When they were finished, they brought her to a small dressing room, where they outfitted her in a white silk gown with a deep neckline. It exposed her chest and breasts, revealing her nipples. They lifted and piled her hair into an up-do, then adorned it with tiny, purple flowers. Red vegetable dye adorned Lyla’s lips and cheeks, just enough to bring some colour into her face.
She slipped her feet into a pair of sandals with delicate straps that crossed the top of her foot.
Corinne held a polished, metal mirror before Lyla.
She gasped at her reflection. Eisha and Corinne had transformed her into a beautiful, breathtaking, Roman woman.
No one would guess she hailed from modern-day America.
She shook her head at her insane thoughts.
She still lived in modern-day times.
Or…did she?
It had to be mind conditioning forcing her to forget her real self.
Or maybe, she finally saw who she really was…
The woman she always wanted to be.
Chapter Seven
A little while later, two eunuchs escorted Lyla into an atrium.
Mark’s eyes met hers when she entered the small yard brimming with flowers and fountains. He murmured something in his odd foreign language. The men left, and for just a second, Lyla thought she finally recognised the tone and cadence of the words Mark spoke.
It sounded like Latin.
His look grew hot when he perused her gown’s plunging neckline. He nodded his head. “It suits you. Eisha and Corinne did well.” He walked around her, stopping to stand directly before her. His eyes settled on her chest.
Before she knew what he intended, he leant down and kissed it.
She held her breath while his mouth caressed her right nipple. Lyla ran her fingers through his thick, dark, hair, gripping his head between her hands. She loved the hot brand of his mouth.
Hated it, too.
It was the same feeling of lust and shame she experienced with Eisha and Corinne. Her face flamed when she thought about what she did with them. She took a deep breath then stepped away from Mark. “So, what are your plans to prove to me that I am in ancient Rome?”
“I will take you someplace that will suck the breath from your body.”
Lyla raised a brow. “Your bedroom?”
He tipped back his head and laughed. “Lyla, you are a joy.” His eyes darkened. “Come here,” he commanded.
Her pussy vibrated from his voice’s rough timber.
She walked over to where he stood. Before she could utter any objection, he clamped a wide, metal collar around her neck.
She pulled and tugged at the band.
He placed his hand over hers. “Leave it. It will not come off until I command that it does.”
“What is this, this—” While it didn’t choke her, she panicked when she couldn’t remove it.
He brought her over to the fountain. “Look at your reflection in the water.”
The collar was studded with beautiful coloured gemstones, including clear stones that looked like diamonds. They gleamed in the light, their startling beauty reflected in the water. The collar didn’t appear as wide as she initially thought, but it still accentuated her long neck, the gems a wonderful accent to her pale skin, now flushed with a pink tinge.
“You must wear it when we go out, so that no one will take you from me.”
“You’re insane if you think I’m going to wear this.” She tugged at the collar, but it wouldn’t budge.
“Stop. You’ll hurt that lovely skin on your throat.” Mark covered her hand with his. “I know that now you do not wear it willingly—”
“I’ll never wear it by choice!” Tears clogged her throat.
“You will. One day. I know you will.”
“You’re overplaying your hand. Don’t think you know me so well, because you don’t.”
He gave her a dark look. “Be that as it may, we are going on a little trip.”
“Where?” Panic suddenly filled her. Is he going to sell me again?
“You’ll just have to wait and see.”
* * * *
A few minutes later, she stood outside on the walkway, in front of Mark’s home. The crowded street resembled New York City on a hot summer day, with vendors, stalls and tons of visitors strolling along.
Several men brought Mark’s litter to where she stood. They rested it on the ground.
“Get in, Lyla,” Mark ordered.
“No.” Memories of what happened in it the last time surfaced. She’d truly be a wanton slut if she succumbed to her feelings for him. Besides, the men carrying it looked as if they were about to pass out from the intense heat.
Mark scanned the crowded sidewalk. “Do as I say. This is not the time to argue with me.”
“Why don’t you let me know when the time is right? I’ll be ready.”
His voice dipped. “For debating…or making love with me?”
She raised her chin, but it shook. Damn, but he made her mad with lust. Yup. I am crazy!
“Give them some water.”
He furrowed his brow. “Who?”
She nodded towards the slaves. “The men who will be toting us around. At least give them something cool to drink. They look like they’re ready to drop dead.” When she glanced at Mark’s face, he didn’t look pleased.
His scowl turned deep and forbidding. Then he turned to his steward. “Do as she asks.”
The little man, Decimus, just stood there, staring at Mark like he had lost his mind completely.
“Now,” Mark commanded. “Give them water now.”
The little man bowed. “As you wish, Excellency.”
People walked by, giving Mark and Lyla curious looks.
Mark flexed his right hand by his side. “You’ve chosen to make a wonderful spectacle of yourself.”
She gave him a cheeky grin. “Why, thank you.” It gave her satisfaction to know that she bested him. This time.
“This isn’t a game. You’re my slave, my lupa. You’re beautiful and desirable, and I don’t need any man getting ideas about you.”
