She was a docent at the art museum. Her name tag read "AGRAT."  Hal was an assistant director at the museum. He asked her about the unusual name.

"It’s an old family name," she said.

That evening, out of curiosity, Hal looked up the name. To his surprise, "Agrat" was supposedly a succubus. She was royalty, no less, one of four succubus queens, along with Lilith, Eisheth Zenunim, and Naamah. Agrat’s full name was Agrat bat Mahlat, or, Agrat, the daughter of Mahlat.

The next day, he asked again. How ever did she get the name of a succubus?

Agrat just looked at him. "What?" Hal finally said.

“You get an A for research and an F for insight. I have a succubus name because I’m a succubus, silly."

"Right," he said. “A queen succubus was maybe a little short of cash, so she took a minimum-wage job as a docent in an art museum."

"No. But this succubus was a lot short of attention. I am a muse, Hal. I have been a muse for centuries," she said, "But I have to admit that the muse biz has been a bit slow lately. If I hang around an art museum, maybe I can find another artist.”

“I am supposed to believe this.”

"Hal, there are paintings and sculptures where I am the true model.”

“Name one,” Hal said.

“Okay. Do you know Kreuzer Sonata, by René-Xavier Prinet?”

“Of course I do,” Hal said.

“I am the woman who was sitting at the piano until the violinist got carried away and started his passionate kiss. The passion continued all that afternoon, by the way.”

“Hmm,” Hal said. “Any others?”

“Do you know the painting Pygmalion and Galatea, by Jean-Léon Gérôme?”

“Of course I do,” Hal said.

“I was Pygmalion,” Agrat said, “emerging from the stone. With what Galatea had sculpted up to that point, I could only kiss him. By the time he finished with my thighs, I was horny as hell. But I had to wait until he freed both my feet before we could do anything serious.”

“Okay, Ms. Muse. Are you the nude woman, smiling at all of us, in Luncheon on the Grass, by Manet?”

“No. That was my sister, Eisheth. By the way, the woman in the background, taking a bath in the spring, is our sister Naamah. Then later, all of them had this foursome.” Agrat smiled wickedly. “Oh, yeah!”

“Is Eisheth also the model in the series that Picasso did based on Luncheon?” Hal asked.

“Yeah, that’s her,” Agrat giggled. “I asked her later how she created all those grotesque heads. She said that she barely managed, and that her face hurt for a week.

“Those stories are, well, interesting,” said Hal.”

“And I could keep going. I’ve got to say, Hal, you know your art stuff.”

. Hal sighed. “I try, Agrat. I try.”

“So is something wrong?”

“Agrat, I am an assistant director of the museum. I have my application in for director.  My only rival is Quentin. He is the other assistant director. Quentin doesn’t know beans about art, except to drop the word “Picasso” into a conversation now and again. More to the point, he is good-looking, and he knows how to schmooze with the ladies. Our interviews are tomorrow. Five of the seven board members are women. I am done for.”

“Let me lift your spirits,” Agrat said. “and finally convince you of my succubus-ness. Follow me.”

At that moment, who should show up but Quentin.

“Hey, little Hal, what’s shakin’?” Hal, who was as tall as Quentin, looked seriously annoyed. Quentin immediately turned to Agrat. “Hello, beautiful. I am Quentin. I am going to be the next museum director. Are you new here?”

“Yes. Still finding my way around.”

“Well, if ever you need a knowledgeable guide or a dinner date, just call. Here’s my card. Where are you headed now?”

“Hal and I were walking over to see The Lute Player, by Delacroix,” Agrat said. Hal made a puzzled glance at the ceiling.

“Hal doesn’t know what you’re saying,” Quentin said. “Go to the painting. Enjoy! I have always loved the way Delacroix plays with colors, shapes, and the human form.” Quentin walked away.

“There have been plenty of lute players over the years,” Hal said to Agrat, “but Eugene Delacroix did not do any of them. I’m pretty sure that ours is the one by Gentileschi.”

“Yeah. I just wanted to see what that yo-yo knew about art, which is a big fat nothing. But I have to admit that his looks do push all the right buttons in a girl.

“But what was that song and dance about shapes and the human form? Sounds more like Picasso.”

“It was,” Hal said, dejected. “Picasso is the only artist he knows.

“Let us continue. Have you ever thought of just walking through the museum?” asked Agrat.

“I walk through it every day.”

“I mean while wearing absolutely nothing."

“No.”

“First time for everything,” she said. Agrat waved her hands above her head and shouted, “The magic word, Abracadabra!”

