DEA

With my divine touch, time as been rewound and loosened to spool forwards once again.  In some ways, it's almost more fun this way.  I already have one roll of the cosmic dice to compare this new reality against.  Which choices will remain the same?  Which will vary?  The possibilities are endless.

And entertaining.

I chose the moment carefully.  Rewound them all for maximum variation; Uma to the time where a single choice could change the course of their lives forever... and also a time that had the benefit of being before Heather joined my world.  Two paths.  One journey rewound half way, the other rewound to the beginning.  Would it make a difference?  Would Uma's line interfere with Heather's as it had before?  Heather had only met Lachlan because of Uma.  She had been with Terry when Lachlan had escorted Uma back to him.... and the rest, as they say, is history.

But what now that Uma was with Jack and there was no Terry to go back to?  Which way would the chips fall now?  An interesting question.  Which of my creations would Heather seek to ally herself with now that I'd put Lachlan beyond her reach.  She is a curious woman; as interesting as she is tedious.  And also still in possession of that annoying habit of giving the men more power than I ultimately wish them to have in this construct.  But she is still wonderfully unpredictable.  I did not expect the match she made this time. 

Maximus.  

My chosen one.  I thought perhaps it would be.... another.  He will remain unnamed.  Think you I will give away all my secrets?  Still, it is proof that even I do not know everything about love. 

Ahh.... my Maximus.  The choice pleased me.  Even though both of them defied my laws in the doing of it.  She is still a thorn in my side and he is still the original rule breaker.  Is it any wonder I favor them so?

She made so many of the same choices this time around.  A night on Tortola with Dean before she was even a Sister.  Then to Hando and Maximus before she went to Terry in Manila.  There was Bud and Nash... but mostly it went the way it had before.  A curiously deep friendship with Terry and an intensely passionate relationship with his best friend.  It has always been a dynamic that interested me.  Perhaps too much- for it had captured my attention when the signs were there with Maximus from the beginning.

July 2003

HEATHER

I hope my plan hasn't backfired.

But I suppose even if it has, it's too late to do anything about it now.  I mean it's not every day the General of the Armies of the North comes to visit and gets stood-up at the airport.  It's not as bad as it sounds though, really.  I've been working on the plans for weeks now.

Max and I spoke about it briefly.  I mentioned I was planning something different for our visit.  I think he wanted a hint but he wouldn't dream of asking for one.  All I would say was that it was something I hadn't read about in any other diary.  I don't know quite what he made of that.  I think he might have assumed I meant something sexual, so I hope he's not too disappointed.

The idea began forming ages ago as I chatted with my Sisters about some of the rules in this new World I'd joined.  'Ask a Brother for a visit and he'll come as his schedule permits'.  I wondered what would happen if he didn't want to come.  Could he refuse?  It was more a hypothetical question, since both Brothers and Sisters usually anticipate the visits with the same amount of excitement, but still, I was curious.

The answer?  No.  He could not. 

I turned that over in my mind for a while and wondered if that ever bothered them.  They're not lapdogs. They are all intelligent, strong-willed men with hearts and minds of their own.  Surely, they have moments where that chafes a little, even if they are looking forward to the visit.  I think it is the nature of men to want to be their own master.

In tandem with this idea was the thought that perhaps Max might enjoy a small measure of time where no demands were made upon him.  No pressing work on the farm he needed to oversee.  No crisis that needed attention.  No strange woman he might feel obligated to entertain.  It has been many years since he was a soldier of Rome, doing what he had to do instead of what he wanted to do, but I often think his life today must be just as busy.  Filled with far more pleasurable things to be sure, but filled nonetheless.      

So, before I confuse you any further, let me tell you what I've done.  In essence, I offered him a holiday.  The freedom to spend his time exactly as he wished.  In truth, I hoped he would choose to spend a little time with me, but I also wanted him to take the lion's share of it for himself and I thought he might be more inclined to do so (and also less apt to think I was trying to keep him at arm's length) if I explained myself.

What I wanted was really very simple.  I have a great deal of respect and admiration for Maximus and I wanted to do something nice for him.  Something I thought he'd enjoy as well as something that would express the depth of my feeling.  I also wanted to have some fun.  In our few conversations, he'd been so kind to me, a little reserved but more lighthearted than I expected, and I thought a bit of unforeseen adventure might appeal to him.

