Medusa's Desire (The Fate of Eros #1) (The Fate of Eros Series) (3 page)

"You looked like you were in pain."

"You could tell I didn't enjoy it?" She had thought she was doing so well, too.

"Yes," Cithara said. "It's not something you should fake. You need to orgasm for real. You think of someone else. Imagine a beautiful young man with muscles you'd like to stroke. Pretend you're on the beach, rolling around with him in the sand. Use whatever fantasy helps. I think of my boyfriend, Bartholomew."

Medy smiled. "So that's the name of your slave lover boy!"

Cithara's eyes glowed. "Yes. Our love gets me through all of this."

She seemed so happy and it made Medy doubt herself for a moment. Maybe she could find joy with a man as well. She shook the idea out of her head.

Medy knew she should probably leave. She only meant to try this one time, but before she knew it, they had reeled in another man and she was agreeing to go back into the brothel.

This man was young and handsome. In fact, Medy felt jealous of the fact that Cithara would be touching him. His gray eyes were lighter than his tan skin. His blond hair was long, his stubble scruffy, and his body rough and muscular. She felt a warmth pool into her stomach and tighten it. This is what lust must feel like.

She kept her eyes open as they pulled off their clothes. She was satisfied by every inch of creamy skin he revealed to her. She longed to run her fingertips up his abs. She shivered as she wondered what it would be like to kiss him on the lips and the chest. Her breath hitched as he positioned his erection over Cithara. She rubbed herself as he entered her.

She sighed and closed her eyes. She imagined herself alone with him, his heated body pressed against hers as he pleasured her instead. She gasped as her insides contracted. Her nerve endings tingled as she shuddered. The urge to shout in excitement choked her as the waves took over.

This time when Cithara handed her money, her body felt shaky. She would remember this moment so she could daydream about it with other customers in the future.

Cithara smiled. "If you can do that every time, we'll have a lot of good business together."

When she headed home, as the sun was beginning to set, she wondered what to do with the money. She'd hand it directly to her mother, but she'd be questioned on where she got it. Women couldn't make a living through purity.

Already, as it was, her father was sick of "providing" for his family. He threatened to kick them out all the time. Her new job was a good excuse to get rid of her for dragging down the family name and making it hard for him to do "business", which for him was just gambling. Besides, she knew her dad: he'd act like she'd cut his balls off if he knew she was making more money than he had in years.

She bought a pair of fancy shoes on the way, the kind her mother loved to dance in. Ceto had sold most of her pairs and Medy could see the sadness in her eyes every time she did so.

She also stopped by the well and quickly pumped some water into the pail. Juggling the shoes and carrying the water was a heavy burden for one woman, but she would manage. She wished she hadn't lived a life of leisure, so she would have the muscles to drag stuff around more easily.

When she got home, she left both the shoes and the drachmas in her father's room while her parents were fighting. Her father had gambled away the money for the next day's food and Ceto was angry. She announced her return by dropping the big pail of water at their feet, sloshing it around a bit.

She knew her father was too drunk to question it when he found the money. He had been so privileged all his life that he was used to the idea of it popping up out of nowhere. He'd probably think a friend had let him borrow it and assume he'd blacked out the entire conversation. Ceto would find a way to take enough of it to feed them.

Her father complained about what a waste of money his family was, but shut up once he realized that the satchel at his desk was full of it. Ceto found the shoes and gave Phorcys a sloppy kiss on the cheek as she twirled around the room in them. Her father grinned at the feel of her mother's lips. She wished she could punch him for taking all the credit. At least her parents weren't fighting, but he'd probably gamble away at least half the money she'd made. There would be no thanks for selling her body to help them live.

Over the next few months, she threw herself fully into her new business. She pretended to have made some friends and told her mother that the lavish dinners and flowers she came home with were presents from suitors. It wasn't a complete lie and it made Ceto happy. She found a carpenter to fix the roof and a slave girl to clean part-time. She told her mother that Phorcys had hired them. Ceto thought that her husband had suddenly become more responsible.

