Floralia (4 page)

She wandered through the little festival, wondering what could have brought such a thing about.
The flower goddess’ festival had finished weeks ago: but there and then, all around her, living and vibrant – was another Floralia. What in the world was it all for?

And then she saw him, and the scene was almost exactly the same as when she had first laid eyes on him, back on
Floralia’s second night. He was sitting atop a tripod on a high stage, playing his cithara and singing a low, sad song. An adoring audience crowded around the platform, held in rapt attention.

Whereas the song he had played that night had been both sad and
sweet at once, this song was pure sorrow.

Their eyes met, just as they had the first time. Felix stood up from his tripod, still playing and singing. With
consummate skill, he changed his song. As Livia watched and listened, the notes of his song climbed higher and higher. The sad strains slowly became joyous, jubilant.

Without faltering in his performance, Felix made his way down from the platform. He walked forward gracefully, singing and playing all the way, and his audience parted to make way for his passage.

He was singing, Livia now realised, about a treasure that was immeasurably precious to him: a beautiful flower, which he had once held in his hands, but which was now – much to his anguish – out of his reach and at risk of being lost forever. He sung of how he would part seas, move mountains, and cause rivers to run upstream all in order to reclaim this wondrous blossom – but only if the beautiful flower itself was truly willing to be reclaimed.

Before she knew it, Felix was standing before her, and his song was
dwindling away into silence. Livia felt her heart flutter in her chest and she felt tears welling in her eyes.

She had been such a tremendous fool.

“Livia,” Felix said. “This is your Floralia.”

Livia, her hands
covering her mouth, was at a loss for words.

“This is all for you,” he continued
, smiling without pretence. “Your Little Floralia. I hope you like it.”

Not knowing what else to do, she cast herself at him, throwing her arms around his neck and pressing her mouth to his in a violent kiss.

“What did you do?” she finally asked, gasping and astounded. “What is all this, Felix?”

“I just told you, Livia,” he said, grinning stupidly. “This is your Little Floralia. The goddess, you see, decreed that you should have your own festival.”

“Tell me truly, you rogue!” she demanded, striking his chest playfully with the flat of her hand.

“
Truly
, Livia, I was deeply upset. And terrified about the possibility of losing you forever. So I knew that I had to gamble and do something very big; something very dramatic. And foolish.”

“So I went straight to work. I called in every favour I had. Greased a few bureaucratic cogs with a few
denarii here and there. Hired labourers. Invited musicians and performers and wine-sellers. I had cartloads of flowers brought in from the countryside. And, of course, the help of your neighbour, the lovely Drusilla, was invaluable.”

Livia turned and saw Drusilla, standing not far off. Her hands were clutched tightly in front of
her, and, by the look on her face – she could barely contain her joy.

“It is so much, Felix!” Livia
gasped, astounded at the effort and the cost of it all. Livia knew little about the finer details of staging games and festivities – but it was abundantly clear that the monetary expense involved in bringing this event about would have been substantial.

“You are worth it, Livia,” he replied, smiling from ear to ear. “You are more than worth it.”

Together, they enjoyed the sights and the sounds of Livia’s Little Floralia. It was not unlike that first night, when they first had met one another – they laughed and chatted and teased each other, sipped wine and danced and watched singers, plays and musicians.

She thought of her father, and wondered what he would think of it. It all seemed a great deal m
ore wholesome this time around – as if it were something that old Livius would not have considered shameful and frivolous. How could it be? She was enjoying herself, the man she adored was at her side, and friendly neighbours and well-wishers were all around her.

What’s more – she decided that it did not matter in the slightest what her father would have thought.

Livia loved every second of the experience, and her desire and affection for her host grew with each passing minute. It was a storm of joyous commotion, and together they lost track of the hours.

Though she was tremendously happy with her own personal festival, Livia soon grew desirous for other things. She hoped that soon she and Felix might steal away together, to hold their own
private
festivities.

Her host seemed to read her mind, and he took her a little way down the street. A groom was there, leading a white mare. It was a lean and graceful animal, with a garland of flowers wreathed around its elegant neck.

Felix helped Livia climb onto its back and Felix climbed up and sat in front. Immediately they kicked off, leaving the little festival behind.

Livia clung on
very
tight to Felix as they trotted through the winding Roman streets and avenues. The constant bouncing up-and-down, the warmth and hardness of his body pressed close against her own – compounded, of course, by the overwhelming attraction she felt for him at that moment – meant that she was more than ready for him when they arrived at his house.

The door was opened to receive them, and they galloped into the inner courtyard and Felix leaped down from the mare’s back. Once he had helped Livia down
they rushed away, hand in hand, to Felix’s bed chamber.

He threw the door open and Livia’s breath, once again, caught in her throat.

There were roses and rose petals
everywhere
: arranged in vases on side-tables, hanging in bouquets from the bed-posts. The floor and the bed itself were strewn with them. Felix’s bedchamber was filled with their perfume, and the whole scene was a treat for both the eyes and the nose.

They quickly undressed each other, and he laid her out on the bed amongst the scattering of
scarlet petals, not unlike a banquet he hoped to soon devour. He climbed onto her, covering her body with his, and peppered her face with tender kisses.

“I’m sorry, Felix,” Livia whispered. “I’ve been a
fool. I should never have left you.”

“That may be so,” he said, nibbling her ear. “But, I will forgive you, if...”

“If,” he continued, between kisses to her neck and jaw. “If you’re still here once I wake up.”

“Trust me, Felix” she said. “I’m
not
going anywhere.”

To show her
conviction, she took her lover’s face in her hands and pressed her mouth to his in a searing, savage kiss – one with her whole heart behind it.

Just as his rigid
member found her labia, Livia angled her hips upward to receive him. He slipped himself into her effortlessly, and together they let out soft moans of delight. It felt
right
, him being inside her.

Soon enough he was pumping away with vigour; hard and fast. It was nearly a
painful sensation, but Livia welcomed the sublime agony of it all.

They rocked themselves into a different position and soon he was striking her sweet-spot; each sure stroke
forced a cry of delight from her lips.

Her release came crashing down on her, and
Livia cried out loudly as the sublime sensation washed through her entire body. Felix’s came only seconds later, and he gave a moan and a shudder.

“I love you, Felix,” Livia murmured,
lazy and content. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He didn’t reply – he only
grinned his roguish grin at her and pressed his lips to hers in a deep, blazing kiss – one which left Livia free from all doubt.

She knew where she belonged.

***

The End