So, in keeping with that idea, I arranged for someone to meet his plane and I sent with them a letter that I hoped would set all my grand plans into motion.  And it wasn't just any letter.  I am a big fan of small tokens that may appear simple upon first glance, but in truth are really quite complex.  In this case, I also took special pains because I wanted it to set the tone for his visit, to give him the idea that there was more here than met the eye.

A couple of weeks ago, I found a place in the city that specialized in translation and had the body of the letter translated into Latin - and not that stilted online crap, either.  I'm talking about flawlessly fluid Latin, as he would have seen it written in his time.  Now while I'm no calligrapher, I do have some skill with a brush, so I took the thing home and recopied it using black ink on simple parchment, gave it a whimsical border of ivy and butterflies and then sealed it with a drop of scented wax.  The words themselves were quite simple.  I shared with him my thoughts.  Mentioned I'd taken the liberty of arranging a few surprises should he care to go the 'holiday' route instead of coming to see me directly and told him the decision was his to make.

14 July 2003

MAXIMUS

I was looking forward to getting to know the woman behind the beautiful letters that had shaped so much of my last days.  A visit that was not a visit... and yet, strangely, though we had yet to spend so much as a moment of intimate time together, her letters had already told me a great deal about her.

In truth, the actual words revealed little about the woman who wrote them... but therein lay the challenge.  Ink on paper.  In one simple gesture, she gave me freedom.  Respect.  The choice for me to come to know her in my own way and in my own time.  The letters themselves were physically beautiful.  She has an artist's touch and a fine eye for detail.  It spoke of discipline to master such a skill and of a free spirit for wielding it with such a light hand. 

The form told me she had given me the gift of time spent devoted to planning this surprise for me.  The content spoke of intelligence, creativity and a propensity towards playfulness in a manner I found most pleasing.  And under it all was a sense of innocence.  What an unexpected breath of fresh air.

Such generosity of spirit could not go unanswered.  I availed myself to all she had arranged, wondering if she had any idea how much I learned about her along the way.  I ate food from places she recommended.  Familiarized myself with the city she called home and spent my nights in sheets that carried the scent of her perfume. 

I waged my battle as carefully as she.  Drew it out until the last possible moment.  Spent my evenings in bed, sipping the cognac she left for me and pouring over her letters with as much attention to detail as I'd give any battle plan, while I formulated my counter attack and wrote letters of my own to leave hidden in her home upon my departure.

My life is full.  I have a wife, a mistress, and several more casual lovers.  In truth, I did not wish to complicate matters by adding to the list- but to my surprise, Heather seemed to wish to be none of those things.  She was not overawed by me, nor did she attempt to entice me.  She offered only friendship and laughter.  Priceless gifts to a man such as I.

July 2003

HEATHER

"It also seems you have been quite busy flitting about in the days preceding my arrival."  He gave me that look he has- face so solemn and serious but laughter dancing in his eyes.

"Mmm..."  An answer, if an evasive one.  I had been busy, but I thought he might be uncomfortable if he felt I'd gone to too much trouble on his behalf.  He knew enough, though.  He was an intelligent man.  The letter alone told him his visit was not something I'd taken lightly.  I only smiled at him.

His chin lifted.  "Just because you do not respond does not mean I am unaware of the answer."  The corners of his mouth turned up and his face softened.  "I enjoyed myself greatly.  Thank you, papilio."

"It was my pleasure, really, General."  

His brow furrowed.  "General?"

Before he could tell me to just call him by his given name, I raised an eyebrow at him.  "Papilio?"

He nodded.  "A butterfly.  You remind me of one.  I thought so even before I received your letter."  He touched his breast pocket and I heard the crackle of parchment.  "I like butterflies.  I used to chase them as a boy."

I bent, pushing the spade into the earth and then moved to lead him inside.  "And now?"  I knew I'd left him an opening there and I wondered if he'd take it.  He didn't, at least not in the way I thought he might.

"Now I am too old to chase butterflies."  He looked thoughtful but his eyes were still glittering with amusement.  "But I have learned they may come to me if I am patient and offer the proper enticement."  He paused, gauging my reaction.  "And even if they do not, papilio, they are still lovely to watch."

