Chapter 11

Corvus was so used to seeing Crispa Iunius dressed outlandishly that when she came to the front door of her house wearing a sleek, red sheath dress that hugged her like a snakeskin and made her look like a nightclub hostess of the previous century, it seemed surprisingly traditional. Even the matching pillbox hat and thin veil only enhanced the appearance of classic elegance and femininity.

Corvus realized he was staring when she gave a small curtsy. "You like?"

"Very much." He grinned and kissed her on the cheek. "You're not trying to pass as part of the staff tonight. Are you?"

Crispa shook her head and tapped the cheek he'd just kissed. "I'd need a provenance mark."

She was right of course. Nearly the whole staff of the Butterfly Club were highly-trained, well-bred slaves brought up either in the Temple of Venus or one of the associated Temples Venereal. As Crispa walked past, Corvus saw that the back of the dress above the waist consisted of a single diagonal strap from shoulder blade to hip. He considered her lower back. "You'd need both marks actually."

She grinned at Corvus over her shoulder as the driver held the door to one of the Gallicus family's limos open for her. "Thank you again for doing this. I felt like I was going to go berserk if I had to stay home tonight."

As Corvus followed her into the limo, he caught a faint sillage of orange blossoms and alcohol. Crispa had expressed a need to "cut loose" tonight - a singularly fascinating idea to Corvus, who assumed she was cutting loose pretty much all the time. He'd offered to take her "somewhere nice" and, when Crispa had asked where, he'd grabbed the first name that came to mind - the Butterfly Club. It was the only place he could think of that he'd aspired to see that rich patricians actually attended.

"I could use a night to get out of the house and unwind myself," Corvus admitted as they pulled out of Crispa's driveway.

Crispa draped herself skillfully around his forearm. "You have to tell me what's been going on at your house. It's so much better than the soap operas they show on TV." Before Corvus could answer, she looked at the refrigerator embedded in the facing seat. "But first, is that thing stocked? I could use a drink for the ride."

Corvus leaned forward, popped the top of the refrigerator and looked down into it. "Does bottled water count as 'stocked?'"

"Only if the water's at least forty proof." Crispa popped open her clutch and, after a moment's sorting, extracted a sleek gold case and matching lighter. Corvus pressed a button to activate the car's reverse ventilators, which hummed to life. The thin black cigarette she extracted and lit smelled like it was mostly marijuana if there was any tobacco in it at all. She took a long drag. "It really was sweet of you to offer to take us all out tonight. I was planning to engage my feminine wiles in the hopes of getting just such an offer, but my nerves are so frayed, I'm not sure I would have made a very good showing of it."

Corvus chuckled. "I'll take a rain check on your feminine wiles, then. I do prefer them when you're at your best." He watched Crispa. Even with a few drinks in her, she was all grace and poise - except in the too-quick way she brought her cigarette to her lips and drew smoke into her lungs. He asked, "Still worried about your father's visit?"

Crispa nodded and blew out smoke. "Yes, but probably only until about six months after he goes back to Europe. Sometimes, I swear he chooses his little plots based on which ones will cause me the most grief."

Corvus sighed. "Is there anything I can do to help?" It wasn't the first time he'd offered. The number of remedies at his disposal were probably a lot bigger than he realized and he already had a good half dozen in mind, but he was still hoping Regula would offer one rather this his suggesting it.

"Take me out someplace expensive and get me roaring drunk?" Crispa asked.

"Consider it done," said Corvus dryly. "Anything else?"

"Some of the options at the Butterfly Club can get pretty expensive," Crispa pointed out. "Don't let my friends take advantage too much advantage of you."

"No chance of that," said Corvus. "They don't have your feminine wiles."

"Well, Cato has a few," Crispa observed. "But I don't think he's really your type."

"Not even if he dresses up as a slave girl," said Corvus.

"Slave girls!" Crispa snapped her fingers. "You were about to tell me about what's going on with your household before we were so rudely interrupted by this car's deplorable lack of alcohol."

Corvus gave a wan smile and told her the whole story, leaving out only a few details that seemed too personal or too unflattering to recount. When he finished, Crispa gave him a puzzled look. "So, what's your angle?"

