Ariston was suddenly awake. He looked around; nothing. He lay absolutely still aware of danger without knowing why. He had just purchased this house with gain from a necklace he had received as a token to the Goddess Ashtar. He intended to settle into this city and become a merchant, leaving behind his hard life on the road. He had not yet become weak from the city life and his feral senses brought him instantly alert.
In the dim light of the stars, he saw a black line at the top of the white wall opposite, picking up his sword and like a panther stalking, crept into his garden. He watched and saw a head appear above the wall, a body flattening itself on the top. Then, the hook which is what had drawn his attention was reversed and a rope came slithering down to the garden.
Ariston moved like a shadow to the base of the wall. A small figure came shinnying down the rope, lightly touching the stones. As the intruder started to look around, he felt the razor sharp edge of Ariston’s sword pressing against his throat.
“Don’t move,” Ariston commanded. The intruder froze. A hand quickly searched him finding the knife in his belt. Then it expertly found the one hidden in his belt at his back. “Any others? If I find it later your head will be in the dust.”
The intruder gurgled unable to speak because of the blade pressed against his throat. Ariston released the pressure, a little. “The right boot.”
Ariston pulled the knife from the boot and tossed it with the others. “Any more?”
“No.”
Ariston dragged the man into the center of the garden and tossed him on the ground. “Who are you?”
“I am Oyek.”
“What are you doing here?” Ariston asked.
“Nothing at all, good sir,” the man said.
The blade flicked out, cutting the shirt on his chest but not even grazing his skin. “Lie again, good sir, and the next cut will be deeper.”
The intruder gulped looking at his shirt cut in twain. “And who has not heard of the barbarian who is paying five thousand gold pieces tomorrow for this fine house. That must mean the coins are here tonight. Should the prince of thieves not come to collect such a reward?”
Ariston was not surprised that the news had spread so quickly, about a barbarian buying the house, or that the news was wrong. Rumors never do reflect the truth. Nor was Ariston put off by the thief's bravado. He admired it in the face of his sword having been a thief at various times in his wandering. “How did you hear?”
“The merchant Rousoul was celebrating at the inn. Well, good sir, the inn has ears and those ears came to me and told me of what they had heard. It seemed easy prey for the prince of thieves.”
“Oh?” Ariston asked. “Do you still think so?”
“No, good sir. It seems that I was mistaken,” he said bowing his head.
Ariston laughed, “I should take your head and put it on a pike to warn others who might think I am easy prey.”
Oyek blanched, sure that this barbarian would do it. “Gentle sir,” Oyek pled. “I could do you a service, much worthier than my poor head. I could enjoin all thieves to avoid your house, and your caravans. Consider, that all thieves would avoid anything which was yours. Is that worth more than my poor head?”
“I could get the same by displaying your head,” Ariston growled.
“Not for as long. Memories fade for those untouched. But noble sir, I will remember.”
Ariston laughed remembering his own days as a thief. “Yes, for as long as you live, even though that be five minutes.” He could see Oyek tense. “But, I do not want the blood of a prince on my hands, even if he be the prince of cats. Bring twenty gold pieces tomorrow to me and keep your promise about my property.”
Oyek was surprised. “And if I don’t?”
“I will find you,” Ariston said with quiet confidence.
Oyek shuddered at the deadly confidence in that voice. He was sure this barbarian who moved like a panther in the dark would find him, if he so wanted.
Ariston picked him up with one hand and dragged him to the rope. “Tomorrow, twenty gold pieces.” He smacked him with the flat of his blade. Oyek shinnied up the rope like a rat escaping from a cat. He disappeared over the wall. The hook disappeared as well.
Ariston laughed as he returned to bed. He wondered if the rascal would show up in the morning.
The next morning, Jasmin prepared a breakfast of figs and barley gruel. She also prepared tea, a drink Ariston was unfamiliar with. His first taste did not bring him much pleasure.
A little later, Sadik appeared. “Master, a man to see you.”
Ariston went to the door. A skulking man was there. He handed Ariston a small purse. “Oyek sends this.” The man scuttled down the street and disappeared into the first alleyway. It jingled in his hand causing Ariston to smile. He didn’t bother counting it, sure it would be right.
Ariston went in and found a brass chest in his room. One of the keys Rousoul had given him opened it. It was empty, not surprising. Ariston put his sack of coins inside, along with the remains of the necklace. He quickly counted out the gold pieces he would need to buy the house and put the rest back in the chest, closing and locking the heavy chest.
When Rousoul came at noon, he was invited in. Ariston handed him the coins. The man opened the sack and his eyes widened. “I admit, stranger, I still wondered if you would really have this much money. I wondered if you would simply have had a free night in my house. Well then, friend, the house is yours.” He turned to go.
