Oh, Clodia

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I am Fabia. Technically my name is Fabia Tertia, as I am the third daughter of Titus Fabius, Senator. I can trace my family directly to the founding of Rome. Censors, Consuls, and Senators decorate my line. To be Fabia is to live a life of dignity, honor, and power. When I travel in Rome I am carried upon a covered palanquin which is guarded by a team of former gladiators, purchased specially to be house guards. My husband, Marcus Corielus, is an honored Praetor, serving with Caesar in Gaul as they work to put down the Gaulish tribes to secure that land and its riches for Rome. My man is tall and handsome, with beautiful dark eyes and like me, wealthy and famous. Our son is growing strong and healthy and will be a Senator one day, perhaps even Consul. I have slaves to attend to every detail of my life. So it would be understandable if you saw my life as perfect, a dream that others should aspire to. And in many, even most ways, it was and is. Still, I felt strong discontent.  I always wanted a life as significant as my name.First I am a woman. Tell me, how many women have you heard addressing the Senate? How many women have ever served as a clerk, much less Consul? The answer, of course, is none. Women do not rule. Women do not vote. Politics and war are sports reserved for men. If a woman wants to make a difference in Rome, she must work through her husband. My husband does listen to me when he is home, which is rarely. I am comely and enjoy regular advances, all of whom I rebuff as beneath me. Yet, even when my husband is home, I sleep alone. For a very long time, I could not understand why. I did everything I could to entice him. I even took lessons from some catamites in the art of fellatio and developed some skill. For all my skill and ardor I could not entice Marcus back to my bed.At first, I thought the fault lay with me. His ardor for me had cooled after my belly swelled with our son, but that was not atypical. I worried my son had ruined my canal, but I could still grip a finger, and my friend Tarquinia has five fat babies and her husband keeps filling her furrow. I could sheath a man as well as I did as a maiden, and with considerably more skill and ardor. All to no avail. Marcus was a good husband in many ways, but in the bedroom, he seemed distracted at best. It came as a shock when I learned the real reason. Marcus had come home from Gaul accompanied by a beautiful slave, a beauty named Antoninus with dark eyes, smooth skin, and rippling muscle. All the girls of the household had noticed this new slave and it was clear my Marcus favored him. I learned why later that night. I heard my husband moaning and went in to check on him. The scent of olives oil filled the air, and my husband was on the floor, on all fours, shiny and sweating. Antoninus crouched behind him, pressing the biggest cock I had ever seen into my husband’s bottom. And my husband was as hard as he had been on our wedding night, his cock bobbing up and down as he pressed back to meet each of Antoninus’s deep thrusts. I was shocked but could not look away. The men were too deep into their own passion to take account of me, pushing back into each other grunting, breathing deeply, my Marcus’s cock seeping fresh pre-cum, his balls pulled up tight around him. Finally, my husband saw me, but he was too far into the moment to stop. Instead, the most amazing thing happened. His cock and balls began to contract, without a single touch and I watched as his milky seed spurted from his pink shaft, a thing I had struggled to achieve. Soon I heard Antoninus’s cries of joy and his balls contracting as he pumped his cream into my husband’s delighted bottom. They collapsed together, kissing and cooing as if I did not exist. Shocked, but also aroused, I fled back to my own room, to lay upon my own bed, and press my fingers into my cunt, to slide them up and down and rub myself. As I lay back quivering after my release I realized he would likely never warm my bed again, that for all my power and privilege I would live my life as a Vestal, chaste and barren. It made me angry and furious, and I pounded my hands upon the bed in frustration. I was not meant to sleep alone. I am Fabia, and when a woman of my blood has needs, she acts!The question became how? It would be hard to explain a baby born in a barren bed. I could have chosen affairs and trusted the witches to keep the consequences away, but I knew from talking to other women that did not always go as planned and when it did the process could be terrible. I could, of course, take a man the way Antoninus had taken my husband, but my pussy objected. She wanted her due. But I am Fabia! All Patricians were the subject of gossip. Romans are avid gossips. Oh, a little scandal, that might be fun. But I could afford