Zucchabar, North Africa, 183AD, early summer

"...9.998....9.999...10.000."

As the last coin fell tinkling in the leather pouch laying open on the table and that already contained the others, Antonius Proximo raised his eyes to look at the dark-haired, dark-bearded, robust man standing in front of his desk and smiled.

"So you did it, Spaniard. Good. I am pleased for you." 

The other just bowed his head in agreement, not betraying a hint of the happiness he had to feel at having been finally able to buy his freedom. Indeed there wasn't even satisfaction or relief on his hardened face- just mere calm.

Proximo was confused by such behaviour, remembering how ecstatic he had been when the late emperor Marcus Aurelius had granted him his freedom, but then, he reasoned, when he had not been puzzled regarding the Spaniard? He had owned the man for more than three years and yet he knew nothing about him, except for his extraordinary skills as fighter, an ability that had carried him through hundred of combats without ever receiving more than a scratch.

The old lanista sighed, then handed to his former slave the scroll he had prepared by the scribe, the act sanctioning the freedom of the gladiator known as the Spaniard. "This is yours."

The other man took the document, but he did not read it, returning to stand in front of the lanista with his hands clasped behind his back.

'Like a soldier waiting for orders', Proximo thought for the umpteenth time. 'Does he ever relax?' 

But the fact he had not read the scroll demonstrated to him the Spaniard trusted him so much he had not felt necessary to check what was written there.

The thought pleased the old lanista for, despite the ruthless, hard face he showed to the world, he was a basically good man, and, in his own way, had come to care for the gladiator that had made him rich in the past years. The slave he had bought half-dead at the market for few sestertii and that had turned out to be his gold mine. Not that he had been an easy man to deal with... Proximo believed the Spaniard had never totally submitted to his master's will, but simply obeyed for it suited him to do so. And when it had not- well, nothing had been able to make him comply: not the whip, not the lack of food, not even the threat to be thrown to the lions. It had taken Proximo a year and half of frustration and rage to give up with his attempts to bend the gladiator to his will, finally accepting he had to leave things as they were, and content himself with his fighter's continued victories. And now the time had come to give him his freedom, as for the contract they had stipulated almost two years before, when the Spaniard had first enquired about the matter. Proximo had set a sum, which had not been excessively high, for the Spaniard had already made him rich enough to satisfy his needs and his whims, and he had no heirs to whom to leave his wealth- he had no reason to be too greedy. Now the gladiator had brought it to him, after amassing it with the money the lanista had to give him per law - a percentage of what he gained with the combats - and the one he had made betting on himself or on other fighters.

He could have found the money more quickly had he ever agreed to spend some night with the rich matrons that periodically knocked at Proximo's door asking for the handsome gladiator's services. But that had been one of the matters on which the Spaniard had stubbornly refused to change his mind. It also had been one of the things the lanista had found more difficult to understand -his adamant refusal of all the girls and boys he had sent to his cell in the course of time. That behaviour had often pushed Proximo to wonder if the man was completely sane or if there was something wrong with his virility.

However, despite everything, even of the occasional fury, the lanista felt affection for the Spaniard - although he would never admit it aloud - and was concerned about his future. He knew on his own skin how hard it was for a former gladiator to adapt to another life. He had failed- would the other do better?

"What do you plan to do?" he asked.

The Spaniard tilted his chin and set his jaw. "I don't know yet."

"You could remain here as trainer. I have a spare room and..."

"No. I don't want to ever touch a sword again." The tone was dry and cold.

"Then what will you do to support yourself? Do you have a family to whom you can return?"

The Spaniard stared at him hard, so much so that Proximo felt the need to drop his eyes, then he answered, "No, I have no one to whom to return. But I was a farmer before- I wish to work the land again. Dirt cleans off a lot easier than blood."

"I see." Proximo fell silent as he thought with wonder that was not only the longest conversation he ever had with the Spaniard, but was also the most revealing one. So he had been a farmer before becoming a soldier... and a deserter? Somehow the lanista had always felt there was something wrong in that notion, for the man was too commanding to have been a mere legionary, and high-placed officers usually did not need to desert to be allowed to leave the army, if they wished.

Proximo then cleared his throat and added, "One of my neighbours is selling a small estate just outside the Northern gates. I know it is good land- plenty of olives and date palms. The family is selling it for they are moving to another province. You could make an offer for it."

The Spaniard smiled bitterly, "With what money? I have just few sestertii left."

"Only a few? I thought you had saved more, Spaniard."

"I used it."

'How?' Proximo wanted to ask, knowing the man had never bought better clothes or better food for himself, but another hard stare silenced him before he was able to open his mouth. But it was not really necessary, for the gladiators' owner still possessed a bright mind, and was quick to find an explanation.

"You helped Juba to buy his own freedom. You gave him your money- that's why he was quicker than you, despite earning less."

The Spaniard nodded his head, but did not offer further explanations.

Proximo sighed. He had never met a more stubborn person. Nor one as kind as him in the regards of the people he cared for. How many times he had saved a fellow gladiator's life during a combat? Those actions, besides earning him the gratitude of the saved men, had also kept Proximo from losing a lot of money, and thus the grey-haired lanista decided it was time to thank the Spaniard for it.

So he took an empty leather pouch from a shelf and poured half of the content of the bag still lying on his desk inside it, weighing it in his hand before tying the leather strings.

"Here Spaniard," he said, throwing it to the other that, albeit surprised by the unexpected move, caught it. "This should be enough to buy that estate."

His former slave turned the fat pouch in his hand. "Is this a loan?"

"No. A gift- a reward for all the money you made me win in these years and for saving my fighters' lives so many times."

The younger man blinked, then set his jaw, uncomfortable. "Thank you," he said very low.

Proximo waved his words away with a gruff, "Ah! Now let's stop losing time. Go to buy that land before they sell it. The owner lives in the second house on the left once out of the school gates."

The Spaniard bowed his head in agreement and salute, then turned around and walked to the closed door.

"Wait! Stop!" Proximo called before he could open it, a sudden thought crossing his mind.

The former gladiator returned to face him, looking at him enquiringly. 

"Spaniard, can I ask you something?"

"What?"

"Can you tell me your name? Your real one?"

The younger man remained silent for a long while, before replying. "Maximus."

Proximo smiled. "Then good luck, Maximus. You know where to find me should you ever need help."

The Spaniard blinked rapidly, nodded once, then left the room.

Proximo stared at the closer door for a while. 'Maximus. A very uncommon name.' He thought, 'There was a general named so years ago, if I remember correctly. Pity I did not know sooner, it would have made a better battle name than Spaniard. "Maximus the invincible"- what a sound it has! Oh well, it is useless to cry over spilt milk. Time to return to business.' And speaking so, the lanista buried his head in a series of papyruses that needed to be read and signed.

Games!

Kicking dust as he walked along the streets of Zucchabar, Maximus cursed under his breath.

Would he ever be able to get rid of the damn games? Even if he was now free, they seemed to still be ruling his life. 

As soon as he was finished with Proximo, he had searched for the owner of that patch of land the lanista had told him about. Even if he had never been around Zucchabar by himself, Maximus had no trouble finding the house but meeting the man he was looking for had proved to be a lot more difficult. The servant who had opened the door had told him to return the following day for his master did not receive unannounced callers at that time of the day. Maximus had been explaining his business when the master of the house had appeared at the atrium, obviously on his way out.

Mentally dismissing the servant, he had gone for the landowner and bluntly told him he wanted to talk about the small estate he had for sale. The man had briefly eyed Maximus then had frowned. It had been obvious he was in a hurry but the Spaniard had not been neither interested in wasting his own time nor in remaining more than necessary in the man's house. After three years confined to the overcrowded quarters of the gladiatorial school, he had been ready to grab whatever chance to be by himself and enjoy some little privacy beyond that he had found in his own mind. And the patch of land the man wanted to sell promised him exactly that.

Proximo had been right. The landowner had anxious to get rid of the estate but when Maximus had asked if they could see it and finish the business that same day, the man had dismissed the notion with a gesture of his hand.  "Tomorrow," he had said and moved towards the door clearly indicating that the interview was over. "Come early in the morning and we will take a look at the land and do the necessary arrangements."

Maximus had insisted but the man had been adamant. "Tomorrow," he had repeated. "I am on my way to the games and I am already late! Not that the games will be any good now- I heard the Spaniard has just retired but..." The man had stopped and Maximus had frozen. The landowner had carefully studied him in silence then had started to talk but something in the other man's eyes had silenced him.

"Can't you at least tell me where the estate is so I can take a look at it?" Maximus had asked in a perfectly controlled, flat tone, resolutely refusing to be steered away from what was now his only purpose.

That had been the key to survival during his entire life: getting a purpose and stubbornly sticking to it as if his whole existence depended on it. And he had depended on his determination to go ahead more often than not. First at the army and then during his three years as a gladiator, getting a purpose and sticking to it had gotten him through a hundred combats and a thousand days of slavery and denigration. And his purpose had been living long enough to be a free man again. Now it was over but he had acquired a new purpose even before he knew it: getting a piece of land and working it, while allowing the land and the backbreaking farming job to heal his wounds. Or at least part of them. And this foolish man who could only think about the games had been standing in his way.

The man had snapped his fingers and a servant had materialized with a speed that clearly indicated he had been eavesdropping. "Tell Gordianus to take the cart and take..." Maximus had ignored the opening.

"...take this man to the estate and show him around."

The servant had hurried out of the atrium and the landowner had turned towards the Spaniard. "If you like it, come back in the morning and we will sign the documents..."

Maximus had nodded in silence and turned away to leave the atrium before the man could say anything else.

