

“I can understand that, the dress is stunning. But I’m glad you brought swimwear. Do join me after the dance.”

Dee disappeared behind the screen. The sarong was thrown over its edge and hung there limply. The folding screen was pushed aside and there was Dee, sitting on a pool lounger, made out of steel instead of plastic or wickerwork. It was shaped like a descending wave. And Dee now wore a long mermaid’s tail, covered in iridescent scales, pearly white at the front, shades of aqua towards the side, the fins dipped in a hue of turquoise. Seeing her in better light Olympe could see that Dee wore two subtle pieces of jewelery: her chain with the scallop locket and a small golden ring pierced through her belly button, nested in the fold where the tail hugged her hips with a v-shaped bulge, her appearance a was a stark contrast to her carefully made-up attire during her usual performances. Dee, her toned arms propped up behind her, looked over to Olympe once more and smiled, flexed the fins, then pushed herself forward and glided into the pool.

A classical piece started to play from hidden speakers, violins, piano and a trained ear would recognise the ethereal tunes of a glass harmonica. And Dee started swimming and diving, her movements aligned with the rhythm of the music, blue strands of hair floating around her like sea grass in the currents of the ocean. She dove as deeply as the pool allowed, flitted closely under the water surface, bending, swaying. Now and then she emerged from the water, slowly twirling with raised arms, eyes closed the whole time she was dancing, losing herself in the element that was so clearly hers.

When the music piece faded out, Dee floated towards the end of the pool where Olympe sat, drew herself half out of the water and propped her arms up on the tiles. She opened her eyes and looked at her guest, deep blue eyes gleaming under long lashes where small droplets caught the light.

The ripple of the music evoked for Olympe the sea's tides and currents, the advance and retreat of waves on the shore, the undulating pressure felt in the depths, which influenced sea-life in all its forms. It was a gentle power, for now, though insistent with its energy derived from celestial bodies, particularly the moon. She felt that energy in her core. It controlled her menstrual cycle, and full moons had always proved portentous in her professional life. Now her earlobes tingled with an odd sexual urge, a somatic memory of times they were pulled in oceanic rhythms by a heavy pair of dangler earrings she had eschewed today for practical reasons. On one occasion that energy had led her to perform splendid feats of physical love.

*I should have worn them tonight and abandoned myself*

Dee's hesitancy on the stairs and her utter grace in the water, had combined to harden Olympe's suspicion that here was a real mermaid who had discovered a way to turn herself into a land-walking human. At the end of the water dance their eyes locked, Dee's ocean blue, Olympe's gold-flecked hazel-green. Olympe felt the need to show her formal appreciation, and clapped her hands lightly.

"Dee, you're splendid! The water is your element. Now, will you come out for a drink, or shall I join you in the pool?"

Dee lowered her eyelids, breaking the eye contact for a moment.

"Indeed it is. I'm glad you enjoyed the performance. Stay outside or come in - however you feel comfortable. I longed to be in the water for the whole day and would like to stay a while."

She pushed herself up on the tiles on the floor, muscles tightening under olive skin, rose partially from the water and plopped down on the rim of the pool. Dee's tail stayed in the water, flipping playfully and creating small waves. She patted her left hand on the floor next to her, a damp print showed up and disappeared gradually.

"Maybe you would like to sit with me for a bit? The tiles are heated. And if you would be so kind and give me a flute? We should open the champagne. It feels like a special night, don't you think?"

Dee's eyes travelled over Olympe's body, in that dress with the effects that could only be otherworldly. She burned with curiousity about this woman, so self-confident and mysterious, a firefly in a swarm of moths. She had been instantly attracted to her when they first met and would not this let the opportunity pass to get to know her better.

"Tell me about yourself, Olympe. I know so little - only that you are damn good at your job. And that everyone is in awe of you." Her eyes locked with Olympe's again, searching in those warm golden flecks for answers. *Who are you? What are you? And how can I make you stay?*

Olympe had changed her hair since the night of Mr Cheung's party. A choppy pixie cut now framed her square face. She smiled at Dee's compliments and uncorked the champagne deftly, with a muted pop. She poured two glasses, handing one to Dee, and raised hers to give a toast, "To swimming, one of my favourite pastimes." She sipped.

Dee took the champagne flute with a nod and clinked her glass with Olympe's. "To swimming. It's simply like nothing else." She drank and waited until Olympe joined her at the poolside.