"I don't know if I have an angle," admitted Corvus. "I've pretty much been winging it."

She raised her eyebrows. "You're spending an awful lot of money if you don't know what result you're looking for. Hiring a good trainer to come on-site can cost more than a new slave."

Corvus shrugged. "That's probably true. But, I got some kind of special deal. My mother called in a favor from an old friend she worked with during the Britannic Wars who does this sort of thing. Apparently, she's pretty hard to get a hold of."

"What's her name?" Crispa closed her eyes and took another long drag off her cigarette. "If she's any good, I've probably heard of her."

"Paphian Nova," said Corvus. "She used to be an actress."

Crispa's eyes shot open. "Seriously? Your mother's friends with Paphian Nova?"

Corvus nodded, frowning. He'd been hearing his mother talk about the former actress for as long as he could remember, but never in particularly flattering terms. It had come as a bit of a surprise to learn the two were actually good enough friends that one would do a favor for the other. "They worked together during the war - as pinups."

"What's your mother's name?" Crispa sounded suspicious.

"Lucretia," said Corvus.

"Lucretia ... Octavius?" Crispa asked. When Corvus nodded, she laughed. "Oh, gods! I know you said you mother was a pinup during the war, but you didn't say she was Lucretia Octavius. I used to..." She shook her head and laughed again, swallowing whatever words she'd been about to say. "I still have posters of hers at my house."

"I'm sure she'll be flattered to know that," said Corvus. He was used to older men being fans of his mother and even some of his own peers, but Crispa was the first woman he'd heard make such comments.

"She sure did work with Paphian Nova, didn't she?" her smirk made Corvus blush deep red. He'd been hoping she hadn't seen any of those particular posters. "Can I meet her?"

"My mother?"

"Well, yes ... and Paphian," asked Crispa. "Do they still ... I mean are they still a couple ever?"

Corvus rubbed his forehead. "I don't think they were ever a couple exactly. They worked together and I wouldn't be surprised to hear they ... performed together." He winced. "Mortified possibly, but not surprised. Even the son of a hetaera doesn't want to know too much about his mother's sex life."

Crispa laughed and shook her head. "Paphian Nova. Is she here yet?"

"She should be at my house by morning at the latest," said Corvus. "She was taking a train from Pax Dulci today, but it was delayed."

"And you're not going to be there to pick her up?" Crispa seemed incredulous. "That seems a bit high-handed. She was a big star not that long ago."

"I sent Malcolm to pick her up in the other limo," said Corvus. "I couldn't be there and here and I didn't think the train station was what you had in mind when you said you needed to get out of the house."

"That's ... unbelievably sweet." Crispa smiled and ran a fingertip along Corvus's cheek. It was a very intimate gesture and one of hundreds she'd shown him. It was becoming clear to Corvus that Crispa wasn't just friendly. She wanted him. It was a heady thought for a young man who, a month ago, had never been kissed and didn't expect that to change for years to come.

Even though he saw Crispa more than anyone outside his own household, Corvus had been surprised to realize they'd been conducting a courtship of sorts. He still wasn't sure what he was courting her for. They both knew they could never marry each other and he was pretty sure the only reason she wasn't already his lover was that he hadn't invited her to his bed. Even so, every time he saw her, there was a sense of anticipation as if something wonderful were just about to happen between them.

Corvus and Crispa were the last of their party to arrive at the Club. He'd rented what the hostess had called a "booth" for the night, but it was really more of a small lounge set off from the garden room, so called for its leafy-green atriums and rustic-looking wooden bridges where patrons nearly as well-heeled as Corvus and Crispa strolled the paths or sought the more secluded grottos.

As the hostess, a pretty redheaded slave named Terese, led them through the main atrium, Corvus looked at the series of round doorways they passed. Most had a gauzy white curtain closed in front of them and the lights low so that the occupants could look out into garden room without themselves being seen. Combined with the constant sound of the Club's three-story waterfall and the pools it created, privacy was all but assured.

When they reached their designated booth, Therese indicated the doorway with a flourish, but left the opening of the curtain to Corvus. Even when he'd pushed the light cloth aside, the young patrician had to lean in and let his eyes adjust before he spotted the low blonde table and his guests. Cato sprawled on a with a low back facing them so that only his one hand, gesturing with both a cigar and a drink, could be seen.