The small estate had been nothing like those he had known in Hispania. The land was dry and reddish instead of black and fertile but the date palms and olive trees had seemed healthy. There was little green but Maximus had thought it was more due to lack of dedication and work than due to lack of water. A kitchen garden had seemed a reasonable possibility even if he would have to solve in advance the problem of the water supply. There was a small building that could make a decent place to sleep and also a stable to shelter the animals that the slave named Gordianus had explained came along with the property.

Maximus had nodded then told the man to inform his master that he would be back in the morning for the necessary arrangements. This said, he had climbed back on the cart and returned to the city in silence despite Gordianus efforts to engage him in conversation.

Back in town, he had one problem more to solve: he needed a place to spend the night. Proximo had offered him lodging but Maximus had dismissed the idea. He had not fought his way back to freedom just to spend his first night as a free man at the gladiators' compound. He briefly considered sleeping in the street but Zucchabar was a dangerous place and he had no weapons and a sack full of money. Sighing, Maximus had resigned himself to look for an inn, roaming the dusty roads, kicking the sand as he walked and cursing the games with each step.

As Zucchabar was in a crossroads between the coast and the desert, it took him little time to find a place that looked reasonably clean. There was a tavern in the ground floor and the rooms were above. Besides the building, there was a small courtyard with a fig tree. As Maximus walked towards the entrance, he heard a sound that stopped him dead.

Somewhere in the courtyard, a woman was laughing.

It was nothing like the high-pitched squealing of the women who visited the gladiatorial school in the nights. Instead, the sound was young and vibrant, fresh and full of innocence, very much like a child's laugh.

Maximus closed his eyes and allowed the sound to wash over him as if it had been a healing balm. How long had it been since he had heard a laugh like that? He could not think. His body answered with a ruthlessness of its own. He cursed again then stepped into the inn.

The patron of the place was a barrel shaped man with a crooked grin. He stopped tending to the counter and turned to look at the newcomer. "Good day, I am Manlius," he began, "and you are...?"

"I need a room for the night," said Maximus, refusing to be involved in conversation with the over friendly man.

"Oh, well... you came to the right place," replied the owner as he squinted, trying to get a better look at the deeply tanned, strapping man dressed in a coarse tunic. "How long will you be staying?"

"Just tonight."

"Do you have a horse? There is a small stable in the back..."

"No."

Silence fell on the tavern. It was too early for dinner and the place was empty but for a young boy who was industriously sweeping the hard floor. A door connected the tavern with the courtyard and it was open to allow in some late afternoon breeze perfumed with the dusty smell of ripe figs.

The young, female laugh floated into the room.

Before he could stop himself, Maximus turned towards the sound. The laugh drifted away and he needed every single ounce of his self-control not to dart after the sound. Somewhere in the tavern's kitchen a metal dish fell to the floor with a crashing sound followed by a stream of curses.

Blinking, Maximus turned again towards the patron to find the man looking at him thoughtfully.

He became tense. 

"Can I offer you anything else?" asked Manlius.

"A meal," growled Maximus, eyeing the barrel shaped man with the flat gaze he used to weigh his opponents in the arena.

"It is included in the room's price," said Manlius. "It is a bit early but if you are hungry I can give you some cheese and olives..."

"I shall wait," said Maximus even if his stomach rebelled against the idea. He had been all day around Zucchabar without eating but it had been only when the inn's patron mentioned food that he noticed how hungry he was. Hungry and weary. "Can you have the meal sent to my room when it's ready?"

Before the man could answer, the female laughter floated again into the tavern as if it had been a wave of cool, soothing water. Before he could stop himself, Maximus abruptly turned towards the open door.

"Sure," the Manlius nodded. "Do you want some water sent along with the food and wine or would you prefer to go to the baths? There's a small establishment not far from here..."

Maximus snapped back to attention but his eyes darted again to the open door.

"Water," he mumbled, "Send some water to the room..."

The inn's owner left his place behind the counter and padded towards Maximus. The Spaniard looked at him warily, as if he had misjudged an opponent who had turned out to be more dangerous that he expected.

"Would you like something else besides the room and the meal?" he asked in a bland tone. Maximus tensed even more. "What do you mean?"

Manlius offered him his crooked but friendly smile. "You know what I mean, foreigner. A woman, some company and entertainment for the night..."

"I just want a room and a meal..." Maximus growled again.

The tone was menacing but Manlius did not seem deterred. "You have been without a woman for a long time, have not you?" he said in a low voice.

Maximus felt like moaning. Was it so obvious that even a tavern's patron noticed it? He remained silent.

"It's your eyes, foreigner," said Manlius in the tone of a man who has seen everything that is to be seen. And it was probably the case. Managing a small inn in a gods' forgotten, flea ridden place like Zucchabar probably had him witnessing more in a month than many men witness in their whole lives.  "It's in your eyes," repeated the older man. "And you cannot but keep on turning every time you hear her laugh... There is nothing wrong about needing, foreigner... I remember being your age... but those days are gone..." His eyes took a distant quality as if he had been enjoying some cherished memories but he quickly sobered. "It can be solved easily, foreigner," he went on. "The building across the courtyard and beyond the stable is Ulpia's house. Her girls are pretty and clean... They will take care of you in no time...And you need not worry about catching something nasty or being robbed..."

"I don't go to brothels..." growled Maximus then cursed himself inwardly. What was he doing, offering explanations to a noisy inn's patron? Why didn't he just go to his room, away from people he did not want to talk to?

"Oh, it is very discreet," commented Manlius who was not ready to drop the subject. "You go there, have a good time and then come back for your meal and a good night of sleep..."

Maximus closed his eyes. Sleep. A good night of sleep. How long had it been since he had been able to sleep a whole night? How long since he had been able to relax, to really relax and rest? Longer than he care to admit, longer than he dared to remember.

Sleep.

A woman.

Relief.

Peace.

Sleep.

When he opened his eyes, he saw his own defeat in Manlius' wise ones. "There's another way..." said the inn's patron then padded towards the door, stopping to say something in low voice to the boy who was sweeping the floor. Whatever his words, they sent him hurriedly towards the kitchen.

Manlius put his head out of the door and shouted, "Ulpia!" in a surprisingly strong voice.

Maximus bit his lower lip. What was he doing? It was wrong yet somehow he felt unable to stop what had already been set into motion.

"Ulpia!" bellowed Manlius.

"I am on my way! I am on my way, you old fool! Do you think I have nothing to do but come running just because you demand it?"

Manlius turned towards Maximus and offered him a grin. Then, a woman entered the tavern. She was about forty, her hair dyed with henna and adorned with copper discs. Short, slightly plump and dressed in a lavender tunic, her face was still attractive despite age and heavy make up.

"What do you want, you son of a camel?" she growled as she smacked Manlius on the arm with a peacock feather fan she carried in her hand but it was obvious she was not serious. Her voice carried a hint of affection and her smile was genuine.

"What do men usually want from you, Ulpia?" asked Manlius cheekily.

Ulpia arched her painted eyebrows. "Well, when they are not after my money, they are after my girls..." she said then caught sight of Maximus.

The brothel's mistress squinted her eyes to get a better look at him, standing as he was in the shadows of the early evening. Her knowing gaze ran down his body with the appreciative glint of a cattle merchant and Maximus felt his cheeks redden. How could it be possible? He could not remember blushing even when he had gone to a brothel for the first time...

Ulpia fanned herself. "With those looks I doubt you need to pay a woman to get in her bed so you must be after my money," she concluded, "What's your business, sir?"

"Ulpia! Who is the old fool now?" snapped Manlius. "The gentleman here wants some discreet entertainment. Can you send one of your girls to the back room? The usual rate..."

Ulpia did not look sorry for her mistake. Instead, she smacked Manlius with the fan again.

"Besides being an old fool are you also drunk, Manlius? It's games' day, idiot! Games' day! All my girls are at the arena where the business is!"

At the mention of the games, Maximus' hands clenched convulsively.

"You sent all of them to the arena?" exclaimed Manlius, "How could you be so careless?"

"Careless? Everybody is at the games!"

"There is no girl at your place?"

Ulpia shook her head no. Manlius frowned. With a sigh, the brothel's mistress admitted, "Well, Lydah is there..."

"Then send her to the back room. The usual rate." Ulpia seemed on the brink of retorting but Manlius stopped her. "You still owe me half the bill for the last wine amphorae I sold you!"

The woman threw her hands in the air then hurried towards the door. "She will be here in half an hour!" she shouted as she disappeared into the courtyard.

Manlius turned towards Maximus with a satisfied grin. "You're lucky," he said. "Lydah is Ulpia's treasured jewel. She keeps her for special clients. Exactly what you need. The room in the backyard is a bit close to the stable but comfortable and discreet."

Maximus looked at him dumbly. He could not believe what was happening to him. He had remained celibate for six years, stubbornly ignoring the needs of his body be it in his military tent in Germania or the suffocating slave cells in Zucchabar. Resolutely ignoring the camp's whores, the slave girls Proximo had sent to him and matrons ready to pay for his services. He had refused the girls because he resented to be seen as an animal that needed to be rewarded for his work by seeing his basic needs satisfied. And he had refused the rich ladies for he could not tolerate to be considered like a stud horse, who mounted the mares presented to him, so that his master could pocket a healthy fee. Maximus closed his eyes in turmoil. He had resisted for six years in that way and what had happened? The same day he had bought his freedom and seen a piece of land he wanted to purchase, he had entered that anonymous inn searching for food and a bed and somehow found himself purchasing a whore... No, worse than that, he found himself having an unknown man buying a whore for him. It was madness. Maximus told himself he should simply turn on his heels and go away- but his body had a mind of its own.

The boy had returned to the tavern and said something to Manlius, who nodded then turned towards Maximus. "Arrius will take you to the back room and bring you wine and a meal..." he told, "Go with him."

