A Frothy Idea
Lysicles
Servilius was very proud of himself. He announced to his dormitory
that Hadrian had taken him in the baths, and that the Emperor was
very pleased by him. Some of the boys were quite jealous of the
Emperor’s attention, while others dismissed it as a natural
occurrence for one who found himself in the role of Regulator of
the Waters. Regardless, Servilius was quite elated by his “intimacy”
with Hadrian and made sure to let everyone know it. You can easily
imagine that his behaviour did not endear him to many. I suspect
that even Carisius may have been put off by it – perhaps not
so much by its annoying quality as by the envy that it fired in
the boy’s heart.
For my part, I nevertheless feel quite secure at having been so
obviously promoted into a position that was created just for me.
It’s quite evident now – to all – that Hadrian
is watching me. Despite this, I’m somewhat surprised to discover
that I feel no anxiety at the fact that he has not yet expected
me to open up my body for him. I suppose the reason for this lack
of worry is that I imagine it will occur sooner or later, and thus
do not fret about the exact date of its arrival. I believe, too,
that the other boys can observe this quality of patience within
me. They can readily witness my emotional steadiness, as well as
my refusal to play the political games or exploit to my benefit
the Emperor’s budding favour. And, even as I continue to isolate
myself in order to write these letters, it is clear by now that
very few of the boys hold for me any disdain in doing so. In fact,
they are even beginning to celebrate me as “the literate one.”
Thus, Carisius, although still a bother, is suddenly far less of
a nuisance than I had at first imagined he would be, for somehow
my name and my face is emerging among the Gelotiana as one that
ought to be respected.
Truth be told, the source of my greatest anxiety is Mordanticus,
even though – thank Zeus – our relations seem to have
normalized to that same point where they were before his dinner
invitation. I have seen him only a handful of times – the
latest was to hand him my previous letter, which he promised me
would be dispatched immediately. So perhaps I over-reacted. I cannot
tell. As of now, I feel as though I am simply ambling through my
days, at once extremely content and disturbingly unsettled. How
shall this be interpreted?
Some days ago I found myself in the baths, eavesdropping on the
conversation of several other boys – including Servilius.
They were on the other side of the room, and he was talking (yet
again) about his experience with Hadrian: how the Emperor had scraped
him gently with the strigil until he glistened, and then took him
quietly from behind. “Did he say anything to you?” asked
one of the boys. “Nothing,” replied Servilius: “He
commanded me to be silent, and I complied.” I found this description
to be particularly illuminating, since it was clear (to me, at least)
that Hadrian enjoyed his mental pleasures as much as his physical
ones. I surmised that, over the course of our several months here,
Servilius must have gradually revealed himself to possess little
more mind than a bird's, and thus greatly reduced Hadrian’s
attraction to him. Yet despite this, one must always allow for even
the purest form of animal lust, and in this regard I can understand
why the Emperor would have indulged himself: Servilius has considerable
physical beauty to boast of.
Naturally, place a bunch of naked fellows together in the baths,
start them talking of sex, and it will not take long for them all
to harden and laugh of it. And so they began to pleasure themselves,
racing to see who would spit first, and creating in their midst
a considerable froth. It was lucky for them, I mused, that they
had been using oil and strigil, for had they used soaps, the lather
would have thickened so fast it would have obscured them each from
each other!
And that’s when the idea struck me – to use soap on
the coat of Hadrian’s horse, Epeius. I imagined that his mane
would glisten, and that the subtle scent of perfume that wafted
up from him would be quite pleasing to the Emperor’s nose.
I quickly finished my toilet and then dressed, making plans to go
and re-visit with Cyprias. I dashed to the stables, and quickly
dug up the tiny box that I had hidden in Epeius’ stall –
it contained all the money I had managed to save while at the Gelotiana
(and it certainly wasn’t much). I reckoned that it would afford
me three bars of soap, at most.
And then off I flew toward the fading bustle of the market, where
I imagined Cyprias was preparing to close up his shop for the evening.
