StarIQ.com's Cosmic Correspondent Kim Rogers-Gallagher has been invited to the planets' secret hangout. She's the first astrologer to enter this starry domain, and will report regularly on her findings there.

Cosmic Café 34:
Another Dinner at the Café

We pulled up in front of the Café, and Mercury hopped out. He dashed around to my side of the car and opened my door for me before I could even reach for the handle. Of course, he was in charming, partner-oriented Libra—basically, in the mood to be a perfect "date." Just as he was helping me stand, the Moon came out of the Café—and by her appearance, I knew I had been right about her being in Pisces.

This was an entirely different Moon from the one I had met last. That was the Moon in her nurturing Cancer outfit—a small, round, grandmotherly lady. She'd even been wearing an apron. This Moon who stood before me, however, was definitely not wearing an apron. She was dressed for an evening out in Florida. In fact, she looked like a wealthy retiree who lived in an "adult community" and golfed with her husband (and, occasionally, another couple) daily.

I got my first glimpse of her after she released me from a long, tender hug. While she gave Mercury instructions, I stood back and looked at her, amazed at the form she'd chosen to wear for our meeting.

She was a stunningly beautiful older woman—about 60-ish, I'd say. Her outfit was pastel pink, a pair of ankle-length capri slacks under a tight little matching jacket. The polished toes that poked out from her white sandals were perfect. They didn't even look like toes. Ah, yes. She’d had acrylic overlays done on both her hands and her toes. She was tan, her hair was a lovely shade of honey-blonde, and she'd obviously had her share of plastic surgery—but it had been done well. Yep. Pisces. Definitely. It's the sign that's in charge of cosmetics—and cosmetic procedures, too.

She must have been wealthy. She had to be to pay for all the plastic surgery she'd had. Her breasts were high and firm, and there wasn't an extra ounce of flesh on her. There wasn't a single line or crow's foot on that lovely face, her make-up was impeccable and her honey-blonde hair was teased high. It was odd, but I found that I couldn't take my eyes off of her.

After she'd been sitting next to me for an hour, I suddenly understood our connection. My own Venus is in the Twelfth House of my chart, and the Twelfth House "belongs" to Pisces. As such, no matter what sign it happens to be in, a planet that ends up in the Twelfth House of your chart takes on a Pisces "tone"—from living in the neighborhood, you might say. So my own Venus, even though she's in realistic Capricorn, still had her dreams—and her belief in the fountain of youth. I sighed, and saw myself in twenty years.

The Queen of Instinct must have heard my thoughts—or felt them. She turned to me, patted my hand and poured us each a glass of wine. "The truth is, dear, you have to get older, but you don't have to age," she said, lighting a long, long cigarette, and taking a sip of her chardonnay. "That's why the Goddess made plastic surgeons." She winked, and I noticed that her eyelids and mouth were meticulously lined. She'd been tattooed—and she was wearing fake eyelashes, too. Talk about feminine. She may have been artificially created, but the result was a masterpiece. She was gorgeous.

I guess I'd forgotten that the Moon represents feminine energy just as much as Venus does—although their motives are very different. Venus is after love, and willing to be nice to get it. Basically, when we exhibit any type of behavior that's deliberately aimed at getting someone to like us, love us or give us something, we're using our Venus. She's the part of us who doles out conditional affection, in other words—but she's so charming, no one cares why they're getting this type of attention. They just bask in it.

The Moon, on the other hand, seems to be a more "mature" feminine planet, the kind of lady who's learned through experience to love unconditionally—just as long as she's needed. She looks like a mother because she's known all kinds of love—the tenderness of a parent's touch, the embrace of a familiar dear one, and the silky feel of an infant's cheeks. She's just as attractive as Venus, but in a more experienced, comfortable way.

And speaking of Venus, the Love Goddess herself suddenly ran through the door. She was crying—in fact, sobbing. Loudly. Her outfit matched Mercury's, so I knew she was also in partner-focused Libra. She ran into the ladies room at the back of the dining room, and just as she disappeared, an absolutely gorgeous man charged into the Café. It had to be Mars, and I just knew it was Mars in Leo.

He went directly to the ladies room door and pounded on it. "Venus! Come on out, babe. I love you, and only you."  He paused for a moment, listening, and I saw he wore gold pinky rings on both hands, along with several gold chains and a gold bracelet that was studded with diamonds and rubies. His expensive suit was a wonderful shade of red silk, and a gold handkerchief poked out of his breast pocket.

The Moon took a drag of her cigarette, leaned over to me, and said "He's such a flirt when he's in Leo, you know? It just breaks her heart."

Ah, yes. I got it. And then I saw a living, breathing example of a sextile, before my very eyes. Venus in Libra was putting out air energy, and Mars in Leo was all about fire. She was fanning his passions, and he was trying to warm her up. Eventually, it worked.

Mars had just finished telling Venus (through the door) that he loved her madly, passionately, and that he'd die without her. Yes, Leo was also known for its love of drama—that was certainly true. But it's effective. The ladies room door opened, and Venus reached through. She pulled Mars into the bathroom by his tie, and the door closed with a click behind them. The Moon began to applaud. She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue she produced from her sleeve. "I just love happy endings, don't you?"

I hugged her. And then a bright light shone through the windows. It was as if a huge spotlight had been beamed directly on the Café. Mercury jumped up, pounded on the bathroom door, and yelled, "You guys! Get out here! It's the boss!"

Next Week: The Sun