Household Gods

If he hadn’t been lying there next to her, she would have kicked herself for stupidity. She hadn’t made love like Umma. She couldn’t make love like Umma; she didn’t know how Umma did it. She’d made love like Nicole, and Calidius Severus had noticed the difference. He could hardly have helped it. Anyone who thought all cats gray in the dark was a fool, and a blind fool to boot.

As soon as she’d worked her way through that, she felt like kicking herself again. Why would he think she was different now from the way she had been? What likelier explanation than that she’d learned the new ways from somebody else?

She didn’t want him thinking that. Now that she’d decided this relationship was worth having, she didn’t want it poisoned at what was, for her, the very beginning. As lightly as she could, she said, “You know how Julia likes to talk. Some of the things she was talking about sounded like fun. I thought I’d try them.”

He weighed that. Nicole could all but watch the pans of the balance wavering, swinging in his mind, now up, now down, now trembling in the middle. At last, he let out a short bark of laughter. “Julia likes to do more than talk. Never a dull moment there, if half of what Gaius says is true.”

Nicole was so glad he’d accepted the explanation, she almost forgave Julia for being – no bones about it – a slut. Almost. “One of the reasons I freed her was so she wouldn’t feel as if she had to prostitute herself to get a little spare cash, but I’m sure she still does it when I’m away.”

Beside her, the fuller and dyer shrugged. “What can you do? You’re not her mother. You’re not her owner anymore. A patron can do just so much with a client, and then it’s the client’s own lookout. Some people just like going to bed with somebody new every time. I never thought that was so great myself, but maybe I’m the odd one.”

“Yes, you are odd,” she said, sharp enough to surprise herself. “If you ask me, most men are like Julia. It’s women who are like you.”

“Yes, that’s probably so.” And he wasn’t even upset about being told he was like a woman. That took the edge off her temper, and made her feel more than a little foolish. He grunted, the noise he made when he was thinking. After a few breaths, he said, “Ah… Umma.”

“What is it?” Nicole said. Something in his tone told her he was changing the subject. And why did he sound hesitant again?

“Mm…” Yes, he was hesitant, but once he’d got into it, he went on in a rush: “No matter what Julia says, if you pull my foreskin back quite that hard, you’re liable to make a Jew out of me.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it again. She’d expected something philosophical, or something personal, but – she’d hurt him? “Oh.” Her voice came out much smaller than usual. “I’m sorry.” She was blushing, blessedly hidden in the darkness. In the time she came from, she’d never made love to an uncircumcised man. She’d been a little startled to find something extra down there, until she realized that no one here went through circumcision, except, as she’d supposed and he’d just confirmed, the Jews.

He set a kiss on her lips, light, almost too quick to catch. “It’s all right. No damage done. Everything still worked, didn’t it?” Just for a moment, he sounded disgustingly, smugly male. Before she could call him on it, he sat up, jostling her just a little. “I’d better get back across the street. Before I do, though – where’s that chamberpot?”

She fished around under the bed till her hand stumbled against it, pulled it out and handed it to him. He held it in one hand while he pissed standing

262 JUDITH TARR S HARRY TURTLEDOVE

up. Nicole sighed, not too loud. That was a hell of a lot more convenient than squatting over the damn thing, as she had to do.

For all his grumbles about breaking his neck in the dark, he went down the stairs as sure and quiet as a cat. Nicole followed more slowly. She didn’t fall there, but she kicked a stool near the front door and hopped the rest of the way, hissing till the pain lost its red edge. Still standing half on one foot and all on the other, she unbarred the door. “Good night,” she said. Somehow that didn’t feel quite right. Something more was called for. “It was a good night, Titus. “

“I thought so,” he said – not so smug, this time, that she wanted to smack him. “I’m glad you did, too.” He gave her one more kiss, a light one, with no heat in it, but as much warmth as she could ever have wished for. “Good night, Umma.”

“Good night,” she repeated. She stayed in the doorway till he opened the door to his own house and went inside. Above his roof, the sky was full of stars.

“Well?” Julia asked the next morning. “Well?” She was practically hopping up and down with curiosity.

“Very well, thank you, Julia – and you?” Nicole said blandly. Unlike the freedwoman, she subscribed to the belief – or possibly labored under the delusion – that one of the things that made a private life private was not talking about it.