Maximus' feet also seemed to have a mind of their own and moved towards the door before he even noticed he was walking. On the threshold, he stopped and turned to Manlius as he dug his fingers in his belt. "How much..." he started but Manlius stopped him with a hand over his.

"It's on the house," he said. "The room, the meal and the girl..."

Maximus raised his eyebrows quizzically and the inn's patron smiled his crooked grin. "I made more money betting on you than selling wine to the soldiers, Spaniard," he said softly. "Enjoy your freedom and enjoy the girl... and also enjoy knowing that the games will never be the same without you."

Maximus swallowed with difficulty as Manlius smiled again and patted his arm. "Enjoy," he repeated. "Your secret is safe with me, but don't allow your tongue to become lose with wine and pleasure and tell the girl you were a gladiator. Ulpia has some prejudice regarding Lydah... She never allowed her to be sent to gladiators."

Maximus found himself stupidly looking at the coin between his fingers. Manlius slapped his shoulder. "Keep it for the girl. Give her a fat tip," he said then added in a conspiratorial tone, "Rest assured she deserves it."

The back room was indeed close to the stables. The familiar scent of hay and horse, leather and manure drifted through the window high on the wall. It was also small but clean and comfortable. A narrow bed, a table, a chair and a lamp. The floor was freshly swept and the blankets looked old but clean. The boy named Arrius had brought him a jar of wine and a meal consisting of roasted pork, cheese, olives and bread and a handful of dry dates. He had also brought him a basin and an ewer along with a washing cloth and a frayed towel.

As soon as the door closed behind the boy, Maximus splashed his face with water trying to clarify his mind. How had he gotten involved in the current situation? He just wanted to be left by himself. He just wanted be left in peace. To drop on the bed and sleep...

Instead, he had been saddled with a whore. 

It had been well over a decade since he had been with one of them. Of course, he had gone to the brothels in his youth and when at war, to the camp followers or if his legion had been stationed close to a village, to those women who preferred discretion and freedom, usually young widows with children to support. It was the right thing to do. Where can a single man look for pleasure but with a woman who sells it? Then he had married Selene and that had been it. They had married and she had been the only one from then on. He had loved her and she had loved him and in their mutual love he had discovered that he could not go to another woman's bed because what he looked for, what he needed, was not there. It had been hard, of course. But it had been worth it. And whatever he had endured, Selene had experienced it too and the knowledge had given him the strength to go ahead without a woman till the next leave, the next meeting, the next kiss...

Maximus' musings were interrupted by a soft knock at the door. Without waiting for permission, whoever it was opened the door and entered the small room.

The first thing that Maximus noticed was how petite she was. The woman barely reached his shoulder. Slender and small framed, she looked fragile as a newborn deer. Her hair was loose and fell in a cascade of dark chestnut coloured waves that reached her hips. The blazing African sun had bleached some tendrils adding reddish gold highlights to the silky mass. Under the last light of the day, her skin looked like polished bronze, the hue emphasized by the light green tunic she was wearing.

Maximus' second thought was that she was not beautiful but nevertheless devastatingly attractive. Her face was a study in contrasts, with high cheekbones and slanted eyes, generous lips and a firm chin. She barely wore make up but intricately carved copper earrings tinkled as they swung from her earlobes. The girl's body was slender but feminine with small proud breasts, a tiny waist emphasized by the darker green sash wrapped around it and softly curved hips. Absentmindedly, Maximus thought that she looked very much like a delicate figurine, something made to be stared at and admired but not touched. And he could not but wonder what such a creature was doing in a place like Zucchabar and why was she working as a whore.

Lydah carefully studied the man standing in front of her: taking his measure and doing it right was the key to avoiding problems and add another satisfied customer to Ulpia's and her own patronage. The brothel's mistress had been right. He was tall and strapping, still young and handsome in a rugged and unusual way. Broad shouldered and wide-chested, his arms bulged with well-toned muscles and his were the legs of a rider. He stood erect and proud as a Roman magistrate despite his coarse tunic and sandals. His hair was dark and shortly cropped and he sported a carefully trimmed beard. Handsome, yes. Handsome and virile. Hardly the regular customer of a brothel like Ulpia's.

She endured his inspection without embarrassment and instead with the ease born of long practice, then took a few steps towards him and her perfume drifted towards Maximus. It was not a cheap, sweet whore's fragrance but instead something fresh and clean. Like the girl herself.

"I am Lydah," she said as she raised her head to better look at him.

Maximus found himself looking into a pair of luminous, green eyes that sparkled with a feline quality. 

His mouth dried, she smiled and he forgot to breathe. She could not be more than thirteen or fourteen. He moved back, putting distance between them, and his body painfully protested.

"Go away," growled Maximus.

The girl named Lydah arched her eyebrows, a gesture so delicate that he could not but think again why such a creature worked as a whore. She looked like a wild nymph or a shepherdess escaped from a legend.

"I was told you wanted a woman," she said softly.

"That's right. I want a woman, not a child..."

So Ulpia had been right. He was not an easy one. Usually big men were easier than short ones. Big men were easy to deal with because they had a soft spot for small girls like her and they liked her to be tender. It was short and weak men who were usually mean and nasty. But this big, strapping, handsome one rigidly standing in front of her was going to be difficult, as Ulpia had said.

When she had returned to the brothel after going to Manlius' place and told her she had a client expecting her at the back room of the inn, Lydah had hurried to prepare herself. As Ulpia did not allow her to go into the streets when it was festival or games' day as the other girls did, she was grateful for the arrival of that foreigner. In games' day few if any men came to the brothel for the business was dealt with in the alleys around the arena and while she could use a free night, she could use some money a lot more.

"I don't like him," had insisted Ulpia as Lydah was looking for a fresh tunic.

"You said so," had answered the girl, "but I asked you what is wrong with him and you cannot explain it. Instead you said he is young and handsome..."

"THAT is the problem," had replied Ulpia. "He is too handsome to go around paying for a woman. I would say women are ready to pay for him..."

"Who knows?" had teased Lydah. "Perhaps he is a pervert..."

Ulpia had squealed, "THAT is probably the case! Lydah, you are not going there! I will tell Manlius that you are not feeling well..."

"Ulpia, don't be silly! I was in for a free night and now I have the chance to make some money... You know I need it and why..."

The older woman had sighed. Yes, she knew. She knew what it was to be young and pretty and hungry and do the only thing that there was for a young and pretty and hungry girl to do. No matter how long she lived, she would never forget the morning when Lydah, then fourteen, had knocked at her bedroom door and asked her to help her sell the only thing she had to sell, since she had not been able to find honest work in town.

She had refused, wondering about what her friend Lavinia, Lydah's late mother would think of her if she turned her innocent daughter into a lupa, yet inwardly berating herself for not grabbing the girl on the spot and making a small fortune out of her. She was exquisite and obviously special. But Ulpia was not a hardened woman despite her own past. The girl deserved something better.

But Lydah had insisted in that maddeningly reasonable way of hers and she had relented and found her a man who was considerate and paid well for virginity. Since that night, Lydah had worked in her house where Ulpia had done of her best to protect her from the hundred of dangers that kind of life could involve. It was the least she could do for Lavinia's daughter, that pearl of girl that had quickly became her favourite.

With a sigh, Ulpia had patted Lydah's shoulder.  "Go," she had said, "but be careful... Very careful..."

The girl laughed, the fresh, lively sound that had attracted Maximus even before he entered the inn. Blood thundered in his veins. "I am not a child, Soldier. I am seventeen..."

Maximus tensed. "Why do you call me 'soldier'?" he asked in a low, menacing tone.

She laughed again. "Look at yourself! Only a soldier stands the way you do, as if you were awaiting orders..."

Her voice was soft and musical with a hint of huskiness. 

"Go away," he repeated, sounding weary and weak to his own ears.

Lydah rested her hip against the table. Difficult. He was a difficult one. Sullen. Moody. It would take longer than she expected from an obviously healthy and virile man like him. It did not matter. She could do it. "You don't want me to go away, Soldier. You want me to stay and pleasure you and that is why I am here... Why don't you relax? I promise you it will be worth..."

Maximus turned his back to her and leaned against the small window breathing the comforting smell of the stable, trying to regain his control. But the sound of her moving around the room kept on distracting him. Then, he felt a soft, warm hand on his shoulder and turned to find himself looking into Lydah's upturned face while she handed him a cup of wine. He gulped it and the ruby liquid instantly warmed his stomach. The girl caressed his chest with the back of her fingers.

"Go. Please," said Maximus hoarsely, but he knew he was already lost.

"I am here to pleasure you and that is what I will do..."

Maximus made a last effort. "I will give you the money... nobody needs to know that you..."

Lightning flashed in the depths of those feline eyes. 

Lydah took a step back. "I may be a whore," she said carefully articulating each word, "but I am not a beggar! I don't need your elemosina! I earn my money!"

Anger thundered in Lydah's veins. The bastard had the gall to treat her as if she were a beggar! Ulpia had warned her against her temper time and again but she did not listen. She needed the money, yes. She worked as a whore because she had not found a better job to sustain herself and Titus. In truth, although she hated to admit it, working as a lupa paid better than cleaning and washing clothes. Besides, nobody wanted a pretty girl like her for merely cleaning or washing clothes. If she had to do it, at least she would get paid for it. And the handsome bastard in front of her thought he could treat her as a beggar...

Maximus flinched at the girl's anger. 'A fighter', he thought. She was small and delicate, she seemed fragile but she was instead a fierce scrap. And somehow it was even more arousing than her voluptuous body.

Lydah tossed her hair with a movement of her head and eyed him defiantly.

Maximus smiled wanly.

She smiled back.