July 14th, 2003

HEATHER      

Maximus.  What an incredible man; quiet, witty, playful, sensual, humble and arrogant both.  It would have been so easy to lose my heart to him... but for all my whimsical leanings, I tend to be rather pragmatic when it comes to matters of the heart.  I wasn't looking for romance, but the idea of a deeply intimate friendship appealed to me on many levels.

And to be perfectly honest, I was curious about him.  He is so often cast into the role of mighty general, fierce warrior, the imposing stoic man, the forceful passionate lover, even the chauvinistic bastard.  I supposed all of them had their place, but I wanted to come to know the other man who dwelt inside of him.  The one who could take a simple joy in watching a robin's flight and who liked to feel the tickle of wheat against his palm.

There is no doubt he is a lion among men, but the occasional glimpse of that playful twinkle in his eyes made me wonder if there wasn't still some of the cub left in him as well.  His stillness drew me, as did his unshakable strength, but it was the twinkle that intrigued me.  Or rather, how he'd lived the life he had without losing that part of himself along the way. 

I couldn't help but wonder how much of the boy he'd once been was still inside the man he was now.  Over a bottle of wine while we were soaking in my hottub that night, the conversation turned to our childhoods and I got a glimpse at the answer to that question.  It seemed a safe enough topic, childhood.  Well away from the complexities of the relationships of this World, and yet also somehow intimate and revealing.

Max shook his head and shrugged lightly.  "I was a quiet boy.  Shy- especially with girls."  His eyes twinkled in a way that said that was no longer the case.

I teased back.  "Shy?  Surely some pretty girl had caught your eye?"

He nodded.  "Of course she had.... and thus, I was even less inclined to speak."  His words were measured but his eyes came alive when he spoke of her.

"Tell me about her?"  What kind of girl would appeal to a young Maximus?  I was curious.

"It was a long time ago."  No kidding.  I smothered a laugh and he caught it- giving me that look that he does.  "We were very young."

"How old were you?"

"I don't know.... fifteen?"  His brows furrowed as he thought back and the years rolled away.  "Yes, about that- the year I before I joined the legions.  I was finishing my education."

Maximus at fifteen.  Now there was an image!  I smiled and played with my wineglass.  "I am trying to picture you at fifteen... all legs and hands and feet."  Imagine, Max in puberty- all those hormones raging inside him before he'd learned that stoic control.  It must have been quite something. 

He dipped his head.  "Like a young colt.... clumsy and awkward."  Powerful and full of piss and vinegar too, no doubt.  Feeling his oats but too young to sow them in the way his body was driving him to.

I eyed him up and laughed.  "Bet you ate your poor mother out of house and home... always hungry!"

His face was earnest.  "Oh yes.  Always hungry...."  His expression grew thoughtful but not bashful.  "Half boy, half man.  Embarrassed by my size and burgeoning desires."

"That is a difficult time... for us too, when we are both girl and woman simultaneously."

He snorted.  "It never seemed to be a problem for my friends."  

How like a man not to imagine all his friends were experiencing the same growing pains that he was.  His eyes followed me as I refilled our glasses.  "I'm sure you were a beautiful boy."

He shrugged with casual indifference.  "I have no idea.  I had no use for mirrors.  I was no Narcissus."

I couldn't help but laugh at the disdain in his voice.  "Surely you had seen your likeness?  A reflection in still water?"  It was difficult to imagine a world where mirrors were the exception not the rule.

"Yes, I knew what I looked like... but I paid it no mind."  

Now that I believed.  But I bet the girl he fancied sure had.  "What about the girl who'd caught your eye?"

He swirled the wine in his glass.  "You are persistent."  It might have been a gentle rebuke but he sounded more surprised and amused rather than annoyed.  Pleased someone was interested in him in a way that wasn't prurient. 

"Well, I am curious... but never mind."  I smiled at him.  "You don't have to answer if you don't want to.  I wouldn't ask for more than you are willing to share."

He settled back deeper into the warm, bubbly water.  "No.  It pleases me to remember her to you.  Her name was Flavia.  It means yellow.... like a spring flower."  He had a faraway look in his eyes.

"That's a pretty name."

I saw a flash of his white teeth as he smiled.  "She was a pretty girl.... my friend's sister."

"What about her caught your eye?"

He was silent a moment.  Thinking.  "She was quiet and clever... but she had a spark in her eye.  Not the head tossing of silly girls who wished to tease."

I nodded.  "I never liked that kind of girl either."  

