Before the world of the game, I do not remember that I was ever distracted by male bodies.  It is the nature of the healer I suppose, that after time, they no longer hold fascination when one has seen so many.  But from the long table where I oversaw the setting of dinner, whispering to Killick and setting wine goblets by each plate, I let my gaze wander over the near-identical forms working up a sheen of sweat from their labor.  A great deal of affection and not a little bit of sadness filled my heart as I watched.  Dreams.  They haunt me in spite of the change I attempt...

Maximus in light khakis, bare from the waist up, bronzed and heavily muscled was hacking at a felled palm, stripping the fronds and passing them to Cort, equally shirtless and looking very much like he did in the bordello scene everyone is so fond of.  Cort packed each bundle down to the beach's edge, careful not to let the lapping tide get to them until it was time to put out the fire that would be lit later that evening.  Not a hundred yards away from his brothers worked Hando, resplendent in his own half-naked state, shirt tied around his waist, tattoos contrasting dark against his light skin. He was taking an axe he had borrowed from the store room of the ship to the trunk of yet another palm.  Later, when I was certain everything was in place I would gather driftwood and anything else dry to kindle the flames.  Just then though, I was enjoying the play of muscles under skin and the glow of time spent under the sun on healthy bodies while each did his part to make this day special for whatever reasons they did. 

For Maximus, the rites of summer are a reconnection with our past and he offered to give me a hand because he understood that even in this more tempered version, there was still much to accomplish before nightfall when the ceremonies would begin.  Cort's reasons I never asked.  Nor will I ever.  Suffice that they were one of those things we need never speak between us, only know.  Hando's purpose I suspect was to be with Maximus and have something to do. I will not recount the various pranks we pulled on our friends, but it did alleviate the boredom that time in paradise with little responsibility eventually brings about. I marveled at those three men I love so much, alike and disparate in their manners and ways, and smiled to myself as I turned back to Killick.

Jack's steward and I do not particularly like each other's company, but he is efficient and resourceful so I had let his capable hands assist me in a particular task two days previous to leaving the ship for Tortola island.  His eyes and ears are everywhere, I noted when Jack discovered the culprits behind the defacing of the Calypso, the name Hando and I gave it at our rechristening ceremony.  That name was far more appropriate, we thought anyway. HMS Shagalot.  We had no champagne present, but we did find a much more interesting (albeit dangerous) way of making it official in keeping with its new moniker. The taffrail will never be the same. At any rate, it was Killick who turned us in, the prying little goat, and supervised us while we worked at taking the offensive graffiti down and restoring the original nature of it. But in return for the trouble, he did make certain a special thing I needed done was, and he answered in the affirmative when I asked him of it.

"Do you know, Killick, if the other women received their gifts?"

"Which they did, miss, as you hoped."

"Did they like them?"

"Why wouldn't they?"

"Good. Thank you, Killick." 

"Welcome, Ma'am."  He gave a gesture of salute, and I dismissed him from further duties.  He had worked hard during the cruise.  Turning away from the vision before me and the table, I opened the cooler I had carried down with me.  It contained the potion I would add to the wine that was to be the highlight of the evening. It also held bottles of water to cool the men that worked down the beach from where I stood trying to deny the images that continued to rise unbidden in my mind.  Instead, I remembered my prayers spoken and not during the all-night vigil that Maximus, Cort and I had held for just that purpose. Meditation and hopeful thought to the future. It was in motion, already, I thought, as I pulled three of the bottles out.   The beginning of the end.  The end of the beginning...

"What's that?"  The sand might have muffled the crunch of his footsteps, but his voice is unmistakable to me.  The sweetest flavor of gentleman and rake that ever fell upon my ears is burned into them.  I opened my eyes enough to get a peek at the intruder.

"An altar."  A single candle already burned in my much-sought stump of petrified wood, carrying the scent of tropical flowers and makeshift plant offerings, gathered around the island off on the wind to the gods along with my prayers.

"You plan on sacrificing anything?"

"A Christian.  If you see one, catch it for me."

"Got one right here. Pretty willing, too.  Didn't even put up a fight."  His lazy, lascivious grin was infectious when he got the desired reaction- a roll of the eyes and a smack to his midsection.  He was still smirking when I turned back to the seriousness of my observance, but remained still and silent as I finished. 

Night was beginning to fall when finally I leaned back on my elbows beside him, watching the dying rays of sun light the foam of the lapping tide in pink and orange.  He took my fingers and squeezed gently, then pressed our open hands into the sand, leaving the imprint of our palms and fingers, side by side. 

"Did you just find me, or are they already looking for me?"

"Max told me you were out here.  Been looking for you since day one."

"Why didn't you leave me a message?  I would have found you."

"Dunno.  Doesn't matter.  Got you now.  Unless I'm interrupting your rituals."

"You're not.   Part of the way my people observed the Solstice was an all night vigil.  I planned to spend mine in prayer and thought."

"Want some company?  I should probably do a little prayerful reflection myself.  Unless Max objects."

"He won't.  I like to think he's let go of the past, even if it isn't a special night."

Lying on my side, my head resting on my outstretched arm, I traced non-distinct patterns in the sand with the other and listened for the sounds of the night while my gaze roamed over the man sitting next to me, one arm slung over his drawn knees.  I found myself marveling at his physical perfection, the wild beauty and instinct that give him a power beyond a simple preacher and must have lent impetus to the rise of the gunman.  Through the murmur of breeze through the palms and wild flowers and the laughing breath of the tide teasing the shoreline I could hear the rhythm of his breathing and if I listened close enough, the pulse of his heart.  The whisper of denim twisting as he turned to lie facing me, tickling my palm with his thumb absentmindedly, his thoughts wandering through the stars looking for answers to whatever questions plague his brain. I picked every noise apart and let them set the pace of my breathing and serenade my own musings while I enjoyed the solace of the nearness of him.