He was sullen, moody and probably a bastard but he had a wonderful smile. And his blue eyes were something like she had never seen. Sparkling like jewels, burning like embers but with a hint of softness... and a good dose of sadness. Perhaps he was just a lonely man.

"That is better, Soldier," she commented as her fingers started caressing his chest again. "Now, will you tell me what you want or do you prefer that I discover it by myself?" Her fingers slid below his waist and lightly touched his straining manhood. He was hard as iron and even if she had touched him very lightly it was obvious he was very well endowed. Ulpia was right. He was not the kind of man who needs to pay to get a woman in his bed...

Maximus gasped, feeling as if he had been dumped into a roaring fire then closed his eyes.

"I think we better discover what you want together..." the girl breathed against his ear and he shuddered. "But first of all, let's take care of this..." And she touched him again.

His eyes snapping open, he swallowed painfully and tried to think of something to say but his tongue seemed to have deserted him. And his mind and will too. Instead, his manhood was painfully alert and aware.

Lydah's small hands moved towards his belt and before he could stop her she had already unbuckled it and tossed it on the bed. Then, she grabbed his tunic and when she moved to slide it above his head, he could not find the will to resist and instead raised his arms like an obedient child.

The girl took a step back to better appreciate him.

He was more than handsome. He was beautiful in a rugged, masculine way, all tanned skin and well developed muscles that spoke of strength but also of discipline and control. A soldier, no doubt. Perhaps more. An officer? He had the commanding way of the high ranking ones. But he was too young to be a licensed centurion and it was obvious he was not maimed or impaired. A mysterious man.

Then, she let herself gracefully fall on her knees and untied his sandals and rid him of them and, without hesitation, tugged at his loincloth's ties and freed his straining manhood.

"Easy, Soldier," she said with a smile, "Lydah will take care of this..."

He was big. Bigger than she had suspected. And more than ready. Perhaps it would not be so difficult after all. Men were so predictable. Most demanded nothing more than some petting and they were off.

As she spoke, the girl moved forward and slid her tongue along his rock-hard erection.

He gasped but before he could speak, she took him in her mouth and gently sucked him, her tongue slowly caressing the sensitive underside of the engorged member. He was too big to be properly pleasured with her mouth no matter how much Lydah relaxed her throat. But it would be enough to take the edge of the man's need.

While she sucked and worked him with her tongue, Lydah used her nails to gently caress the back of his thighs and could not but smile when he started to unconsciously rock his hips. Nevertheless, she could feel him trying to resist her. Trying to deny himself the release his body was screaming for...

Lydah used one of her hands to still him by firmly grabbing his thigh while she gently scraped his lower back above the crevice that divided his buttocks. She heard him hiss yet he redoubled his effort not to let himself go. She smiled again as she went on working him and let him have his way for a moment then took her hand from his back and instead slid it up the inside of his thighs. He automatically spread his legs wider, giving her the access she needed. Lydah lightly caressed his bulging, hard testicles, then slid her middle finger behind the scrotum and touched the sensitive skin there, moving her finger pad in a circle.

Maximus felt as if he had been stuck by a lightning. His head reeled and his lower body throbbed like a giant pulse. Reflexively, he grabbed the girl's hair with both his hands, seeking an anchor in the middle of the storm that seemed to have engulfed him. What she was doing... what she was making him feel...

Lydah moved her finger pad again and he stopped thinking. 

With a roar, Maximus came in a seemingly endless torrent. The room darkened. His legs shuddered then his knees failed him. He felt soft hands guiding him as the floor seemed to raise towards him.

Blinking and gasping, he fell on the bed. The last thing he saw, was a pair of slanted, green eyes looking at him...

Maximus regained consciousness little by little to find himself looking at the room's ceiling. He noticed a crack in the plaster and some mould and distractedly wondered how could it be possible that in a place as dry as Zucchabar there could be mould... His mind drifted away but he was abruptly brought back to reality by a pair of small, delicate hands on his lower body and a soft, humming noise.

Lydah was there, sitting on the bed by his side, washing him and as she worked she hummed a tune, the sound coming from her throat very much like that of a purring cat. She showed no hint of embarrassment or hesitation about the intimate task she was performing and instead the same determination she had showed while pleasuring him with her knowing mouth. At the memory of the way the girl had worked him and the realization of what she was doing, Maximus felt himself blush for the second time in an hour. Weakly protesting, the tried to move away from her hands.

She raised her head and offered him that maddening smile of hers but did not take her hands from him.

"Good to see you are back, Soldier," she said and moved to go on washing him.

"No..." babbled Maximus trying again to slide away from her. But his body refused to obey.

"Shhhhh," said Lydah, "Don't be a child... I told you I would take care of everything... Now, spread your legs wider so I can wash you..."

Before he could think about resisting, Maximus' thighs obeyed the girl's command and he hissed as her hands washed his scrotum, becoming dangerously close to the sensitive spot she had reached... when? Last night? A week ago? Could it be possible that it had only happened a few moments ago?

She went on working with the calm that nothing seemed able to shatter. A causal onlooker could have taken her for a mother quietly washing her child instead of a whore cleaning her customer.

When she was finally satisfied, Lydah raised, poured some wine then helped Maximus sit up and put the cup in his hand. When he blinked, still obviously confused, she assisted him to drink. He gulped the wine anxiously but before he could empty the cup, she took it away from him.

"We don't want to drink too much too soon, do we?" she said. "Even if I suspect it would take an awful lot of wine to knock off that monster you have there, it's better to go slowly," she talked with the ease of a practised whore but there was nothing cheap about her. On the contrary, everything about her was dangerously seductive, a woman who put her mark on men...

Maximus became tense.

Lydah left the cup on the table and stood beside the narrow bed, looking at him with her slanted, feline eyes. Then she untied her tunic's sash. "Now, lets see what we can do to ease your mood, Soldier." When she raised her hands to her shoulder brooches, Maximus averted his eyes but even as he did, he felt a stirring in his manhood.

Lydah let him have his way while the green tunic slid down her body and she tossed it on the chair then lightly caressed his shoulder and felt him shudder. Then, slowly, he turned towards her.

She was small framed and slender but utterly feminine. Her bronzed skin glistened under the lamp's light and before he could do anything to prevent it, Maximus' eyes avidly roamed down the silky expanse. His gaze devoured the supple line of her shoulders, the proud, perfect breasts crowned by taut, cinnamon-coloured nipples. Her belly was slightly round and softly bisected by a small navel. His gaze slid below- and his eyes opened very wide. Her mound was plucked and bare like that of a little girl. He could perfectly see her pink nether lips slightly protruding from her female sheath and he smelled the perfumed oil she had rubbed there to ease the task of taking him inside her.

Along the years, he had heard some men talk about Eastern and Greek whores plucking their nether curls and how exciting the vision of a bare female mound was. He had dismissed the notion which he found vaguely amusing, but also a bit disgusting for he could never understand why some men preferred very young girls to grown up women. But now... now... the vision of that pink flesh was so arousing that he felt dizzy.

He raised his head and found himself looking into the girl's knowing eyes.

Lydah came closer then knelt on the bed by his side. "Do you want to touch it, Soldier?" she breathed and Maximus felt lust wash over him like an unstoppable force.

She gave him a moment but his only answer was a laboured breath.

"Do you want to see how soft it is?" she insisted. When Maximus did not move, she took his hand in hers and brought it to her bare mound then rested it there. The skin was indescribably soft, like a baby's. Lydah pressed his callused fingers against her mound and Maximus gasped at the female plumpness beneath the skin. She moved his fingers below and he felt a softness of a different, liquid kind.

"Yes," she breathed, "Yes, like this... this is what you want, Soldier... This is what you need... and Lydah is here to give it to you..."

She moved his fingers again, using them to rub her sheath and Maximus felt them become damp with the perfumed oil and her own female wetness. Before she could use his hand again, he moved his fingers tracing the whole length of the tempting, warm slit.

"Good, good," purred Lydah as she gently rocked against his fingers.

Maximus' hand became bolder and more demanding.

Lydah smiled. Oh, yes. Men were so predictable. They thought they were in control but it only took an experienced woman to turn them into mush. Still rocking against his hand, she straddled the man, giving him better access to the recesses of her body and cupping the back of his head gently pushed him towards her breast. This time he did not need any spurring and instead avidly took her nipple in his mouth and started suckling like a starved puppy. She winced slightly as his beard rasped the delicate skin of her areola but remained relaxed and calm, caressing his nape and softly purring words of encouragement and rocking against his hand. There was something oddly soothing about the combined rhythms of his mouth and fingers and Lydah's mind started drifting...

Maximus rubbed her sheath again and again, his tongue swirling around the hard, succulent nipple in his mouth. She was wet and hot and he could feel his engorged manhood throbbing in an exquisitely painful rhythm with her rocking hips. She was wet and hot as her maddening, knowing mouth had been and her sheath promised even more pleasure... Before he knew what he was doing, Maximus abruptly slid two fingers inside her.

Lydah gasped as the invasion brought her back to reality. His fingers were long and blunt, strong and callused and they moved with determination, barely giving her time to adjust to their presence inside her body. She spread her thighs wider to ease the feeling and tried to control her rocking, making her movements longer and slower but the fingers inside her prevented her as they turned more and more demanding, burying themselves as deep as they could and coming nearly all the way out with increasing speed, the insistent friction forcing her to keep rocking to avoid discomfort.

"Easy, Soldier..." she said trying to calm him down but he paid no attention. Instead, he freed her nipple and went for the other, engulfing it in his mouth with an avidity that told Lydah he was too far-gone to use tricks on him. When men reached that point, it was better to speed them up so they got spent and became easy to control again...Suddenly, his fingers slowed down their rhythm and he pressed his thumb pad against her most sensitive flesh and rested it there for a moment, then slowly started to rub the wet bud.

