Medusa's Desire (The Fate of Eros #1) (The Fate of Eros Series) (2 page)

Ambrosia was a prostitute who had become so bored since she got pregnant that she started yelling at all the other whores. She didn't get much work now that she was with child, except the occasional fetishist, but normally, she was very good at her job. She had been nicknamed Ambrosia by her clientele because of the tasty flavor they claimed dripped from her nether regions. As good as the drink of the gods, they said.

They were quiet until she wandered back inside. Cithara sighed unhappily. "I hope I never wind up like her. I can't afford a baby. Every morning, after I sleep with a man, I jump up and down so high that my feet touch my ass. It's supposed to dislodge the seed so I can't get pregnant and so far, it's worked."

As they talked, even with half of Cithara's chiton down, a man approached Medy, blind to all but her. He looked her up and down. She cowered under his intense gaze. He grabbed her hand roughly and put some coins into it. "You'll do very nicely."

Cithara yanked the coins away and threw them in his face. "Leave her alone. She's not for sale." She walked up to him and rubbed against him with her top still down. "Me, on the other hand…" She traced along his chest with her finger and fluttered her eyelashes. "…I'm here any time you need me."

"No, thanks. Not for the price I was offering." He shoved her and walked off.

Cithara's eyebrows met as she crossed her arms. She glared at Medy. "You're really bad for business. Not all of us could be born with creamy skin and silky hair."

"I'm sorry," Medy said.

Cithara's face relaxed and she waved her hand. "It's all right. I'm getting kind of tired of this job, anyway."

"What do you mean?"

"I wish I could settle down like a normal woman." Cithara sighed. "I hate the way some of the men force me to do things or handle me too roughly. I want my body to be my own.

"Not to mention that there's this guy I met-"

Medy crossed her arms. "No man is worth losing all this freedom. You can be wealthy, you can be your own person, but not if you fall in love and get married. Then you become someone else's property and any of the money you've earned here through your hard work becomes his. He can beat you, cheat on you, mistreat you, refuse to feed you, and you'll have to put up with all of it, just like my mother. Do you know how much I wish I could be like you?"

"I'd trade lives with you any day," Cithara said. "To be able to marry a rich man-a noble-and never have to work a day in my life again. It sounds like the kind of rest I need."

"It's not as great as you think it is," Medy insisted. "No one's life is."

Cithara shrugged. "I suppose you're right. After all, this guy I fell in love with, he's a slave in Athena's temple. Maybe I would marry him if he were a free man, but as he is, the dream is impossible."

"I thought all people who worked in Athena's temple were to remain virgins for life," Medy said.

"That's only the priestesses." Cithara giggled. "Besides, you'd be surprised at where whores can work their way into." She winked.

Medy laughed.

"Of course, we never actually have sex inside the temple. That would be sacrilegious."

Medy rolled her eyes at Cithara's sudden modesty. "Of course."

Cithara raised one eyebrow. "You know, for all your talk about how you wished you could have my life, I don't believe you. Why not run away and become a prostitute yourself? If you really wanted it, you would have done it by now."

"I can't abandon my family," Medy said. "They'd be forced to deal with my father without me and I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy."

Cithara nodded. "And I think you're kind of nervous about losing your virginity. You've been taught to value it, so it's hard for you to let go. My own father raped me when I was ten. Lying with a man never seemed like a big deal to me after that."

Medy blushed. "It's not that. I just don't like the idea of having something else taken from me. My father already took all the rest of the things I have: money, happiness, freedom. This is the one thing that I have left that no man can have without my permission."

"They can take it from you by force if they want to," Cithara said.

"Not if you're a noble like me."

"Barely a noble, you mean."

Medy glared. "Either way, they won't touch me and I can continue to dangle the thing they all want most over their heads for the rest of the time I am beautiful."

Cithara rubbed her chin. "You know, you gave me a wonderful idea. I know how you can earn a living without being a prostitute and help me with my business all at the same time."

Medy narrowed her eyes, suddenly wary. "What do you mean? How?"

"You know all those men who want to sleep with you?"