“The prince of thieves knows of your good fortune,” Ariston said.
Rousoul turned back, a look of horror on his face. “You told him?”
“Not I, friend, you did. He had ears at the inn last night. He took the opportunity to visit here last night thinking to avail himself of the coins before I could give them to you. I convinced him to leave. But he knows you come today to pick up the price,” Ariston said. "As a friend, I thought I should give you warning."
The merchant was sweating. “Aiye, the prince of thieves… They will follow me.” He hefted the bag, “For this they would gladly kill me.”
“Have you a knife?”
“No, I’m no warrior,” Rousoul said.
Ariston stepped into the house and returned with his sword. “Well, then. I want no one to say I did not pay properly for the house. Come, I’ll take you home.”
The relief was palatable on Rousoul’s features. “Thank you, good sir.”
They walked along several wide streets. Ariston saw a group of men waiting by an inn. They had the look about them, restless and watching. Ariston quickly looked about them to see if it was a trap, with others ready to come from behind but there were none. It seems the ambush by this group was considered enough to overcome Rousoul. He checked his sword to ensure it would draw easily. They went on. Ariston saw the men looking at the bag carried by Rousoul.
As they passed by, he heard the scraping of a sandal on stone. He turned in an instant, drawing his sword and pressing Rousoul behind him and against the wall. The four men all had drawn knives. Facing a man with a great sword halted their charge. “Throw it over and you’ll not be hurt,” the leader of the gang shouted.
Ariston laughed. “Ask Oyek if I’ll surrender or if I’ll cut out your gizzards.”
Uncertainty replaced the confidence in the faces. “Get him,” snarled the leader urging the others forward.
Ariston lashed out with his great sword and the first bandit screamed and fell, his face slashed in twain. The sword continued on in its arc catching the second thief at his shoulder. The arm holding his knife fell to the ground. The thief toppled over, following his appendage into the dirt, screaming in pain. Ariston’s sword now returned in another slash of flashing metal and the third bandit’s head leapt from his shoulders. Only the leader remained, staying well clear of the sword.
“Drop the knife,” Ariston said quietly.
The bandit turned and fled. Ariston drew his knife from his belt and in a blur tossed it striking the bandit in the back. The bandit stumbled and fell to the ground. Two thieves were still alive, though they were both screaming as their life blood drained from their wounds and into the dirt.
“Let us go,” Ariston said to the stunned Rousoul. He led him off, as Rousoul could not tear his eyes from the gruesome spectacle. Ariston stopped to pull his knife from the back of the leader. The man was also still alive. “Remind Oyek of his promise,” Ariston said.
They left him lying in the street.
Rousoul was near gibbering in his relief and thanks. “I owe you my life. They would have killed me easily. Tell me, how can I repay you?”
Ariston laughed, “If some day I need your help, remember.”
“I swear by Ashur that I will always remember this debt,” Rousoul said touching his head.
Ariston was part way to his goal. After he escorted Rousoul home, he asked about merchants that might need a partner.
“Good sir, I think your skills lie elsewhere. I know many merchants who would love to have you lead a caravan, a man of your fighting abilities.”
“I will buy the partnership and be a merchant. I've spilled enough blood and sooner or later, the Gods will change sides in the battle. No more fighting for me. You know I have the gold,” Ariston said.
Rousoul paused looking thoughtful. “I know of one such man. Mustafa is alone currently. It is said in the market that he needs coin to finance his next caravan. It will not be cheap,” said Rousoul.
“Where does he live?” Ariston asked.
“I will have my servant escort you. Go with the Gods' blessings,” he said.
Ariston was led to a large house not far from his own. The servant knocked and told the man who answered that Rousoul commended this man, Ariston, to Mustafa. The servant invited him in and led him to the garden of this house, and bade him be seated. Soon, an older man appeared. “I am Mustafa. Why does my friend Rousoul send me a barbarian?”
Ariston did him courtesy, “It is said that the Merchant Mustafa needs gold. I have wealth to spare. I wish to be allied with a merchant of note who will show me the ways of the city and who can use my knowledge of the world.”
“Too much is said in the city,” Mustafa said gruffly. “Come sit with me by the fountain,” he said, leading Ariston to the center of his garden well away from eavesdropping servants. “So, you wish to become my partner, I who have worked my whole life at trade.”
Ariston nodded.
“And how do you propose to make this worth my while?” Mustafa asked.
Ariston drew out a hidden purse. He carefully opened it. Inside was the necklace. He gave it to Mustafa.
The merchant eyed it giving no clue as to his thoughts. “It is missing several stones.”