"Let me just arrange my dress and I'll sit with you." Olympe tucked the midi-length skirts up to her waist. They ballooned and pooled on her thighs as she knelt gracefully at Dee's left side. Olympe unfolded her legs to dip her feet into the water. Her legs were unshaven. There was an old scar on one knee.

"Thank you for your kind words about my work, Dee. That job's done, actually. I've learnt everything I needed from Mr Cheung. Now I've got a bit of spare time before I start something else, I don't know what but it will be interesting, I'm sure. I think we're both lucky to do work we enjoy. And your home is such fun! Is the pool salt water? I usually swim at the public pool, or in rivers and lakes. The sea's fun too, of course. Which is your favourite?"

It hadn't gone past Dee that Olympe actually hadn't said anything about herself - which made her only more curious about this woman. Something was up here and Dee was determined to find it out.

"So you are what exactly - an event manager? You seem to know all the important people, and they know you." Another flip with the tail, sending waves across the surface. "Yes, it's salt water. Although it doesn't even come close to swimming in the ocean. That's where I like to go. Late in the evening when all the tourists are gone." A white lie. Dee usually went at night when nobody could see her change.

Olympe waved her legs slowly in the water. She drained her glass and smiled.

"What am I? I'm a girl who likes to have fun. I'm a girl whose job is to know things, and people. That old saw, 'It's not what you know, it's who you know...' The fact is no-one can know everything they need to, so it's important to know how to find out who to ask about stuff. I'm a girl who wants to stay private. Here, look at this."

She jumped up to fetch the champagne and her smartphone, incongruously an armoured mil-spec model with exotic sensors and an almost bullet proof screen. She refilled their glasses, and searched up social media of the mega-party at #the-party-rooftop where they had met. About a million images on WhatsUpp, Chwitter and FaceBuk scrolled across the glowing screen: A, B, C, and Z list celebrities; band members; burlesque stars; selfies of ordinary citizens admitted by lottery to leaven the froth; pics of food and drinks; DJs; dancing; the exotic Mermaid show which Dee had performed. Mr Cheung was everywhere. Olympe herself appeared in many but somehow she was always subtly effaced; a tabletop firework, a tall glowing cocktail replete with skewered fruit and umbrellas, or a halation of fairy lights, intervened, and the camera never exactly caught her.

"You can look on Picterest and Rumblr, it's all the same. Let's swim, Dee. Maybe another time we can go to the real ocean."

Dee looked at the screen Olympe held under her nose and tried to follow the flood of images with her eyes. *You're still not telling me anything about yourself,* she thought. *Well, two people can play that game.* "Indeed, it's all the same. But please send the ones of my performance to my agency if you would be so kind." Dee didn't really bother being present in social media herself but her team did a great job and Dee didn't mind her pictures floating around the internet. People didn't believe plenty of what was right under her eyes. The only thing she had refused was to make silly dances for short music clips.

"I'll make sure the official footage is shared. Your agent can do what they like with it, it's never going to be surfaced otherwise, cause of... reasons..." Olympe's voice trailed off to a mumble.

The tall blondette drained her glass again. She stripped off her Strachiton, draped it with care on the love seat. Underneath she wore a black, stick-on bra and Brazilian briefs which she doffed to reveal an odd, linear scar on her right buttock, a neat landing strip of pubic hair, and unshaven armpits. There was a scar on her left deltoid, and what looked like a healed burn mark between her breasts, small, circular, like someone might have stabbed her with a lit cigar.

Olympe dipped into her larger bag for a tankini and boyshorts set, navy blue with a wide white stripe down the right side. She let herself gently into the salt water pool, dove and surfaced, turned to face Dee and held her arms wide.

Dee turned her head away politely when Olympe changed into her swimsuit and watched her glide into the water, wondering about those scars and marks. Maybe she had good reason to be so secretive. When Olympe resurfaced, Dee smiled at her, leaned back and began floating on her back, arms crossed behind her neck and eyes on the other swimmer in the pool.

"Maybe we can go to the ocean. I'd love to. There is a small bay with beautifully white sand, only a few miles from here, which you can only reach by swimming. The view is lovely, especially at night."

Olympe floats on her back. The salt water buoys her. It's been heated to make for a comfortable experience, cool, not cold. No danger of hypothermia in Dee's pool.

"A sea bay you can only reach by swimming. No road there, you mean?"

"Yes. No roads." Most importantly, no humans. "Only water. I often go there on my own."

