Messalina, Former Prostitute

Messalina is the love interest of Gaius and a 20-year-old repenting prostitute under the guidance of Sister Flacilla, who runs a home for wayward women. Reforming prostitutes was a big undertaking for Empress Theodora, who was a former actress and notorious strip-tease performer. It was said that the empress was so good at her reform work that men grumbled about the increased cost of whores due to so many being taken out of the trade.

 

Messalina was sold into prostitution by her wastrel mother who was a prostitute and also sold her other daughter Arbella to be a slave. Messalina helps Sister Flacilla minister to the poor and sick, which is where Gaius Galen met her. He’s been trying to bed her for months but has been unsuccessful. Messalina is a strong, spicy woman and becomes a strong force in Gaius’ life, helping him to maintain his resolve and sanity in performing the duties he is forced into to save her, others he loves and the men and woman who follow him into riots. Here is an excerpt from Chapter 10 of a conversation at a party of actors and chariot team drivers and workers…

 

“Do you men know who this Messalina is?” asked the actress Chara, touching the arm of Messalina sitting next to her.

 

Scorpus informed us, again, that she was one of Sister Flacilla’s projects.

 

“Before that,” Chara said. “She was a prostitute, but not a base screwing animal like Messalina, the long-gone wife of Emperor Claudius.” She turned to Messalina and asked, “You never coupled with 24 men in one day, did you dear?” Messalina said she had not.

 

“She was the most prized companion in Antioch – for this,” Chara put a long red fingernail to Messalina’s heart. “The loftiest of men called on her – prefects, admirals, bishops, sculptors and even a King I’ve been told. Isn’t that right, little one?” Messalina nodded yes.

 

“They came for her heart, for her comfort, her companionship.” Chara smiled to Messalina, who shook her head to cease this praise. “Oh, I’m sure she rutted, I’m sure she pleased their manliness, but they always left their hearts with this one.” Chara stood up, goblet held high. “To Love – what we all want, what we all need, and what the fortunate find.”

 

Everyone at the table stood and drank to Love, most looking to Messalina and me.

 

“Bravo!” said Scorpus clapping. “Love, trust, companionship, so good of you. And some men do need that.” He gave a mocking shrug. “While some men like me need ... great sex! Let’s say Chara asked your advice on that, Messalina. What would you tell her?”

 

Messalina looked as if she wasn’t sure she would answer. Then said, “First, know your horse. Does he like a treat of apples or oats? Does he finish strong or does he merely start strong?” she asked this looking at Scorpus, which brought a table laugh. “Second, delay and reward, delay and reward. Third, make love like you want to get pregnant – passionately with the heat and urgent desire necessary to conceive. Finally, don’t conceive, so don’t forget the crocodile dung beforehand!” and she patted herself below her belly.

 

Scorpus made a face of distaste. “I thought only peasants still did that. It doesn’t really work, does it?”

 

“The kind we used did,” said Messalina. “It wasn’t just the dung, but other substances included in the mix specially made for our house by a respected witch. It was invisible, odorless and I never once got pregnant.”

 

“Maybe you’re barren,” offered Scorpus.

 

“And maybe you are an ass, charioteer,” she hurled this at him hard, surprising us all. She reached over Chara between them and took Scorpus’ wine goblet as her own. She was hot.

“Let’s talk about your sex now,” she challenged. “Tell me Scorpus, is it true what some of the local girls I live with say about your predilection for orally enjoying your women? Don’t you men still consider this debasing yourself to the weaker sex?”

 

The table was silent and attentive as she drank from his goblet, then put it back in front of him, sloshing a bit over the rim.

 

“We hear you have a different woman visit you early each race day,” she gave an incredulous look for the benefit of the table. “We hear from one among our group that you like to flavor that beard with your woman’s wetness.”

 

Scorpus was about to speak, but she stopped him – “We hear that you then take your perfumed face to seek the approval of your horses!”

 

The table laughed lowly and rumbled with crosstalk.

 

“What are you mumbling about? Some of you know this already,” said Scorpus with irritation, then adopted a calmer tone. “Since I have been experimenting with this strategy, I have won more often than last year. And did you know, Messalina, that my lead horse likes the scent of Syrian women more than all others? Makes him fly like an eagle.”

 

The two locked eyes. Messalina stood, still looking at Scorpus as she moved behind his chair. She put her hands on his shoulders pinning him there with some force. He didn’t move.

“I could have told you that,” and she bent down to peck a kiss into his beard. “We are the best,” she said as she slid her hands from his shoulders down to his wrists, slowly.

 

Everyone at the table – and none more than I – felt her breasts pressing into Scorpus’ back. This, I thought, was Messalina of the House of Eros, the one I never got.

 

She patted his wrists, slowly rose and said softly, “Best in many things, dear Scorpus.”

 

He was up in a flash, pouring from his goblet into Messalina’s and handed it to her.

 “Friends of the track and theater, do we keep this pair among us?” Scorpus asked the table.

 

“Yes!” they all said, saluting goblets to the stars before drinking them empty.