He still wandered the streets drunkenly as he always did, swearing at his friends until they'd make bets with him over stupid things like dog fights and dice rolls. Not that Medy was doing much to help the family's reputation.

The brothel's dinginess was driving rich customers away. Cithara was negotiating prices with a tax collector one day when Ambrosia ran out of the front door, screaming at the top of her lungs as a naked man ran for his life.

"He sucked the milk from my tit!" Ambrosia said. "That's how I feed my child! If he wanted dinner with the show, then the little shit should have paid me more!"

The tax collector's face twisted in disgust. He ripped the coin purse from Cithara's hand. They had been discussing an alternate form of payment for their taxes and instead they had lost all the money they'd struggled for that day.

"I think it's time we start working for ourselves," Cithara said.

Medy's eyebrows rose. "We can do that?"

Cithara smirked. "You can when you attract customers like we do."

They tested the idea by accepting an invitation to a party hosted by an Eastern merchant. They were given wine to drink that tasted sweeter than the bitter stuff Medy choked down at home. The food was rich with spice and piled high onto their plates. Medy was drunk and full by the time the merchant started to kiss Cithara's neck. He unclipped her chiton and let it fall to the floor, while the other guests grabbed one another and released their passions.

The merchant threw Cithara on the table and fell on top of her. As the room spun, Medy danced to the music strung by the harpist, who, as evidenced by his erection, was fully aroused by the sights. She threw off her clothes and rubbed each curve of her body, enjoying the fact that she had been born a woman. The merchant thrust into Cithara, but kept his eyes on Medy, enchanted by the seductive way she ran her hands over her soft skin. He cried out as he finished.

The girls were given the drachmas they asked for, along with a set of silk dresses and combs. Sleeping with a merchant had its advantages.

The two girls were invited to another party later that week. Medy was surprised to see no other female guests except them. They had only been paid enough to sleep with the host, but the other males stared at their chests.

Cithara looked into the host's eyes and crossed her arms.

"I haven't forgotten the deal," he reassured them.

Medy's knees shook as she sat at the table. The men stared as if she was a piece of meat. None of them made jokes. They hardly spoke and didn't eat. Medy gulped her wine too loudly. Her mind grew hazy from the alcohol.

She frowned. She had only one glass-she shouldn't be this drunk yet. Cithara swayed in the seat next to her; her eyes fluttered. She had swallowed more.

Medy stood and one of the men grabbed her by the arm. "Cithara and I need some fresh air. We'll be right back, I promise." She hoped her lie was believable. She couldn't feel her lips.

The man pulled her towards the table and the world lurched around her. "You look tired. Why don't you rest awhile and then go outside?"

The air was sucked from the room. "No, I need to go now."

Cithara giggled. "Stay. It will be fun." She was slurring her words.

"See? You can't leave-your friend doesn't want to go." The words were meant to be reassuring, but the tone sounded threatening.

Cithara's face turned green. She clutched her stomach. "I don't feel so good." She grabbed the man holding Medy as she passed out. He had to let go so he wouldn't fall on top of her.

In the commotion, Medy hobbled to the door and opened it. The men wouldn't follow because there were too many witnesses outside; still, she wanted to distance herself from them. She ran into a few people who yelled at her and pushed her. The crowd swirled into a sea of angry faces. She called for help, but no one wanted to help a prostitute. She vomited right before the ground met her face. The world went black.

She woke hours later covered in her own sickness. She had shoeprints on her arms and bruises on her body. People had walked on her, not caring whether she were alive or dead. She didn't see Cithara anywhere. Maybe she should go back for her, but she didn't know how much time had passed. She could have escaped already. She might be at the brothel.

When she arrived, there was no sign of her. No one had seen her either. A heavy stone grew in Medy's throat and fell into her stomach, weighing her down. What if she wasn't okay?

"What happened exactly?" Antonius asked her.

Medy hugged herself. "Cithara and I went to a party and I think we were drugged."

Antonius placed his hand gently on her shoulder. "Were you hurt?"

"No, I escaped."