Medy nodded her head.

"Well, maybe they would pay for you to watch while they slept with me."

"Sounds easy enough, watching from afar." Medy wasn't sure why that was supposed to be pleasurable.

"You don't know what I mean, do you?" Cithara chuckled. "You'd have to take your clothes off and rub yourself."

Medy blushed again. "Do you mean stroke myself where I think you do? I could never-"

"Oh, come on," Cithara said. "You can't lose your virginity with your finger. A lot of noble women would be cheating on their husbands if it counted as sex. I wouldn't let the customers near you. I'll rip off their dicks if they try. We'd both get paid. You could give your family the money they need and it would all be legal."

Medy knew that Cithara couldn't guarantee her safety. She had seen several prostitutes beaten by men, including Cithara herself, but her heart pounded with the kind of excitement she felt when she knew she was going to do something that was a bad idea. "Won't I lose my hymen, though?"

Cithara's mouth dropped open. "You mean-you've never pleasured yourself before?"

Medy shook her head.

"If you rub just the outer lips of it, you won't damage anything. Besides, it's not like you really need proof of your virginity. You don't plan to get married."

Medy shrugged. "I guess you're right, but I'm unsure."

"Even if you change your mind, you can always stain the sheet with pig's blood. Many less scrupulous women have done the same on their honeymoon."

Medy traced the ground with her foot. "I don't know."

"Come on! Try it one time," Cithara said. "And if you hate it, you never have to do it again. It will be beneficial to both of us."

"Okay."

"Good," Cithara said. "We'll start tomorrow."

Medy spent extra time the next morning getting ready. Her hands shook as she combed out her hair. She hardly slept the night before. To avoid her family, she had to leave early. She grabbed the water pail and left before any of them woke.

When she arrived, Cithara was there with a white dress clutched in her hands. The material was thin and Medy could see the wrinkles in Cithara's finger joints beneath it.

"What is that?" Medy was pretty sure that any woman who wore the dress in the sun would give a clear view of her bare body to the world.

Cithara raised an eyebrow. "It's your clothing for today."

Medy felt unusually conscious of her nipples and the light pubic hair between her thighs. "I can't be naked in public."

"Of course not," Cithara said. "That's why you're going to wear this. No one will get to see you without it for free. It'll give them enough of a taste to whet their desire."

Medy sighed, wondering what she had gotten herself into.

Cithara smiled. "It may feel awkward at first, but you'll get used to it. Now, let's get you changed inside."

Cithara walked into the building, but Medy froze. She knew the kinds of things that went on in there, but she'd never seen it.

Cithara stuck her head out and waved. "What are you waiting for? Come in! There's nothing to be afraid of."

Medy's feet walked one in front of the other, as though they no longer belonged to her. A more daring woman controlled her movement; she was light-headed and petrified.

As she passed underneath the stony archway, she was hit by the smells of dirt and pleasure. Lamps burned in every corner, filling her lungs with smoke. They flickered and illuminated the gray walls seductively. She heard grunting to the right and saw a naked old man on top of a young woman. She lay on a stone slab and both their faces were scrunched in ecstasy. The doorways were archways into open rooms, where everyone served the clients in full view of anyone walking by.

Another woman stood to the left. She was on her knees in front of a man, sucking on him. Most wives in Athens found this act shameful, but the woman moaned and stared into his eyes.

Medy struggled to shut her mouth, which was hanging open.

Cithara followed her gaze. "This is why men come here. We give them things their wives won't. Our threesome will thrill many."

Antonius was bent in front of a man who cried out with every thrust. The man periodically slapped his butt. Antonius smiled and winked at Medy. He looked so giddy, she was surprised he wasn't laughing out loud. "I'm back in business!" he mouthed and then let out a loud moan, obviously intended for the satisfaction of the customer.

Medy's face warmed; the walls were closing in on her. She wasn't sure how much more she could take.

She heard whimpering up ahead. Someone was in pain. Medy flinched, hoping the job didn't demand her to be beaten by clients. She had heard of men who had fetishes for whips and blood.