“Right. The magic word is Abracadabra. I am supposed to believe that a succubus would say that,” Hal said.

“Call me an old traditionalist. Anyway,” Agrat folded her arms, “it works. Look around."

Hall turned in a full circle. Everyone else in the large room had been grayed out. They had no facial features, and their clothing was all gray.

“What is happening?” Hal said. “Are these people all right?”

“They’re fine. But so long as the spell is effective they will never see us. More to the point, they will not see that you have no clothes on.”

He looked down and saw only what nature gave him. He looked around nervously but saw no reaction from the gray figures.

“Or that I’m not wearing anything, either,” she said. Hal looked up to see a completely naked Agrat.

“Agrat.”

“What?”

“Okay. You are the real deal.”

“Told you so, hon.” She giggled. “C’mon, Mr. Art!”  She took his hand.

The two walked to the sculpture Adoration, by Stephan Sinding. The young woman subject sat on the cubical pedestal, her legs draped over the front. The young man knelt before her, kissing her right calf just below her knee. Both subjects were nude.

“Hedda, I’m going to want to transform into you,” Agrat said.

“Not a problem,” said the sculpture.

“Brandt, my friend Hal here will need to transform into you, too.”

“Sounds good,” said the kneeling man. He looked at Agrat, turned to Hal, and smiled. “Love your lady, friend. With a girl like her a guy could live on air and love.”

It occurred to Hal that he was listening to a succubus and a marble statue talk to each other; that one subject of the statue had just given him sex advice, and, finally, that he found all this to be perfectly normal.

Hal watched as Agrat replaced Hedda. "Now adore me, Hal," Agrat said. Hal knelt and quickly felt his body replacing Brandt’s. Hal kissed Agrat’s leg.

"How’d I do?" asked Hal. "I’ve never before made love as the transformation of a marble statue while I was invisible to the world."

"You made a great start, Hal. Now just enter the stone." Agrat, still seated on the pedestal, spread her legs. Hal stepped forward into the marble, which, he found, was more the consistency of clay. Agrat leaned forward, Hal craned his neck upward, and she kissed him.

Hal played with her nipples and kissed her torso. He licked her clitoris. She mussed his hair with her hand. Then she grabbed the back of his head and brought it as deep into her thighs as she could. He continued to lick. All at once, she gasped and her body threw her head backward. She was done.

"That was very, very nice," Agrat said. She paused to catch her breath. ”On to the next exhibit!” she said. Hal helped her off the pedestal.

"Thanks, folks," Agrat said to Hedda and Brandt. The two statues waved, returned to their places, and became marble once again.

Agrat led Hal to The Kiss by Auguste Rodin. In the sculpture, the man, seated, holds the woman as she reclines in his arms. Both subjects are nude.

“Francesca, Paolo, we are going to need your space for a while.” Agrat said. The two lovers agreed, kissed, and stood to one side. Hal transformed into the male character, followed immediately by Agrat in the woman’s role.

Hal felt the passion immediately. Blood rushed to his skin. Each lover melted into the other. Her lips were warm and soft. His were soft and warm. Hal’s right hand rested on on Agrat’s outer thigh. He moved his hand over her buttocks. She sighed and moaned lightly.

His hand moved across her buttocks to her spine. He stroked along her spine until she moaned again, and then he fondled her breast.

“I’ve still got a vagina, sweetie," she whispered between breaths.

He took the hint. He slid his hand through her mass of pubic hair and into her vagina. "Oh, yeah," she cried out, "Right there! Right there!" Hal continued to stroke her, neither faster nor slower, harder nor softer. "Oh, my God. Here it comes!" said Agrat, "Oh, Hal, oh.” Immediately, it struck Hal that the most beautiful image that he had ever seen was Agrat’s face at her climax.

After her rest, Agrat said, “There’s no male in the next sculpture.You are going to be my honorary lover.” She thanked Francesca and Paolo, who resumed their roles as the sculpture.

Agrat led Hal to Auguste Clésinger’s Woman Bitten by a Serpent, which features a nude woman lying on her back, her body contorted as though she were having an orgasm, which is probably the point of the sculpture. The serpent of the title is a tiny snake curled about her left wrist.

Hal knew the sculpture. “You want to be bitten by a snake?”

“Hal, look at the serpent. I think it’s a garter snake that Clésinger found in his garden,” said Agrat. “Anyway, I don’t have to worry about it.” Agrat turned to the woman in the sculpture.

“Apollonie,” Agat said, “I am going to need your spot.”

