Vita smiled as she dunked her head under the water and stretched out her limbs. She had always loved to swim. Her mother had taught her to swim before she could walk, or so she had told Vita, and as a young woman Vita had often come to the baths.
Still, it had been at least ten years since she had allowed herself the pleasure of a dip and she could hardly contain her joy.
She began to tread the water, moving her arms and legs rhythmically, in the manner of a frog. How silly she must have looked, yet she did not care. Beneath the silken water she felt graceful for a change and the limbs she had always condemned for their short thickness felt buoyant and light. Beautiful, even.
She burst to the surface, then turned to discover a well-coiffed woman floating nearby, frowning.
‘Apologies, madam, if I splashed you,’ Vita said.
‘You did not, thank holy Neptune,’ said the woman, who had invoked the name of Neptune as if he were a personal friend.
‘You would not happen to know of any rooms for rent nearby?’ The woman’s frown deepened.
‘You are a provincial?’ she asked Vita. ‘A tourist?’ She gave Vita an assessing look. ‘From Baetica? Pannonia, perhaps? One of the three Gauls?’
‘The Aventine,’ said Vita.
The woman’s frown bloomed into scowl and she floated away into the mist.
Vita told herself it was of nothing. There would be other women with whom to discuss possibilities for shelter. If she could not find any here in the tepidarium, she would certainly find them in the more popular caldarium, where Avidia was already sitting sweating away her woes. Surely between the two of them they would stir up some information, for what was the purpose of the baths if not for the smooth exchange of it?
Vita sank beneath the water once more. She could hear the low roar of the boiler, which lay in the large open area beneath the baths. It did not just warm the pools, but the walls and floors, compelling the bathers to rest.
There was no rest for those who made the heat, however. The slaves who serviced the boiler were invisible, yet indispensable, just like the boiler itself. She imagined those slaves feeding precious wood into the great stone beast, their bodies awash in sweat. It was they who most needed a bath; they who most deserved a rest.
Vita pictured her own mother, who had been brought to Rome as a slave from distant Britannia. She refused to go to the baths, even after Vita’s father had freed her. ‘The other women would notice my tattoo,’ she had always protested, pointing at the tiny stains of servitude on the side of her neck.
‘But you, my darling,’ she would tell Vita, ‘you shall be freer than I ever was and I want you to spend your life at the baths!’
Vita came up for air and smiled sadly. So much for spending her life at the baths. Not long after her mother died, her father had married her to Magnus, who had gently informed Vita that she was too fat to go bathing.
Not wishing to make a fool of herself, Vita had made a habit of bathing inside her own bedchamber using water and a bit of soap.
She liked to think her mother would have approved—especially of the soap. She had always thought it strange how Romans cleansed themselves with olive oil. ‘And have you seen those terrifying instruments they use to scrape it off their skin?’ her mother had often remarked. ‘They are like the tools of demons!’
Today, Vita would purchase a vial of olive oil from an attendant, rub it over her skin, then diligently scrape it off with one of those demon tools. It had been a long time since she had wielded a strigil and she only hoped that nobody would notice her awkwardness in handling it. Mostly, however, she hoped that nobody would notice her body.
It was the reason why, as Vita started her way up the stairs leading out of the pool, she scanned the lounging area for the most private possible bench. Unfortunately, the bench closest to the wall was taken. On it, a woman lay on her stomach and appeared to be receiving a massage from a tall man wearing a slave’s short tunic.
Vita had not noticed the two before, probably because the daylight streaming in from the high windows had yet to reach them. The woman was lying motionless, her face turned towards the wall. The man had obviously been stooped over her in the labour of massage, though not any more. Now he was standing at full height.
He appeared to be staring at Vita.
She froze. It was permissible for male slaves to accompany their dominas into the female baths, but they were not supposed to stare. Still, though the man’s face remained in shadow, there was something familiar about him.
She studied his silhouette: a tall, thin figure with a broad chest and sinewy muscles. He looked very much like the man she had met outside her home yesterday at the banquet.