A warm, sleepy serenity stole over us and my eyelids dropped, though my ears and other senses were still alive and crackling with heightened awareness without the guide of my sight. A slight shift in the air about my body alerted me to the movement of his fingers as they left my hand and traveled over my shoulder, teasing at the hem of my short sleeve. They skimmed over the nearly invisible hair of my arm to my own fingers splayed beside my stomach. He retraced the path, but deviated where my elbow rested on my hip and slid over the knot of the sarong, testing the tightness of it before moving up to my ribs and tickling me there a little until he got the smile he was looking for. I kept my eyes shut so I would not lose the delicious vision of naked godlings awakening with the advent of sensual play. The hand found the soft flesh of my breast and covered it, holding my heart captive underneath, trapped in the confines of my skin and safe in his touch. Then it moved up to cup my jaw and bury itself in my hair. 

"Have you?"  he whispered.   

My fingers found his and pressed them to my lips.  "Someday I must.  But no, not yet."

"Neither have I.  But I keep praying for the strength."

"When we stop looking for each other, it will come.  Until then..."  I moved his hand back to a resting place on my heart, twining my fingers into his there.  How could I let go, I thought, when I have not yet even said goodbye?  And I wanted that goodbye to come at my will, in our way, not rushed by outside forces that had not our best interests at heart.  And while it was easy to say that those influences might give up control over the parting of ways for Cort and me, the truth might be a different matter.  Inwardly, I ached for what had already been wrought because of my adherence to this very bond.  However, the fact remained that I had given Maximus leave to finish his course with his affair and he was beholden to allow me the same course.  My choice had been made.  And webs do not untangle without great patience and time.  Time, the great healer...gently I disengaged from his hold on my hand and rose to a sitting position, combing sand out of my hair with my fingers and brushing it from my shirt.  He questioned my abruptness with a raised eyebrow.

Time inside the portals, in a world where every sense can spare you the hands of death had honed them, and the sensation had not yet worn away.  A long, heavy stride, as though purpose was all-consuming even in paradise had left its mark on my ears as it tread through the sand and snapped any twig or shell unfortunate enough to lie in its path.  The breeze chose then to shift and bring the scent of Eternity and man to my nostrils, making me aware that my husband approached the makeshift temple I had chosen on this pocket of beach overlooking the western horizon.

"Max?"

I nodded, not really concerned, but why create potential trouble by letting him see us as we had been- on the verge of consummating the Solstice celebration long before its time?  "Max."

"Maybe it'd be better if I go, then.  Let you celebrate in peace."

"Stay."  Maximus knelt on the other side of me, adding his own offering to his gods to those I had placed on the altar- pearls and shells gathered from various places we had been on this trip.  "Or will your God think unkindly of you for praying with pagans?"

"I don't think God approves of most of what I do, Max.  What's one more thing?"   He shrugged and Maximus nodded in understanding.   

"And you?  Is it favorable for you?"  He directed the question to me, following my gaze to whatever point I was not truly seeing.   What did I feel just then?  Relief, I was sure, that at the very least, Max was behaving cordially.  A touch of the pervading sense that I must remain neutral between them, though both knew with whom I would make my life's way once we stepped off the island.  Wild abandon just to be flanked by the two I love most in this life, to be desired and loved in return by both.  For the moment, it was all I needed. 

"It is."  He took my hand in his and held it loosely across his thigh as the candle burned low.  On my other side, Cort took a more prayerful stance, settling back on his heels and clasping his hands in respect for his own deity.   I covered his hands with my free one.  "I'm glad you stayed."

"Didn't think I better say no to the general," he whispered sardonically, and I giggled. Maximus frowned and I sobered.  Not three hours until midnight.  Still holding both of them in my hands, I closed my eyes and began my second prayer of the night, this time for harmony as three disparate believers held communion with all powers of the heavens, the earth, and the sea. 

On my right, the glow of the candle set the gold of Cort's crucifix ablaze with amber fire as it nestled against his chest moving with the rise and fall of his breathing as he said noiseless words under his breath to his God.  I did not interrupt him.  To my left, Maximus was holding an image that I recognized, though I had not seen it in many years.  A carving of his ancestors, his guides through the world, those who had lent their great blood to his veins and the legacy of honor and dignity to his spirit.  Along with it was a medallion bearing the likeness of the great Caesar, Marcus Aurelius.  His palm swept over his cropped chin whiskers as though directed by the idea that they had been a symbol once of his allegiance to his friend and mentor and ruler.

"Do they still hear you?"  I asked quietly as I watched him turn them over in his hands.

"Yes."

"What do you ask them for?"

"The things I have always asked for.  And that I don't forget what I was while trying to survive here now.  Do you understand?"  I did.  Only too well.  And I would not let him be alone in his quest to belong here, if it was to be here that we make our home.  Turning to him, I smiled and ducked my head shyly.  His soft gaze in return said that he knew what I was thinking and he welcomed this silent exchange of our hearts.  

The stars were shifting into the tenth hour of night when my candle began to sputter and spark, its wick nearly gone, floating little more than a fingernail's height above the hot, liquid wax in the stone dish I had set it in.  I reached for my bag and took out another, lighting this second candle with the first, in order that the flame not die and the gods lose their way through the long night.  Then I took out the vial of lavender oil I had saved and set it beside me, ignoring the raising of Maximus' eyebrow and the curiosity of Cort, who was more intrigued by the clay jar of blue paint I opened and placed on the ground in front of me. 

"I thought you were kidding all this time."

"I wasn't."

"Smells bad."

"It's the boar's fat."

"Keeps it the correct consistency," Maximus added by way of explanation.  "It's too warm here for it, really.  Which is why it smells.  Throw the rest of it away when you're done tonight, I would think, beloved."  He did not expect an answer, and I did not give him one.  Instead, I grasped my shirt by the hem and pulled it off over my head, handing it to Maximus to put aside.  Next to come off were the sarong and my underwear, along with my shoes.  All that remained was the silver anklet Uma had given me and the rings that adorn my fingers.  Standing, I stepped back, taking my jar of paint with me. 