I arrived just as he was emerging from the building and preparing
to lock his door. Although the man recognized me, he had forgotten
my name, and so I reminded him that it had been Gryllus who brought
me well over a year ago. His face lit up then, and he swung open
the door and ushered me inside. I told him of my plan to wash the
emperor’s horse with soap, and he marveled at the audacity
of it, for it was something that none, to his knowledge, had ever
considered. He locked the door so that none would bother us, re-lit
the lanterns, and then together we explored his shop, inhaling deeply
at the vast array of possibilities. I eventually settled on a soap
that smelled mildly of rosemary. Cyprias approved my choice, suggesting
that it was prudent of me not to overpower the Emperor’s nose
with such a novel experiment, and that a subtle scent was far superior
than one that announced to all of its presence.
I reached into my satchel and emptied its coins into my palm, asking
him how many bars the bronzes would buy me. Cyprias considered then.
“Why should you be so quick to buy a multiple of bars? Would
it not be better to start with just one, and ensure that the Emperor
is happy with your idea?” I felt foolish then for not thinking
so logically as he, and agreed that his advice was very sound. “How
much, then, for just the one?” He smiled at me and told me
to put my money away. “For the horse of Hadrian,” he
said softly, “I daresay I can afford to present a single bar
most happily as a gift.”
I thanked him most sincerely and prepared to depart. But he asked
me if I would stay with him a little longer and enjoy the pleasures
he was eager to provide. Seeing as how Cyprias had just given me
a gift, I felt it would be callous to refuse him, and so I agreed
to let him have me. He guided me toward the back of his shop, where
the lamp-light did not reach quite so well. And there, in the dimness,
kneeled down before me and took me into his mouth. I confess the
experience to have been relatively mundane, and although I enjoyed
myself, I was far more reflective than sensual. I am at an age,
I thought, in which I can draw the attention and admiration of my
elders with hardly any effort. And why should I deny them? There
are other boys at the Gelotiana who are attractive in their own
right, who take great pleasure in denying their admirers any access
to their bodies. But this seems to me cruel and coy. In my view,
if a man is considerate and gentle, kind and attentive, clean and
mannered, why should he not be rewarded with what he desires? Is
it so difficult for me to indulge him, especially when there is,
quite often, the promise of pleasure for myself as well? These are
my thoughts, Lysicles, and I hope they do not offend you. Perhaps
the Roman air has affected me somehow; the cosmopolitan mores have
far too successfully infiltrated my head and altered the perception
of myself according to the expectations of an impending career as
a page. To be sure, after my experience with Mordanticus, and, more
substantially, in response to the musings it has inspired with respect
to Juvenalis, I have come to realize that the act of a very friendly
sex is hardly cause for shame or worry. Furthermore, I am of the
opinion that the anti-sexual ranting of conservatives, codgers,
and fanatical Christians is quite likely the product of some misguided
and misinformed thinking, never to be taken seriously.
Cyprias swallowed me completely and stood up. He was very grateful,
and I noticed that he was still erect. And so I asked of him, “What
do you wish from me?” He did not understand, thus I clarified:
“My hand, my mouth, or my backside?” At this he was
genuinely pleased, but was forced to confess that he had not yet
in the last three days had occasion to bathe. I laughed at that,
for it was a very ironic statement, coming from a man such as he,
who sold soaps! He laughed too and agreed, and then reaffirmed that
he would not subject me to his body when it was not clean: tonight,
he would pleasure himself alone. I thanked him for his consideration
of me. And then he made me his offer: “Come to me, Antinous,
whenever you wish for a bar of soap. Your price will be set not
in coin, but in the time you set aside to spend with me. And I promise
to make my body acceptable to you, that together we may enjoy ourselves
without shame.”
Was this not the very same treatise I had composed for myself while
stretched upon his tongue? I agreed, for he was obviously a good
man and I wished to keep him for a friend. He sent me on my way
then and I returned to the Gelotiana just after dark. Tomorrow I
shall wash Epeius with soap, and see what comes of it! A.
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