To Love Again - Bertrice Small [93]
There was a tiled dressing room off the bath, but the main room served all the steps necessary to bathing, unlike the elegant bath complex at Villa Maxima with its many different rooms. The bathing pool was set in sea-blue tiles, and the water gently warm. A corner fountain with a marble basin ran with cool water. There were shell-shaped depressions with drains for rinsing and benches for massage.
Aspar dismissed the old slave who served as bath attendant. “The lady Cailin wishes to serve me,” he told the woman, and she grinned a toothless grin that bespoke pure conspiracy, cackling as she departed.
“Discretion is wasted here,” Cailin told him, pinning up her long hair.
“Remove your chiton,” he said. “I want to see you as God made you, Cailin. Bent over as you were the last time I viewed your charms, I could see little of much note, so covered were you by those Northmen.”
“You may be sorry you did not buy one of them,” she teased him mischievously, and slipped the simple garment over her head, tossing it carelessly upon a bench. Then she stood silent and still, amazed that she was not mortified; but then her stay at Villa Maxima had, she suspected, rid her of all false modesty.
“Turn slowly,” he commanded her quietly, his admiration obvious. Then he removed his own garments, unfastening the cross-gartering on his braccos and slipping them off, to be followed by his drawers, tunic, and fine linen chemise.
As Cailin turned back to face him, she found Aspar quite as naked as she herself was. Startled by his action, she blushed. He stood quietly, allowing her the same advantage as he had had, and then he turned, too. Her first impression had been a good one. His body was firm, well-muscled, and kissed by the sun. He was not fat, nor was he large-boned. There was a solid stockiness to him that she found comforting. His arms and legs were hairless, as was his chest. He had longer legs than she would have expected, and a well-sculpted, hard torso. His buttocks were tight.
His male organs seemed smaller than she was used to, but she suspected he was of quite average size. Her “barbarians” and Wulf had been the exceptions to the rule, Casia had assured her when they had once spoken on it. Her curiosity had led her to question the lovely courtesan who had tutored her so well in the arts of Eros. Casia had been a font of useful and rather fascinating information for Cailin, who was so lacking in practical experience regarding men and lovemaking.
His voice brought her back to the present. “Do you find me as beautiful as I find you, Cailin?” he asked her.
“Yes,” she said quietly. He was an attractive man, and she saw no reason not to tell him so.
“Take up the strigil, now, and scrape me,” he ordered her. “I am filthy from my ride. The roads are particularly dusty at this time of year.”
Cailin picked up the silver bathing tool and began to remove the sweat and grime that his ride in the heat of the day had deposited on his skin. She had watched the bath attendants at Villa Maxima at their trade, for Casia had warned her that men frequently enjoyed being served this way by their lovers. Slowly, carefully, she worked, moving from his shoulders and chest, down his arms and back and legs.
“You have a skill for this work,” he said softly as she knelt before