She swam close to Dee and whispered into her ear.

"It sounds wonderful, Dee. I don't think I could swim so far but what if we went by boat? I know someone who has a motor yacht, he'll take us for sure if I ask nicely. He's discreet, capable, used to carrying divers, and he won't letch at us. Goddess knows I've flirted like mad but his heart belongs to a princess, so he'd carry us safely in all respects. We could dive off the boat, explore the bay, look at all the odd sea creatures and enjoy the starry heaven with cocktails or wine. It'll be very romantic."

Suddenly Olympe was near her, her hair tickling Dee's shoulder, her voice silken. Dee could feel the warmth radiating from the other body in the water, smell her perfume. The proposition she made let Dee blush with lowered eyelids.

"You really do know everyone in this city, don't you? A motor yacht owner enamored with a princess, you are not making this all up, aren't you?"

Olympe was overpowered by her enthusiasm. She turned and called out "Let's go now!" as she began to swim to the edge of the pool. Olympe's nearly childlike excitement surprised and charmed Dee, it was so different of what she expected when she saw her first, all business and careful phrased instructions. She laughed as the other woman moved away from her, turned on her belly and followed with quick arm-strokes and a few dashes of her fin.

"If you have an idea, you go through with it, come hell or high water, right? It does sound very romantic but right at this moment? I don't want to rain on your parade but what about this mysterious yacht-owner, I'm sure he had other plans for today than ferrying two sea-fanatics around. Can I even trust him? For that matter, Olympe, can I trust you?"

Once more she props up her face into her hands, elbows resting on the tiles, looking up at her guest. This woman is exciting in all kinds of ways but Dee hasn't come as far as she has by being careless.

"As much as I'd love to be whisked away to a night with wine, stars and the sea, I have to know who I will spend it with."

"Don't worry about Graham, he's a darling. We've known each other since we were little. I'm sure I can talk him around for tonight, or tomorrow if it's better. He likes to show off his boat, The Smol Rascal, it's called. But I see the problem. We whisk you away on a yacht to Goddess knows where and... Yes. Hum."

Olympe refilled the champagne glasses and knelt elegantly to hand one to Dee. She sat on the edge of the pool again and sipped hers. The sea water began to dry, leaving a rime of salt on her skin.

"You want to know who I am. Well. What should I do? Should I tell you a secret? How many lovers I've had? Shall we go somewhere public, so you can feel safe and we'll talk. A discreet bar, maybe. I know a good place. Or do you want to come to my flat? You can judge my personality from my bookcases and pictures. Or we can go dancing, I always feel that reveals a lot about a person." Her face flexed into animated smiles throughout the little speech.

Dee gracefully accepted the champagne, brushing Olympe's skin with her fingers while doing so, not accidentally, quite purposefully. She took a sip, placed the glass on a tile, crossed her arms and lowered her head into them, blue curls fanning out over her back. Dee listened to that speech, wondering how often Olympe had performed it.

"I don't care how many lovers you've had. I guess there were and are plenty, and why wouldn't there be. You are quite intriguing." She tilted her head to the side, stretching her fin out into the water, droplets glistening on her skin and the back of the mermaid tail.

"No need to go somewhere public. I am safe here, I wouldn't have invited you otherwise. Bookcases and pictures can be bought, arranged. And I can't dance outside of the water. My legs simply don't do what I want them to. So," she locked eyes with Olympe once more, lifting her head and taking another deep sip from the champagne flute, "Tell me a secret."

Olympe felt a frisson at Dee's deliberate caress, and took quite a mouthful of wine.

"Hmmm... What secret should I reveal, I wonder? You've probably guessed I'm well-off, and well-connected in various circles which might surprise you. There's some stuff I can't tell you about what I do for work -- not yet, anyway. I'll tell you one thing which not a lot of people know. Only my close friends and colleagues. You may find it hard to believe."

She paused to take a towel from her large bag and put in on the floor for a makeshift pad. She flexed her legs into the formal kneeling position the Japanese call seiza, knees together and completely bent, big toes overlapped behind, buttocks resting on her ankles, her back straight upright. It may have looked excruciatingly uncomfortable to Dee's mermaid eyes. Her face was composed. Her eyes were open and engaged with the scene.

"Dee, look at me closely and tell me what you see."

