Page 61 of Enslaved
“They copied from us,” Marcus said with satisfaction. “Our temples and our forums are probably still standing after nearly two thousand years.”
She looked at him and wondered if she should tell him. Almost gently she said, “No, Marcus, they are not.”
“This is where your story falls apart! Are you saying that nothing we Romans built remains in your Britain?”
“Your roads remain and your baths. The rest are ruins that are being excavated by people called archaeologists. We know that beneath a lot of our modern cities, Roman cities lie buried. Beneath London is Londinium; beneath Bath is Aquae Sulis.”
“Is that all that remains of the world’s greatest civilization?” he demanded arrogantly.
“Of course not! Your language, law, literature, art, customs, and architectural styles have passed into everyday life. The thing that most amazes the modern world is your technology. Your aqueducts, your engineering, your heating and drainage systems were far ahead of your time. In fact, we still haven’t caught up to them.”
Marcus trailed his fingers down her leg. “What about love? Romans make far better lovers than your modern men, you admitted that yourself, and we likely make better lovers than these medievals you dream about.”
“As a matter of fact I just finished reading a book by your great learned scholar Ovid on the subject of love, and I didn’t think much of him,” Diana teased.
“Well, we have better writers and philosophers than Ovid,” he said, waving his arm toward his book scrolls.
“Ah yes, let me see if I can find some very clever lines I read the first night I was here.” She ran lightly to the shelves behind his desk that held the leather canisters of scrolls and searched through them for a minute. Marcus was mesmerized as he watched her. He would like to keep her naked forever.
“Here it is,” she said triumphantly, unrolling a scroll. She quoted:
“‘And when your lust is hot, surely
if a maid or pageboy’s handy to attack
you won’t choose to grin and bear it?
I won’t! I like a cheap and easy love!’
“That is your great philosopher, Horace!”
“But that is a satire,” Marcus explained. “Do you know what a satire is, Diana?”
“You arrogant devil, of course I know what a satire is!”
“Then tell me,” he insisted.
“A literary work that holds up human vices or follies to scorn.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she understood Horace’s motive.
“Very good. I am impressed.” He took the scroll from her hands and returned it to the canister. “Now, do you know what hot lust is?” he asked, lifting her high and letting her slide down the hard length of him.
“Only since I met you, Roman,” she said, laughing.
“Good. Let me see if I can obliterate your fantasies of these medieval men of yours.”
“Ooh, that would take something very special.”
“Mmm, then perhaps it’s time fortantra.”
Diana went still in his arms. “That sounds too exotic for a lady with little experience.”
“Sweetheart, don’t be afraid. I want to love you, not hurt you. Tantra is slow and sensual, and every part of your body receives pleasure. And furthermore, I won’t burden you with my great weight.”
“I love your weight, Marcus. I love your bigness. When you are on top of me, I’m in no doubt that a real man is making love to me.”
He cupped her face in his calloused hands and lifted it to his mouth as he would a delicate porcelain vessel from which he longed to drink. Within minutes their kisses en-flamed them and they sank to the rug.
“For tantra you must sit in my lap, face to face.”