no real scandals and almanbahis şikayet preserve my ambition. So I resolved to throw a party.The guests mattered. The mix was everything. Of course, I invited close friends like Tarquinia and reform-minded women like Atia of the Julia, while mixing of Traditionalists like Servilla and Cicero’s wife Terentia. I even asked the late Dictator Sulla’s daughter Fausta Cornelia. Oh, this struck me as a spicy brew, but not enough. To stir the pot further I decided to invite the one woman whose very presence would ensure talk and a hint of scandal. Her name was Clodia Metella. Clodia was tall and beautiful with long dark hair and eyes like emeralds, Her figure was lithe and all sung praises of her beauty, none more so than the poet Catullus. She was his Lesbia, his muse, his inspiration, and frustration, for she had seduced and abandoned him. Gossip said she liked teasing a man with the possibility of paradise and then crushing him. If so, Catullus was broken. All knew of his obsession; he hardly bothered to hide it and had become a subject of gossip himself. It seemed shameful, but I had spoken with him and seen the pain and desire in his eyes. I adored the poetry that pain had inspired. I understood well how disappointment could break a heart. I had to know for myself if this Clodia matched the many rumors she had inspired. Her family was as famed as my own, she was of the highest society and her handsome brother Clodius Publius was campaigning for high office. There were rumors about them of course, rumors she had seduced her brother like so many others, but I put them down to the vicious nature of Roman politics. I did know she had seduced many husbands and made many enemies. Servilla was particularly bitter for her husband had become almost as mooney over Clodia as Catullus. A party requires a plan, so I made one; a carefully selected mix of guests, food, entertainment, and Falernian wine. I kept my house slaves busy getting provisions. My chef, a Greek, prepared multiple courses. Many bottles of the finest Falernian wine were procured. The house was made spotless. My boy was sent to his wet nurses. My Egyptian maid Isla dressed me in my finest stola and I wore my best jewelry and waited for my guests to arrive. And I knew they would for none refuse Fabia. Julia Atia arrived first. We knew each other well and likely she knew some secrets of my marriage, but Atia was not a gossip, just a good woman whom I welcomed warmly and led her to her couch in our Triclinium. I’d arranged the guest couches in a circle and set Julia to the right of the center. Then Davina to the left, Quintilla and Valeria, and of course, Tarquinia all arrived, were greeted and led to their place of honor. Tarquinia and I had been friends as girls and she took the couch to my left. Servilla arrived next. She was a lean woman with small eyes, a small mouth, and hair the color of sand. Her eyes were gray and she smiled and thanked me for my gifts, and then asked me about my Marcus.“Do you know when your husband might return from Gaul? It would irk me to be bonded to such a handsome man and not to have him share my bed.”“It is a sacrifice,” I said, careful to retain my smile. “But we are Rome, and the sons of daughters of Rome do our duty for the Republic. If Marcus can endure the separation of hardship, who am I to complain when I live in such comfort?” “It might be less hard on him,” she said, smiling back. “Tell me, did he take that beautiful slave of his with him?”“He did.” It took some work to keep the smile on my face.“Well, if I had such a man, I’d keep him close,” she said, kissed my cheek, and settled on her couch. I smiled at her and led her to the couch opposite mine. Then went to greet my next guest, Fausta Cornelia, her status as Sulla’s daughter giving her an air of danger. Cicero’s wife Terentia’s couch lay to the right of Servilla’s, nigh opposite mine. The last to arrive was Clodia. She already enjoyed a reputation for beauty, but even Catullus could not fully capture her presence. Her lips were brilliant red and her smile bright. Her stola was brilliant green, warm and lovely and she wore jewels on her wrists and the most clever rings upon her fingers. Her skin was fair and smooth and her shape exquisite, but it was her eyes I remember most. Green eyes shifted and focused, and I felt as though when she was looking at me as if there was no one else in the world. One look and I understood Catullus’s burning need for her. I felt like a virgin meeting her beautiful bridegroom. Clodia Metella was everything I’d heard and more. But Fabia learned to hide my true feelings. “I’m shocked you invited me, Fabia,” she said. “My reputation is among the worst in Rome. People will talk.” And she took my hands in hers, holding almanbahis canlı casino them gently. It was shockingly intimate for a Patrician woman. But I missed being touched and her touch was not too intimate. Some women touch others, and if Clodia was one, it would only enhance her reputation for debauchery. I held her hand as I replied. “Why should I care about the gossip of strangers? Your family and mine are among the most celebrated in all of Rome. Our families have made history. Who cares what fools say?”