Her heart began to beat a little faster. She moved up the stairs and paused just before the edge of the pool, keeping her eyes on him.
The bumpy muscles of his arms seemed particularly familiar, as if they could have been the very muscles she had considered the afternoon of the banquet. They tapered down into strong hands that were slick with oil.
It was as if she could feel one of those hands brushing against her own. She felt herself flush.
He moved forward a little, as if he, too, wished to see her more clearly, and in that moment the sunlight reached his face.
Those eyes—she knew them instantly. They were not the eyes of a browbeaten slave, but of a man of dignity and intelligence, a warrior tucked inside a stony façade, quietly smouldering.
Her heart felt fit to burst. He was the man she had bumped into for certain. No other man could have made her feel the way she was feeling right now.
‘Ven, you are useless today,’ muttered the man’s domina. The woman rolled over suddenly and gasped. ‘Vita? Is that you?’
* * *
Vita, thought Ven. So that was her name. Life, it meant. She stood unmoving at the edge of the pool, naked but for her soaked loincloth. She reminded Ven of a deer that had just been spotted by a hunter.
‘Well met, Lollia,’ Vita said, folding her arms over her breasts.
‘Well met indeed. I confess I did not expect to see you here,’ said his domina, who seemed strangely unnerved as well.
‘I was just leaving,’ Vita said. She turned back towards the pool.
‘Do not go,’ said Lollia, sitting up. ‘At least not until I may apologise.’
Ven sensed the other bathers listening closely. Vita turned back to Lollia and shook her head. ‘There is no need to apologise.’
‘Of course there is,’ said Lollia, and Ven wondered what exactly the two women were speaking about.
‘What I mean is that I am...accustomed to apologies,’ said Vita. ‘I no longer find them necessary.’
‘I see,’ said Lollia, brightening. ‘In that case, will you not join me for a while? Let us chat and exchange a bit of gossip.’
Vita refolded her arms nervously, her eyes darting about. Ven still could not tell if they were brown or green, though there was no question of their beauty. Such eyes! They gave her otherwise regal-looking visage a twinge of wildness that was only enhanced by her lips, which reminded him of the petals of wild flowers. She was the loveliest woman he had ever seen.
‘There is no need to be shy, darling,’ said Lollia. ‘It is just women here. And, of course, there is Ven, but he does not count.’ Lollia turned to Ven. ‘Get Vita a drying cloth, would you?’
Ven retrieved a drying cloth from a bag of supplies and crossed to where Vita stood. Keeping his gaze respectfully averted, he handed her the cloth.
‘Gratitude,’ Vita said to him. ‘Ven.’
It was as if she had kissed his very cheek. He bowed and returned to his domina, his heart beating. Meanwhile, Vita wrapped the drying cloth around her chest and crossed to a nearby bench.
Lollia propped her head on her arm and studied Vita closely. ‘It is a lovely morning, is it not, dear?’<
br />
‘It is,’ replied Vita. ‘A bit warmer than expected.’
There was a long silence. ‘I have heard that you have recently divorced,’ said Lollia.
Ven pressed his thumbs into the bottoms of his domina’s feet. The audacity of such a statement! Did his domina have no discretion at all? Ven was so angered by her rudeness that he barely registered her words. When he finally did, a strange lightness seemed to invade his limbs.
Divorced? Was Vita Sabina no longer the vigile’s wife?
‘Yes, I have divorced,’ Vita whispered, studying the floor. ‘Just last night, in fact.’
‘You need not whisper, dear. It is just a divorce,’ said Lollia. ‘I have had two of them already and another surely coming soon. I confess that I prefer my father’s household to any husband’s.’
He saw Vita press her lips together, as if fighting her emotion.
‘Ven? Why do you pause?’ asked Lollia. ‘Rub me!’
‘Ah, yes, Domina.’