"I hated that- when they would lead me on for sport knowing full well their fathers would never consider me."  He grew quiet and a dark scowl passed over his features as some unpleasant childhood memory ghosted through his consciousness. 

I sipped my wine and tried to draw him back into a lighter mood.  "Flavia... the girl who caught your eye- was she a Spaniard too?  Dark hair?"

His scowl disappeared.  "She was dark, as all Spanish girls, but she had some Gallic blood so her skin was fairer, much like mine."  He had that faraway look again.  "We were very mixed in the north."

I smiled.  "It's the way of people, I think... mixing.... men and women- hard to keep them apart even if they don't originally hail from the same place."  Maybe especially then.  Imagine those who were fair seeing the dark Spanish girls for the first time?  And how fascinating the light hair and eyes would have seemed to the darker people of Max's region.

His smile was back.  "She would burn in the sun.... I remember she always wore a funny little straw hat."  His eyes glittered.  "I would tease her about it."

Laughter welled up in me.  "I am sure that you did!"

"The things one remembers...." 

I put my hand on his arm.  "Sweet memories, hey?"

He nodded.  "Floccus means straw.  I would call her Floccia instead of Flavia... and she would blush even redder."  Max looked pleased with himself.  How like a man to still be smug and take enjoyment from teasing a girl like that so many years ago.

I swatted his shoulder.  "You were naughty!"  He chuckled but didn't deny it.  "Did she have a name for you too?"

"Not at first."

Not at first.  Three very interesting words.  He saw my interest and grinned- but said nothing.  "Surely this clever minded girl didn't let you tease her without returning a bit of it to you?"

"If she did, she never told  me.... it was probably Brutus or something."  His teasing face grew more serious. 

I thought of my own childhood.  "That's the way of girls at that age... especially if they like a boy."

"She didn't seem to like me at first... she would turn on her heel if she saw me."  His smile was back.  "But I used to like the way she walked."

"I bet you did."

"Her hips had a sway- I knew she was angry with herself."  He paused.  "I didn't then know why."  His tone implied he surely did now.  How like a man to couch it that way.  I enjoyed his causal arrogance. 

"And did you later find out why?"  I couldn't resist asking.

"Yes, later I did."

"What changed?"

He seemed to drop back into the past.  His words came slower and his accent thickened slightly.  "One day I was out riding.  It was hot and I was restless.  Too much energy."  I could imagine.  It's often that way with boys on the verge of manhood.  "I found myself on their land.  She was sitting under a tree with a slave girl, reading.  I don't know why I stopped."  I hid a smile.  I knew why he'd stopped.  Even two thousand years ago, boys and girls couldn't be so very different.  "I came over but I didn't know what to say... so I just asked her what she was reading."  He smiled this secret smile.  "So, she read to me.  And I listened."

I sighed.  "How sweet that must have been."

"It was.  You must understand- we were never alone with girls."  He paused.  "Well, we weren't alone then either... this old hag of a nanny was listening too- but she didn't stop us."

I smothered a laugh.  "Well, that would explain why you didn't know what to say at first.  'Old hags' have a way of making young men silent, especially if they are there to guard the girl in question."

Max took a healthy swallow.  "She could have made it harder... and she would have told Flavia's mother had I touched her... not that I would have dared!"

"Not even in your mind?"  It amused me.  So, the mighty Maximus did have a weakness after all- old women hell bent on thwarting his amorous plans.  It made him seem so much more human to me.  Not like I was talking to someone who first drew breath two millennia ago.  Perhaps that is why I love to hear such stories.  No matter how different two people are... sex, age, gender, race, modern or ancient.... we all share the common bond of awkward adolescence. 

"In my mind?  I was eloquent there... but my mouth could not enunciate the words."  That bashful look ghosted over his sure features for a moment.  "But her nanny was.... sympathetic.  She would turn her back and allow us a small measure of privacy."  He sighed in that way people do when they recall something they remember fondly.  "We met regularly."

"Did she always read to you?"

He shook his head.  "Sometimes she would make me read to her."

I laughed aloud at that.  "Make you?"  It seemed an incongruent image to me.  Someone making Max do anything?

"She said she liked my voice," he offered quietly.

"I like your voice too."  This time, it was Max who laughed; a throaty rich sound that made his eyes snap and sparkle.  "Was it deep then, your voice?  Or still changing?"  I had this funny picture of him in my mind, his voice cracking unexpectedly on the odd word. 