"Ambrosia is having her baby!" Cithara announced in excitement and Medy's shoulders relaxed. "She's been in labor since yesterday, swearing because the baby is taking so long to come out!"

Medy struggled not to vomit as Ambrosia's shrilly scream met her ears. Her room smelled like copper and brine. Clear liquid and blood covered the sheets spread on the ground. Her legs were parted. Her face was red and sweaty, her hair plastered to her forehead.

Medy wanted to look away, but the horror of what she was seeing

wouldn't allow her to. Another prostitute sat in front of her. She must have been the closest thing they could get to a midwife.

Between Ambrosia's legs popped a bloody head of hair. She shrieked again. Medy gagged and turned away.

They went to a private corner of the brothel and sat down across from each other. Cithara ordered Medy to change her clothes as she pulled several items out of a sack. She took a vial and smeared red liquid over Medy's lips.

"What are you doing?" Medy mumbled.

"Making you look beautiful. I dab berry juice on my face every morning. It gives you more color."

Medy nodded appreciatively. She had always noticed that Cithara's lips were unusually red and plump.

She also handed Medy a necklace. It held a tiny bottle at the end of its chain. She uncorked the lid and smelled roses. Perfume was expensive. She spilled a few drops on her neck and wrists.

"I want you to have this for good luck," Cithara said. "It was given to me by my mother when I was a little girl."

Medy handed it back. Cithara's mother had died a few years ago from a fever. Cithara had scared customers with her crying and punched the teeth out of a man who called her mother a good-for-nothing whore.

"I can't keep this," Medy said.

"I'll be insulted if you don't. Hide it under your clothes, so your parents won't see it, but use it every day before you come to work. Consider it an initiation gift."

The sound of a baby crying filled the air. All the whores stopped what they were doing and ran towards Ambrosia's room-even the ones in the middle of pleasing their clients. They pushed one another out of the way for a glimpse at the tiny, red mess, ignoring the complaints of the naked men around them. Bare breasts and asses were shoved everywhere.

The baby was a little girl. Medy's heart broke as she saw her. From this end of the process, she was beautiful. Ambrosia took the child to her breast and fed her.

Cithara and Medy went outside with smiles on their faces. They wondered whether Ambrosia would let anyone else hold her daughter or be too protective. Medy pretended that she wasn't trying to solicit men, but soon someone approached them.

He was overweight and balding. He smelled like a pig and had the round face of one. Cithara had warned her that some clients might be repulsive. This man fit the bill.

His eyes wandered up and down Medy's body. She had to fight the urge to cover herself; her skin suddenly chilled. Cithara grabbed Medy's hand and spun the two of them around, so he could get a full view of what he was purchasing. He licked his greasy lips.

Cithara demanded money if he wanted to see any more. If she waited for the payment until afterwards, more often than not the men would pull their pants up and run without giving a single drachma. Coins jingled in the man's hand as he dropped them into Cithara's palm. She clenched them and led the way inside.

They stretched out in an unoccupied corner and the man rubbed Medy's shoulder. She leaped out of the way as Cithara slapped his arm. "She is not to be touched. That isn't part of the deal. She only watches."

Medy stared at the ceiling as they stripped naked. She was used to seeing Cithara nude, but was frightened by the man pig. He had rolls of fat. His belly swallowed up his penis in its folds. He jumped on top of Cithara and jiggled in a way that made her skin crawl.

He ran out of breath as he thrust in and out of her. The room smelled like something had died. His skin grew slick from the movement.

Cithara gave her a warning look and Medy rubbed herself fervently. It hurt after a while. She watched the faces Cithara made and tried to imitate them. The whole experience was awful, but was over more quickly than she thought it would be. She was pleased because she could go out and breathe fresh air again.

Cithara split the money with Medy once he left. The weight of the coins lying in her hand made her heart leap into her throat. She had never possessed this much power over her own life and future. The whole thing was worth it.

Cithara crossed her arms. "You're lucky he didn't demand his money back."

Medy's eyebrows met. "What do you mean?"