Lydah felt like cursing. The damn fool was trying to pleasure her! 

Why did men have to be so stupid? Why could not they simply accept the rules? They wanted her flesh and she gave it to them for their money. They paid to be pleasured and she gave good value for their coins. But it was not enough! Not at least for some of them! No, the damn fools like this man felt they needed to prove her that they were not only rutting bulls but they could also pleasure her. As if she wanted it! Why could not the damn idiots be content with her tricks and her pretending? After all, their wives neither knew how to perform them nor had brains enough to pretend!

The fingers in her sheath went on rubbing and jabbing while the thumb pad restlessly worked the bud hidden between the now swollen, slick folds. Lydah tried to move away from them but a heavily muscled arm snaked around her waist and kept her firmly in place. She felt a surge of panic. He was big and strong and he could easily hurt her or even kill her. He had looked mostly shy and confused but there was in him something more and now she could finally identify what that was: a capacity for violence. For swift, murdering violence...

A surge of fear coursed through her but the feeling was shortly lived for the unrelenting movements of the fingers inside her slit were doing strange things to her body. Suddenly, she felt restless and before she could stop herself, she squeezed his fingers with her inner muscles as hard as she could.

She had the grim satisfaction of hearing him growl as he freed her nipple. But the feeling was short lived for she looked into his eyes and the fire that she saw there had her gasping. She had seen many a man lose their control to lust and need but she had never seen anything like the flames burning in those seemingly bottomless orbs. She felt like a small bird fascinated by a snake, knowing the lethal danger that awaited there yet unable to move away. His eyes locked with hers, he abruptly took his fingers off her body and it was only then when Lydah noticed she was panting as hard as him. 

Before she could move or say anything, he grabbed her and forcefully turned her around as he rose to kneel on the bed. The movement was so unexpectedly swift for a man his size that Lydah's head reeled and she forgot to breathe. She landed on the mattress on her hands and knees, the strong arm snaking again around her waist and keeping her where he wanted her, his other hand boldly caressing her buttocks. Still struggling to catch her breath, she raised her hips in automatic response. At her back, the man need no more encouragement and rammed inside her. Lydah cried out.

He was big, yes. Bigger than any other man she could remember having taken. In the morning she was going to be sore despite the oil she had rubbed in her sheath before coming to the inn. She just hoped he would not tear her. Lydah tried to move to ease the discomfort but he tightened his hold of her with a low, menacing growl.

Maximus shuddered. She was hot and liquid. Soft. Like wet velvet. Like warm silk. She felt so good. A lot better than her mouth had been. He held her tight, preventing her from moving and speeding up his release. No. He did not want to come. Not so quickly. He wanted it to last. To last forever. That hot, wet comfort...

Biting her lower lip, unable to escape his hold, Lydah awaited for him to thrust and braced herself for hard use. She noticed that she was sweating and somehow was surprised. Days were hot in Zucchabar but nights were usually cold. She could not remember sweating yet her skin was warm and damp. She closed her eyes trying to clear her mind. There was something unsettling about the man at her back. It was the second time in the night that her mind had drifted away... She had known he would be a difficult one the moment she had seen him... Lydah felt him move as he lowered his head and rested it against her bent back. The movement brought him even deeper inside her and reawakening in her the urge to move, to do something to dispel the feeling of the man deep and thick between her spread legs.

Maximus rested his cheek on the girl's damp back and remained there for a moment. He could feel her slightly throbbing around him. It felt so good... He thrust.

Lydah's eyes snapped wide open as he moved inside her, thrusting hard, deep and fast. He was big and there was no way she could block him and what he was doing from her mind as she usually did. No, there was no way she could ignore the man thrusting and thrusting, each movement taking him as deep as he could go inside her body, the friction of his big, thick member making her uneasy despite experience. She felt restless, her belly becoming tighter and tighter. If she could only move and speed him up so he came and everything was over...

Maximus went on thrusting, struggling between the urge to let himself go and the need to prolong the long-denied feeling of a woman engulfing him... She was hot, liquid and tight, so much what he needed to lose himself and find peace after so much blood and so much death... He felt his testicles tighten and weakly moaned... No... no... it was too soon...

Lydah noticed the tingling sensation in her nipples and became all the more agitated. It was not only them but also her nether lips felt unusually hot and the bud nestled between them pulsed in an unsettling way. She struggled against the man holding her and thrusting inside her...

Maximus fought against his body and the woman kneeling beneath him but it was already too late. He became tense and he felt as if he had been struck by lightning in his lower back and the blazing sensation moved towards his pelvis and groin. He heard a roar but he could not say if it was his voice or his mind screaming. It did not matter as he came with force.

Lydah felt him thrust for a last, deeper time them become tight as a string and his hot seed flooded her insides in a seemingly unstoppable wave.

It was over.

She could hear him softly moaning in the aftermath of violent release and knew she should feel grateful. It was over and he was obviously pleased. He would probably give her a fat tip.

In the end, it had not been so difficult and perhaps he would become a regular. It was good for a girl like her to have regulars than to have to risk herself with unknown men. Besides, he was young and handsome, something her regulars were not. She should be happy.

But she was not. She felt that something was wrong.

The man at her back sighed and collapsed, dragging her with him and somehow managing to roll their entwined bodies to avoid crushing her beneath his weight.

They fell on their sides and remained there, still joined and he spooned at her back.

Lydah felt his even breath and knew he had fallen asleep. She had been paid for a whole night service but perhaps he would sleep till dawn and she would be able to leave even if going while he slept meant wasting the chance to get that tip she so badly needed ...Lydah bit her lip.

What would be would be. For the moment, she could not leave. Besides, she did not think she had the strength to get up. Instead, she would remain there and try to doze for a while. If she returned to Ulpia's, perhaps she would have to service another man despite being games' day and she already felt sore. No, she would better rest for a while. At her back, the man slept deeply but slumber failed to come no matter how hard Lydah tried to lure it. Something was wrong, terribly so, and she could not grasp it. As if on their own will, her fingers moved towards her nether lips- they felt swollen and sensitive. She gently touched the bud nested between the heavy folds and it sprang back to life and throbbed. It was then she knew what has wrong- terribly wrong.

She was a whore yet as the man took her, she had been waiting for more. 

Lydah buried her face in the hard mattress and hoped it was enough to muffle her moan. 

Lydah woke up to the chirping of birds and the pink light of Zucchabar's early dawn. 

The man was still sound asleep and she moved slowly, trying not to awake him while she got off the couch. It was not easy. The bed was set against the wall and he had cornered her against it. Somehow, she managed even if it was a clumsy manoeuvre.

She briefly eyed the basin and the ewer then dismissed the notion. She would wash at Ulpia's. Besides, the soothing mint leaves and almond oil were there and the gods knew she needed both.

Quickly, she slid the tunic on and tied the sash around her waist. Her hair was tousled but she only had to run a few yards to reach the brothel. She put on the sandals and was ready to go but turned again to look at the naked man sleeping on the narrow bed. He looked vulnerable and helpless despite his size and obvious strength. Lydah took the blanket she had folded on the chair the day before and threw it over him then came closer and bent to better cover him.

His eyes snapped open. She forgot to breathe.

He eyed her then licked his lips. She licked hers in automatic response.

Somehow, Lydah found her voice. "I have to go," she said while she braced herself for his reaction.

If he grabbed her and tried to take her again, she would have to let him have his way for she was no match for him and there was no Burrius to protect her like in the brothel. But the man looked at her in silence. "I have to go," she repeated and he nodded slightly.

Lydah started to rise when he stopped with a hand on her arm. She looked back at him in dread.

The man stared her for a moment then murmured, "You forgot to pretend..."

Lydah felt as if he had had slapped her. It was something spiteful to say. And, somehow, he had not hit her as mean...Yet he was right; she had forgotten to pretend. And she had not even noticed it.

He eyed her quizzically then let her arm go and dug beneath the pillow. He brought out a little, shiny coin and handed it to Lydah. "You were right," he commented in a drowsy voice. "A woman should not pretend when she is not pleasured..." With a sigh, he turned his back to her and went back to sleep.

Lydah looked at him for a moment then at the coin he had given her. It was a silver denarius. She ran towards Ulpia's house clutching the coin against her bosom.

Ulpia was waiting for her. The brothel's mistress pretended to be doing the previous day's numbers but Lydah knew better. When she saw her enter the brothel, the older woman stood up and went to her with a worried look in her eyes. "Well?" she asked, "Is the big guy a pervert?"

Lydah smiled. "No, Ulpia, he is not."

"Then, what's wrong with him?"

"Nothing is wrong with him. He is just lonely and sad..."

Ulpia frowned. "Lonely? That beautifully modelled piece of male flesh is lonely? I tell you there is something wrong with him..."

Lydah dismissed the brothel's mistress' worries with a gesture and moved to go but Ulpia was not ready to let her out.

"Everything went all right? Uh?"

"I told you, Ulpia, everything went well."

"Did he give you a tip?"

Lydah smiled. She need not worry about Ulpia. The mistress never took the girls' tips as others did. She did not even demand a share. She produced the shiny denarius and had the satisfaction to hear Ulpia gasp.

"Well, well, well," said the mistress. "Perhaps he will become a regular..."

Lydah managed to go on smiling. "Perhaps..." she said and hurried to leave the room before Ulpia could stop her.

She washed and changed in the room a tall, Nubian girl had left empty when she had run away with the passing caravan a few months ago, then tiptoed into her own chamber, carefully closing the door.

Lydah remained there for a moment, still clutching the silver coin in her hand and looking at the boy asleep on the bed and feeling her heart swell as it did every time her eyes rested on Titus.