"It had dropped- but it was not so deep as now."  He sipped at his wine and I watched the thick cords of his throat move as he swallowed.  He fixed his eyes on me.  "Years of shouting on parade grounds has made it hoarse."  It was hard to imagine it any other way, but I suppose it would be softer for a softer time.  How I would have loved to have met that boy.  "And so I learned to talk to a girl and realized that we weren't such different creatures."

"Quite a lesson."  He nodded and I had the sense I might be getting a small glimpse of that boy after all.  "I bet she loved to hear you read."  I would.

He huffed quietly in amusement.  "She used to choose inappropriate poems to embarrass me."

"I like her already!"

Max just shook his head.  "She was playful like that- I would blush and stumble over a word and she would smile."  I could just imagine it.  Her knowing smile, her eyes sparkling with mischief.  "Sometimes, she seemed to know more than I did."  He waved his hand dismissively.  "A ridiculous notion."

His casual superiority amused me.  "Not so."  Green eyes found mine and his eyebrows went up.  "Well, perhaps in your time... but women talk and girls listen."

He nodded again.  "Something age-old in a girl, even a pure one.... a knowledge of herself."  Wise words.  True ones as well.

"I think that is true... but we have to be.  Protecting ourselves with knowledge where you protect yourself in a more physical way- at least at first."

He turned that over.  "She was fourteen... marriageable.  I was too young and not wealthy enough.  I would never have had a chance."  He sat up, suddenly stiff again.  "I would not compromise her."

"Of course."  I never imagined he would.  He sat back again, letting the heat sink into his bones.  "But it sounds like you had a very nice summer together."

"We did."  Again that mysterious smile touched his features. 

"What of passion?  Surely you would have felt that too?"

Another nod.  "We touched and kissed a few times.  It seemed like the greatest gift.  She wanted to know what it felt like to kiss a man- a man that she cared for.  She knew that it might be the only time she ever got to experience that."

"A heady thing for you both, I imagine."  Heady and sad.  

For a moment, his face looked so soft as he relived the memory.  "She called me a man.  Imagine how that made me feel?"

To be a man in his love's eye.  What a grand afternoon that must have been for him.  "I am glad for your stolen kisses and for how tall she must have made you feel."

"She did."  He toyed with his wineglass.  "She called me bellus."  He closed his eyes.  "Meus bellus Maximus."  Three words given to the night breeze in the softest whisper.

"That's lovely."  Meus bellus Maximus.  "What does it mean?"

"Bellus- it has two senses.  It means pretty...."  His cheeks colored a bit at that.  "But it also means warlike."

"Her beautiful warrior."  What a glorious summer that must have been for them both.  

"Something like that."

"A fitting name for you... especially at that age."

A chuckle from him.  "Only at that age."

I let my eyes drift over him openly but not lasciviously.  "At other times too, I believe.  There are all kinds of beauty."

"So they say."  Ever the tactician.  Still, he enjoyed my appreciative glance and gave me one of his own, but it was all very innocent.  He threw me a smile.  "Her brother found out that we had been meeting."

"Your friend?  Was he angry?"  Boys can be so irrational about their sisters.  I should know.  Mine is the same way.

"Yes.  He challenged me.  We fought.  I broke his nose."  Poor Maximus.  How that must have saddened him.  I touched his arm gently in support.  "He was not so pretty after that!  We laughed about it in later years but it was painful then."  I could imagine.  "I was no longer welcome at their estate and they arranged a marriage for her very quickly.  I was packed off to the legions early to get me out of the way in case she proved difficult."  He looked up at the stars.  "I never really came back."

We were both silent a while.  I was lost in thought.  Max seemed to be lost in memories of the past.  "What did you think of that?  Being sent away?"  I clarified when he looked over at me.

"We both did as we were told.  We were obedient.  It was the way of our world.  But I would have liked to have seen her one last time.  Just to tell her...."  He trailed off and looked away.  I didn't press further.  "But they never allowed it... and I did want to be a soldier.  More than anything.  So- I threw myself into that."

Childhood love cut short.  It was a story that could have belonged to any of us.  Suddenly, the chasm between us didn't seem so wide after all.  I also thought that maybe there were different stages to learning how to talk to the opposite sex.  I seemed to be in the middle of one in that moment and I wondered if Flavia had ever felt as I did.