That took the wind from her sales. He thought her beautiful? Desirable?
He grabbed her upper arm. Leaning down, he whispered in her ear, “If you don’t get in the damned litter, I’m going to make a spectacle of beating your bare ass right here, out in the street.”
Her pussy throbbed so hard her knees almost buckled. She remained upright and steady on her feet, lest he see how weak his heated threat made her feel. She wasn’t afraid, damn it, she was turned on. But she wouldn’t let him see that, either.
She schooled her features and got into the litter, scooting all the way over to the far right corner.
He got in afterwards.
Decimus leaned in and asked, “Will that be all, Excellency?” He held a pitcher in his hand. Several water droplets leaked out.
Lyla gave him a two-finger salute, grinning all the while.
He cast a dark look at her.
“We are off on our journey, Decimus,” Mark stated.
Lyla snorted.
Mark rolled his eyes.
“Good luck to you, Master.” Decimus shook his head. Lowering his voice, he finished by saying, “You’re going to need it.”
“I heard that.” Lyla jabbed a finger in his direction.
“May the gods be with you, Excellency.”
The litter started to move. Lyla held onto the sides until it settled into a comfortable gait. No linen blocked her view this time. She saw the teeming, crowded streets of the city while they made their way towards their destination.
“I wanted you to see this clearly. There is no way I could possibly fabricate something like this.”
“No, you just drugged me, so I believe I’m seeing ancient Rome,” Lyla huffed.
Maybe this is some elaborate movie set… But deep down, she wasn’t so sure.
He shook his head. “I do not drug women.”
“No, you
kidnap them first, then you drug them.”
“I’ve done nothing like that to you.”
Lyla marvelled at the magnificent residences, one more splendid than the other. The din from the crowd grew louder. She almost wished the damned linen were back on the opening. It might have drowned out the noise from the street.
Lyla held her nose in one particular section they passed through. “It smells like rotten eggs.”
“Not exactly the nicest part of town,” Mark answered. “There’s a slaughterhouse here.”
She pitied the animals.
She looked out the window, noticing garbage lining the street. “It’s filthy.”
“Not all people in Rome reside in wealth, but don’t worry, we’ll be at the coliseum soon.”
She sat back against the padded headrest. “Riiiiiiiight.”
“When you see it, you will understand that this is no crazy dream, and no illusion. When you time travel, you sometimes think that what you’re seeing and doing is from your wildest imaginings.”
“So, you’re a tried and true time traveller?”
“As was my father.”
“Like father, like son,” she replied in a singsong voice.
He shook his head. “I am beginning to see how sarcastic you really are. It is meant to push people away.”
“How very astute, Doctor Freud.”
He narrowed his eyes. “I know no such person. Do I remind you of this ‘doctor’?” A muscle ticked in his jaw. Something sparked in his eyes, then they deepened until they turned black.
She could have sworn he became jealous at the mention of another man she knew. Lyla enjoyed tweaking that one dangerous emotion. “If you did know about Doctor Freud, you’d remember him as the father of what’s called ‘modern psychology’.”
He whipped his head around. “He’s your father?”
She bit back a smile. “No. Of modern psychology.”
“Psyche,” he mused. “That is an old Greek word that means the human mind or soul.”
“Ah, so you must have read those books you sold in that sham of a store. Is that what you did? Used it as a ‘front’ so you could kidnap women like me and sell them on the open market?”
“It is not a sham. I thirst for knowledge. And I’ve told you many times, I do not deal in slavery that way.”
“Appia said you bought her from Corvus.”
“I did. Anything to get her away from him.”
She slumped back in her seat, thinking about Appia’s fate. “You’re going to sell her, in turn, to some wealthy man?”
“Who told you that?”
She bit down on her lower lip, wanting to keep her conversation with Appia a secret. If Mark knew she had spoken to Appia about all this, he’d probably punish the girl. “I, uh, just thought you were.”
He scowled. “I’m grooming Appia so that she can marry my friend who travels extensively on business.”
“And why is that?”
“I would hope that she could see her family again. My friend, Cletus, does much trade with Greece.”
Her mouth hung open. “D-does she know that?”
“I did not want to raise her hopes, in case this marriage does not come to pass, but Cletus is fascinated with her. He will treat her well. Even though Appia is a slave, it doesn’t matter to him. He will go along with the story I invented that she is my cousin through marriage, living with me since her parents died.”
Suddenly, she sat forward. “Oh. My.” She stuck her head out of the litter. “God,” she finished.
Lyla sucked in a breath while she viewed the scene before her. The ancient Roman coliseum rose thousands of feet into the air, directly before her.
The litter slowed. Then the men placed it on the ground.
She didn’t wait for Mark, but scrambled from her seat before he could say a word. One of the men who carried the litter ran over to assist her.
Her eyes fixed on the breathtaking spectacle.
“Amphitheatrum Flavium,” the slave told her.
She whispered in reply, her hand moving to her throat, “It’s unbelievable.”
