Chapter 3

Rose may have resolved not to engage in anything Corvus might construe as "stolen pleasures" with Clover until he gave them explicit permission, but the resolution didn't make the desire go away. No longer seeing Rose every day had been like a death in the family and she'd yearned for her lifetime friend on nights when the garden house got cold.

Now with Clover so close, every touch between them was an exquisite, little torture and a fresh temptation. She floated on her back in their master's bathing pool while her friend and many-times lover massaged shampoo into her scalp thinking about what she would do to that woman when the time came.

"What did Leo have you doing in the gardens?" Clover sounded incensed on Rose's behalf. "I keep finding twigs and bits of leaf in your hair."

"Spreading manure, mulching, digging and turning earth, weeding," Rose catalogued. "Any shit job he could find - pun entirely intended."

"And what did you do to get singled out for such treatment?"

"Nothing," Rose protested. "I did nothing when he would have liked me to do something - and by something, I mean him."

"You wouldn't sleep with him?" Clover sounded incredulous. "Why ever not?"

"He's fat and he sweats garlic," said Rose. "But mostly, he didn't ask - just made it very, very clear that I'd be welcome in his bed. And he's old."

"Ah," Clover sounded knowing. "And you're afraid he can't perform."

"I'm pretty sure of it," admitted Rose. "He braced me in the shower this morning and got a good, long look. There wasn't even a twitch."

"That is damning," acknowledged Clover. "But you've overcome such hurdles before."

"In service," said Rose. "For my own pleasure, with another slave, I don't want to work that hard. Just ... fuck me and let me sleep, please. I've got work in the morning."

Clover laughed. "I seem to remember both of us losing a lot of sleep over nothing more than our own pleasure from time to time."

Rose opened her eyes. "I didn't mean you. I like you, Clover. Even your distinct lack of a cock, hard or otherwise, isn't enough to keep me away."

Clover laughed, leaned down, and kissed Rose deeply. "You do say the sweetest things."

After the bath, Rose lay on Clover's bed while the other slave blew out her hair and plaited it. Rose wasn't sure she looked best with her hair in a long braid down her back. Its color was so much a part of her exoticity that she liked to do what she could to draw attention to it, but Corvus had already seen it down and it wasn't any less blonde in a braid. Plus, it let her sit on Clover's bed and reminisce and even reciprocate.

"You're wearing your hair longer than I remember," Rose observed.

"Yes. No one knew how the general preferred it and I thought it would be easier to cut than to grow if he ever expressed a preference." Clover glanced back over her shoulder. "There's no one else here I would trust to braid it. Gaius Gallicus bought a fair number of Denter's old slaves, but the only two of us in the house are me and Daisy. And we were hardly friends."

"I don't think anybody really liked Daisy," Rose suggested. "Even Denter banished her to the kitchen after a while. Fresh imports can be ... temperamental. Still, I didn't realize Daisy was here."

"She's called Gunda now. The first time General Gallicus saw her here, he confused her with some other slave he must have had in the past and called her that," said Clover. "Malcolm told her that she was to be called Gunda from now on as her owner would know what her name was better than she would."

"An elegant solution," offered Rose.

"A clever one," said Clover. "Malcolm is a very clever slave."

"Clever" was another one of those words that was rarely flattering when applied to a slave and an unusually harsh judgment for Clover to make. It was almost enough to make Rose ask what she meant, but might lead to her having to tell what she thought she knew about the steward and their owner, so she went back to the original topic. "Still, better she be a Gunda than a Daisy. I don't know what a Gunda is, but I'm pretty sure it's not in our phylum."

Clover looked puzzled. "I don't know that word."

Rose only knew it from a television show she'd caught part of, but she hoarded such bits of knowledge like citizens hoarded denarii, hoping they might make her more interesting. "I just meant it's good that she's not a flower anymore. People will be less likely to associate her with us."

"Ah." Clover nodded, rising to consider her braid in the mirror. "Yes. That is fortunate."

Just then there was the sound of a service cart being pushed through the hallway and, as if summoned, Gunda appeared pushing in their lunch. Blonde like Rose and built like a house-slave, she looked the two of them over. "Rose, I didn't know you were here now. I thought old Denter would have kept you for sure."

"Daisy," said Rose. "You're looking well."

"It's Gunda now." She gave a sigh. "I suppose it suits me better anyway. I was born in Bavaria, you know." To the blank look both girls gave her, she added, "That's in Europe."

"Of course." Clover smiled. "Thank you for our lunch, Gunda."

Gunda looked around. "The young master has two of you in here with him now? It's good to know he's so healthy." She batted her eyes. "Do you think he might be looking for a third?"

Before Clover could open her mouth, Rose interrupted. Her friend was top-notch in pleasing their owners, but sometimes lacked in the specific brand of tact necessary not to make enemies among her fellow slaves. "We suspect he'll be looking for a sixth before too long. We'll definitely remember your name if he asks for recommendations."

Gunda hugged Rose, thanked her, and sashayed out. Once she was gone, Clover turned to her. "You're not really going to recommend her to Corvus. Are you?"

"Elysium, no," said Rose emphatically. "I only said I'd remember her name, not repeat it. I just don't want her spitting in our food."

Rose crossed her legs and considered the tray that had been placed on the floor next to Clover's futon. Clover did too. "Did you ask for that much wine?"

Rose shook her head. "I didn't ask for wine at all, just lunch. Still, no sense in wasting it."

Clover shot Rose a look like she wasn't sure she should believe what she was being told, but for once, Rose was completely interested. She poured a small fraction of a glass of the cold, white wine for each of them as if to reinforce her restraint and handed one to her friend.

Aside from the wine, lunch was simple fare - crusty bread, soft cheese, some nuts, figs, olives, and fried plantains. They ate in relative silence as was custom among slaves who might only have a few minutes to bolt down some food before someone was looking to give them another task.

"We should leave the rest of the wine for later," said Clover after they'd drunk about half of it and eaten most of what was put before them.

Rose nodded, feeling slightly light-headed. She was used to the weak, watery beer they were served in the fields and had forgotten how much stronger wine could be. She looked down at the remaining food and picked up an olive. "We should save some of these for when Citizen Corvus gets back, too."