37. Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Seven

M arcus Fabius Varro

“Obviously, it’s a phallus, but…”

She gives me a tour of the purple thing—why on earth would one choose such a color?—explaining that the rabbit ears stimulate the landica; she calls it the clit. Even though I recently relieved myself outside—watered the cucumbers—my cock is twitching, hardening as she talks.

“The beads?” I ask.

“The beads are… hell. Here.”

She presses buttons, showing how the controls make the floppy bunny ears vibrate faster and faster, then she touches another button and the phallus gently rotates, making the white pearls near the base swirl inside the casing.

Back in Rome, few houses didn’t have stone phalluses of various sizes lying in one bedroom or another, but the way this is mechanized is truly an engineering feat. My mind sticks to the quality of the design for only a few moments until my thoughts arrow to pictures of Laura using this tool on herself .

My cock is rock hard, leaking semen, as I imagine her on her bed, knees pointed at the roof, thighs spread wide, using both hands to plunge this toy inside her dripping channel.

She clicks off the machine and reaches for the towel to cover it up.

“No. Wait. What material is this?” I reach for it.

“No! We’re not going there, Varro.”

“I just want to feel the vibration.”

She’s been avoiding my gaze, staring at the fire, so I don’t think she’s caught on that I’m hard as steel under these flimsy pants that hide nothing. Perhaps that’s why she reluctantly hands it in my direction as she says, “Thanks for not laughing. Take a good look and then let’s put this behind us, shall we?”

The item is pliable, non-porous, bendable—unlike anything I’ve touched before. It’s only when I drag it to my nose and sniff that everything shifts.

Her showing me this machine had already been an intimate experience. Frankly, I never thought she’d agree to it. Watching the thing dance in her hand was highly arousing. Thinking about it doing its job, increasing her passion, giving her release was making me harder than I ever was with the men and women who paid for my private performances.

But when I impulsively bring it to my nose to smell it, the moment changes. Her intimate smell still clings to the shaft. Sadly, it’s mixed with chemicals, but I can detect her personal scent underneath the smell of the item itself. I can’t control my urge to inhale long and deep, which causes Laura’s gaze to dart from where she’s been pretending to look at the fire.

She’s staring at me with the purple bunny pressed to my nose. If I were a better man, I’d hand the thing back to her, thank her, and go outside to give her privacy. But I can’t escape the compulsion to sniff it again, to dart my tongue out and taste her.

“Varro! Stop! ”

This yanks me back to the moment, and I hand her the toy.

“I thought you’d laugh and I’d be mortified,” she whispers. “But this is worse .”

“Apologies.” My tone is sincere. “I got… carried away.”

It’s only now that I notice her nipples are pressing against the fabric of her tunic. We’ve lived together for weeks, and except when we kissed, I’ve only seen this when she was cold. Laura isn’t cold now; the hearth is pumping out heat. Laura is aroused.

Impulsively, I blurt, “Your body can only go so long without relief. I’ll leave you alone so you can tend to yourself.”

She scoffs. “Right. You’ll leave now and know exactly what I’m doing in here.”

“Yes. Just like you know exactly what I’m doing when I tend the cucumber patch.”

She huffs, growing more frustrated.

“If that’s not what you want, Laura, I can… service you.”

I know those are the wrong words the moment they escape my lips. She said my attitude toward sex was soul-crushing.

Her response to my offer bears this out when she makes a guttural, pained sound reminiscent of the noise a gladiator makes when struck with a mortal blow in the arena—only this is softer and somehow better expresses anguish than the sound of a dying man.

“Fuck you!” She strides to the door, grabs her coat off the hook, and leaves.

I don’t run after her, knowing she doesn’t want to hear my apologies. Jenny fires up and I listen as Laura drives away. I stand still until long after the last groan of the engine can be heard as it travels across the island in the dark.