“Can this wait?” Apollonie replied, her eyelids half-closed. “I am in the 177th year of this orgasm, and the experience has been marvelous.”

“Honey,” said Agrat, “that sounds great. But my friend and I just came from The Kiss…”

Apollonie interrupted. “Oh…and you are still hot to trot.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Agrat said, “you got that right!”

“Well, I can understand. Give me a moment,” Apollonie said. “Begone, you vicious serpent!  Back to the pansies and daffodils with you!” The terrified garter snake slithered off and found Monet’s Garden at Giverny.

Apollonie stood up and Agrat reclined in her place. Immediately, Agrat’s thighs and crotch lit up.

“Touch me, oh, stroke me, Hal,” Agrat cried out. Hal, having no male role in the artwork, was at a bit of a loss. He placed one hand on her crotch and kissed her nipple, which projected prominently upward. That did the trick. "Ah," she said gently.

Hal backed off, still uncertain about what to do. “I have two of those, y’know,” said Agrat. Hal kissed the other nipple. “That’s good,” she said.

Hal moved his hand to her crotch, and felt her heat.

When he looked at his hand, he saw her vagina engulfed in a pale yellow, translucent flame. Hal’s hand felt the heat, but it did not burn him. He continued to stroke her. The flame turned orange.“Oh, God,” moaned Agrat. Then the flame turned red. Agrat let loose a long, low, “Ooooh.”

When Agrat had finished, she climbed out of the sculpture. Immediately, she met Apollonie, who had been watching the whole time.

Agrat smiled. “Enjoy?”

“It’s good to see a guy join in,” Apollonie said, “As nice as it is to have a century-long orgasm, at the end of the century, you’re still alone.”

“Amen, my friend,” replied Agrat sadly. “Amen.”

Agrat was still covered in sweat. The museum had very good air conditioning, and she was cold. Agrat made her way quickly to Bathroom Scene Lisbeth by Carl Larsson. The painting features a woman standing next to a bathtub.

Lisbeth, fully clothed in her long white robe, startled when Agrat, still nude, ran into the bathroom. “Sorry, Lisbeth! Emergency.” Agrat began running a bath. Lisbeth ran out.

Later, Agrat, wearing nothing but her bath towel, met Hal. She grabbed his hand.

"C’mon, tiger. Your turn is right now! On to the new acquisitions! We are going to spoil you rotten.”

“What?” asked Hal. “What is among the new acquisitions? And ‘we’? Who’s ‘we'?”

They soon arrived. “Step into this painting, friend.” Agrat said. Hal leaned over and into the huge painting, in the manner of Through the Looking-Glass. He pulled back out.

“Nice enough sylvan scene. So what?” Hal said.

Agrat sighed. “Just step into the painting, all right?”

Hal did so, and became a satyr. Waiting for him were four nude women. The museum had just acquired Nymphes et Satyre, by William-Adolfe Bougueaureau.

“Hal,” Agrat said, “I’d like you to meet the other three succubus queens: my sisters Naamah, Lilith, and Eisheth.  We four will be the nymphs of Bougueaureau’s painting. I have placed first dibs on your cock, all forty-five centimeters of it.”

Hal looked over his hairy self and down between his legs, to see the artillery he had been given. He was indeed forty-five centimeters long. And he gasped at his fantasy testicles, each as big as a softball, about nine centimeters in diameter.

“Now give me what you’ve got,” said Agrat, “Pull up a bunch of moss and lie back. And stay quiet when Lilith puts your blindfold on. Suddenly, everything went wonderfully black for Hal. He felt a warm hand massage his testicles and a pair of lips kiss the base of his cock.

“Get him good and hard.” It was Agrat’s voice. So one of the three others was kissing him.

“Sit on his face.” It was Agrat again. Someone straddled his face. He drank in the dense aroma of a succubus.

“Lick his cock.” A third succubus started on his massive shaft.

“Feelin’ good, baby?” It was Agrat’s voice again. He felt two sets of fingers massage his nipples.

“Now back away from the cock,” said Agrat. The licking stopped. Hal felt two lips kiss the head of his cock. A tongue stroked the frenulum.

The lips made their way in short strokes down the shaft. After some glorious moments, the lips reached the base of Hal’s cock. Her tongue moistened the underside.

Hal thought his penis must have been strangling Agrat. “Agrat, can you breathe?” he asked,

“She’s breathing just fine,” said the voice of a female who was not Agrat.