"Did you ever get to see her again?"  For me, that was always part of the joy of young love- getting to see each other all grown up.

Max shook his head.  "No.  Never.  She died in childbirth the next year.  She was fifteen.  Her husband was fifty-six."

"How terrible."  Such sadness in his life.  I felt for him.  It seemed he was always destined to lose those he loved.  "And how precious that must have made your memories of her."  I refilled our glasses.  I think we both needed it.  "It seems such a waste, doesn't it?"

"Such a waste," he echoed.  "I cried over her grave when I came back on leave and wished we had been together that summer."  He cradled his glass in his large palm, rolling it back and forth.  "She had a right to know how it could have been."

I sighed softly.  So did he.

His jaw was set, tight with emotion that was directed inward.  "Any other boy would have taken her, but I was too responsible."  His words sounded like some mix of resignation and remorse.

"Is there ever a time for too much responsibility?"  I wondered aloud.

"The next time I was in that position, I acted differently when I should have been more circumspect."

"Lucilla?"  He nodded.  "And what of your choice then?  Was it the right one, do you think?"

He sunk deeper into the water and rested his head back, looking up at the night sky.  "You do what you do.  You can only do that, papilio.  No more.  No less."

"I read once you said her son was yours.  I often wondered about that."

"I believe so, yes- but it was never said."

"It wouldn't be though, would it?  With her rank and station?"

He gave a curt nod.  "I was lucky.  I could have been executed."

I smiled sadly.  "That would have been a waste of a different sort.  What good to Rome is a dead General?"

He made a bit of face at that.  Little wonder.  "She kept her secret and never admitted it... except with her eyes... but the Emperor was no fool.  Verus was from a washed out line.  The new blood was good for them."

He was playing with his glass again.  "Did it please you?  That your progeny would live on?"

At that, he did smile.  "Of course.  That was my victory.  The only one that really counts.  Immortality."

"Did you have other children?"  The wine had loosened my tongue.

"With my wife?  A few stillbirths."

"I'm sorry."

"It was common.... we planned for more... but you know the story."

I smiled.  "Yes, I do."  The wine was making my head spin.  It is the only reason I can think of to explain my next question.  I am curious, but not usually so direct.  "But I meant in the time between Flavia and your wife."

He chuckled.  "Ahhh.... bastards."  I tried to withdraw the question but he waved away my attempts.  "Others?  I don't know.  A few were laid at my door, but who knows?"  He grew thoughtful.  "In honesty, I must have had... there were many women over the years.  We moved camp often... who knows how many I left behind?"

Only Max could say that and not sound as if he was bragging.  Much.  "I would think so.  You are handsome and virile- potent too, if your wife and Lucilla are anything to judge by."

"I was."  His face hardened.  "I am not now.... I leave nothing behind now."

I interrupted his melancholy musing.  "Not true!  Now you leave behind friendship and affection... and I would guess probably lots of smiles and sleepy, satisfied women as well."

He saluted me with his glass.  "I stand corrected, mistress."  His tongue peeped out as he cocked his head and looked at me.  "So..... now you know my secrets... the shy boy who didn't know how to talk to girls...who never took advantage of his slaves...."  Interesting admission.

His eyes danced, demanding a response.  I raised my glass to him in return.  "I would say I know only those secrets you wish to share with me.  The rest are yours.  Perhaps if I am lucky, I will get to learn more."

"Perhaps."  He rubbed at his beard, pretending to think that one over, but then he grew more serious.  "I have never spoken of Flavia to anyone."

"I'm humbled you would share the memory with me."

He gave me an odd look.  "Why would I not?  I am not so proud that I cannot admit my puppy love.  I simply never imagined anyone would care to know."

I shrugged.  "I like to know those kinds of things.  Those moments that shape who you are today, you know?"  I tried to interject... but he was on a roll, his tongue equally loosened by the heat and the fine red wine.

"Women always say: 'When did you lose your virginity?'  They rarely say: 'When did you lose your heart?'"

I laughed.  "I guess that makes me an odd woman then, doesn't it?"

"No... it makes you a feeling woman.  That is different."  I wasn't so sure.  

"That is a very nice way to say it."  A comfortable silence fell between us that I broke a little while later.  "I've always been curious about other people's stories.  I think the things a person remembers says a lot about them."