There was no shame or self-consciousness in my naked state.  Perhaps had others been with us, it might have been different, but would I have allowed others to see this part of the Solstice observance?  I doubt it.  It was not for them, but for me, for the men with me, for the gods.  The fruit of my preparations for everyone else would come the next night.  Maximus' eyes swept over me appreciatively, though they were hooded and shadowed in the low light of the candle and the night sky, not giving away if his thoughts were simply anticipation of the mystery of the rite, or if it was the slow burn of passion for his woman.  Cort's eyes said plainly he was aroused, his throat moved twice as he swallowed back whatever reaction his desire begged to utter.  But he was openly curious as well, though never would I ask him to partake of any act that might bother his conscience and go against whatever principles his Christian mind held to.  This was, though, a part of the ceremony.  I might not ever have been privy to those secrets the priests and priestesses kept, but several times I had seen an acolyte or even one of them move in the darkness, the lights they chose to hide from barely illuminating the symbols that had been applied to their nude forms. 

I lay my head back, letting the breeze lift my hair and blow it about my shoulders and face, allowing the moon to bathe me in her light and soak me in power.  My blood began to sing in my ears as my heart picked up its pace and ran wild with the joy of being at one with the elements.  Until I felt the stiff, sticky tickle of the paint, I did not even know that I had begun to mark myself with signs of my gods.  Triad dots on my forehead and above my eyes, the number of the gods.  In various other places- over my heart, my hands, and thighs, I made crude marks depicting the circle of life and animal shapes, spirals and tracings of old tattoos that had faded to blue patches of near-nothing. 

When I finished, I took my place again between Maximus and Cort, feeling the steady heat from their bodies surround me as I knelt.  Maximus picked up one of the orchids from the offering pile and tucked it behind my ear.  I gave him the same symbol of luck that I had begun my body painting with and turned to Cort.  I would not mark him, out of respect to his God.  But I did bless his forehead with my lips, letting my mouth linger a little longer than necessary.  So many feelings and memories went to his heart with my kiss, hundreds of wishes for him and his happiness.  The gods know I gave him little enough. 

Perhaps it was instinct, or a protective urge to brace my vicarious stance over him, but his hands came up to grasp my waist.  A thumb smudged the paint on that hip, and he quickly set me back.  His eyes, though, spoke a words that do not exist in any language save that which men and women utter without voice.  Hunger.  Loneliness.  Fear.  Love.  Desire.  Need.  Fascination with the sensation of ancient power being called up within all of us, I think.  Inside the most secret chamber of my heart, I felt a crack chasm and burn.  I turned back to my husband, pulling him into me to anchor me and keep me from drowning in my own tears, dammed up behind a wall of prayerful purpose. 

I never could fool Maximus.

What must have transpired behind my back as I set fire to the oil on my altar and began to feed flower petals to it, neither will ever tell me.  It is not my business.  I felt Maximus' hand on the small of my back, tenderly tracing circles there until I finally gave him a smile that I wanted with all my soul to convey that it did not matter what things had not been finished between the two of them and me that tonight was only for the gods.  His answering stare was pensive and grave, as though searching through me for that which I did not want to admit.  He glanced to Cort and back at me, and sighed in resignation.  He stood and brushed sand off his pants, taking my face in his hands and tilting my chin up to face him.  One thumb grazed my unmarked cheek, while his other hand cradled the back of my head.

"I will come for you in the morning.  This is my gift to you, so you may find that peace you seek."  I shook my head against his fingers miserably.  What had happened to this night?  What was to be a celebration of new was shattered suddenly by the old, and any hope I had of being able to bask in their company without our emotions tangling and tripping our steps toward a new understanding lay broken in the shards.  

"Please stay."  

"Let me give you what you gave to me," he protested.  I knew he meant time alone with Uma, to sort things through that might have gone untouched, only to continue a cycle of misery and misunderstanding and pain without need.  And he understood why I did what I did for them. 

"You already have."  I sagged down to the sand, pulling at his fingers.  But my other hand I stretched toward Cort for him to take.  "Stay.  Both of you.  We're not children."  Maximus held me while I leant against his shoulder, trying not to get paint on his clothing.  Cort crouched beside me, stroking my shoulder and looking at my forgotten altar where the oil burned and illuminated our huddle. 

What I was going to say to Maximus when I raised my head I no longer remember.  I think he mistook the gesture, though, because his soft goatee grazed my mouth and his lips claimed mine gently at first, warmly, settling my nervous heart and infusing it with his love.  Behind me, Cort's fingers traversed the planes of my back, barely skimming over the painted symbols and came to rest on my thigh. 

"We just want what's best for you," he whispered against my hair.   

"I know that.  Let me do this at my own pace.  I love you both and only want the same for you."  Maximus' head was buried in my neck, nuzzling, seeking purchase on one of my painted breasts.   His tongue reached out to trail along the scar at top. 

"What is best for us is what makes you happy," his muffled reply reverberated through my skin to my heart.  

"You have your own ways of making me happy.  Just for now, let it be.  Trust my strength..."  The rest of my sentence became a whimper when Maximus toppled onto the sand, pulling me with him, his teeth catching my nipple and pulling it taut between us.  Behind his teeth, his tongue teased the tip, wetting and preparing it to be taken in deeper while his hands dragged me over the top of his stomach and chest until I was straddling him.  A purr rumbled in the back of my throat when my naked labia discovered the heat of his erect cock hidden in his jeans.  Beside us, Cort settled, content to let Maximus lead us to whatever end this brought, but his hands were not still.  His free palm rested on my bottom, caressing and tickling; one finger strayed to the opening of my vagina and teased at the entrance momentarily before it slid up my spine and around to my face to touch my cheek.  When I shifted my attention from Maximus to him, he ran it across my lips.  I kissed it as it passed over, then captured it in my mouth, slowly sucking at it.  His lazy grin was all I needed to know he was comfortable to let me have my way too. 