To one side, sitting forward and listening intently was Tullus Ovidius, Corvus's nominal tutor in comporting himself like a patrician. Corvus had barely spent an hour with the man since meeting him. He was pleasant enough, but he taught like Corvus was a small child who didn't understand a lot of Latin.

On the other side, listening but much less intent, was a long-bodied man with a neat, but unfashionable beard. Corvus didn't know, but Crispa rushed forward with her arms wide so that he could rise and hug her, sweeping her momentarily off her feet.

"Metallicus, you made it!" Crispa laughed as he spun her a little before putting her down.

"Wouldn't have missed it," said Metallicus gruffly. "After all the trouble he's caused us, a chance to leech off of General Gallicus for a night of refined debauchery was too much to turn down."

"Metallicus..." Crispa started to say, but Corvus cut her off.

"Tell me about it," he said with feigned jollity. "What trouble has he caused you?"

Metallicus looked back and forth between the two newcomers before narrowing his eyes at Corvus. "You must be the new Gallicus."

"Yes, the one you'll actually be leeching off of tonight," said Corvus dryly. "This is coming out of my pocket, not my father's."

Metallicus inclined his head. "You have my gratitude, of course. I don't get to come here very often on my income."

"Good." Corvus took the remaining couch and waved to Metallicus that he should sit back down. "Hopefully, you're grateful enough to tell me what sort of trouble my father has caused for you. There's a lot about the general's private business I still don't know and it never hurts to learn new things."

The hostess had followed Corvus and Crispa into the booth and took the opportunity to collect their orders for "refreshments or entertainment." Everyone ordered something to drink or smoke. Once they had, she knelt at the side of Cato's couch. "Your entertainment is nearly assembled, sir. Should I send them in when they're ready?"

Cato gave a dismissive little wave. "No. My friends have only just arrived. I really should catch up before I run off for the night. Do tell them I'm being an absolute bastard and refuse to see them until I'm damned well ready." He delivered the line with a light, airy tone and a sardonic smirk.

"Of course." As hostess rose and left, Corvus watched the stylized, elongated butterfly tattooed on her lower back, perched on the bar code that identified her. Once she was gone, Corvus turned to Cato. "It sounds like you have something pretty elaborate planned."

"Don't worry." Cato waved his hand again. "It's on my father's tab. Some of us don't need to leech off of our new friends."

"Not when you have family paying the bills," said Metallicus.

"No one is leeching." Corvus raised his hands in a gesture of supplication. "I offered. Remeber?"

"And we do appreciate it," said Tullus earnestly.

"Glad to have you here," said Corvus, not exactly lying. "Sorry I haven't had much time for diction and comportment lessons. I've been busy with ... well, everything."

"When you have time," said Tullus. "After the wedding maybe. That will still give you a couple of months before you enter the Academy."

"Right," said Corvus. He was torn between wondering whether a couple months of diction and comportment would help him and wondering if he needed them at all. Patricians seemed at least as diverse a lot as plebes and he seemed to fit in well enough most of the time. He turned his attention back to Metallicus. "So, you were about to explain the trouble my father's caused for you?"

"Well, not really for me personally, but for my department. I never much cared for the corpse formerly known as Labeo Vitellius." Metallicus took a drag from his cigar. "Naturally, it's awful that anyone got executed, but if I'd had to choose someone I worked with, I imagine his name would be near the top of the list."

He shrugged. "Unfortunately, he was the accountant for my R&D team at the Oracle Corporation and it appears that no one kept a local copy of the records. Now, we're going into budget season and everybody's got their cock in a winepress because they don't have the numbers they need in order to know how much to ask for." Gesturing with the cigar, he added, "No real skin off my ass, I suppose, but as a good and loyal employee, I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to be outraged. The Corporation is going to demand a formal inquest."