Agrat moved her head up and down the shaft. The second succubus continued to massage his testicles. Agrat’s movements stroked him faster and faster. For Hal, the world dissolved and the only focus of all his existence was his erect, straining cock. Time vanished.

Finally, Hal could stand it no longer. A great rush of satyr’s blue semen coursed through his erection. His head seemed to explode.

Once Hal had relaxed, Agrat withdrew his cock from her mouth. “Undo the blindfold,” she said. Eisheth, who had been straddling his face, did so. Agrat leaned over and kissed Hal. A big pile of his cum fell from her mouth into his.

“I taste like blueberries? Really?” he asked.

“While you’re in this painting, lover, you are a satyr and yes, your stuff tastes like blueberries,” Agrat said.

“How about I cradle in your arms for a bit while we rest up? You’ve got about nine or ten loads left in there, but I am stuffed from just the one. And you need the time to recharge.”

They cuddled for a long time. Neither said a word. “You’re a nice guy,” Agrat finally said.

“Thank you very much.”

“Succubi live for thousands of years. You will not.”

“Uh, okay. And your point is?” Hal asked.

“My point is that someday I will miss you. It’s nice to be a man’s muse, but too many of these guys are bastards. When a succubus meets a nice guy for a change, it’s a great experience. I haven’t mentioned my Aunt Meridiana, have I?”

“No.”

“Aunt Meridiana helped this Gerbert d’Aurillac guy in France to become the Pope. This is like a thousand years ago. She appeared in Gerbert’s life after his girlfriend left  him. He was big on math and science, and he was a decent guy. All of that impressed my aunt, who just moved in with him one night.

Then the Pope died, and Gerbert started talking about how he wanted to be the new pope. Aunt Meridiana really liked this guy, so she sucked off every cardinal in France and most of them in Italy to get the votes.

"And whaddaya know, those same cardinals elected Gerbert as the Pope. He became Sylvester the something. Sylvester and Meridiana had a happy four-year reign.

“Just before he died, Sylvester repented, at least as far as the public was concerned, about taking up with a succubus. Then he died. Aunt Meridiana was alone once again. She was devastated for two hundred years.

“That’s how this business is. The succubus and the man meet and hit it off. The succubus falls in love and the man continues to age. Then he dies and she has to live on, waiting for the next nice guy.

“But right here, and right now, you are here, and so am I,” Agrat said.

Hal kissed Agrat.

She began to play with his nipples. “How’s that recharge doing, lover?”

Hal felt his penis fill and lift off his leg. “It’s doing fine,” he said, “but I have a question.”

“A question? During an orgy? Okay, I guess.”

“Agrat, I’ve got forty-five centimeters of eros right here between my legs. How did you swallow all that without suffocating yourself?”

“Sorry, hon. Trade secret. Eisheth, go ahead.”

“But you took dibs on my cock,” Hal said.

“I did. I decided to share you. You’ve got enough cum to satisfy all of us. Close your eyes.” Agrat placed the blindfold on him.

“Eisheth,” Agrat said, “make him long and hard, then climb on.” He felt Eisheth’s hands, soft and warm, stimulate his member. When she had stroked the length of his cock, she rubbed her palm over the head.

Eisheth mounted him. Already wet, she took him all in with a single thrust downward.

Hal assumed that the head of his cock was somewhere near Eisheth’s sternum. “Eisheth, you have all of me. Are you all right?”

“Yes, Mr. Nice Guy, I’m fine. And thanks for asking.”

Agrat straddled his face. Hal drank in her scent and licked her furiously. Eisheth pumped him. Soon all three came together— a triple simultaneous orgasm! Eisheth dismounted and left his member covered in blue semen.

“Got to clean you off,” Eisheth said, and began to lick his cock. When she finished, Eisheth and Agrat both kissed Hal, then the two queens kissed each other, and then all three laughed.

After another recharge, the succubi and Hal were ready for round three. A woman whom Hal had not seen before walked out of the forest.

“Hal, this is my Aunt Meridiana,” said Agrat. “I am going to share you with Meridiana, also.”

The sex lasted all night long. Hal, the exhausted satyr, poked his head out of the painting. He saw the clock on the wall. It was noon. His job interview for museum director had been scheduled for nine that morning. On realizing this, Hal’s heart sank. He cried.

Agrat saw the satyr crying. She looked out of the painting, saw the clock, and understood what must have happened. ”Hal, I’m really sorry," Agrat said.

"You don’t keep my calendar," Hal replied, "and I am responsible for my own libido."

"What are you going to do now?"