He was everything she had and everything she lived for. And he was worth living that life and letting men use her for their money. There was no question about doing whatever to keep him safe, fed and sheltered and one day she would be able to leave behind the brothel and the men and start anew, away from Zucchabar and the past.

The boy tossed and turned in the bed and she hurried to soothe him.

Feeling her presence, Titus opened his eyes and sighed in relief as he did every morning when he found her by his bed.

"Lydah..." he whispered.

"Shhh, go back to sleep. I am here, little brother. I am here and I will take care of you..." Lydah caressed his silky hair, till the sleepy eyes closed again. She watched him for a while longer, then backed to her own bed, stretched over the covers and fell asleep within minutes.

A couple of hours later Maximus woke up again, feeling more rested and relaxed than he had been in years, and not just because he had slept on a real bed. The awareness of the pleasure he had taken the previous night had a big hand in it too, caused him some discomfort, so he pushed the idea away from his mind, concentrating instead on what he had to do. Since the land that would soon be his new property was about two miles outside the city walls, and the road was devoid of trees and thus shadow to ease the trip, he decided to walk to the landowner's house early, so to conclude the deal quickly and leave for the countryside before the sun was too high in the sky. So he stood up, washed with a basin and rag, dressed, ate some of the dinner he had not touched the night before, and almost ran along the corridor, anxious to begin his new life.

The deal completed, Maximus went to the Northern gate, making some stops in the shops along the way, buying freshly-baked bread, salted meat and fish, wine, lentils, some cooking utensils and three linen blankets. He had been informed that nobody had ever inhabited the brick-made cottage near the simple stable located in his new property, for the former owners lived in town, and used the small building only as a storage place. Thus Maximus' first task was to make the place habitable, but he was not worried. He needed little and the past three years had broken him to any kind of experience- inuring him to what he would once consider a discomfort, such the lack of running water. Those things belonged to the past- a past that would never return, just like his wife and son. Once again Maximus blocked the thought at its birth. It was not the moment to let loose that part of his memories; he would do it later, perhaps that evening, with the day's work done.

Maximus' first day in his estate passed quickly and busily as he worked in earnest to make the cottage suitable for living. He swept the dirt covered floor with a broom, before putting fresh straw taken in the barn over it, also creating a much thicker mound near one of the walls, over which he spread two of the blankets - his bed. On the opposite side, near one of the two windows, Maximus created a cooking area, leaving it devoid of straw and surrounding it with stones, to avoid the flames might spread. He planned to prepare much of his food outside, but it was more prudent to also have place where to keep the fire going in case of necessity. He lacked basic furniture like stools, a table, a cupboard where to store things and food, but Maximus had found some wooden planks in the barn, and planned to build what he needed as soon as he attended to more pressing matters, such as picking the ripe dates from his palms. It was almost harvest time - so the former owner had informed him- and he needed to learn how to do it well and quickly. He would not have the same problem with the olives: he knew how to harvest them- indeed, Maximus longed for it. So many years had passed since the last time he had taken his olives to the oil-press... It seemed like a lifetime before and, in truth, perhaps it was.

That evening Maximus sat outside his cottage, with his back against the wall. He felt pleasantly tired, as his eyes swept over his estate and he enjoyed the serene landscape, as the breeze coming from the desert cooled his skin. All was silent, even those three noisy donkeys he had got with the property along with a handful of chickens and four sheep. The three four-legged animals had immediately made clear they possessed more personality than was becoming to beasts, rising at once Maximus' affection for them. He had named them Brutus, Gaius and Sempronius, after his best childhood friends and the animals had seemed to approve. There was also a cat living in the barn, a black and white female he had named Melissa. Her belly showed signs of an early pregnancy and Maximus felt a bout of tenderness surge into his heart. How much time had passed since he had experienced - or allowed himself to- such a feeling! He had missed it but a gladiator, a man who lived to kill to not be killed, could not allow himself to be weak. He had to harden the gentler side of his being, the part that had been a husband, a father, a compassionate commander, for there was no use for it in the living hell his life had turned to be. But he had not been able to suffocate it completely: he had come to care for his fellow gladiators, saving their lives more than once, and giving Juba much of his money, so that his dark-skinned friend could buy his freedom and return to his family.

Family...Maximus let open the gates of his memories and thought to his wife and son. The heart-breaking, piercing pain he had experienced in the past every time he had allowed himself to recall them had been replaced by a dull ache. He had gradually resigned himself to the fact they were gone, and that there was nothing he could do to bring them back or to repair his mistakes. He could only go on and live the rest of his life as best as he could, hoping that, when his time came, he would be able to meet his family in the Afterlife and beg their forgiveness for having caused their death, and praying they would understand. For the moment, he was determined to go on living, no matter how hard it would be, with the dignity his ancestors had taught him, and that he wished to never betray.

Maximus looked up at the black sky- black as his wife's hair. He tried to picture her in his mind, but as soon as he closed his eyes, the image of the girl with whom he had spent the previous night appeared, her features mingling with and replacing Selene's.

Maximus' eyes snapped open and he felt anger and shame assault him at the obvious reaction of his body, and at the way he had let a whore to defile his wife's memory. But still his thoughts wanted to return to Lydah, to her little, perfect body, to how she had made him feel... He grunted in frustration and stood up, entering the house and slamming the door shut, as if he could leave the girl outside. He had no intention to give in to his body's needs that night; he wanted to sleep, for he was tired.

'But not enough,' Maximus thought with disgust, as he undressed and looked at his groin. 'Tomorrow I will have to work harder.'

And deciding so, he stretched out on his pallet, willing himself to sleep.

Somehow, Maximus was not surprised to find himself back at Manlius' inn when he crossed the threshold about ten days after he had first stepped into that place. And, of course, the barrel shaped patron was not surprised either. It was a hot afternoon and the tavern was empty but for a pair of sleeping dogs. No sound came from the courtyard and the opened door only let in dusty heat.

When he arrived, Manlius had been dozing with his head resting on the counter. Afternoons in Zucchabar were but a long, long nap. At the sound of his footsteps, the inn's patron snapped to attention, blinking like an owl then grinned when he recognized his customer.

"So, you did not go away!" he exclaimed and he looked obviously pleased. "But where have you been?"

"Farming," answered Maximus.

Manlius arched his eyebrows quizzically. "Farming? Here?"

When the Spaniard nodded, the older man burst into laughter.

"I am sorry," said Manlius between guffaws, "but the idea of farming in Zucchabar is so absurd that I could not avoid it... And what does a man like you do farming instead of...?"

"I was a farmer," interrupted Maximus flatly and his tone sobered Manlius immediately.

"I am sorry, Spaniard," he repeated. "I did not mean to offend you... Would you like some wine? On the house of course!"

Maximus pressed his lips then nodded and Manlius hurried to pour two cups,  gesturing the other man to take a chair and sat across the wooden table.

They drank in silence then Manlius went on talking. "And how is the farming doing?"

Maximus shrugged. "I have known better lands to farm and this is no place for grain but my olives and dates seem promising... I am also thinking to have a kitchen garden..."

"Kitchen garden? You must have a good water hole to be able to grow vegetables..."

Maximus shook his head no. "No, my patch of land is not that good. I will have carry the water from a well...But perhaps I will be able to find another solution as soon as the harvest of the dates is complete and I will have more time to dedicate to the task ahead..."

Manlius frowned. Carrying water and picking the dates after the unmerciful African sun were tiring, backbreaking, humble jobs. Something slaves did. Yet the man who had been the province's - and probably the empire's - best gladiator did not hesitate about doing them. The Spaniard was indeed a strange man.

Maximus toyed with his wine then took a quick look around and the older man's frown dissolved into a slight grin.

"So, what brought you here, Spaniard?" he asked nonchalantly. 

The younger man looked decidedly embarrassed. "I... needed some tools...chests..." he mumbled. "Happened to be near and..."

Manlius arched an eyebrow pretending not to understand, "And?"

Maximus sighed, "It is hot and I was thirsty..."

The inn's patron rested his elbows on the scarred table's surface and looked at Maximus with knowing eyes.

"It is hot and you were thirsty..." he completed, "and you thought perhaps you could also enjoy some time with little Lydah?"

Maximus averted his eyes and said nothing.

Manlius chuckled. "Why are you so fussy about it, Spaniard? What is wrong about seeking pleasure in a woman's body?" The younger man remained silent and he went on, "You know, if you find it so difficult to go with whores you should find yourself a wife. You are still young and handsome. Strong. And you have a patch of land of your own. Many a woman would be happy to marry you. You should look for a girl with a good dowry or a young widow with..."

"I had a wife. I don't want another." Maximus' tone was so flat and devoid of emotion that Manlius winced. 

"She is dead," he said. Maximus nodded. "I am sorry, Spaniard." Manlius sighed then added, "I know how if feels..."

Maximus looked at him warily.

"I know how it feels," repeated Manlius, "My Caelia has been dead for over a decade and I still miss her."

Silence fell on the two men while they gulped the wine, each one lost in his own, private thoughts.

It was Manlius who recovered first. "The back room is empty," he said, "You can take it while I send word to Ulpia. She will not be happy." Maximus arched his charcoal coloured eyebrows in question. "She does not like you, Spaniard," explained Manlius, "I think she suspects... It is that stupid prejudice of hers about the girl and the gladiators." He dismissed the notion with a gesture and stood up. "You already know the way so go to the back room while I do the arrangements."

Maximus stood up and dug in his belt but Manlius stopped his gesture. 

"I don't want your coin, Spaniard. I already told you the wine is on the house!"

"But the room..." started Maximus but the patron made a dismissing gesture.

"When is your farm's first crop of dates due?" he asked.

"A week or so... I think..."

