Oh to be a woman. A form fitted in true devotion to the Goddess of Love. A resplendent breast pert with the ripe promise of a night’s pleasures, the gentle curves and undulations of a graceful belly reaching down to the cleft birth both pleasure and the very life itself.
Oh to be a woman, of darting gaze and flowing locks, a face cast in soft delicate lines, yet strong of purpose. Her neck rounded her shoulders graceful. The line of her back a perfect testament to divine symmetry, the swell of her buttocks…
Alas dear listener we were deprived the rest of Messalios’s lyric verse when the slave girl she regarded was over come in a fit of giggles. “Oh Mistress you do talk fancy, if you were a man I’d say you were trying to get me into bed.”
“And you would be right,” Messalios reached out and touched the naked girl who shivered but not with the cold, “And have you never felt the loving touch of woman?”
“They don’t do that on our island,” The Slave Girl said, “It is not proper.”
“Well now you are a slave and my slave so I decide what is proper,” Messalios said and kissed the girl who gasped and then pressed against her. Now Messalios trailed a hand down to the girl’s back, down and then up again until she felt the fine hairs of her skin stand on end and then Messalios deepened her kisses onto the girl’s throat and then her breasts until she moaned.
“How do you know to do such things Mistress?” Said the girl in a quavering voice, already half lost in her passion.
“All women know of such things,” Messalios kissed the girl’s belly and thighs and then set her tongue to swirl around the rosy bud rising from its canopy.
“I don’t know of such things,” Sighed the girl.
“Then I shall teach you,” Said Messalios and taught the girl to arch her back and rock up and down in delight, not with crude words but with her deft fingers and tongue on those most sacred parts of woman.
“Oh please Mistress,” Said the girl before falling in a swoon of pleasure upon the deck until Messalios revived her again with gentle nips at her breasts and those points ripe for nipping. Then our proud warrior maid sent her chosen captive off on a journey of delight that took her across the pleasant plains of her back, the rolling swells of her thighs and the delicious hills of her buttocks.
Then and only then did Messalios offer herself as a map to her newly won slave in love’s navigations. Though clumsy at first the girl learned to touch, taste and feel the moment when the body turns away from mundane cares into that height of bliss, when the temperature rises, the blood pulses just belong the skin, the sweat beads and hairs stand up in proud salute to a talented lover. In due course Messalios shuddered upon the tides of passion and took the slave up from between her legs so they could lie together pressed limb to limb and breast to breast.
Which might be a good point for the narrator to request someone in the audience buy him a drink before he tells you all how Messalios learned such love making in Lesbos and how she came to be in great Achilles’s retinue.
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