Corvus nodded. That wasn't particularly good news. The Oracle Corporation was by far the most powerful company in the New Roman Empire. It wasn't part of the government, but existed through some convoluted arrangement with the senate that seemed to involve massive sums of money moving back and forth on a daily basis with no one really clear which side was coming out ahead. He'd once considered the possibility of seeking a job at the Corporation as a fast-track to a senatorial staff position. Along with money, people seemed to move back and forth between the two institutions through some complex internal logic that outsiders would be hard-pressed to understand.

If they pushed the senate to look more deeply into Labeo Vitellius's execution, it might cause trouble for everyone involved. He felt a momentary frisson of fear before remembering he hadn't been involved at all. He'd only stepped in after the treason and the execution for treason had already been carried out.

"Maybe they should," said Corvus noncommittally. "Just to make sure everything was in order. But what do you think Gaius Gallicus had to do with it? He's not even on the senate, much less the judicial."

"Nobody's ... really clear on that," admitted Metallicus. "But his name keeps coming up in relation to the execution. People at work will say, 'I bet General Gallicus is behind this' or, 'If this is Gallicus's doing, he's gone too far this time. I don't really follow the news much, so it was a bit of a surprise to hear his name in two very different contexts. I ... hope you won't take what I said earlier too seriously. Normally, I think at least a little bit before I speak, but now..." He waved the cigar as a prop.

Corvus frowned even as he gestured that Metallicus wasn't to concern himself. He wanted to assure the other man that Gaius had nothing to do with the execution of Labeo Vitellius, but he'd spoken true. There was a lot he didn't know about his father's business starting with why he was marrying Lucretia for her keen political mind and stewarding Corvus himself into a senate seat which at the same time refusing high political office. It seemed highly improbable that the general had even known who Labeo Vitellius was before he'd been executed, but another possibility occurred to Corvus to go with that thought. Gaius was extremely unlikely to have know Labeo Vitellus, but Lucretia certainly had. Corvus loved his mother, but he couldn't entirely put it past her to use her new position to seek some revenge on people who had wronged her when she was a plebeian.

"Everything clearly wasn't in order," Metallicus grumbled almost to himself as Corvus reflected. When Corvus cocked an eyebrow, he went on. "Well, it was damned peculiar. Whoever heard of a Roman citizen being arrested in the middle of the night and executed before dawn? It sounds like something they might do in Europe, but not here."

Corvus wondered if that was true. He could only remember one other treason case and it had been pretty spectacular, but for all he knew, this sort of thing might happen all the time - a quick, night-time execution followed by a total media blackout. He'd never heard of it happening, but by definition, he wouldn't have.

He wondered if someone inside the Oracle Corporation might be deliberately spreading rumors about Gaius being involved. He didn't think his father had any enemies on that front, but imagined there must be operatives who would routinely try to tarnish any rapidly rising star before it could threaten their own position.

Thinking hard on the subject, he lost track of the conversation, but he probably hadn't missed much because, when the hostess returned, Cato said, "All right. I'm all caught up now and rapidly approaching bored. Let's get to the entertainment."

The hostess smiled. "Very good." She turned to Corvus, "Do you have anyone specific you'd like to serve you tonight? If not, I can recommend someone based on your tastes."

Corvus frowned, looking down at the glass in his hand. He'd drunk all of his first drink and had it replaced almost as if by magic. "Aren't you serving us."

"I can," said the hostess cheerfully. She looked around the room, doing a mental count. "There are rather a lot of you, though."

Crispa laid a hand on Corvus's arm. "We're fine with refreshments for now. Maybe someone can serve us a bit later."

"Of course." The hostess's smile never faltered as she gave as perfect a little curtsy as her dress would allow and exited.

"I just ... missed something," said Corvus slowly.

All his friends burst out laughing. Even Tullus was apparently in on the joke. It was Metallicus who recovered first and said, "You just offered to gangbang the waitress."

Crispa laid her head on Corvus's shoulder. "Not a terrible mistake. She is awfully pretty."

"Well, yes," said Metallicus. "But I'm not sure I want to put my cock anywhere that Cato has been."

"A wise, though thoroughly unnecessary precaution," said Cato with a put-upon sigh. "She's completely not my type - all that ... flesh up front."

"You mean her breasts?" Crispa asked.

Cato gave a mock shudder. "Exactly. You might as well fuck a cow."