"I agree."

"Like the silly straw hat you said she wore."

He nodded.  "I remember details better than her face."  A soft sigh left his lips.  "I can hardly recall that now.... but the little things...."  His face softened as memories glowed warmly from within.  "Like how her hair would escape and flutter around her face... and her smell.... like a blend of earth and sunshine."

"Those can be powerful memories."

"I can still sense it if I close my eyes.  A hot day, bees humming, air heavy with humidity.... languid.... but sluggish."

"I know just the kind of day you mean."  

"We would lie in the long grass and touch.  Her hand on my face.  My fingers tracing her breast.  Just a hint... until I ached for her."  He closed his eyes and smiled.  Through the steaming water, I could see that his lips weren't the only part of his body moved by the innocently erotic memory.

I felt a pang for my own first love.  "I remember days like that... when it was such a magic moment to touch and be touched.. to discover how a different palm felt against yours or to feel someone's heart race under their skin and know it's because of you-  all the while, feeling your own heart racing madly...."

We traded a knowing look, somehow united by the knowledge of our first heady steps into passion and love had been similarly profound.

I took his hand in mine and squeezed gently.  "I'm sure she treasured those memories always and held them dear to her heart."

"I hope so.  She had so little of life in the end."

"But made all the sweeter for what you found together that summer."  His blood rush had subsided, but it still made me smile.  "And I imagine she made you quite crazy as well."

"She did."  He said it emphatically, slapping the water for emphasis.  "I would ride home at speed, my poor horse lathered in sweat..."

I giggled.  "I bet the horse wasn't the only one sweating."

He 'tsked' at me, but his eyes were twinkling.  "Cold plunge in the bathhouse... work out until I could no longer stand..."

"Ahh.... an effective way of dealing with an immediate problem."  I laughed as his eyebrows went up.  "But that kind of fire burns deep and is hard to put out no matter what you do."

"Indeed."  He finished off the last of his wine.  "In the dark... lying awake... restless... hot nights...."  he chuckled.  "But that is a story for another time."

I splashed water at him.  "Promise?"

"I promise."  He slipped under the water and then came up, casually slicking back his short hair and brushing the water from his handsome face.  "Now my reward for being so honest...."  He gave me a look that I swear men must have been using on women for millennia.

"What do you wish of me?"

"Nothing so formal."  His expression became bashful.  "I would like to take you to dinner at your convenience.  Nothing more."  Nothing more.  That sounded perfect.  I didn't think I could manage casual romance with this man.  "Although perhaps I might read to you?"

Warmth suffused me.  "I would love that."  I had a sudden idea.  "Could you read to me in your tongue?"

His face remained impassive but his eyes glowed.  "Oh yes.  I would love to do that."

"And I would love to hear it."  I smiled shyly.  "Bellus once more, it seems."

He nodded.  "I will find something appropriate when the time comes."  His eyes met mine, correctly reading what he saw reflected there.  "And I will make no advance until you wish it... and then your pleasure will be my pleasure."

I blushed.  "You are very sweet."

"Sweet?"

I couldn't help but giggle at the look on his face- nose wrinkled up at my choice of words.

He 'tsked'.  "Not a word many would use to describe me."

I shrugged.  "Well, as you so aptly said, none of them know about Flavia, now do they?  That is sweet."

He cocked his head.  "Is the boy always there inside the man?"

"I hope so."

"So do I, papilio."

I considered his words.  "Don't you wish for the girl to be inside the woman?"

"Certe."  He shook his head and gestured at the empty wine bottle as his excuse for slipping into Latin.  "For certain."

"I'm glad to hear that.  Some days I think I am more girl than woman."  I giggled and he indulged me.  "It's nice to know it's appreciated from time to time."

"Then perhaps we can be like a boy and a girl again, content with each other's company and dreaming of pleasures as yet unknown, which will be ours in the fullness of time."

His slow speech made me smile.  "I see you no longer lack eloquence when talking to a woman."

"A man learns many things."  His eyes glittered brightly.  Just a hint of a more sexual heat hidden in his amiable words.  Just enough for me to see and appreciate it.  Not enough for me to feel pressured or threatened.

"To be honest, I was thinking much the same.  I am looking forward to learning a few more of your secrets."  I think maybe we both needed a friend.  "And I would very much like to begin with you as a boy and a girl might."