But was Maximus?  He barely acknowledged the presence of the other man, but muttered a few coarse words in Latin into my ears regardless, acquiescing to my command.  "If you want it." 

No other opportunity to have both of them at a single time would ever offer itself to me again.  I had never had more than one man in my bed before, but I wonder if it would shock some to know I am curious sometimes what it might be like.  And these two?  Perhaps there are no answers.  Only emotions and living in the minutes given to you.  I nodded and then called Cort to me. 

Brushing hair out of his eyes, I leaned over to give him my kiss, full of everything I had for him and had held back for so long.  Under us, Maximus nibbled at my breasts and slipped his fingers between us where I knelt over him, separating the folds of my sex to tantalize my clitoris.  I moaned into Cort's mouth when I felt wetness escape the reservoirs of my glands and coat Maximus' fingers, slicking them and making their task easier.  He inserted one inside me, then two, and I felt my hips grinding against them involuntarily while his thumb made tiny whorls over my aching nub.  

Through the haze that was quickly replacing reason in my brain, I think I said something about not being able to wash the paint out of their clothes.  For Cort, that problem was being solved, as my hand  slipped buttons out of their holes and left his shirt open for me to slide my fingers through the hair of his chest and deftly worked the fly of his pants, so that I could wrap them around that which begged to be fondled.  It was already hot and needing to be free of boundary, a drop formed at the tip and soaked his underwear. 

Maximus gently pushed me off so he could divest himself of his garments.  While he watched, throwing his shirt and pants over where my discarded clothing lay, Cort pulled his cock out and growled that he needed it sucked.  I worked the head, tickling and nipping at the sensitive edge and inserted it in my mouth as far down as I could take it.  A hand tangled in my hair, while the other found my thigh and pulled me around until my knees were positioned on either side of his head and he could give me what he was receiving.  He bit at my clitoris, catching and shaking it as his fingers replaced Maximus', inside me, searching for the spot I could already feel reaching for its release against the intrusion. 

Finished with his disrobement, Maximus crawled to us, picking me up bodily from my place over Cort and settling me back on the ground, covering me with his god's body, smiling tightly when I trembled as his cock played in my juices, kissing its partner before barely resting against my stomach while he tasted my mouth and the essence of my other partner on my lips and tongue. 

"I don't want this to be simple fuck," he said in a low voice.  His eyes never left mine, but he was addressing Cort.  "If we are going to do this, we are going to make love to her."

Cort was struggling with a boot.  "Preaching to the choir, Max."

"Are you afraid?"  He asked, stroking my hair back now, concerned that what was about to take place might hurt me, rather than be the beautiful gift of love they were expecting to bestow on me.  Both had experience with two women or sharing a woman with another man.  Mine was relegated to my fantasy life only.  I could only imagine what it might do to have two generous penises penetrate me simultaneously, when one alone was enough to make my walk off kilter for at least a day or more.  And I had never had one in the...well, there.  And suddenly, I was feeling more vulnerable than I cared to admit.  It is far easier to live the scenario in your mind's eye than to let your body experience the reality.

"A little." 

"We'll go slowly.  We needn't do anything you do not feel you are able to do."  The gods bless my man; he understands more than he freely lets on.  

"I trust you."  I did.  The excitement of it all was powerful, even more than the knowledge of my body's attunement to the world around me, and won over my trepidation.   His answer was a light buss to my forehead, and then Cort assumed a place on one side, and Max took the other.   Maximus kissed his way down my stomach, stopping at the top of my pelvis where hair meets skin.  There he bit down until he left a mark, then continued where Cort had been interrupted, rolling me between his teeth, suckling at it until it rose proudly from my nest of hair. 

Cort watched, absentmindedly stroking himself until my hand covered his and I resumed my affections to it.  He groaned when I took his balls into custody, massaging the skin between them and tumbling them tenderly in my fingers.  My other hand found Maximus' head and played in his short hair, trying not to smother him, but his fingers were already working in conjunction with his mouth, and helplessly I began humping against them, wanting them deeper still, but frustrated when they would not penetrate to the place that was quivering close to my womb.  "Maximus," I cried.

"This is for you.  Tell us what you need from us."

"I want one of you in me.  Your fingers aren't enough."  

"Where do you want us?"

"In my...I don't know the word in English."  I knew it well enough in Latin and two other languages.

"Your cunt, honey," Cort offered, pumping in and out of my hand, face set against coming.  "Pretty cunt..."  His eyes opened, dilated to near black from the darkness around us, and the desire that was throbbing in the vein under my palm.  He got to his knees shakily, near my head.  "Suck me again?"  Maximus chose the moment I granted Cort's wish to lift my buttocks in his hands and impale me on his cock, driving it far until it hit where I needed it.  I whined against the shaft on my tongue and frantically wrapped my legs around Maximus' waist for leverage.  He was engorged so tight I was worried that I might bleed him when I began to undulate on him, but he held me in place, calling out encouragement when every vaginal muscle tightened on him and I thought I might tear myself apart on him as well.  

Cort was the first to fall.  He held my shoulders and pulled away from me before throwing himself down.  Maximus followed suit, disengaging from me and helping me find my balance until I could lower myself down between them.  Pushing a wild strand of hair away from my face, Cort pecked at my lips and smiled weakly.  Max rubbed feeling back into my arms and legs while we caught our breath and simply cuddled while the flame leaped happily against the black of the sky.

"You didn't come," I whispered up to Cort.  

"Not yet, I didn't.  Sometime tonight I will.  How about you?"

"Not yet.  Neither of us."

"It's not midnight yet.  We got plenty of time.  You feel okay?"

