edge of the pool she hesitated. “You wanted to talk to me?"
"Yes.” He moved nearer to where she stood, reaching up at last to pull at the hem of her rough woolen cloak. “Don't be afraid, Tishtry."
"You don't frighten me,” she said almost gruffly. “I haven't bathed with a man before.” There was no seductive pretense in her. She loosened the girdle at her waist and pulled the full-cut robe over her head. Each movement was utilitarian and clean. Carefully she folded the robe, placing it near the door, away from the pool.
"Tishtry.” He came to meet her as she stepped carefully into the water. Taking her hands as he would a child's, he drew her away from the side of the bath, toward the center, where the shadows were deepest and the air was still.
"It's big,” she said rather apprehensively.
"Three times my height on each side.” He released her hands. “There. Lie back. The water will support you."
"I don't know how to swim,” she confessed, but attempted to do as he had instructed her. She was nervous, and started to thrash as she felt her feet lift from the bottom of the pool.
Immediately Saint-Germain was beside her, reassuring her, one arm lightly under her shoulder. “As if you were sleeping, Tishtry. Lie back.” He moved away from her again, and let her try once more.
This time she fared better. At first she was uncertain, but the warm water soothed her, and the dim light saved her from embarrassment. Gradually her anxiety left her. She spread her arms to the side and felt herself carried by the still water. It was so pleasant, so dreamlike to drift there, that she hardly felt it when Saint-Germain moved nearer. His hands moved with the water to caress her, slowly, lightly, never forcing, yet always finding the ways to summon her to joy.
When he drew her softly into his arms, her need for him had begun to build from a sweet titillation to a demanding thirst. His hands were more insistent now, exploring each awakening delight. She sighed, her body as entirely alive, as entirely sensitive as the finest Aeolian harp. His lips sought out her passion, filling her with a splendid delirium.
At various places around the pool, water had splashed out. In the pool the tempest of the two bodies continued. Tishtry felt something within her gather, but the release eluded her. She braced her hands against Saint-Germain's shoulders. “Do as you wish,” she whispered breathlessly. “I'm well-served."
With more force than he had shown before, he pulled her back into his close embrace. “By all the lost gods,” he murmured, his mouth just below her ear, “take pleasure of me, woman."
The intensity of his demand evoked an unknown hunger within her. Responding with an urgency that she had never known before, she abandoned herself to her desire.
When, sometime later, he carried her from the pool, she was deeply satisfied. There was no more reluctance in her. She stood quietly while he wrapped her in a new robe of fine silk that matched the one he wore.
Taking her hand, he led her from the bath to his bed, and tenderly lifted her onto it. She smiled up at him. “You did not do that before,” she whispered.
"You didn't want it before.” He sank down beside her. “You are learning to have fulfillment."
"But you?” she asked, a slight pang of guilt coloring her contentment.
"There is time enough for that,” he said as he parted her robe.
This time she warmed quickly, eagerly, her appetite sharpened by her earlier enjoyment. She moved into his hands, meeting his lips, hoping to call him from his essential remoteness. When she was certain that she could endure no more pleasure, she heard his soft voice. “Come to me.” There was one keen instant as his mouth touched her throat, and then the surge of his ardor carried her to satiety and wonderful languor.
TEXT OF A LETTER TO THE SENATOR CORNELIUS JUSTUS SILIUS FROM SUBRIUS FLAVUS.
To the Senator Silius, greetings:
I and my associates have reason to
"Yes.” He moved nearer to where she stood, reaching up at last to pull at the hem of her rough woolen cloak. “Don't be afraid, Tishtry."
"You don't frighten me,” she said almost gruffly. “I haven't bathed with a man before.” There was no seductive pretense in her. She loosened the girdle at her waist and pulled the full-cut robe over her head. Each movement was utilitarian and clean. Carefully she folded the robe, placing it near the door, away from the pool.
"Tishtry.” He came to meet her as she stepped carefully into the water. Taking her hands as he would a child's, he drew her away from the side of the bath, toward the center, where the shadows were deepest and the air was still.
"It's big,” she said rather apprehensively.
"Three times my height on each side.” He released her hands. “There. Lie back. The water will support you."
"I don't know how to swim,” she confessed, but attempted to do as he had instructed her. She was nervous, and started to thrash as she felt her feet lift from the bottom of the pool.
Immediately Saint-Germain was beside her, reassuring her, one arm lightly under her shoulder. “As if you were sleeping, Tishtry. Lie back.” He moved away from her again, and let her try once more.
This time she fared better. At first she was uncertain, but the warm water soothed her, and the dim light saved her from embarrassment. Gradually her anxiety left her. She spread her arms to the side and felt herself carried by the still water. It was so pleasant, so dreamlike to drift there, that she hardly felt it when Saint-Germain moved nearer. His hands moved with the water to caress her, slowly, lightly, never forcing, yet always finding the ways to summon her to joy.
When he drew her softly into his arms, her need for him had begun to build from a sweet titillation to a demanding thirst. His hands were more insistent now, exploring each awakening delight. She sighed, her body as entirely alive, as entirely sensitive as the finest Aeolian harp. His lips sought out her passion, filling her with a splendid delirium.
At various places around the pool, water had splashed out. In the pool the tempest of the two bodies continued. Tishtry felt something within her gather, but the release eluded her. She braced her hands against Saint-Germain's shoulders. “Do as you wish,” she whispered breathlessly. “I'm well-served."
With more force than he had shown before, he pulled her back into his close embrace. “By all the lost gods,” he murmured, his mouth just below her ear, “take pleasure of me, woman."
The intensity of his demand evoked an unknown hunger within her. Responding with an urgency that she had never known before, she abandoned herself to her desire.
When, sometime later, he carried her from the pool, she was deeply satisfied. There was no more reluctance in her. She stood quietly while he wrapped her in a new robe of fine silk that matched the one he wore.
Taking her hand, he led her from the bath to his bed, and tenderly lifted her onto it. She smiled up at him. “You did not do that before,” she whispered.
"You didn't want it before.” He sank down beside her. “You are learning to have fulfillment."
"But you?” she asked, a slight pang of guilt coloring her contentment.
"There is time enough for that,” he said as he parted her robe.
This time she warmed quickly, eagerly, her appetite sharpened by her earlier enjoyment. She moved into his hands, meeting his lips, hoping to call him from his essential remoteness. When she was certain that she could endure no more pleasure, she heard his soft voice. “Come to me.” There was one keen instant as his mouth touched her throat, and then the surge of his ardor carried her to satiety and wonderful languor.
TEXT OF A LETTER TO THE SENATOR CORNELIUS JUSTUS SILIUS FROM SUBRIUS FLAVUS.
To the Senator Silius, greetings:
I and my associates have reason to
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