Ven returned to Lollia’s foot, but it was not long before he was stealing glances at Vita again. Vita’s face was even lovelier at close range, but also sadder. Her noble round cheeks seemed shaped by a divine hand, yet one of them was redder than the other, as if it had been bruised. Her heavy lids were at once sensual and weary.
‘Tell me, Vita, why do I never see you here? You do bathe, do you not?’ asked Lollia.
Vita’s laugh was thready. ‘Of course I bathe. I just never have the time to make the trek.’
‘But these baths cannot be more than a twenty-minute walk from your home.’
Vita folded and refolded her hands in her lap. ‘I pass most of my free time sewing.’
‘Sewing?’ replied Lollia. ‘What a strange hobby.’
‘It is not a hobby. I earn coin by it.’
Lollia sucked in a breath. ‘You engage in trade?’ She pronounced the word trade as if uttering a curse.
‘I have been earning money from my sewing for nearly ten years now,’ Vita added.
‘Ten years?’ Lollia said. ‘Well, you must have married very late indeed.’
‘I married at the age of fifteen.’
Lollia gasped. ‘Married at fifteen and ten years of marriage?’ Lollia held out her hands and began to count.
‘I turned twenty-five on the kalends of last month.’
‘Ack! What a horror for you! I married at the customary age of twelve, of course,’ Lollia offered, ‘but with the ascension of Emperor Hadrian, my father was able to find a better match for me. And now an even better one in Lepidus Severus.’
‘You make a lovely couple.’
‘He is as wrinkled as an old piece of lettuce,’ Lollia said. ‘And old enough to be my grandfather! When he is on top of me, his prickly jowls graze my skin!’
Lollia burst into laughter, drawing the attention of the other loungers. ‘Of course, the reason my father sought our union was for Lepidus’s connection to Emperor Hadrian. He will be the Emperor’s lead architect in the north, you know.’
‘I have heard about the prestigious appointment. Congratulations to you both,’ said Vita.
Lollia made a face. ‘The post will require us to spend many years in the frigid wilds of Britannia among those wretched Britons.’ She lifted her leg for Ven to rub beneath it. ‘No offence, Ven,’ she added.
‘None taken, Domina,’ Ven said, feeling nothing. He rubbed and rubbed.
‘I would love nothing better than to behold the fabled lands of the north,’ Vita said.
‘If only you could go in my place!’ exclaimed Lollia. ‘But perhaps I will become pregnant and unable to make the trip.’ Lollia glanced down at her stomach and Ven wondered if it had not grown a little thicker. ‘On the bright side, Lepidus has promised to purchase me as many slaves as I would like once we arrive. They say the slaves of Britannia are particularly hard working. Tell me, Vita, why do you not own any slaves?’
‘I, ah, I have never found myself in need of any aid,’ said Vita.
‘A slave or two might have helped you last night. My backside, Ven!’ Ven started in on his domina’s wretched bottom, though there was rather little dough to knead. ‘Really, Vita, what is your aversion to slaves? Can you not see the benefits?’
Lollia opened her mouth suddenly, as if struck by a thought. ‘By Juno, I am brilliant!’ She brushed Ven aside, swung her legs in front of her and sat up.
‘What is the matter?’ Vita asked.
‘I just realised how I will convince you of the benefits of owning slaves.’ She crossed to Vita and took her by the hands. ‘Come, dear Vita. Lie in my place.’
Vita felt as if she was being coaxed into a spider’s web. ‘You wish for me to occupy the massage bench?’
‘Trust me,’ Lollia said. ‘The only way to understand the benefits of owning a slave is to experience them directly. Besides, I feel I owe you a bit of pleasure.’
‘You owe me nothing, really,’ said Vita, but Lollia’s grin was more like a snarl and, as she took Vita’s hands and guided her to the bench, Vita felt helpless to contradict her.
‘You must remove the drying cloth around your chest,’ said Lollia.
‘What?’
‘Your modesty is excessive, Vita. Come, we are not Vestal Virgins here!’