"Yes."  I nodded, at loss for words to describe what was taking place in my mind.  "Yes."  Maximus stirred beside me and found my water bottle near the altar.  He handed it me, and then it went to Cort and back to him.  I played with his crocodile tooth until behind me, Cort began moving, molding himself to my backside and frotting against it with his awakening penis.  It left a cool trail of sticky wetness that dried in the night air, but was oddly pleasurable.  I pushed back in answer, and relaxed against his chest while his hand began to roam over my breasts and explored the carpet below my stomach.  His fingers spread the juices over every area of exposed vaginal flesh, soaking the curls and he murmured something akin to how ready I was to be taken again.  I turned my head and stared at him, wondering if he knew what this meant to me, what he meant to me?   Reaching behind me, I pulled his head forward for a kiss, letting my tongue mine his heart through our mouths, reveling in the growth of manhood under my bottom and the rasp of some thing he wanted that I did not quite catch. 

But when his cock dipped several times into the pool of wetness left from the first round of lovemaking with Maximus and began to circle my anus, I put it together and froze, clutching at his thigh with my nails and trying to push away.

"Shh.  Just let me.  

"I have never..."

"I know.  It's okay.  I won't hurt you too much.  But it will work better this way."

"What will?"

"When Max and I love you together."

Now I was afraid.  The anus was for rapes and whores, I wanted to protest.  I had never been curious about that.   My earlier wonder about being entered by two large men became fear.  "Cort."

"Would you feel better if it was Max instead?"

"No.  I'm just...please don't hurt me." 

"I won't.  I'll take care of you.  But we gotta get you relaxed."  And I must admit that the touch of his head against the ring of flesh did much to arouse me all over.  Maximus laced his fingers into mine and kissed them before guiding them down to my own flesh where it joined Cort's larger one in playing loosely with my nub and the lips of my cunt.

"Touch yourself for me.  It will help you.  And I want to see what you do that I do not."  I did as he bade me,  showing him the spot just under the head where it is most sensitive and never seems to get the right attention.  When the first wave of orgasm began to wash over me, at the same moment the wave hit the shore, I bit my lip and let my head fall back on Cort's broad shoulder.  His fingers had disappeared already, but already I felt myself reaching back for him, my body knowing instinctively how to let him position the head to enter slowly inside and stretch the ring, to inch slowly onto him until he waited inside and adjust to his size before letting him sink to what depths he could reach. 

"Christ," he moaned when I opened for him.  "Just a little more.  God damn..."  His arm encircled my torso, holding me tight to him while he breathed other less crude words in my hair and into my shoulders.  He angled back, dragging along the walls, then plunged again.  And gods, I thought I might die from the ecstasy of being taken that way.  Unnatural or no, with a man who knows what he is doing, it can be the most pleasurable sex in the world.  "Look at our woman, Max..."  He lay back with me half sitting, my thighs unable to remain at a decent angle, but open to Maximus's view so he could see what Cort saw with his cock and his hands.  They held me safe, buffering me while he reached to touch everything he could only feel.  They padded my bottom as I started to grind down on his shaft and pull away from it, then repeat over until I was panting from exertion and the impact of our bodies.  And all the while, Maximus held my eyes, watching to see where I was going when mindlessness overtook me and the only thing I could concentrate on was the chant of my body in time with the ocean tide, and the frenzied stream of consciousness coming out of Cort's mouth, words without meaning, obscene things that from any other besides these two would have left me feeling dirty and ashamed.  But here, they made me feel more desirable than Aphrodite in her temple.  The only gods then were the three of us.

Maximus rose over me, taking his position at my front entrance, gliding into the tight portal until I thought he could fit no more.  He pulled back out and I begged him to fill me again.  He left then came back, reminding me to keep rubbing myself to the end. 

"I am dying..."

"I got you, girl."

"Come for us, beloved.  Scream our names to the gods.  Tell them who gave you paradise."

"Look at her, Max.  Jesus Christ.  Come on girl...almost there..."

"Do not lose her."

"Please...oh...Maximus...."

"Beloved..."

"Gods...Cort...I need..."

"She's coming...God..."

"Oh....goooooooooooooods..."  My scream rent the air in two, scattering night birds to the winds and  stopping the chatter of some group down the beach I had not even noticed until then.  Cort's teeth tore at my ear when he began to spasm under me, and I could feel the pulse of his semen as it found the way free and he came.  He whispered my name over and over and then Maximus shuddered or perhaps it was the earth under us, I do not know.  But his call deafened me when he roared it into my ears, too late to muffle it in my neck or my breasts.  Cort held me tight between them, soothing me while the aftershocks of orgasm subsided and I was left devastated and weeping until every sense returned one by one to remind that the gifts the gods give do not last forever.  In the minutes that passed while I lay between my lover and my husband, protected by their bodies until I was able to take to my own feet and stumble to the waters to cleanse myself and then each of them when they joined me, I stored away every detail to recall later, when the future came to claim us to our individual paths.  Memory lasts always. 

None of us broke the silent vigil after.  I offered up prayers and verses remembered from my youth at the appropriate times as the night waned.  I marked the passing of time and kept my candle burning.  All the gifts laid out on the altar were burned or left there as the sky lightened into dawn and the sun began to break the camaraderie the three of us shared.  Maximus' eyelids began to drop and he made as if to go while I dressed and blew out my flame with one last small prayer that was of my own design.  He took my hand and brought it to his lips. 

"There are things," he began, sweeping Cort as well as me in his gaze as he took in the calm ocean glowing gold beyond.  "That I wish I could change.  Things I have said to both of you, things I have done that could have been prevented had I listened when you tried to speak your hearts to me.  I cannot change them, though.  All I can do is tell you both I am sorry for the pain I caused you.  And hope that this night will cover all my debts."  Apology does not come easy to Maximus.  Pride and an inability to fathom how he allowed himself to come to a point where he is capable of destroying the things he loves above all else render him speechless when the time is at hand to atone for his errors.  Someday, I will tell a story that in my case, negated the necessity for such a speech from him.  I cannot speak for Cort.  But given Cort's nature and his faith in his God, I would wager that it was warranted for him either.  There was nothing to say in return other than it was in the past and how we conducted ourselves in the future required all our attention now.  Cort nodded, and then Maximus slipped away to seek rest before I put him to work later in the day.  Cort and I sauntered along the beach hand in hand to spend a few more minutes alone, before paradise was lost to us forever...