“And if it had the stones, who could afford such a necklace; maybe the king. No one else could buy it whole. And if you have only one buyer, well, that limits the price. No, you will take it apart, just as I have done and sell off just what you need, saving the rest for when need arises. But, my friend, if you think you could sell it whole, I can show you exactly where the stones are,” Ariston said.
“Ah yes, my friend, you are quite right about the necklace. No one in the city except the king could buy it.” Mustafa got up and paced the garden. “I don’t want a partner, but I need one. I’ve had three caravans robbed in the past year. What you heard in the market is true. Bad luck, but such is life.” He looked at the necklace. “This is such a fine thing. I hate to break it up… But I need the money.” He looked at Ariston. “Well then, partner, come have a meal with me and we will talk about how this partnership should work.”
Ariston and Mustafa shook hands on their deal, fifty-fifty on all future caravans. Ariston left and wandered into the heart of the dark part of the city. Eyes watched him relentlessly, but the sword at his side and the tales already circulating about a barbarian who seemingly killed as easily as he breathed kept the denizens at bay.
Ariston found an inn and went in. A threatening silence fell over the inn as he entered. He went to the counter. “Give me a beer and send one of these rascals for Oyek,” he said slapping a copper on the counter.
The inn keeper said, “And if I told you I know no such man.”
“I’d cut your gizzards out for a liar to encourage the next man I asked,” he said quietly.
The man blanched, quickly motioned to a boy who fled from the inn.
“Now, the beer,” Ariston said.
The man quickly filled a jug and set it before Ariston. It was only a few minutes before the door was opened and Oyek came in. Ariston lifted the jug in salute. “Join me, Master of Thieves.” Turning to the bar, “Another beer for my friend, Oyek.”
They sipped their beers and Oyek led him to a corner, shooing away others from the surrounding tables. “How may I serve you?” he asked.
“I told you to keep away from my property,” Ariston said.
“I did. I sent them after Rousoul, not you. You think I’d have sent my four best cut-throats to be slaughtered if I knew?” he asked accusatively. “They were to find Rousoul’s purse, not yours. How did I know you’d hired out as a bodyguard.”
Ariston laughed. “I must apologize then. I had no idea they were your best. I’d have let them escape if you had but told me.”
Oyek shook his head. “You need no longer worry. The news is in everyone’s ears. I doubt you could find any man in the city brash enough to try to steal from you now.”
Ariston smiled. “One more thing. I have become partners with Mustafa. His caravans are mine. I know your word will carry weight in the city. But I would appreciate it if your word could also travel to the hill tribes who have been robbing my poor partner.”
“Word may travel but all might not believe,” Oyek said.
“Then let them know; I will hunt them down like dogs, poison their wells, kill their goats, despoil their virgin daughters. The hills will not protect them from me like they do the soft people of the city. I can move through their hills better then they can,” Ariston said quietly.
The determination, the understated way in which the barbarian voiced these threats, made the hair on Oyek’s neck stand up. He had no doubt this barbarian would do exactly as he promised. “The word will be sent.”
Ariston nodded. He left the inn, a smile on his lips, and made for the Temple square. He must thank the Goddess for his good fortune. What better way than to worship with one of her acolytes.
As Ariston entered the temple square, he saw a great many people before the Temple of Ashtar. Wondering what this meant, Ariston wandered among the people and watched. He saw the nobles of the city forming a fence at the entrance. No one entered and no one left the temple.
Puzzled, Ariston went round to the side of the temple, then around to the back. At the back of the temple, he saw one of the Priestesses he had come to know in a window. He waved. She opened the window, looking down at him, a question in her gaze. Ariston grew up in the rocky hill country and a climb such as this was little challenge. He removed his sandals for better grip. A run and jump put him half way to the window. His fingers and toes found every crevasse in the wall and he quickly was beside the window.
The priestess was watching him, surprise showing on her face. “Come in. Welcome to the temple,” she said laughing.
Ariston pulled himself in the window and put on his sandals. “Why the guard at the front?”
The Priestess answered, her voice showing her disgust, “The Queen serves her day in the temple. The King cannot prevent it as it would be sacrilege. But he can use his nobles to prevent any from entering while he sits in the Palace claiming to know nothing of it.”
“Why does he not come to the temple to keep men away?”
“No. Husbands, sons, and brothers are all forbidden the temple when a woman does her service. It would be incest for them to enter. Today, no one will enter the temple,” she said.
“Except me,” he said.
The priestess laughed, “Yes, you. Come, my strong barbarian friend. You should be in the main room of the temple. You do wish to worship the Goddess?” she said with a smug smile.
“Of course,” he said.
The priestess led him down to the main room. The temple was strangely quiet. There were no women in the temple, but one. The alcoves were all empty. As he walked across the room, the Queen looked up and gasped. “Who are you?”
