* Pic is of Erato
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The woman walking across the balcony was so beautiful that Candice held her breath. She had shoulder-length blonde hair, and her eyes shone a rich brown, like toffee. She walked with a sensuous sway to her hips, and her dress was made from delicate, floaty, translucent lace. She was seductive, yet when she greeted her sisters, a sweetness overcame the sexual vibes she emitted. Two turtle doves flew, cooing, onto her shoulder, and she fished a few grains from a hidden pocket in her skirt, feeding them by hand.
"She is Erato, the Muse of love poems and erotic poetry."
Candice watched as she perched on the edge of the marble table, petting her doves and laughing sweetly with her sisters.
She’s not brazen, Candice realized. Her sensuality is unconscious, and sweet.
"Once again, you are right. She is the Muse of Eros, the God of desire and attraction, and as such, she displays his qualities.
Erato affectionately cupped Clio’s cheek, and kissed her hair. Candice startled, feeling the touch herself.
That’s me.
She loves me.
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Apollo's Muse
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