Corvus winced inwardly at the harshness of Cato's words. Their waitress had been voluptuous, but not remarkably so. "I'm sure the cows here at the Butterfly Club are only the most beautiful, but I'd still choose our waitress first."

Cato gave a snort. "She'd do in a pinch, but I have something much better planned. You could join me if you wanted to try something a little less ... common than you're used to."

Corvus chuckled and lifted his fresh drink in a mock toast. "I haven't been at any of this very long, Cato. None of it feels common to me yet."

The fell into conversation about their day-to-day lives. Crispa talked about helping Corvus pick out furniture and shared a few amusing anecdotes about the process while skillfully avoiding any mention of who had owned Corvus's new house before him and who still lived in it. Metallicus was all about his work and Cato all about being a dissolute sybarite. If Tullus had anything going on in his own life, he hid it behind talk of current events and questions about the others' stories. Considering how much he and Crispa weren't saying about his own life, he wondered if the rest of them had similar secrets.

As they talked, men and women passed by outside the booth. About half of them wore one of the Butterfly Club's many provenance marks, all variations on the eponymous creature in blue, purple, and pink. Most of the rest were well-heeled patricians and plebeians. At first, Corvus had assumed those strolling by would be less wealthy or powerful than the ones who took private booths, but he recognized a number of famous faces around the crowd and realized the Club was more of a see-and-be-seen location than he'd previously assumed.

Cato told an amusing story involving two of Senator Petronius's staffers, a goat, a a dare, and copious amounts of cheap wine. At the end, Crispa laughed and turned to Corvus. "You should keep an eye on those two."

Metallicus raised an eyebrow. "You're going into politics?"

Corvus nodded. "I'm being groomed to take over for Senator Petronius when he retires ... assuming the plebiscite accepts me, of course."

The humor that had been there a moment ago was gone from Metallicus's eyes. "Do you have any idea when that might be?"

Corvus considered dissembling, but it didn't really fit his rapidly-evolving style. "The end of this term, I believe."

A smile split Metallicus's face. "Well ... that is good news ... obstructionist, old bastard."

Corvus leaned in a little. "How so?"

"Old Petronius is the head of the science and innovation commission," said Metallicus. "He's been squeezing the purse on the Corporation ever since he was appointed there - demanding proof that research is going to pay off before he'll fund it, even when the hypothesis comes straight from the Notebooks themselves. If we had proof, we wouldn't need to do the damned research! Canus Petronius has done more to slow the march of progress in the Empire than any two plagues."

Corvus sat back with a smirk. "And you assume I'll be more pliable?"

"I assume you won't be the chair of science and innovation - at least until you get some seniority," said Metallicus earnestly. "And I assume anyone would be more flexible than old Petronius on the subject of research."

Corvus might have answered, but a shadow fell across the doorway and, when he glanced at who was casting it, his heart momentarily skipped a beat. The man was dressed as a centurion. But conscious thought slogged through the alcohol in his system to arrive only a second later and point out that the man was dressed as an ancient centaurion complete with bronze breastplate and plumed helm. There were other men gathering behind him and, in short order, a half-dozen of them entered the room in two ranks, marched across the small space, and stopped in front of Cato's couch.

"Citizen Cato?" the lead centurion demanded.

"Yes?" said Cato lazily.

"You're to come with us."

Cato raised an eyebrow. "What are the charges?"

"Perversion," said the lead centurion. "We have strict instructions to bring you down to the dungeon and fuck it out of you."

"Well, if you must, you must." Cato turned to his friends and gave a dramatic sigh. "Don't wait up. This may take a while."

The others were silent until he'd been marched out. Finally, Crispa let out a sharp laugh. "Well, he certainly does know how to make an exit."

"I guess that means the entertainment portion of the evening has begun?" Metallicus suggested. When no one gainsaid him, he added, "Was anyone else interested in our hostess? I thought I might give her a go."

Everyone looked around to see if someone else would speak. Finally, Corvus made a "go ahead" gesture. "Be my guest."

As the hostess returned to the room, Tullus asked Crispa a little too eagerly. "I've never been here before. Is there someone you'd recommend."

