Deity of Desire in the Japanese Gardens

As I stood before the serene beauty of the Japanese temple, the soft rustle of the silk kimono against my skin seemed to whisper sweet nothings in my ear. My eyes, fixed upon the chiseled features of the deity before me, were drawn inexorably to the rugged line of his jaw, the sharp planes of his cheekbones, and the full, sensual curve of his lips. "Uh...

deity is a word, and deity isn't," I stammered, my voice barely audible over the pounding of my heart. He raised an eyebrow, his eyes glinting with amusement, as he replied, "Or is it supposed to be one of those recursive acronyms? Deity Is Excellent To You.

Deity Eats Icecream That's Yellow.

Deity Is Eloping To Yokohama.

I'll stop now." As he spoke, his hand reached out, his fingers brushing against the skin of my neck, sending shivers coursing through my very being. I felt myself drawn to him, helpless against the tide of desire that threatened to consume me whole. "Let us retire to the gardens," he suggested, his voice low and husky, "and discuss the finer points of deity-ology." I nodded, my heart racing with anticipation, as he led me through the tranquil gardens, the scent of cherry blossoms and green tea filling the air. We walked in silence, the only sound the soft crunch of gravel beneath our feet, until we reached a secluded glade, surrounded by a screen of bamboo. There, in the fading light of day, he took me in his arms, his lips claiming mine in a kiss that left me breathless and wanting more. As the stars began to twinkle in the night sky, I knew that I was forever changed, my heart and soul bound to this enigmatic deity, this god of sensuality and desire.