"You look lovely, Domina." Calliliana gazed quizzically upon her reflection in a tall glass mirror, and noticed as a deep red blush began to overspread her marble-pale face.
She was garbed in a tight-fitting deep red stola, the hue of which set off her coloring to absolute perfection: even she would admit that she had never looked fairer. The dress was made to artfully reveal parts of her body she would have rather left covered: her milk-white arms, neck, and one of her fair shoulders peeked from the red cloth like to a white bud encircled by scarlet petals. Her golden hair curled winningly about her face; Lavina, the servant assigned to her, had fastened it away in various places to as to make it appear even longer and enhance the natural curl. "Thank you," she whispered demurely in response. The slave woman stepped back and gazed upon the young woman with something akin to longing—oh, how she wished it was SHE who had a beauty splendid enough to attract a great man!
"I wish I were I you, Milady," she murmured.
"What did you say?" Lavina looked at the girl in shock and clasped a hand over her mouth—she had not intended to speak her words aloud.
"N-nothing. I meant nothing, Milady." As Calliliana looked at the young woman, there were unshed tears stirring the emerald-sea waters of her eyes.
"My beauty has only brought me sorrow—except for once—and I would wish it on anyone only if I wished a curse." Though the servant girl obviously did not understand, she nodded obediently.
"Yes, Lady." With one last surveying glance she added, "You are readied to perfection—shall I take you in now?" Calliliana closed her eyes, her mind racing. Could she do this? What was the price that she must pay to save the life of her dearly beloved husband? Could she endure the trials before her? Was she strong enough to…
Leander.
The maiden opened her eyes.
"Take me to him."
"Ah the prodigal at last! Though I must say, Milady, the waiting was truly worth the result." Marcus Agrippa swept the girl a low and flamboyant bow, took one of her hands in his own, and pressed his lips fervently against it. Calliliana bit her tongue and forced a smile on her lips, all the while hoping that the centurion did not feel how her body trembled at every word he spoke.
"You are very kind to heed my request. Now, what is it that I must do to incline you to mercy towards my husband?" At the mention of Leander, Agrippa stiffened and his midnight eyes became dangerously dark.
"Come now, Calliliana. The night is young, and we have much time to speak of these matters. Recline with me and enjoy the supper that I have ordered prepared for you!" The Roman took her by the arm, with a show of gentleness but no tenderness at all, and led her to the table. The maiden reclined facing him, feeling more ill at ease with each passing second—never before had she reclined with a man other than her husband!
"Where are your other guests?"
"You are the only one." Calliliana's eyes widened frightfully and a rosy flush slowly infused all of her exposed flesh.
"You said it was to be a party of people…"
"I never said that. Only that you were invited to a dinner party—which this is, and you are. Now, do not bore me with useless chatter any longer…enjoy yourself!" Agrippa clapped his hands twice, and a servant entered with a goblet of wine.
Calliliana was barely able to stomach the food she was served, though it was delicious and of the highest quality imaginable—she could feel the eyes of her husband's tormentor devouring her with every slight movement she made. She attempted to speak to the man, to make conversation that was pleasant and witty—but she felt halfway through the meal that if she was to be forced to keep talking, she would lose her mind by the end of it.
Agrippa, on the other hand, could not recall when he had enjoyed himself more. He gazed upon the woman before him, relishing the sight of her body in its revealing dress as she lay before him, one hand supporting her rose-flushed face. Oh, how lovely she was…how desirable…He cleared his throat, and she looked into his eyes; the sight of her sea-green gaze stirred the hot blood within him even more and steeled him for his purpose.
"Now that you have eaten, let us discuss the matter at hand. I promised you that there was one way, and one way only, that you could save your husband—and that I would speak of it to you this night." The girl nodded.
"You know that I will do anything to save him who I love." Marcus stiffened again at her words "him who I love". Oh, how he would make her pay for every unintentional aggravation she had caused him…
"Then what do you think I shall ask you?" Calliliana looked at him in confusion—never was innocence more perfectly mirrored then in her face at that moment. Marcus smiled inwardly—how he LOVED destroying innocence!
"Will you free him for possessions? You know that my husband is a wealthy man. Do you wish lands? Villas? Livestock?" Agrippa laughed at her, and with a move so sudden it caused the girl to cry out, he caught her tightly in his arms.
"How painfully naïve you are, Girl. I want one thing only…I want you." Calliliana stiffened and opened her mouth in a soundless cry.
"I am a married woman, General! I have a husband, and I have a son! I am no slave girl…" Marcus slapped her then, not harshly enough to leave a mark but with enough force and rapidity to make her cry.
"If you wish to save your husband, Wench, then tonight you ARE a slave girl. MY slave girl." He slowly tickled her neck, and moved closer to her. "If you wish your husband to live, you will do exactly as I say. This is the only way I spoke of; this is the only choice I give to you." The centurion stood, pulling the weeping girl with him, and pressed her to him in a passionate embrace. "Tonight is the last night of your husband's life, or it is the beginning of the rest of your lives together. The choice is yours, Calliliana Maximinus. What will you choose?"
The weeping maiden did not fight as the strong Roman carried her limp form to his room.