Chapter Three
"You were rather impressed with the man then?" Gaia asked as she attempted to stretch her legs in the small bath in the villa of Gallus. She sensed Lucretia's exhaustion and immediately had Melitta prepare wine and water.
The question made Lucretia blush with anxiety. "Well… yes." She could barely speak.
Gaia smiled brilliantly and reached over to embrace her friend, pressing her body firmly against Lucretia. "We are in desperate need of celebration!" She reached over Lucretia for the wine cups and tapped in the opium with a familiar glint in her eyes. She brought her face poised for a kiss closer to Lucretia, but her friend placed her hand on Gaia's chest for pause.
"Celebration?" Lucretia asked, her mind momentarily considering Gaia's suggestion regarding arrangements…
"Yes! Your approval of Horatius was all I required to finally come to conclusion. I will be his wife and we both will revel in luxurious palanquins and fine clothes and finer wine!" She giggled and kissed Lucretia's shoulder. Horatius, Lucretia thought, her mind yet swimming. Gaia asks about Horatius. "Come. Drink. Your pallor causes concern and I would see your tired spirit renewed with drink… and other things."
Lucretia smiled timidly and held the cup to her lips. Horatius had impressed her with his grace and sophistication, but reservations about his age were still upon mind. How much longer was he for this world? And when he departed, what would fate have in store for Gaia? Would she be taken care of in his absence? Gaia was so pleased to be by his side; would she ever again have opportunity to catch such a man?
Gaia placed her hand upon Lucretia's cheek and kissed her mouth chastely. "Do you no longer wish to revisit the instances of our girlhood? Temperaments change with the passage of time and I can understand- "
Lucretia silenced Gaia with her finger. "I am tired…" She put Gaia's arms on her shoulders; Gaia smiled with pure joy. "And I would find comfort in my true friend's touch." Perhaps the touch will cause ripe thoughts of Quintus to wither away.
They linked arms and drank down the opium and wine in a single gulp. Some escaped Gaia's mouth and they giggled as Lucretia kissed it from her chin. Lucretia's mother always drank her brew of herbs every night; the tincture aided in Gratiana's undisturbed sleep and Lucretia's nighttime reveling. Gaia ran her fingers through Lucretia's hair, shaking loose the pins and clasps that adorned the luxurious waves. She drew close and pressed her face against Lucretia's neck. Lucretia gasped with excitement and blamed her temporary obsession of a married man on her weariness and loneliness. Gaia could easily fill that void on this night.
"I have missed the intoxication of your scent." Gaia trailed her lips up and down Lucretia's neck as she slid her hand between her legs. Lucretia returned the favor, pulling Gaia closer by the buttock.
"I have missed the warmth of your cunt." The sentiment made Gaia laugh as she stroked Lucretia's nipple with a light touch that grew rougher as the kiss deepened. Lucretia pushed back with equal passion, fingers exploring Gaia's familiar body with insistent probing. They brought their lovemaking out of the bath and onto the hard marble, their warm bodies slapping against the coldness. Gaia lowered her face, first drawing Lucretia's breast into her mouth then kissing skin until she reached the softness of Lucretia's inner thigh. Lucretia arched forward with pleasure and looked down at her lover. To see... Quintus.
Quintus emerged from the baths and entered his chambers incensed. He hoped to break words with the goddess he encountered in the arena, only to watch helplessly as Gaia whisked her away in a fucking palanquin. How that woman was always able to procure such luxuries was beyond him; he both envied and admired her for her ability to live in such comfort despite absence of coin. Their friendship was built on shared ambition but did not progress past friendship for the same reason: Gaia wished for a husband with a larger purse and Quintus wished for a woman possessing greater morals and capacity for inspiration. Yet if the woman was friends with Gaia, her morals may be loose enough for Quintus to gain favor. Possessing the woman for a single night could drive her from his thoughts and regain control of his mind.
"Do you require me on this night?" The voice shredded upon what little patience he had left after the trying day. His wife stood dutifully in a simple opaque gown that covered her body from lustful sight.
"Why do you not wear the night garment I procured for you from the market? Do you not wish to please your husband?" Quintus growled as the slaves changed his clothes and pulled away his jewels. Petronia hid her eyes by turning away, making Quintus feel as if he were depraved for undressing in front of his own wife.
Petronia sniffed at the offense. "I would hope to please my husband by not dressing as a common whore." She moved toward him and placed her hand on his cheek. The gesture should have felt loving but for how calculated and controlled it was; she could have been picking lice from his hair. "If you wish to lay with me on this night, then I am prepared to do so to honor you." She laid herself on the bed like a piece of meat on a slab in a butcher shop.
Quintus felt disgusted at the sight of her: her concave belly, her lifeless breasts, the rigidity of her poise. But his father required grandchildren and Quintus required remedy to the madness the woman from the arena put in his tired mind. He perfunctorily removed his clothes and climbed on top of his wife. She turned away as always, but for the first time, Quintus turned her face back to him. He forced himself to look deep into her eyes. Hazel. Her large, round eyes were hazel with green and gold flecks, a lively color for such a drab woman. He stroked her pale cheeks with his thumbs and kissed her mouth. Warm.