“Fools can damage a reputation. There are many who will not welcome me. Already they talk of you. They speak of your husband’s taste for the company of men.”“I think my husband tastes wonderful,” I said, sticking out my tongue.“You would know his flavor better than I, but I think as rule attractive men taste wonderful, unless consumptive.”“Well, I’ve only tasted the one,” I said. “Is that so?” she said, gently stroking my forearm. “You should branch out, as much time as you are forced to spend alone. A girl needs new experiences.”“Well, you are new to me,” I said. “Let me show you my home. After all, this is your first visit. I’m certain it won’t be your last.” I led her past the atrium, and around the main room where my guests were congregating. “Don’t bet on that,” she said. “I recognized Servilla’s palanquin. Be warned she very much dislikes me. So do Terentia and her loquacious husband. There will be sparks.”“My life is the boring life of a Roman wife whose husband is off serving his country. I need some adventure.”“What kind of adventure?” Her hands touched my hips, gently, nowhere too indiscrete but still very familiar. I froze for a moment, surprised. I had heard of her affairs with men, but never with women. Could Catullus’s pen name for her, Lesbia, be more pointed than I had imagined? It was not impossible. Sappho herself was not the first woman to choose that alternative route. Women prefer discretion in our affairs. Most of us, anyway. “Adventure,” I said, aware that without a thought I had pushed back to meet her fingers. Likely she was testing me, finding out what my buttons were. And I had some. I am not touched often, and it was welcome to feel the fingers of another high-born woman upon me. Still, I figured it was a game. If she could tease me, why couldn’t I return the favor? I slid my fingers along her bare waist and matched her fingers’ explorations with my own. Touching and being touched by Clodia made my skin tingle. What did my touch do to her? I could only play the game and find out. “I think I could stand for a bit of fun.”“Good, because there may be some. Later, though. First, come the fireworks! Servilla thinks I seduced her husband.”“Did you?” I asked with an amused voice.“Well he’s a handsome one, I’ll grant you that, and pretty much threw himself at my feet. I seem to have that effect on some men. In his favor, he’s very well-equipped under that toga.”“I’ll take that as a yes.”She chuckled. “People are so uptight. The Gods never forbade fornication. Jupiter himself is proof. For all his adulteries and her famed rage, Juno never leaves him. I think there is a reason, one that has nothing to do with sacred vows. I think Juno likes such excitement but keeps quiet because of her duties. And why not? Why should men have all the fun?” And her hip brushed against mine. Embarrassed and stimulated, I looked around. Thankfully I saw only my Egyptian handmaid Isla. Her eyes were flashing and locked on us both. “Is she your handmaid?” asked Clodia, with a sweet voice, her fingers resting on my stola. “She looks like she might have the tongue of a snake.”“I wouldn’t know.” “Perhaps you should find out,” Clodia said, withdrawing her touch. “She looks like she’d enjoy a taste. You’d like it too. And your husband is in Gaul, with Caesar. Out in the company of men being manly.”So Clodia believed the rumors. If lots of people did, that could become a problem. And she’d just let me know. “I can bet you didn’t hear that vile rumor from Servilla.”“We don’t speak,” she said. “But Servilla speaks to everyone and many speak to me. Family matters, but in truth, each of us gets only one life. Don’t spend yours longing. Live!” She touched the small of my back, leaving me strangely light-headed.“That’s good advice,” I said looking back at Isla, whose eyes were following me, mouth open. She was my slave of course, and I could demand anything of her. But would she want to? In one sense her desires did not matter, but in truth, it did, at least to me.“Aren’t you concerned that I might seduce your husband? After all, I’ve seduced so many!” She laughed as if it was nothing. Her arm was in mine, holding me close. “Not especially,” I said.“Well, your Marcus is far away. But he won’t be gone forever.”“Clodia, beautiful as almanbahis casino you are, and you are breathtaking, but you lack the one thing my husband wants most.”