Crispa grinned and looked to Corvus. The wealthy young patrician laughed. "Sure. Why not? My treat."

Crispa gestured to the hostess. "Could you see if Germanica is free? My friend Tullus would like to experience her special gifts."

"Of course," said the hostess. She looked at Metallicus. "If you'd like to wait up in room four-oh-seven, I'll be up as soon as I escort your friend down to Germanica."

As Metallicus said his goodbyes, the hostess took Tullus by the wrist and led him out of the room. He shot one questioning look back to Crispa, who managed to keep a straight face just long enough for his to be out of sight, then dissolved into laughter against Corvus's shoulder.

"I take it Germanica won't be to Tullus's liking?" Corvus asked in a deadpan.

"She might be." Crispa shrugged, eyes still twinkling with mirth. "Maybe Tullus is a natural submissive and about to start a life-long love affair. It would certainly suit him."

Corvus wasn't sure how he felt about that. He didn't say anything, but it must have shown in his face because Crispa smacked him on the shoulder. "Don't look at me like that. He's just so ... eager all the time."

"I think Cato's right," said Corvus. "I Tullus is in love with you."

"Then he should do something about it," said Crispa, a little cross. "Being silently worshipped gets tiresome after a while."

"It must be exhausting," Corvus offered.

"It is," agreed Crispa. "It's why I should never be allowed to have a lapdog. I'd feel the need to kick it once in a while."

Corvus sighed. "Did you have someone in mind tonight, dear? My offer to treat goes for you, too."

Crispa considered for a moment, picked up her nearly-empty glass, drained it, then picked up the fresh one the hostess had brought and shook her head. "Not really. It ... doesn't really match my mood tonight. You?"

Corvus made a negative gesture. Once, the Butterfly Club with its seemingly endless supply of beautiful slaves trained to be good lovers would have seemed the closest he could come to Elysium without dying, but tonight, none of the offerings he'd seen tonight seemed to address the unnamed longings he felt. "Not really. No. What would you rather be doing?"

Crispa pursed her lips and looked considerate for a few seconds before she seemed to come to some decision. "I'd like to see your new house."

Corvus probably didn't need the new hostess's guiding hand on his elbow to keep him walking straight to the limo, but he accepted it because Crispa clearly needed her helper. Even in her high heels, she didn't stagger, but she did seem to be listing to the right if left to her own devices. With practiced grace, she maneuvered herself into the car's back seat, but she sat down heavily like the effort of staying on her feet had finally become too much for her.

Corvus climbed in and sat next to her, telling the driver to take them to his house. As soon as the car was pulling away from the curb, Crispa had shifted and her mouth was on Corvus's, warm and inviting. Corvus returned the kiss, hands going to her shoulders and sliding up to cradle her head.

Their last kiss had been so quick, Corvus had barely had time to register he was being kissed before it was over. This one went on and on and, when Crispa slid up onto his lap, he started to wonder just how far it would go.

He drew his head back. "Crispa..."

Her eyes flashed with desire and a trace of amusement. "Corvus."

He looked down at her perched on his lap, unsure how to say what he wanted to say. "You're ... kissing me again."

She placed her hands on his shoulders and looked him in the eyes. "Well spotted. I never can slip that past you."

"You're also very drunk," Corvus said.

Crispa nodded. "If you're waiting for me to do it sober, you may be waiting a good long while. I generally only sleep with guys when I'm drunk."

"Fair enough," said Corvus. "But you're very drunk."

"Mission accomplished then," said Crispa brightly. She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. "Wait. Are you saying I should stop kissing you because I'm too drunk?"

Corvus sighed. "I really like kissing you."

"But you don't want to have sex with me?" There was a hint of warning in the question.

Corvus couldn't help but chuckle. "Considering where you're sitting, you have to know that's not true. I just ... don't think I could take the ego hit of you throwing up or passing out on me." It was probably true even if it wasn't the main reason.

"I never throw up," Crispa protested. She leaned in and kissed him softly. "Some other time then?"

"Sure." Corvus smiled. "Some time when you're only a little drunk."

Crispa laid her head on his shoulder. "It's too bad. You could probably do all sorts of things to me that I probably wouldn't even remember in the morning."