"Quintus." She never before took his name and he desperately hoped to love the sound of it. Yet even as affection grew in him, his wife did not embrace him, nor did she call to him with love. He parted her legs and thrust forward, feeling the edges of her bones dig into his thighs. He buried his face in her almost black hair; the musky scent of prayer incense was pleasing. Her skin was soft as he moved his hands up her dress, groping her breasts and trying to pull the dress over her head. She resisted; he knew she did not enjoy being completely naked even with her husband. He yanked harder at the dress, tearing the shoulder and threw it aside.
When he looked back at his wife, her body was supple, her hair was brown and her eyes were blue. She smiled wickedly at him and pitched her body toward him as he thrust deeper and deeper inside her. She screamed with pleasure and his mouth enveloped hers, as he squeezed her breast harder until he approached climax. "Quintus!" She shrieked his name and he fell upon her, panting and sweating.
"Quintus! Get off. Get off!" He rolled off of the woman beneath him and she did not have the face of the woman in the arena but the face of his wife, cheeks red with shame and eyes filled with tears. "Who did you think you were fucking? Who?" She raised her voice and the sharp pitch was not unlike the squeaking of a rusty door. Petronia gathered her dress and pulled it on sobbingly. "You tore my only night dress. How will I wear it?" She whimpered, attempting to tie her dress modestly. "What savagery was this? I am your wife! Not a slave to be used and discarded as you see fit!"
Quintus grabbed her shoulders and attempted to shake the haughty self-righteousness from her. "Oh, would that I could discard you! I would happily see your fragile form on the streets than by my side!" He released her shoulders, lest he cause injury in his rage. "If my touch so disgusts, then go and lay with my father, whom you seem hold to such higher fucking esteem than me!"
Petronia crumpled to the floor, already exhausted from the arguing. Quintus hated her weakness and imagined the woman from the arena standing chin to chin, challenging him. The thought unexpectedly aroused and calmed him. His wife looked to him with pleading eyes. "Why am I not adequate when I obey and honor the men of this house? Why can you not accept me the way I am?"
Quintus pulled Petronia to her feet and kissed her cheek. For a moment, Petronia looked hopeful. "Because, my dear wife, I deserve much better." He pushed her away with frustration and stalked the villa for a suitable slave to bed for the night. Petronia leaned back against the chaise and began to cry.
"Ugh, the petty bickering! It could melt ear from fucking head." Gannicus immersed himself in the bath while slaves removed slick scented oils from Oenomaus' skin. The gladiators bathed after meeting with Titus in the villa, where their Dominus extolled Oenomaus' skill and discipline and pressed for similar behaviors in the newly branded men, Gannicus among them. The ranting between newlyweds did not escape their ears.
"Hm." Oenomaus replied, staring into the distance. He never before considered what one thought of his killings beyond the cheers of the crowd that greeted him when he ended a man's life. Why did he comfort the girl in the stands with a smile, her eyes filled with fear? Why did her opinion matter?
"'Hm?'" Gannicus splashed water at his friend, who looked upon him with jesting annoyance. "What seizes mind? No words of wisdom? No claims that the Dominus must have adequate reason to rage at his little shit of a wife? No chiding for gossiping about the man we serve?"
"My mind is… occupied. Gannicus." Oenomaus waved the other slave away and knelt at the side of the pool. Gannicus moved closer in return. Oenomaus was well liked among the other men, but the young recruit's humorous nature and lack of guile endeared him to the seasoned gladiator. Oenomaus had many brothers but counted one man as friend. "You desire many cunts and work toward title of champion to that end… rather recklessly and foolishly."
Gannicus grinned with self-satisfaction and shook his head. "You chide and delay talk of true matters weighing on that mighty head of yours."
Oenomaus thought of the girl, her eyes brimming with bewilderment. "Do you not wish for a woman who will offer not only pleasures of the body, but a shoulder to lend strength of mind, to offer completion?"
Gannicus laughed, the sound echoing through the ludus walls. "Why?" He stood from the pool, his full nakedness exposed and muscles flexed. "I am strong enough, as evidenced by the shits that fell at my sword in this morning's games. And I am full of myself, so I am more than complete."
"I speak to the wrong man of such delicate things." Oenomaus chuckled and lowered his chin into his chest pensively. "I have achieved pinnacle in skill and fucked women paid to be by my side. The action is now… hollow."
"May I never be cursed with the illness to desire a wife. A worthy woman would have to possess the body of Venus and the mind of Minerva, with a mouth that could suck meat clear off bone!" Gannicus wrapped himself in subligaria and patted Oenomaus on the shoulder. "You are a man of honor, Oenomaus. Your desires are honorable. May the Gods bless you with a woman of equal standing to spend your days with. You are deserving of such gift." Gannicus began to walk to his cell, then turned to Oenomaus with an impish grin. "As for my part, I pray she holds her wine better than you. My soul would rejoice at a proper drinker in this ludus!"
Oenomaus lay on his pallet, absentmindedly rubbing a scratch in his side. The boy lifted spirits, but the girl's face haunted Oenomaus as he searched for sleep. He placed an ultimatum upon himself - the next victory he achieved in a primus would warrant request for a wife from his Dominus. His loneliness was a gaping hole in the midst of victories and accolades and he would find comfort in the arms of a woman who loved him.