Olympe is a tallish girl, maybe 175cm and well-built, 60-65 kilos but athletic, with strong shoulders, narrow hips, small breasts, toned muscles. She clearly works out. She doesn't shave her legs or armpits. Her face is handsome rather than pretty, square jawed, framed by a boyishly short haircut. Her various scars make her look quite the tomboy. She's made up for the beach and wearing stud earrings composed of white gold and diamonds in the shape of the crescent moon. Her swimming costume is a navy blue tankini and boyshorts set with a broad white stripe down the right side. She's obviously comfortable in her seiza pose.

Dee's deep blue eyes wander over Olympe's body, from her blonde hair right down to her knees, only pausing to once more meet her gaze.

"I see a woman who knows what she wants, who takes care of herself and who has been through a lot in the past. I see a woman who seeks out adventures when she can find them and who asks more questions than she wants to answer. I don't see any secrets. If you have one, you hide it well." Dee empties her champagne flute. "And I am used to believing the unbelievable." She smiles and holds up the flute towards Olympe. "More champagne, if you would be so kind?"

"Certainly, it's very refreshing."

Olympe unwinds herself elegantly, fetches the bottle and her smartphone, and sits again in seiza. She refills Dee's glass, holding the bottle with both hands in best polite Japanese style, the label up. She sips to wet her throat.

"You've got good eyes, Dee, you saw a lot about me from that inspection. Here, look at this picture and tell me what you think." She searchs up an image and gives her phone to Dee.

The photo shows a tallish guy, 180+cm, athletic, well-built with strong shoulders, maybe 85-90 kilos. He's handsome, clean-shaven, with gold-flecked hazel eyes and a square jaw. A diffident smile. His hair's the same colour as Olympe's but cut longer, rather shaggy, actually. He's wearing a preppy look, camel chinos, a pale blue shirt and a navy blue sweater. Black, no brand sneakers, and a brown sacoche slung from his shoulder. He looks a lot like Olympe. He's probably her brother, maybe even her twin.

Dee accepts the the glass and looks at the phone, raised eybrows.

"Olympe, I don't know what kind of game you try to play with me but I have to admit, I start to get bored. Surely there are more interesting things we could talk about? I mean, this is a human man." She shrugs. "To be honest, they all look the same to me. They even wear the same. They talk about the same things. Mostly about themselves." She takes another sip of champagne, slowly the warmth of the alcohol starts to rise to her head, a pleasant, tingly feeling - and her sign to stop drinking.

"You seem to be related. That's all I can see. Is he your secret?"

Dee accepts the the glass and looks at the phone, raised eybrows.

"Olympe, I don't know what kind of game you try to play with me but I have to admit, I start to get bored. Surely there are more interesting things we could talk about? I mean, this is a human man." She shrugs. "To be honest, they all look the same to me. They even wear the same. They talk about the same things. Mostly about themselves." She takes another sip of champagne, slowly the warmth of the alcohol starts to rise to her head, a pleasant, tingly feeling - and her sign to stop drinking.

"You seem to be related. That's all I can see. Is he your secret?"

Olympe's eyebrows clenched for a moment, then her expression cleared.

"Dee, I'm so sorry! Being boring is unforgivable. I'll finish quickly. The point is that this guy was me. Or I'm him now. What I mean is a couple of years ago I was this boi in the photo. That's why he looks like me. I had some pretty great adventures back then, and one day I woke up like this. I had changed overnight. I got a full medical including genetic testing and so on. That proved I had become a real girl, double X chromosome and everything. It was done by magic, of course. I had someone who knows about magic check me out. I never found a way to change back. Before you say it's impossible, there are precedents. Both Tyresias and Orlando got changed from men into women. So there it is, that's my secret. I agree with you about men's clothes, by the way, they are pretty boring. That's one of the things I like about being a girl."

She drank off the rest of her champagne. The bottle was empty. She eyed it with a mild frown of regret.

Dee laughs, a pearly sound, like chimes in the ocean breeze. She shakes her head, not in disbelief, but amusement.

"Now, that is a secret I didn't expect. Then again", she shrugs, "several of my clients changed their gender. Though not by magic. Although I'm sure they would have preferred it." She notices the empty bottle. "There is more where that came from, if you want." She studies Olympe once more. "You just woke up like this? Did you mess with a witch maybe? They tend to hold grudges. Although turning into a women is one of the kinder curses they could have inflicted." She twitches her tail once more. "I do believe you, I know magic exists and I sensed that something was up in you. I'm not a human myself but I think you know that, don't you?"