There was a small chuckle from someone in the pool. Meanwhile, several new loungers had taken up residence on the benches around them. It seemed that Lollia was making Vita into the morning’s entertainment.
‘You will be lying on your stomach. Nothing will be exposed,’ Lollia explained.
Vita forced a grin and tried to relax. Lollia was right. She should not be so modest. There were all kinds of women enjoying the baths. They walked around freely, as naked as nymphs.
‘I know why you are worried,’ Lollia added. ‘It is because your breasts and backside are so large,’ Lollia mused. ‘I understand. But you must know that it is just women here. We do not judge.’
Vita continued to grin, though her teeth were beginning to ache. She glanced at Ven, who was carefully studying the floor. Do not despair, she thought. All will be well.
She undid her drying cloth and lay down on her stomach.
‘That is the spirit,’ said Lollia.
She sensed several large drops of oil being dribbled on to her back and she felt vaguely like a cow being seasoned for roasting.
‘First her shoulders,’ Lollia told Ven. ‘Work your way down from there and use plenty of oil. Do not be lazy! We must convince Vita of the benefits of owning a skilled slave.’
The thought made Vita vaguely ill. It was Ven who deserved the massage, not she. It was too late to protest, however, for now his hands were upon her. She jerked slightly as he gently squeezed her shoulders, giving her a chance to become accustomed to his touch.
Waves of sensation pulsed through her and she wondered how long it had been since her shoulders had been touched. Surely not since she was a child, for it was as if his hands were coaxing a long-dormant part of her back to life. She filled with unexpected emotion.
She turned her head away from Lollia, for the flood of sensation seemed to be transforming itself into joyous tears.
She certainly could not remember experiencing anything more wondrous than what Ven was doing right now: gently rubbing the back of her neck. He worked his way downwards and she felt like a rope becoming slowly unwound.
She felt the tiny hairs on her neck stand at attention as they took notice of his breath. Other parts of her appeared to be taking notice, too. The skin of her arms, for example—it had gone to gooseflesh. The tips of her toes tingled, as well, and strange spirits seemed to stir deep inside her belly.
‘It feels good, does it not?’ asked Lollia. She had stretched out on a nearby bench and closed her eyes.
Good? That did not seem a sufficient description of the r
iot of pleasure taking place within her.
‘Yes, very good,’ Vita managed to say as Ven’s thumbs gently pressed against the backs of her shoulders—parts of her she was now certain had never been touched by human hands.
Though the hands touching them now could not possibly be human. They were those of a god—a divinity incarnate who had materialised in her life and now seemed intent on rubbing all her troubles away.
She prayed the massage would not end. Do not cease, she thought. Please. Ever.
And then his hands were gone.
Vita lay still. So that was it. A lifetime’s worth of pleasure packed into a few short moments. It would have to be enough.
‘That was marvellous,’ she pronounced, discreetly wiping her eyes. She pushed herself on to her arms and moved to stand, then felt the gentle pressure of two fingers against the small of her back.
‘Not yet,’ said a deep, sensual voice.
‘Not yet?’ she muttered, as if they were not the two most wonderful words she had ever heard in all her life. She nearly laughed aloud.
Not yet. She was a reasonable woman. She could accept those terms. She would rise from the bench and express her eternal gratitude when it was time to do so, but certainly not yet.
‘That was just the shoulders,’ Lollia observed, yawning. ‘There is much more to come. You must try to relax.’
Vita sensed large drops of oil dribbling down her back. She was trying to relax, but the anticipation of his hands once again visiting her skin was causing her to tense.
And then there they were again: her newest, greatest friends, sprawling across her back and pressing gently downwards. Not a gentle reintroduction to bliss, then, but a full immersion.
‘Ah,’ she breathed as he squeezed her flanks. His grip was unwaveringly strong, as if his muscles had formed over thousands of years.
She felt totally beneath his control as he dragged his large thumbs down either side of her spine with an almost unbearable slowness. Tiny waves of pleasure resounded through her body.
The Roman Lady's Illicit Affair Page 4