"And I am looking forward to sharing them- as well as learning some of yours."  He rubbed his beard in thought and blew out softly.  "Imagine a hot summer's day... laying amidst the corn... if we had taken that chance...."

My heart ached for him.  "What a sweet memory that would have been for you both."  Our eyes met.  "Perhaps someday you and I will lie together in the summer sun."  The wine made me bold.

His eyes glowed warmly.  He searched my face and then he spoke, carefully.  Thoughtfully.  With much feeling.  "Relive it with me one day?  Give me back my innocence."

My heart pounded, but softly.  Gently.  Who could resist such a heartfelt entreaty?  "I would like that very much.  Innocence shared and lost together.  That would be a very special memory to make."

"A beautiful gift," he agreed solemnly.  "I would offer it in her memory."

"Somewhere I think she would know- and smile.... but I don't wish to replace her or to taint your memories of her.. but I would very much like to relive a time of youthful happiness with you."

"You would not taint it."  He was emphatic- but quiet.  "You have a similar spirit."  He smiled.  "She would smile and say (and often did): Oh, Maximus, why are you so reserved?  Don't just lie there.... Tell me what you feel!"

"I think I would have liked her very much." I said softly.

Our eyes met.  "Do you believe that the spirit live on?"

"After death?"  He nodded.  "A Christian view- but yes, I do.  We are more than our fleshly bodies.. with a greater purpose and shaped by a divine hand.  We must be."

"We believed it too."  He sat forward.  "When a person died, a family member kissed their last breath and inhaled their anima- you would say spirit or soul- and it lived on in us, as did all those who had gone before us."

Tears welled up in my eyes and spilled over.  I brushed them away without embarrassment.  "That is a beautiful custom."

He wiped a tear from my cheek with his thumb.  "Somewhere, Flavia's spirit lives on."  He took my hand in his.  "Give her a body to taste the childhood innocence denied us."

I liked that idea so much.  "I would be honored."

He stroked my fingers once with his before letting me go.  "That can only honor us both and her spirit as well."  He sat back, pleased with the way our evening had gone, unexpected though it had been.  "So!  We have a plan... and it will be our plan.... and one day, we will make it real... but not yet."

"It's a good plan... and one that makes me long for the days of a different summer and of blissful hours spent lying with a boy in the corn.  But between now and then, I will anticipate the other seasons too."

"All seasons are good... now is not our time... but it will come and I think we will share much in the months ahead."

I felt a smile turn up the corners of my mouth.  "I would like to begin to be the girl to your boy.  For our day in the corn to be as it should and pay homage to Flavia's memory, we should know each other as you two did."  He nodded his agreement.  "I want to hear you read- and read to you... and to curl up at your feet and tell you not to be so serious."

"Am I too serious?"

"No, you are yourself."

He considered that and smiled, clearly pleased by my answer- but then offered:  "I do not laugh enough.  I should laugh more... and I think this plan of ours will be very good for that."

He pushed himself up and rose from the water.  He stood before me, scarred and beautiful, illuminated by the starlight.  His body steamed as water sluiced down the hard planes of his muscular frame and dripped from the blunt tip of his thick penis.  It hung heavily between his legs and the tangle of hair at the base was dark and curly.  His scrotum hung full and low.  He was an impressive man.  Large in every sense of the word.

He saw my appreciative gaze and gave me one in return, chuckling softly as he helped me from the water and wrapped me in a crisp white towel.  His eyes too had lingered on the dark curls between my legs.  He wrapped a towel around his own waist and bowed slightly before kissing my cheek.

"Goodnight, my papilio."

I blushed, and as he turned to go, I whispered two simple words to him:  "Goodnight, bellus."

His face transformed at my soft words and I think I did get to share a moment with that shy boy after all.  He was gone in a handful of heartbeats, but I knew then that I had found the right path in this World.  All that remained was walking it.

DEA

Humans.  They are such foolish, wonderful creatures.  I have heard them say a waterfall begins with a single drop of water.  How apt.  The same is true of love.... and how my faithful Maximus deserves happiness for his long years of service.

And in the end, it will come to him- to them both.  Not from a droplet of water, but from a single promise made between a boy and a girl.

They would have their day in the corn.... and if they overcame their challenges and learned their lessons in the seasons to come, I intended to see to it that my Maximus had more days of happiness than he could ever count.