Stephen appeared behind me, bearing bottles of water for the workers and surveyed the table and its settings.  "I thought a bit of refreshment would be in order," he explained, holding them out to me.  "And are you well, my dear?  He peered at me closely, trying to find out what secrets I might be hiding. 

"Yes. Tired from being up all night long, is all. I only slept a couple hours this morning." I flashed him my most winning smile, but he shook his head, clearly disbelieving my pass on his professional opinion.  But I had been as truthful as possible without letting on the things that are best preserved for later disclosure, like potions stored for days until the proper time for their usage. Darker emotions, more worrisome things I had asked the gods to relieve me of if only a while. The true purpose of the Solstice observation. To be renewed and protected during the dark months ahead and to be healed of the ailments of heart, mind, and body.  Whatever it was bothering me, he felt it.  And while he did not cajole me for my secrets he did not quite let me free of his practiced eye, either. I left, feeling them on my back.

When the pyre of palm and driftwood was piled high above our heads, I stood between Max and Cort, while Hando and Doctor Maturin flanked the three of us on either side.  We looked at their labor's fruitage.  The men were breathing hard. Maximus slipped an arm over my shoulder, pulling me close in. I could feel the blood pulsing from his strong heart to his veins as they pushed it to his muscles. He kissed the top of my head. "What are you going to use for fuel?" he asked.

I thought for a moment, while the breeze picked up, and blew my sarong around my legs, and my hair about my face. "Usually I would use animal fats.  But there are none to be had."  Max and Cort both glanced down the beach to where the altar still stood, lonely and black against the white sand of the beach.

"Try that old goat Killick," Hando suggested sourly, but his eyes twinkled with humor.

"Too skinny," I rejected the idea, giggling.

"Beer. The fruit of the fields," Stephen offered. We all agreed he had the right of it. We also decided the best place to procure it would be from the refrigerator in Jeff and Paul's room.  I would provide the distraction by inviting them down for a swim,  Hando would steal Jeff's keycard from his discarded jeans and wallet and let himself in to remove the sacrificial amber fluid while our companions showered and got ready for the night's fun.

Task completed, I sat on the ledge of the window of Max's and my room, looking out over the sea toward America, and was intensely homesick for our little farm in the middle of nowhere. From my side Maximus took me in his arms and rocked me gently. Naked. Damp. Smelling of clean water and soap. I breathed it in deeply while I settled against him and we said nothing at all; just watched the world go by.

The rhythmic swaying sent me into a half-sleep, from which his voice woke me. "It's almost over."'

"Yes."

"Are you glad, beloved?"

"Yes and no. I love being with our friends, I have enjoyed the places we've seen, and the games and encounters. But I will be happy to go back. I wouldn't want to do this forever."

"Neither would I. I need to get back to the farm. But it was wonderful. And," he turned my face up to his, searching my eyes as I examined every detail of his face next to mine- the eyes that reflected the sea beyond, the prim mouth and strong jaw. "We were together and happy. Thank you."

"Thank you, husband." I reached up for his kiss, drinking it from him like a woman parched. I never want to know the absence of it again.

"Have you thought anymore on what we talked about?"

"I have, but I am not ready to talk with Dino just yet. I will give him time to settle back into a routine. And I want more time to decide." He nodded understanding against my hair and tightened his grip.

"It's your choice. I think you are better able now to handle the job, but I do ask you to consider the alternative." His finger traced the round scar on my shoulder. "I would feel better at any rate."

"I will, my love." We said not another word, simply spent the hour before we went down to dinner in silence, enjoying the closeness between us.  I packed our belongings while he dressed and shaved. Our communication is deeper than words and we already felt the blessings of the gods on our own future. It was time to ask them for the others' sake.

I had wanted a good opportunity to get to know Doctor Maturin better, and no more appropriate time was at hand than the day I borrowed the galley from the kitchen staff. The wonderful thing about this time is that modern conveniences considerably speed up the process of making the special wine I brewed on the back burner, while instructing Stephen in the method of making the Solstice drink. Dino out of curiosity watched over my shoulder. Stephen, on the other hand, was there to observe and add to the stores of knowledge in his extensive memory and journals. In my time, he would have attained the highest order of Druid, wherein the bearer of the title had achieved a lifetime of skill and education in most everything, and was looked to for guidance in all things.

Dino's fingers were itching to examine the dried and withered bits of herbs and things on the counter. "Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble..." he laughed, reaching for a particular package.  I smacked his hand.

"Something like that," I snorted. I was reminded of Uma and Arthur when we had visited Stonehenge, and the irreverence they had displayed while I held my prayerful trance. All apprentices I have taken on to teach share a similar humorous take on their education. Until the day they realize they have actually learned something, and then the change to serious scholar becomes evident in the renewed interest they show in what they are about.

"So what's this brew gonna do, hermana? Turn me into a toad?"

"Not if you are partnered with someone," I replied, frowning in thought.  Neither had a special woman of their own and I was not certain it was wise to let them have portions of the potion. But then, we had let children drink of it, so I shrugged and let the matter drop.  I turned the heat down to medium and added a few drops of the lavender. "Love charm," I explained to Stephen, who was taking notes in a little pad.

"I don't think the FDA or the DEA would approve of half the shit you're putting in there." Dino wrinkled his nose at one particularly odiferous batch and looked at me as if to ask, "Will I really be drinking this crap?"

"That's why they're not invited," I replied. He grinned in return.

Stephen's voice cut in. "Did Caesar not say that Druids memorized all their sacred knowledge?"

"Yes. We spent twenty years or more learning everything we needed to know. For healers, that was all their lifetimes," I looked pointedly at Stephen, who nodded affirmation. "Steep that for a while," I pointed to his pot. While he let it simmer, I began adding things to my own, while my new friend followed everything I did with a detailed eye. He misses nothing. My admiration grows more every time I have contact with the good physician.

