She did smile at that; her whole face lit up. Our fingers brushed when I handed her the bun; mine, afterwards, felt as if they were on fire. "I thank you very," she said, and ate the bun in a couple of bites. "This good," she added with her mouth full, and then went on to chatter about food for a while, mostly in Greek but every now and then slipping back into her barbarous dialect. I gathered she did not much care for the pungent sauces and spices with which we Romans are in the habit of making our fish and vegetables and meat piquant.
She could have been talking about the antipodes or stirrups or tadpoles. It would not have mattered to me. I was not listening to her, not with the tenth part of my mind. I was watching, entranced, the way her eyes shone; the way her pink lips moved, showing me every now and then her white teeth and the tip of her tongue; the curve of her jaw, the curve of her neck, and other curves covered but not hidden by the linen tunic she wore.
Irene did not take long to notice how I was staring. She smiled again then, a different smile, one that made me think our ages had a large gap between them after all. It was, I realize now, a woman's smile, not a girl's. At the time, it alarmed me as much- almost as much- as it aroused me.
"You give me, Prince," she said. "I give you, too. Come." She stepped back into the storeroom from which she had just emerged, and beckoned for me to follow. I do not know what I thought she had in there: some little trinket hidden away, perhaps.
I went in there with her. It certainly was the ideal place in which to hide a trinket: shelves on all four walls reached from the floor almost to the ceiling and were crowded with pots and dishes on one side of the room, lamps and braziers on the other. Some were of brass, others of clay; the likes of Irene would not have been allowed to have anything to do with vessels of silver or gold.
She walked around me and looked out into the hallway. I did not understand why, as no one had been out there, nor, as best my ears could tell, was anyone there now. Suddenly, she shut the door. The storeroom plunged into gloom, for only a small window above the shelves on the far wall let in any light.
Alarm rose in me again. Had someone- my exiled uncles, perhaps- bribed her to try to stick a knife in me? I had a knife of my own on my belt. My hand went to it. I was lucky: she did not see me, for she was pulling her tunic off over her head.
"I give you," she said again, tugging down her thin linen drawers and letting them fall to the floor. "Prince, I give you. You like?" She stood where she was for a moment, so I could see her. There was plenty of light for that.
She was very fair, her skin where the light did not touch it white as milk, the nipples on her small, firm breasts a pale pink, the hair in her armpits and between her legs as light as that on her head, whereas mine in those places was several shades darker. I remember all this as vividly as if it were yesterday, yet how much of it I truly noticed in those first few stunned heartbeats I cannot say. She was a woman and she was naked in front of me, and that was- enough? Dear God, how much more than the imagination truth is!
Seeing me gaping, she smiled that ancient, secret smile once more. "You no do before?" she asked. Numbly, I shook my head. It was a foolish question; had I had practice in such things, she would already have been down on the ground with her legs spread wide. But she said, "Never mind. No worry. I show you all things," and stepped forward into my arms.
Between the two of us, we managed to get my robe and drawers off me in not much more than twice the time I would have needed were I undressing for bed alone. I almost brought my hands up to cover my privates; though Irene seemed to feel no shame at letting me see her, I was shy when she looked me up and down.
She spread my robe and her tunic on the floor, then got down on them. I got down beside her, my heart pounding as if it would burst from my chest. Even with the clothes as makeshift mattress, the floor was hard. I did not care.
As she had promised, she showed me all things: where my hands and mouth should go on her, and what they should do when they got there. In this, unlike the instruction I still endured from my pedagogue, I proved a quick study. Some of her sighs and little moans, no doubt, were to build my pride, but some of them, I think- I hope- were real.
Nor were her hands and lips idle, though she did not grasp my manhood as I touched her secret place, fearing, no doubt, I would spurt too soon if she did. But then, as it became obvious our joining would not be much delayed, I wilted like a candle in a hot room. A boy's nerves: I did not know how to be a man, in this most virile way of all.
"I fix," Irene murmured in a tiny voice, mindful of any passersby in the hall. She had me lie on my back, then crouched beside me and bent her head to the flagging part. In a moment, it flagged no more, but stood tall and stiff as the column in the Forum of Constantine, head poking proudly from the foreskin. Of such sensation I had never dreamt.
But yet another lesson awaited me. Seeing me proud once more, Irene straddled me, took me in hand, and guided me into her. She sank down upon me with a soft sigh, and I was engulfed to the hilt.
She raised herself, then lowered again. From my dreams, I had memories only of the explosion. Now I discovered how delicious reaching it was. When Irene found I would not spend myself on the instant, she moved more vigorously. I began to move, too; no doubt I was clumsy, but who is not, the first time?
Presently her breath came in gasps, as mine had been doing for some little while. She took my hands in hers and brought them up to her breasts. I squeezed, and was afraid I had hurt her, for she whimpered deep in her throat. But she squeezed me at the same instant, down there where we were joined, several times, one right after another. And I, I spurted my seed deep into her.
A moment later, as Irene scrambled off me, something hot and wet splashed down onto my leg. "Good," she said. "It fall out. Less chance baby." Now that our passage was done, she became all brisk practicality, getting into her drawers, tugging her tunic out from under me, and dressing with smooth haste. I did my best to imitate her.
When we were both clothed, she opened the storeroom door, saw no one in the hallway, and tugged at my sleeve so I would go out first. That made sense: she might have had- indeed, had had- some legitimate business in there, which was not true of me. The precautions, though sensible, were needless; the hall was so quiet, it might have been deserted since the palace was built.
She came out, closing the door behind her, and I- greatly daring, I thought- set a hand on her shoulder. "Can we do- this- again?" I asked.
She looked astonished. "You a prince, I a servant, a slave," she said, pointing out the obvious, as if she were telling me, This is the sun; that is the moon. "How I say no?" Then she looked worried, no doubt fearing I would be offended to think she gave herself to me only because of the difference in our ranks. "I do anyhow," she added. "Sweet, good, make me feel good."
Looking back, I still think some of that was true. At the time, I drank it down as if it were unwatered wine from Thasos. I felt nine cubits tall and five cubits wide, ready for anything, especially anything female. "Another time, then," I said grandly, and left her to get back to her work.
MYAKES
You did that very well, Brother Elpidios: only two or three coughing fits the whole time. What? Is that what my first time was like? Oh, not that different. I was a year or two older, and Maria was a maiden, too, so neither one of us was sure what we were doing, but we managed, so we did. I was on top, not the other way round.
How about you, Brother?… What? You never? Vowed chastity before you could even think about breaking your oath, you say? That's- very holy, Brother Elpidios. No wonder you're so curious about what the real thing is like.