"Act like a professional, to the extent that is possible. I can’t tell anyone about what actually happened, of course. I guess I am going to clean my desk, and then go back to the Board and listen to the bad news. Then I will go home and polish up the resume." Hal and Agrat walked out of the painting.

"Hal, do you really think they will fire you?"

"No. But I won’t work for that dunce, Quentin, either."

Hal finished with his office, had everything in boxes, and headed for the Board meeting, which had adjourned to the lunch room. He walked in the door.

"Our New Director! Congratulations!" The entire Board stood and applauded. Hal was nonplussed. After a few moments, "Uh, what?" was all he could manage.

"You were not here this morning, dearie, but Quentin was, right on time at 10:30. That’s a good first impression, and we all thought he was the choice just for showing up. But you’ve heard the saying, ‘digging your own grave with your teeth.’"

The Chair then launched into her impression of Quentin. "Darling," she said to the Vice-chair, "Picasso Picasso Picasso?"

"Indeed ," was the reply, "Picasso Picasso Picasso."

"And," the Chair insisted firmly, with her index finger straight up, ”Picasso Picasso Picasso PICASSO?"

"Picasso," was the simple reply.

The Chair then leaned over toward the Vice-chair and put on her best I’m-a-guy-too-horny-for-my-own-good impression. "Sugar, I’ve got a schlong that won’t quit and it’s got your name on it. What say you and I quit this pointless interview and go at it in the broom closet?"

"Did Quentin really say that?" asked Hal.

"No, but he may as well have. The Board should not have to tell a forty-year-old man not to hit on women during job interviews.

“Anyway,” the Chair continued, “there were no other applicants. After a discussion, we found that we knew you and we all liked you. The vote in your favor was unanimous. Again, congratulations.” Each member of the Board and Hal shook hands.

Still in a daze, Hal made his way to the director’s suite and sat in the directors chair. Word of the new hire had spread quickly through the museum staff, and Hal’s first well-wisher was Agrat. She brought him flowers.

“I love chrysanthemums,” Hal said of the big bouquet.

“How about The Succubus? I know you’ll love that, too. Another sculpture by Rodin, you know.”

“Agrat, no. I just dodged a bullet.”

“Hal, it’s the least I can do. Last night was supposed to make you feel better.

“Rodin’s model was Lilith. Lilith is in the sculpture now, and she’s waiting for you. She is already nude and on her knees. Her mouth forms an “O”, just ready for you.”

“No.”

“I could make you as huge and long as the satyr,” Agrat went on, “and if you need any help,” she unbuttoned her blouse, “I’m always there.” She smiled brightly.

“Get a grip. The director’s position is my life. The absolute final answer is No.”

“Then let’s go back to The Kiss.”

“Agrat, no!” For the first time ever, Hal raised his voice to her. Agrat was stunned. Quietly, she said, "Hal, I love you."

“I don’t believe  you,” Hal said, “No woman has ever said that to me, and I don’t believe you.”

“So I fell in love with a fool,” Agrat said, “A horny fool, but a fool nonetheless.”

“Oh, just get out,” Hal said. As Agrat walked out the door,  the last he saw of her was her back, with her middle finger upraised. She turned and took one look at him, and was gone.

After about a week, Director Hal was hard at work, He fell quiet for a moment, sighed, and smiled gently at the bouquet of chrysanthemums, whose blooms were still going strong. His mind wandered. He remembered that it had been a long time since he had created anything. He thought about the things that he could paint and that he could sculpture. He thought to himself, How about a man and a woman embracing passionately in the middle of a field of flowers?

“Naaaw," he said out loud.

Over lunch, Hal reminisced about his career by walking in the museum sculpture garden. He came to a stop at Woman Bitten by a Serpent.

“Well, Apollonie, old girl, how’re you doing?" Hal’s intended soliloquy began. "Feeling all right?”

The garter snake winked at him. “Auguste,” said the statue, “Soyez sage! Behave!”

Hal took a step backward. “Apollonie? No, Agrat! Agrat, what are you doing here?”

The statue spoke. “What does it look like I’m doing, Hal? I am lying here alone. There has never been a man in this sculpture. There has never been a man in my life, either. There will never be one.”

Hal began to melt. “What happened to Agrat, every artist’s muse?”

“She died. She died when she realized that she could never have Hal.”

“Agrat,” said Hal, who was by now a metaphorical puddle on the museum floor. “I will remain mortal, but until my last day, I will love you dearly.

“After all, you have become my muse. Leave the serpent and come with me to The Kiss.”

Agrat smiled, took his hand, and left the statue.