He thought a moment, then spoke again. "My memory is not what it used to be, I fear. I hope you will not find it disrespectful if I encode your recipe in my private diary."

"I won't," I assured him. "Later, I will tell you when to harvest and how to store certain things we use. There are six specific drinks that were made. The two Solstices, both equinoxes, Beltane, Imbolc, Samhain, and the Festival of Lugh."

"I would most heartily appreciate it, for the sake of natural philosophy. And I would like to make a study of the potion's medicinal uses."

I confessed, "There is actually no true medicinal purpose for it, it's merely symbolic at this point. It's the blessing invoked upon it that holds the true value. I claim Druid status, but mine is of the professional class rather than that of religious overseer." He continued to scratch with his pencil while I measured and mixed valerian and jasmine into the rapidly boiling water. I described for him the days-long cooking processes of my own time, and how to judge the right temperature of the water, and what would be put in it first, and why.

"Ah," he countered, "but the physician often finds that the greatest health benefits are found in the symbolic. It is the belief of the patient much more often than the skill of the surgeon that saves a man's life."

"I agree. Scientists are doing modern studies on the power of prayer alone and how it benefits the mind and thus the body as a whole- things their ancestors took for granted."

"I'd say it was mostly bullshit," Dino inserted his two-cents worth.

"I think if a person believes strongly enough in his deities and puts faith in their abilities, the peace they experience as a result will alleviate the stresses placed upon the body by a downtrodden heart, as well as the wounds, and that alone speeds up the healing process." Removing the water with its contents from the burner I had claimed, I let it sit a few minutes.

"Such has been my experience as well. We are of one mind, miss Boudicca," Stephen agreed.

"I have questions I want to ask of you, as well, Dr. Maturin. Such as your leeching procedures, if you will indulge me. As for you, Dino, it was our beliefs that enabled us to survive everyday horrors, and find an explanation for questions that still plague man. I think we were more at peace with the world than modern people are, as a result. Sort of like the Zen masters you espouse as idols," I teased, referring to the samurai swords he had showed me during his brief visit to check on Terry and me in Spain. He grunted in acknowledgement.

Stephen' voice beside me kept in the spirit of the separate discussion he and I were carrying on, though like me, he was engaged in both. "Many a limb has been saved by the benevolent creatures," he explained, regarding the leeches I had asked him about. When Uma had told me that Stephen bled Jack before battle, and that they used the slimy creatures for medicinal purposes, I had been quite enthralled.

"Generally, we removed the wounded part of the limb, or drilled holes in it to rid it of blood clots and such.  I still have my trepanning tools if you want to see them," I invited.  Uma had also brought up that tidbit from Jack and Stephen's history, knowing it would be one of the first things I would want to ask him about.

I tapped my spoon on the counter and took up the packet I had denied Dino. "Straight from my own time," I smiled.

"What is it?" He inhaled the spicy, flowery scent through the parchment wrapper.

"Something the DEA certainly wouldn't approve of," my grin widened as I teased Dino, who snickered. "Seeds from Persian poppies. Opium."

I could almost hear Stephen's hands rubbing together- the ones in his head. "Ah, the blessed relief of the poppy." His beloved laudanum is made from the same plant.

"Quite. We had to search the markets hard for stores of that. It was not easy to come by, and was expensive beyond measure, depending on what the merchants had to go through to get it for us. Which is why it was used sparingly," I stayed my hand, not allowing the precious seeds to pour too quickly into the thickening wine, "and only at special times of the year. That is why only the healers knew the recipes. We had our own methods of drug control." I moved the pot back from the stove to cool, and Dino announced that he had his own drug of choice waiting for him in his room. An ice-cold beer.  He shook Stephen's hand and kissed me on the cheek as he left.

"Have you portion control in mind when you serve this tomorrow night?" 

"Yes. We'll give each person a single helping. No seconds.  I might need your help with certain men of large stature.  There are things in here that will kill in too large a measure, if you want to note that."

"Certainly, my dear. Such a powerful physic should not be taken lightly." He raised a questioning eyebrow at the dangerous mandrake I showed him before gently tucking it in his hand.

"Anything more than this amount will kill a man larger than Jack or Max. This dosage brings about a pleasant dreamlike state." He made the mention in his book. I watched appreciatively, learning how he catalogs his findings and thoughts, impressed further by his organization and neatness in his notes, as I take none save those stored in my memory.

He was saying while he scribbled, "As so many of the physician's tools, benign in moderation, deadly in excess." I nodded.

"Yes. But there are also things that in great quantity have no effect at all, but in tiny amounts are the deadliest of things. I wonder sometimes how many had to die to discover that information." 

"Some would suggest that your important days were occasions for licentiousness," Stephen mentioned, pointing at the door where Dino had walked out.  

"I think that is the largest obstacle to truly understanding modern ways of celebrating what in my time was a serious means of begging the gods' favor for various reasons and remembering the important things in life, health, joy, family, those waiting for us in the Otherworld, and bounty of crops. Not everything was a fertility rite or if it was, the more serious moments were remembered first, then the secondary events were left uninhibited by the priests. But it was always a prayerful, thankful occasion, first and foremost."  He seemed to like that explanation quite well.  As for me, I was happy for his company and hoped that chance would lend itself to our meeting again to share our knowledge and finds with one another.  We talked of other things while I began working a blessing over the wine that was cool by the time our activities concluded and we poured the liquid into containers to store in refrigeration until needed two days later.

Memories such as these heal.  Pouring the wine in each glass, I said a prayer for all the individuals they represented.  Solstice is a time for healing.  As I have explained before, the dark months ahead, as the days grow shorter and the earth turns away from the sun's face, require special strength and guidance from the gods.  In each goblet I poured my love, my strength, and something for each part of the soul, for those I care for so much.   There may come a time when I will be unable to take up the sword of the mighty warrior to protect them and must leave them to their own way.  And there is no warning I can give that will not somehow change the course of the future.  Instinct tells me to let it happen as it will, for the outcome is closed from my view.  But with the dubious portent comes a joyful gift.  Ancient wisdom approaches from the south to fill the dark days with light and spirit.  The ocean has told me her name...Heather of the laughing eyes...