"Save your money for little Lydah and send me a basket when they are ready. I have good use for them in the kitchen." This said, Manlius disappeared through the courtyard's door.

Somehow, Lydah was not surprised to hear the soldier was back and had asked for her. Deep inside her, she knew he would come back. And, even deeper inside her, she had hoped he did.

In the days passed since she had been called to service the stranger at the back room of Manlius' inn, she had found herself thinking about the big, handsome and mysterious man time and again. Worst of all, she had found herself comparing every customer who came to Ulpia's house with him. So, when the brothel's mistress told her the man was back and asked for her, she felt some kind of strange relief as if an unsettling waiting was finally over.

She had been in the common room the women shared while they awaited for customers. When Ulpia had entered, she had been busy trying to work the clasp of an anklet a man had given her the night before. It was made of silver and agate beads, a beautiful thing but for the fact that it also had tiny silver bells that made an annoying chiming sound when she moved around. The man had found the sound his thrusting produced arousing and Lydah had humoured him because he was a regular and a harmless fool but no matter how hard she worked the clasp, she had been unable to open it and get rid of the damn thing.

"He is back!" Ulpia had announced from the threshold.

Lydah had raised her eyes from her ankle and looked at the mistress, standing at the door with her hands on her ample hips. "Who is back?"

"You know WHO! That big guy of yours!" Lydah's stomach had churned. So he had come back...

"Manlius says he is waiting for you at the back room." 

The girl had remained in silence and Ulpia had frowned. "What's wrong, Lydah?"

"N-Nothing... It is just that I have been struggling with this anklet for hours and I cannot open the clasp..."

"Well, it will have to wait- or do you want me to send another girl? You know you don't need to go with him if you don't want..."

Lydah had stood up. "He asked for me..." she said abruptly.

"But you don't have to do it if you don't want... You know it..."

"No, no. It is only that it took me by surprise... I will go... Just give me a few minutes to get ready..." Lydah had moved to leave the room but Ulpia had grabbed the younger woman by her arm and swirled her around.

"Lydah, tell me the truth. What's wrong?"

The girl had sighed. "Nothing is wrong, Ulpia. He wants me and I want his money. Stop worrying!"

This said, she had quickly kissed the mistress' cheek and darted towards her room.

It was hot in the back room. In the silence of napping time, Maximus could hear the buzzing of the insects flying around the ripe figs. He rubbed his neck then splashed his face with some tepid water and sat on the narrow bed. He was a fool. He should have been working hard on his land and instead he was there, in an inn's room, waiting for a girl who sold herself to any man who could afford her charms and tricks. He should have been out in the palm grove making his living and there he was, wasting his money with a whore. He sighed. The heat was making him drowsy. Maximus kicked away his sandals, unbuckled his leather belt and taking off his tunic, reclined on the bed and let his mind drift...

Lydah hurried to cross the courtyard in the scorching heat of the African afternoon and reached the shade of the small awning close to the back room followed by the stupid chiming of the anklet's bells. She felt like wringing the neck of that old fool and, as soon as she was done with the soldier, she would ask Burrius to break the damn thing and free her from it. The giant Nubian who was the brothel's guard was strong enough to do it with his bare hands. But that would have to wait for the taciturn, handsome soldier was back and waiting for her.

She looked down at herself nervously. Yellow favoured her and Ulpia had raised her painted eyebrows when she had seen her come back to the common room dressed in that especially seductive tunic. One of the girls had made a comment about it being too much for such an early hour but Lydah had ignored her. Fausta had always been envious of her looks and customers.

Standing in front of the door, she licked her lips then knocked and without waiting for an answer, she opened the door.

He was lying on his side on the narrow bed, dressed only in his loincloth and seemingly asleep. His skin was even more deeply tanned that she remembered and his muscles looked strong and bulgy. Yet, lying there with his eyes closed and breathing evenly like a child, he looked impossibly vulnerable and sweet, so very much like Titus...Lydah cursed under her breath. What was the problem with her? He was a customer, nothing else. He wanted to rut and was ready to pay for it. She did not want to rut but needed his coins. End of the story. So, why did she find time and again thinking about him in that alarmingly personal way? Why did she find herself more interested in the mystery of that handsome, lonely man that was good for her?

"So you came..."

The deep rumbling voice coming from the bed startled her. That voice. It was strange that she had not registered it the first time they had met. Or perhaps she had, it but purposely shut it off because it was as unique as his smile and his beautiful, blue-green eyes...

Lydah straightened. "So you came back, Soldier..."

The man on the narrow bed eyed her for a moment then said, "Come here..." and when she padded towards him, he added, "Lay with me for a moment..."

That was not new to Lydah. She had known men who simply wanted her to hug them while they slept. But they were usually old men incapable of anything else or too weakened by sickness or drinking to even give it a try. But this man was neither old nor incapable and was obviously not drunk. Her stomach tightened. Ulpia was right. She should not have come. But the man was waiting and she sat on the bed, then reclined by his side and rested her head on the battered pillow.

Maximus took the girl in his arms and brought her closer. It was not a possessive gesture but mostly a tender one. He brought her closer and enjoyed a kind of warmth that had nothing to do with Africa or the merciless sun.

Lydah saw him close his eyes and smile as if he had been dreaming awake. Dreaming with another woman. That wasn't new for her either. Some men called her by other women's name or paid her to call them the pet names their dead wives and lovers had given them. One pervert had even paid her to call her "papa" and pretend she was his young daughter... They paid her and she did it and the gods help the poor idiots who paid her for such stupid things, but this time it was somehow different. The strapping, scantily clad man beside her was dreaming of another woman and it bothered her- too much for her own good.

Maximus sighed. The girl was everything he remembered her to be. Slender but feminine. Soft but strong. Warm and beautiful. He was hard but he felt no urge to take her. Instead, he wanted to prolong the sweet quietness of the moment and perhaps even sleep for a while with her in his arms...

Lydah bit her lip. She was at a loss and she did not like it. She could feel his hardened manhood lightly pressed against her belly but he did not seem to be in a hurry to move ahead. Lydah did not know if it was a good thing or not. The other time he had been passive and even tried to resist her only to become avid and demanding to the point of making her sore...Lost in her musings, she did not notice that her hand was already caressing his broad chest. His skin had a pleasant, warm quality and was smooth like silk.

Maximus felt her hand on his chest and sighed again then moved his own hand down her back and traced lazy circles on her bottom. Absentmindedly, he thought that she had lovely buttocks, softly rounded and delicate like a peach. With a volition of its own, his hand grabbed the girl's skirt and raised it above her knees, then slid between her thighs seeking for her heat and comfort...

Lydah gasped at the feeling of the man's big and callused hand sliding up toward her sheath. The memory of what he had done to her had haunted her dreams more than once and had her abruptly awake feeling the strange tingling in her nipples and the throbbing between her nether lips that only he had been able to conjure. And there he was again. With volition of their own, her thighs spread wide enough to allow the inquiring fingers reach their goal...

Maximus' fingers reached the softness of her plucked mound and he sighed again then slightly shivered at the memory of those pink, nether lips protruding from her sheath. His erection started to throb and he freed himself from his confining loincloth. Then, continuing his exploration, he found the damp heat of her female slit and traced the whole length of it with a slow, nearly languid movement.

Lydah shuddered at the feeling of those big, blunt fingers as they touched and caressed her most sensitive area. She closed her eyes. If only he would spare her trying to pleasure her...

Maximus' fingers went on moving then he probed the opening seeking her heat and comfort. Instead, he felt the slickness of the perfumed oil she had rubbed there to ease the task of taking him. Something snapped inside him. It was a whore's trick like many others. Like pretending. She was a whore; not a wife and not even a lover. Just a whore. But somehow he felt it as an insult: no woman needed oil to take him in; no woman needed to pretend when he took her. Whores or no whores, he was man enough to make them hot and willing then pleasure them senseless. He took his hand away.

Lydah opened her eyes to find herself looking into a pair of bottomless, unreadable blue-green pools. That was what made him dangerous: that inscrutable gaze. And his undeniable capacity for swift, murderous violence. The girl swallowed hard.

"Take this off..." he said, fingering the fabric of her yellow tunic and she felt a surge of panic as she hurried to sit up and obey. "... and wash yourself."

She felt as if he had slapped her. She turned around to look at him, "I am clean," she hissed through clenched teeth, "May be I am a whore but I am clean!"

He returned her thundering stare with a flat, undecipherable one. "Wash yourself," he repeated, "I want to taste you..."

Lydah blanched. He could not be serious. She was a whore but he could not expect her to...

The unreadable blue-green gaze remained locked with her troubled one. Slowly, carefully, she stood up trying to put distance between them. "Listen, Soldier..." she started.

"Maximus."

"W-What...?"

"Maximus. My name is Maximus."

She nodded, frantically trying to think for a way out. "Listen, Maximus..."

He ignored her, "Take this off and wash yourself." His tone was low and menacing.

Lydah licked her lips then moved towards the table where the ewer and the basin rested beside the washing cloth and the towel and started undressing. The damn anklet kept on chiming with every move, making her feel like a nanny goat. As she took of her tunic, she darted nervous glances at the man lying on the bed. He had not taken his eyes from her and suddenly, the notion of having to perform the intimate task of washing off the oil in front of him made her feel shy and embarrassed.

But there was no way out. She was already naked and he was waiting for her. Unless she threw herself towards the door, managed to open it and run across the courtyard before the man who said his name was Maximus caught her, she had no other option than wash herself intimately in front of him then allow him to... taste her. She felt very much like doing it- even if it meant giving the men who may be in the courtyard the spectacle of her nudity for free.