“A cock?” she said with a wry smile. “A cock,” I said. “I thought so. No matter. I don’t gossip, I am a target of it enough. If your Marcus likes a cock those can be fashioned,” she said. “I know an artisan who performs such work. Some men love playing the girl. And some girls the man.”My eyebrow can be arched at that. “Well, I’d have to see such a tool for myself,” I said,“You’ll like it, and likely from either side. It’s quite a different feeling,” she said, fingertips sliding along my arm. “To be the man.”“I like being a woman,” I said, breathing deeply. I had more sympathy with Catullus than ever.“Both sides have their virtues,” she said. “But as a woman, do you miss it? His cock?“No comment,” I admitted.Clodia laughed. “I’ll take that as a yes. Nothing wrong with liking cock in all its myriad forms. I certainly do.”I laughed. “Well, I loved being fucked. When I was being fucked.”“I wonder what else you like?” she said. She squeezed my hand then let me go as we returned to the others. We passed the slave quarters and she summoned her handmaid to whisper something in the girl’s ear. The girl nodded and promptly left. Then we entered the main room. I didn’t say a word, but I had goosebumps and I knew Clodia had noticed. I’d known her for ten minutes and it felt as if I were an open scroll, my whole self revealed to her. I led her back to the main room where my guests reclined upon their couches. I guided her to the couch to my right, a place of honor. Faces soured when Clodia settled there. Terentia glared. Fausta Cornelia covered her mouth. None was angrier than Servilla. “By Mother Juno, Fabia, why did you invite her?” Servilla’s face turned deep red. Clearly, she had not gotten over her resentment. “Haven’t you heard what she did with my husband?”Clodia smiled sweetly at Servilla. “Servilla darling, Cintus says you’re very dry down there. It can be a problem for women as we age,” noting that Servilla was passing her prime years. “Try a little olive oil. A little oil makes penetration so much smoother and makes possible tighter alternatives that men secretly enjoy but sometimes lack the courage to request.”I have never seen a jaw more rapidly drop than Sevilla’s. It might have gotten ugly if my old friend Tarquinia hadn’t spoken up. “Clodia is so right,” she said. “Venus’s fountain is a bit sparse for me, but after one of my slaves gave me that advice it transformed our relations in the bedroom. For everyone!” and she rubbed her very pregnant belly to prove it.“I had that same problem for a while,” added Fausta Cornelia. “After my second boy, lovemaking became painful. Oil did the trick.”Cicero’s Terentia covered her mouth, frowning. Her husband’s feud with Clodia’s brother had gotten very ugly.Fortunately, my girlfriends kept the topic more where I intended. “Boys are not the only ones who like tighter alternatives,” said voluptuous Cecilia wiggling on her couch. “And no one ever got with child using that route.”“That must help with your husband off serving the Great Pompey,” said Clodia. We all laughed at that. For we had male slaves too, and one of Cecelia’s was a big Nubian with fine features, lean muscles, and very smooth skin.“Well, the front way works just fine,” I said. “It gave me my son.” That reminded everyone that my husband and I had relations. At least once. “Speaking of our men, is there any word from Gaul, Atia?” said Quintilla. “You must know something. Your cousin Caesar is in charge.”“No recent reports,” she said, freeing me from that duty. “Julius says the Gauls are crafty foes and he’s going to have to subdue them with patient tactics. But my brother shall triumph. His men have tremendous faith in him.”“He’s very friendly with men,” said Terentia, which drew some sharp stares. Rumors had been spread that Caesar had served as a catamite for the King of Nicomedia. That rumor took hold when Caesar returned from that land with many ships. Some said the rumors had been spread by Terentia’s husband Cicero. “Ships for sodomy,” the wags said. I didn’t take them seriously as any man with ambitions had enemies, and few were more ambitious than Julius Caesar.“My cousin has defended Rome for years,” snapped Atia, eager to defend her cousin. “He has enemies to be sure, and enemies make up stories.” “Stories are not always fabricated,” said Servilla. “Of course, I was not referring to your brother Caesar, who is a brave and noble soldier. Brothers and sisters can be so close,” she said, glaring a Clodia. She really must have hated Clodia to bring up the rumors that her love affairs included her handsome brother Clodius. Many claimed Cicero himself began those rumors, and all knew both wanted to become Consul. I thought the rumors had more to do with the way Clodius had rebuffed Servilla’s flirtations. He was a beautiful man who had ladies as hungry for him as men were for Clodia. I too had felt him when he was near. 

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