He pulled away, disgust on his face. "And you just left her there to be taken advantage of?"

Medy felt sick. "I was dizzy and I couldn't have fought all those men off by myself. I didn't know what else to do."

"She would never have left
you
behind." The venom in his voice was unmistakable.

"I'll apologize to her as soon as she gets back."

"You're assuming we ever see her again."

He left her alone. Each thought of the consequences of her actions felt like a punch to the stomach.

An hour later, Antonius and another boy dragged a woman inside. Her skirt was soaked with blood. Her face had been so beaten that it had turned purple and one of her eyes was swollen shut. Bruises covered her arms and legs. Her breathing was shallow. The woman opened her other eye and Medy screamed as she realized it was Cithara.

The whores yanked off Cithara's clothing.

Antonius shook out the bag of coins Cithara carried everywhere to hold their profits for the day. It was empty. "The bastards stole everything. How am I supposed to pay the doctor to see her?"

They washed her clothing and shred it into little pieces before wrapping it around her waist like underwear. They were trying to stop the flow of blood. She had been raped raw.

Medy wrapped a blanket she found around Cithara and felt her forehead. She had a fever. Infection might have already set in. There was a chance she wouldn't make it through the night.

Medy didn't care what her parents thought. She held Cithara for hours and cleaned her bandages. Cithara screamed for Bartholomew more than once. Medy would have fetched him if she knew what he looked like and how to get inside the temple.

Cithara grabbed Medy by the collar, cutting off her air, and screamed about how she'd make them pay. Her grip grew weak and shaky until she collapsed again. Tears from Medy's eyes soaked Cithara's face as she apologized over and over again.

Medy was forced to finally go home. She wasn't even worried that it had grown dark and that men stood in the streets smirking at her because she was out of place. If she got robbed or raped, then she deserved it.

Medy forced Cithara to drink every day that she came over. Neither of them ate anything and they both lost weight. The bruises started to heal, but the tantrums got worse. When she vomited up the water Medy gave her, she was certain that Cithara's death would come, but miraculously the next morning, the fever broke. It took weeks, but she finally recovered enough to stand on her own, although she was weaker than she had been before.

"I need to get to work," Cithara announced.

"No," Medy said. "You need your rest."

Cithara shrugged. "I also need to eat, which I can't do without money."

"I'll buy your food." Cithara sighed. "Don't lie. You're as poor as I am and you can't make a dime without me giving you business."

Medy swallowed roughly and wrapped her arms around Cithara. "I'm more afraid of you being hurt. Aren't you scared after what happened? I can't allow something to happen to you again."

Cithara stroked her hair. "Of course I'm frightened, but what other choice do I have? I must have been destined for this. My dad raped me as a child and it happened again now. It must be my fault if I was violated twice in a life-time."

Medy pulled away. "Don't say that. It isn't true. I'll sell my body instead of you. I don't care about my virginity anymore."

Cithara's voice was gentle. "Yes, you do. I want you to be true to yourself. You were lucky enough to be given choices in life and I don't want that to change."

Tears poured down Medy's cheeks. "You can't do this. It's not fair. I abandoned you when you needed me. I don't deserve to have the things I want anymore."

Cithara's eyes were far away and sad. "I'm glad you left, actually. You would have been hurt, too, and you might not have been strong enough to make it as I did."

Medy had a bad feeling about that day. She kept looking over at Cithara to make sure she wasn't about to collapse. She looked frail enough to be carried away by a strong wind. Medy's mother had warned her many times that women who chose to live on the streets suffered for it and "deserved what they got", but all she felt was sorrow that they had to live in such a way.

A man approached the two women. He smiled and said hello. She could see in his eyes that he recognized her, but Medy couldn't place him. Maybe he was an old customer. Either way, she kept her ignorance to herself.

He laughed as he looked Medy in the face. "You don't recognize me, do you?"

"Of course I do. I'll never forget the time-" She had no idea how to finish that sentence, but something in her subconscious triggered alarms. He wasn't one of Cithara's rapists. She was positive the two of them would have recognized him if he was, but he made her uneasy.