Teener joined me first, with Hando following.  While he went to help Max pour beer over the pyre, Teener and I joined hands while I whispered the blessing of the gods upon the evening's festivities.  We were still in prayer when Ann arrived with Jack and waited by patiently as we finished.  The sky was brightest pink of dying sun and it shined off the opal pendant in the silver broach that adorned the shoulder of her dress.  It pleased me to see it on her.  One by one the couples filed in, and each of my sisters wore her gift- Teener's gold torc, the symbol of a warrior or ruler with its enameled twin eagles glinted around her neck.  The only one of the sisters unaccounted for...Uma nearly stumbled in the sand from her mad dash to get to me.

"You got it!  You got me fucking SULPICIA!" she screamed, waving the precious book rolled carefully in a velvet bag at me.  

"She's saying 'thanks', I think," Ann observed mildly, suppressing a grin.  I took her cue and we waited with solemn faces for Uma to join our number as we watched the men file down to Maximus, who was waiting for the signal to light the fire. 

"Be sure to thank Maximus," I whispered to Uma and squeezed her back when she jumped on my neck, like the first time we met.  "I was not quite sure what to get you."  Note to self: Buy a neck brace. 

The idea came to me as I stood among my women friends while we grouped together and watched our men congregate around the fire laughing and shouting that despite our different outlooks on life and our backgrounds, that the gods had brought us together just so.  They gathered us for our special gifts and the happiness we bring, not only the men who love us, but to each other.  A blessing all on its own.  Who can understand the reasons?  Who wants to?  Maybe some other time.  But at that moment, all of us standing together, minus Tig and Roo but missing them, and the promise of more to join us, it was the singular most telling moment of paradise I think I have felt in a long time. 

We started down the trail to meet our men, and I asked Maximus for a coin; a gift to the gods, to invoke their blessing on the night, our relationships male and female, friend and lover.  Then we took our places around the table talking about many things that I will not recount, because I do not remember it all. It was the last night we would be together all at one time and that was the joy, not the things we said.  My mind was full- my heart even more so, as I glanced around at my friends.  And I could not help but wonder what the future did hold for each couple my eyes rested on.  

Ann and Jack were lost in one another, and it seemed to me that the last storm had been quelled, the waters calm again for them.  May it always be so.  Such powerful attractions and a delicate road to trod.  Uma and Terry, crazy in love and letting their commitment show to the world, on the other side of Maximus.  I think they will make it.  I am not going to say they are going to have it easy, though.  As we laughed and made jokes about spilt water, I passed my gaze to Paul and Jeff, wondering if their love will survive the bond that Jeff shares with the women of our game.  I hope so.  I want Jeff happy.  I like Paul.  Stephen and Dino were doing the same thing I was, and gazing over the rest of us, and Cort loped in late, looking a little dazed, though I never found out why.  I smiled to him when he caught me looking at him and he returned it, and then went back to his dinner.  And finally I turned my thoughts to Teener and Hando, my dear friend and sister in longevity and her man whom I love.  I worry for them, perhaps because I do not always understand their relationship.  But like all loves, it must grow as it will and perhaps theirs will be the deepest love of all.  All in all, we will weather the bad times together as we have always.  I can hear Maximus' voice in my head...We have a better chance of survival, if we work together...The battle fought and won hardest is that which renders the sweetest victory.  It is the same with love.  Behind us, the bonfire spit and roared; hundreds of glowing embers reached out to join the stars as night descended, only to fade out before they reached their destination.  Had we reached ours?  Or will we continue to burn on, reaching out to the universe, and refuse to fade away?  The future is always in motion. 

Dessert done, I reached for the crystal decanters Killick and I had transferred the wine to earlier that day.  I spoke a few words regarding the holiday's origins, the meaning behind it all, and an explanation of the rites.  I wished my family the deepest peace through the months ahead, and assured them of my love for them all. Then I sang the song of healing and new beginnings.  A plea to the gods to watch over us and protect us through our trials, and bless the fruits of our labors and our dealings with each other.  I sang it in the old language, letting the wind carry my words to the heavens and the sea and to the ears of whatever gods would listen.  To some, it was not significant.  To others, it was their hopes and dreams carried by voice to the gods that heard, their approval sounding in the lapping of the waves crashing upon the shore.

Maximus took my hand under the table when I sat down and reached for my water.  "Shall we run through the fire, beloved?"  He raised his eyebrows.  

"No, I think not.  If you men want to dare each other to do it, be my guest.  But we've already been through the great marriage, my love."  In another time, as the flames leaped high, young men would perform great feats of daring and courage to prove themselves warriors.  When the fire began to die, couples would run through them to ask for good luck in their marriages and to invoke the gods' favor on their families.  Cattle and crops were passed through, to ensure the bounty of the coming harvest.  In this time, it was a tradition to light it that had never died.  It illuminated our feast and our friendship.  Maximus and I had passed through many fires, and now waited on the bounty of our struggles.

Like a mother gazing fondly on her children, I watched from my place at the table as couples drifted off by twos into the night, after much more laughter and joking.  The stories of the effects they felt under that special drink are theirs to tell, as well as some of their antics beforehand.  As for me, this tale is drawing to a close, as did the day.   

I sat between Maximus' knees on the hill watching as the fire burned itself away, cuddling against his chest and reflecting wordlessly as our ancestors and descendants looked down on us from among the stars.  The last thing I remember is laying my head back against his shoulder and thinking how warm and safe it felt to be held by the man you love most in life.  I did not wake until morning showed her bright smile over the ocean's tumbling play.  Life broke the barrier between reality and fantasy, and beckoned us home.