The structure spanned acres. She couldn’t stop her gaze from travelling upwards. It seemed as though thousands of intricately carved columns and spaces resembling windows lined the huge elliptical structure. She could see thousands of people walking, even on the highest tiers.
The slave bowed before her. He didn’t look so haggard. Maybe the water revived him. “Gratias ago vos,” he told her.
She sighed, not understanding what he said. She glanced back at Mark.
“He says, ‘thank you’, Lyla.”
“Anytime you need water, just ask me,” she told the slave.
The slave gave her a questioning look, but bowed just the same.
Do they ever get tired of bowing and scraping before everyone?
Mark exited the litter and joined her. “You are to stay by my side while we’re here.” He grabbed her upper arm and toted her along.
“Why not just attach a leash to this thing?” She pointed to her collar.
He gave her a wicked smile. “It does have a little hook on it just for that reason.”
He always took the wind from her sails.
“If you try to escape, I will be forced to add a tether. The coliseum gets crowded. People come from miles around to see the entertainment here. On a good day, it can hold up to fifty-five thousand people.”
The streets teemed with spectators crowding into the seventy-six numbered entrances.
“This is just like the Nassau Coliseum and MadisonSquareGarden.”
“The what?”
“The sports arenas I’ve been to for concerts and games.”
“Trust me.” He hustled her along. “This place is nothing like those arenas. There’s a lot of riff-raff here and very unsavoury characters.”
She stepped over a man lying on his back on the sidewalk.
“The drinking starts early.”
She nodded. “Too much tailgating.”
“Too much what?” He cocked his head.
“Never mind.” She sighed.
He whisked her into an entrance that wasn’t numbered.
“How come we’re going in here?” she asked.
“It’s reserved for dignitaries.”
She walked beside him as they found their seats away from the poorer classes.
Around her sat a crowd. The women dressed in exquisite gowns of different colours, one more daring than the next. One woman’s garment was cut in a bias off the shoulder, revealing a single, perfect breast. The man sitting next to her took a draught of something in a metal goblet then leant down to kiss the woman’s nipple. She squealed with delight.
“I thought you said this section is reserved for dignitaries?” She plopped down on a hard marble seat next to Mark.
“It is.”
The women’s faces were heavily painted with make-up. Some had servants fanning them with large feathers and some had slaves who held fancy umbrellas over their heads, shielding them from the sun.
Soon, the entire ancient arena filled with spectators.
She looked upwards to see a purple linen awning being drawn over the crowd. “How are they doing that?”
“It is the ‘velarium’ used to protect us from the sun’s heat and inclement weather. It is a canopy positioned over posts that are located at the top of the amphitheatre.”
“I-I have never seen anything like it,” she murmured. The stench of perspiring bodies assailed her nose. She hoped a breeze would drift by and take the odour with it.
She rose from her seat. “Let’s go sit somewhere else. It stinks here.” She screwed up her face.
Mark pulled her down. Her bottom hit the marble, making her realise just how uncomfortable the seats really were. No wonder everyone sat around drinking wine. It dulled the sensation of being sore, hot, and smelly.
She wanted to be home in New York.
Badly.
She missed
the automobile traffic sounds, rock and roll music, and modern people. She hated the men and women surrounding her now. They were noisy and garish and possessed little concern for those around them, giving in to their most base desires.
Maybe she hated it so much because nothing much had changed in a couple of thousand years. Many people back home reminded her of these idiots.
A sudden urge came upon her. Damn, but she had to use the bathroom.
He frowned. “Are you all right?”
“I-I have to pee.”
He gave her a hard stare. “Lyla, if this is another ploy to try and escape me, I’ll—”
“It’s not.” She wiggled on the seat. “I really have to, um, go. To the bathroom, that is.” Her face heated.
He held up two fingers at a boy who looked to be no older than twelve. He walked over to Lyla, bearing something that resembled a porcelain pot.
Mark flipped a coin at the young man. He caught it deftly and handed her the vessel.
She frowned. “What am I supposed to do with that?”
“You said you had to relieve yourself.”
“Yes, but—” Her eyes widened. “Do you mean I’ve got to use that thing?”
“Of course.”
“No, I’m going to the ladies room.” She got up again.
He pulled her back down. “The toilets are filthy here. Use the damned pot and stop attracting attention.”
“Oh, like using this thing…” She held it up to examine it. A foul odour assailed her nostrils. She turned her head away and grimaced. “Won’t attract attention.”
He ripped the pot from her hand. “Put it under your gown and do what you have to.” He looked like he wanted to kill her.
Her extreme urge to relieve herself overtook any fear. She sat up a little, hiked up her gown, and then positioned the pot between her legs. When she was finished, she handed it back to the boy.
He walked away, intent on finding his next customer.
God help me, how in hell do they let children do these horrible jobs? “His mother shouldn’t let him do something like that. He should be in school,” she grumbled.
“School,” Mark repeated, his face thoughtful.
“Yes, school. Why isn’t he there?”
“Because he has to work. Whatever money he earns probably goes to his family.”
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