The Gryphon's Skull

“Oh,” she said softly when he went into her. He held her by the waist—his skin sun-darkened, hers almost white—as he thrust home again and again, pausing every now and then to spin out the pleasure for him and for her. She shook her head. Her dark hair flew back and forth. She gasped and shuddered and let out a little muffled cry. At the same time, she squeezed him from within, so that he couldn't hold back another instant. He drove deep, the world utterly forgotten in his moment of joy.

He patted her backside. She started to pull away and straighten up. “Don't,” he said, beginning once more: he had been at sea for a while.

Asine looked back at him again. “Well, well,” she said. “No wonder you've been able to do this before.”

“No wonder at all,” he said, so smugly that she laughed. He kept on with what he was doing. He didn't have to pause this time to keep from spending too soon; despite his boast, he began to wonder if he would be able to spend at all. But, panting, he managed, and brought Asine with him, too. No sooner had he finished than he flopped out of her. A third round wouldn't come soon, which meant it likely wouldn't come at all.

He and Asine both dressed in a hurry. Now that they'd done what they'd set out to do, they were warier with each other than they had been. Maybe it's just that we aren't blind with lust any more, Menedemos thought as he put his sword belt on again. “You didn't need that,” Asine told him.

“Never can tell who might get home at the wrong time,” Menedemos answered. He didn't mention that he'd worried Asine might be helping her husband play a game of their own.

She tossed her head. “He'll be out there all day. He cares about that more than he cares about me. He cares about everything more than he cares about me. Maybe if my son had lived ...” Asine tossed her head again. “I don't think so. He would have cared about the boy, but not about me.”

“I'm sorry,” Menedemos said.

“Are you? Why?” Her laughter was barbed as an arrow point. “You got what you wanted. What do you care now?”

How many men had come through the door while Nikodromos went to the temple? Menedemos almost found himself sympathizing with the priest, the last thing he would have expected. Nettled, he said, “I wasn't the only one.”

“No,” Asine said. “You gave me what I needed. You couldn't possibly give me what I want.”

What would that be? Menedemos wondered. The answer took shape in his mind almost at once. A couple of slaves, a better place among the families of Aigina. Sure enough, these sweaty couplings couldn't give her that. She could get it only from her husband—and he didn't much care whether she had it or not.

Menedemos said, “The silk and the emerald will help some.”

“A little,” Asine said—she was one of those people who, no matter what they had, always wanted more. Menedemos understood that well enough; he was the same way himself. “You'd better go,” she told him.

“Yes, you're right.” He wondered if coming here in the first place had been worthwhile. He supposed so. He hadn't been looking for anything more than a morning's pleasure. It had never felt so empty afterwards, though.

Asine gave him a kiss as she unlatched the door. “Will you remember me after you sail away?” she asked.

“I'll never forget you,” he answered. It could have been a pretty compliment, a polite fib, but he heard the raw truth in his voice. Asine must have heard it, too, for she smiled, pleased with herself. She'd taken it for praise, then. As a last favor, Menedemos didn't tell her otherwise.

A couple of naked little boys, one perhaps eight, the other six, were playing with a toy oxcart in the dusty street. They looked up as Menedemos came out of Nikodromos' house—looked up and started to giggle. His ears burned. He hurried off toward the market square.

Sostratos waved to him as he came over to the little display the men of the Aphrodite had set up. “Glad you're back,” he called, and then, “Well?”

“Very well, thanks. And you?”

His cousin rolled his eyes. A couple of the sailors who'd fetched and carried for Sostratos guffawed. A third looked blank. One of the others leaned close to mutter something to him. Menedemos couldn't hear what it was, but saw the obscene gesture accompanying it. The third sailor laughed, getting it at last.

“All right,” Sostratos said. “You didn't get held for ransom, you didn't get murdered—”

“Not that I noticed, no,” Menedemos agreed.

“Interrupt all you please,” Sostratos told him. “I'm still going to ask the questions that need asking. For instance, can we stay in Aigina without worrying about getting knifed whenever we show our faces away from the Aphrodite?”