But the other time he had given her a silver denarius on top of her usual rate and perhaps he would be as generous again. The gods knew how badly she needed the money. Titus could not remain much longer in the brothel, spending his days locked in a room while she took man after man to keep both of them sheltered and fed. He needed sun and freedom and a pet. Flushing crimson and biting her lower lip with embarrassment, Lydah took the washing cloth, dampened it in the tepid water and spread her thighs.

From his place on the bed, Maximus observed her as she washed off the offending oil and felt the blood course though his veins like liquid fire. But there was also a sense of detachment about it. Of course he was ready as he would ever be to bury himself to the hilt in that hot, snug sheath but first there was something he had to do. No woman had ever needed to pretend with him. And Lydah was not going to be the first.

She delayed returning to the bed as much as she dared then used the small, frayed towel to dry herself and padded towards the cot. Without uttering a word, Maximus moved aside to make room for her on the narrow mattress. Lydah sat down then gingerly lowered her body and only when she rested her head on the pillow, she noticed her breathing was laboured. She could not remember feeling more scared. Not even when her father had died and she had found herself alone and having to take care of Titus. Not even when desperation had dragged her to Ulpia and she asked for help to sell her maidenhead. Not even when the first man had taken her...

Never taking his eyes from her, Maximus knelt on the mattress then ran his hands run up the backs of her calves till they reached her knees. Lydah shuddered violently and the tiny bells of the anklet chimed their irritating song. He looked at it for a moment and smiled, briefly and humourlessly. Then, he grabbed her knees and dragged her closer, accommodating himself between her now spread thighs. Devoid of the veil of her nether curls, her sheath glistened pink, the darker lips like petals of an exotic, damp flower. At the sight, his manhood tightened and throbbed with renewed fury.

At the sight of him, towering above her and looking into her bare, exposed slit, Lydah blushed crimson again. Blue flames leaped in the depths of his eyes and she willed herself to close hers but she could not. Somehow she needed to keep on looking him staring at her.

He raised her legs higher and spread them wider, hooking her knees in his elbows. "My name is Maximus," he said, "and I want to hear you say it when I make you come..." Then, he dipped his head and used his tongue on her.

Lydah cried at the touch of his scalding hot tongue on her unprotected nether lips. It felt like liquid, burning charcoals sliding along her most sensitive flesh. "No..." she gasped, "No..."

Maximus licked her again. And again. Tasting her and relishing her clean, pungent flavour. Relishing even more when her female juices started to flow. And flow they did despite all her writhing and protesting and resistance, all punctuated by the chiming of that absurd anklet she was wearing.

"No... No... No..." Lydah tossed her head from side to side, desperate to block from her mind what Maximus was doing to her. What he was making her feel as his unrelenting, burning tongue went on licking, teasing and caressing her. Making her hot, swollen and damp, that tingling sensation she had felt that other time increasing and becoming like an exquisite pain. "No... No... No..." Men did not taste their whores. They did not use their lips and tongue to drive them mad and restless as this man was doing. They did not do it either with their wives, who were taught to remain quiet while their husbands put their seed in their wombs. They only did it with their lovers...

Lydah redoubled her efforts against the strapping man who was unrelenting in his pursue of... what? 

But her efforts were taking her nowhere in her intent to get free and, instead, only managed to increase the friction between her naked, exposed sex and his bearded mouth and the rasping movement inflamed her even more.

With a long, slow lick, Maximus stopped working her and allowed himself a moment to look at her bare, exposed femininity. He allowed himself a little smile, for he had her where he wanted her. He dipped his head again and with a swift movement slid his tongue inside the snug sheath that was begging for his attention and started working her from the inside.

Now Lydah knew: he was going to kill her. Somehow she had always known it. He was going to kill her, not with violence but with that exquisite torture. Because when he had stopped for a moment, she had had to bite her lips till the taste of blood filled her mouth to prevent herself from crying his name and begging him to go on doing what he was doing to her... Then, she had felt his knowing tongue sliding inside her and her eyes had opened wide while she forgot to breathe, as the sweet torture had started again.

"No... No... No..." Her voice had lost all huskiness and was instead turning into a high-pitched wail. Yet she refused to give up. Maximus could feel her trying to move away from him and tightened his hold of her- there was no way she would escape. He changed his angle and used his tongue to jab the wet, hard bud hidden between the swollen folds, coaxing it into frenzy. "No... No... No..."

Her useless denial came in perfect rhythm with the chiming of the tiny, silly bells.

Maximus allowed himself another, little smile- she was almost there. He sucked her bud in his mouth and was rewarded with a renewed flow of her female essence. He sucked harder...

"No... No... No... No-No-No-No-NO!" Something snapped inside Lydah- he was killing her but she was not ready to die. Gathering all her strength -the strength that had allowed her to walk all the way to Zucchabar under the sun and with little food and water carrying Titus through dangerous, thieves infested roads- she kicked Maximus on the temple. When he eased his hold out of surprise, she sprang from the bed on wobbling legs and darted towards the door. Absentmindedly, she thought that whoever happened to be in the courtyard was in for a surprise when she opened the door and run naked towards the safety of the brothel... She never reached the door. Lydah had taken no more than two or three footsteps when a well-known, bulging arm slid around her waist and stopped her escape.

Maximus raised her off her feet with ease despite her wriggling, kicking and clawing. In the back of his mind, he noticed that despite her efforts to run away, she was not crying for help, the only sounds in the room those of their panting breaths and the chiming of the silver bells in that anklet she was wearing. She was small and slender but she fought like a lioness and the friction of her bare buttocks against his belly was driving him mad. He had to have her - now. And she would cry his name when she came.

Maximus dragged Lydah towards the corner then put her down but when she tried to kick him, he raised her on the balls of her feet and kicked her legs wide apart. To keep her balance, she was forced to raise her buttocks and the renewed friction had Maximus hissing. He hooked her ankles with his, the anklet digging in his flesh as her flailing hands slammed against the wall and the pain seemed to sober her.

She was trapped. Trapped against a rock hard, warm wall of living muscle. And there was no way out. But she would not give him what he most wanted. Never. He moved at her back and she could feel his engorged manhood caressing all the length of her burning sheath. Lydah shivered violently and he tightened his hold of her and used his other hand to caress her naked breasts. She shuddered again, at the impossibly soft touch, that was nearly soothing...

He impaled her and she cried out- but not in pain.

Maximus' hand roamed down her body, caressing her belly, then resting on her bare, soft mound. "My name is Maximus," he breathed against her ear, "and I want to hear you say it when I make you come..." He trust, then did it again. And again. And again.

Now Lydah was sure- she was going to die. What she was feeling, what he was making her feel, was the most exquisite torture that could be imagined. He was killing her... and she was unable to stop him. But she could try. She was going to die but there are ways to do it -and she was not going down without trying.

At her back, Maximus buried his face in her hair as he went on thrusting, long, deep movements that took him to the ultimate depths of her female body. She was soft, liquid, snug and so very hot. He could go on thrusting forever, it felt so good ... But she was still resisting, still trying to deny what he was making her feel. He stopped in mid thrust. "You are going to come, Lydah," he said against her ear, "even if it takes the whole day..." Then, he slid his fingers between her heavy folds and rubbed the taut bud hidden there.

"Lydah..."

Her name rolled on his tongue and became something between a loud purr and a distant thunder. Somehow, she relaxed. Then she felt his fingers rubbing her most sensitive flesh and she knew what it felt to be thrown into the flames. She screamed as her lower body convulsed and kept on doing it, clenching and unclenching around his flesh, as he went on thrusting and rubbing her. "Say it..." he panted as he continued to caress her inside and out, "Say it..."

Lydah was sobbing even if she did not know it.

"Say it..."

Gasping for breath, she moved her lips but nothing came from her dry throat, as the unrelenting fingers went on mercilessly working her and the maddening friction inside her sheath increased in speed. "Maximus..." She sounded so weak that the word was barely audible.

The speed and the friction and the rubbing continued.

"Maximus..."

"Again... say it again..."

"Maximus..."

"Louder...say it louder..."

"Maximus... Maximus...! MAXIMUS! MAXIMUS! MAXIMUS!"

Closing his eyes, Maximus moaned. Then, unable to stop himself, he bit her shoulder as he went over the edge, his body rocking on its own will in time with the rhythmic spurts of his seed. It seemed to go on forever, as Lydah sobbed and trembled and he moaned and rocked. Then, it was over and she collapsed in his arms.

Weakened by his own release, Maximus slid to the floor managing to protect her from the fall as he landed on his knees. It took him time to regain enough strength to gather the trembling, sobbing girl in his arms and accommodate her on his lap. Lydah did not offer resistance. Instead, she snuggled close to him and allowed him to caress and soothe her, while her head continued to reel and her flesh went on throbbing. They were bathed in sweat, their naked bodies slick and glistening as, little by little, their hearts and breathing calmed down.

Maximus gently pushed the damp hair away from her stricken face and she opened her feline, green eyes and locked them with his blue ones. Before he could notice what he was doing, he lowered his head and kissed her slightly parted, damp lips.

She let him, trembling like a woman suffering from a high fever, sighing when he stood up and carried her back to the bed.

That time, it was him who washed her, then himself and, when he got back to the bed and took her in his arms, she was already asleep. Hugging her close, he slumbered too.

It was already dark when they woke up. And when Maximus took her again, Lydah neither resisted nor did he need to coax her to say his name as she came. Again and again and again. And when he took her for a third time late in the night, she was crying it long before he made her come.

They parted at dawn, without a word. He pressed another denarius in her hand but Lydah left it on the table by the basin. She needed the money but not his. She should be grateful but she was not.

She should have hated him but she could not. She had gone to him for his money and instead he had taught her to love him. Ulpia had been right: the handsome stranger meant troubles- and the problem was now hers.