“I am a worshipper of the Goddess,” he said.
The queen was flustered but remembered her duty. “Uh, well, yes, I welcome you in the name of the Goddess.”
“Excuse me dear lady, but it seems you are the only devotee today and I must choose you.” Ariston took a gold coin from his purse and handed it to the Queen.
She looked at the coin as if it she had never seen one before. Then she recovered her wits. “It seems good fellow that you are correct. My husband must not have thought of that when he decided to lock me alone here, that I must be the one chosen.” She took the coin to the altar and put it before the Goddess. A faint laugh filled the air. Ariston recognized the laugh and it filled him with wonder, but the Queen seemed not to hear it.
“I think the Goddess has decided to play a trick on your husband for not worshipping the Goddess properly,” Ariston said.
“No, stranger. My husband worships the Goddess regularly. It is me he wants to lock away,” she said.
“Then it is even a better trick on him, is it not?”
The Queen laughed, “Yes, a better trick on him. Come,” she said leading, him to the closest alcove. “I must admit, I am nervous. No one had ever entered before today while I was here.”
Once she closed the arras behind them locking them together, the Queen looked very nervous. “Dear Lady,” Ariston said. “Do not fear. The Goddess is with us. We need only put our faith in Her and worship the pleasure which she gives us.”
The Queen laughed, “Yes, man of the strange accent. Perhaps the Goddess did indeed send you for me. How else could you have come past the ring of warriors outside?” She reached for the single clasp holding her robe, unpinned it, letting her garment fall. Ariston eyed her appreciatively, for she was still young and quite beautiful.
Ariston pulled off his clothes, tossing them aside. His shaft had risen upon the Queen’s unveiling. Her eyes locked on it and her breathing was in quick short breaths. He stepped to her, taking her in his arms. Their lips met. She pulled him to her, rubbing against him like a cat in heat.
He pulled her to the soft carpets as they kissed. His hand found her sex and gently caressed it. Her hips jerked, pushing against his hand. His fingers slid between her nether lips, finding her wet with desire. Ariston smiled at the Queen, silently acknowledging the evidence of her desire.
She smiled back, “I worship the Goddess. Now, come my barbarian and worship with me.”
Ariston slid between her legs which wrapped round him. She took his staff and led it to her. A push and they were joined. She moaned as he filled her, “Yes. Come sweet Goddess and give us pleasure.”
Driving hard into the woman below him, Ariston determined to give her the pleasure she sought. She met him with the same passion, driving her hips up to meet his. Both were swept up in the passion of worship of the Divine Prostitute. Ariston continued driving hard into the woman. She was no longer a Queen. She was a woman in heat. Her hips met his. Her legs pulled him against her. She panted in heat as she rose higher and higher towards the Goddess…
A sweet sheen of sweat covered the man and woman as they rutted together, their skin sliding and slipping as his shaft slid into her. His hips ground against her sex taking her higher. She could take no more… Her climax exploded inside her breast.
Ariston felt the woman go stiff beneath him as her well exploded, milking at his shaft seeking his seed. He felt the Goddess descend unto him and he exploded, sending his seed in great gouts into the woman. Over and over he exploded into her, filling her, then his seed ran down between them.
The sweet lassitude of Ashtar filled him with pleasure. One last thrust and he was done. The Queen felt the hot fluids of his climax filling her as Ashtar came to her, giving her pleasure. The barbarian had given her his all and she moaned in triumph; she had taken his all.
She lay back, exhausted from their passionate lovemaking. Never before had she felt a man take her so strongly, so passionately. Their hands slowly caressed each other as they both caught their breath.
“Oh, Great Goddess,” Ariston whispered.
“Yes,” the Queen whispered to him. “She is great indeed.”
Ariston rose and dressed. The Queen was smiling watching him dress. “Next year, I will be here,” she said.
He smiled, “I know.” Ariston emerged from behind the arras covering the alcove.
The priestess was waiting. “Greetings worshipper of Ashtar. It seems that the devotee has done well and enjoyed her service to the Goddess. I doubt we will be able to keep her away from the temple now.”
Ariston, feeling wonderfully fulfilled, as worship of the Goddess often left him, “Yes, she did indeed do her duty to the Goddess with passion and dedication.”
The Priestess laughed, “Follow then and I will escort you to your most unusual entrance.”
She waved him away as he jumped from the window. Ariston strode around to the front of the temple, the guard line of nobles, each intent on his duty, made him laugh. He had not gone soft from the city life. He shook his head and set out for home.
Ariston was almost asleep one night when a blue fog began to grow in his garden. He sat up and grabbed his sword. The fog began to swirl, a light coming from the nexus. A voice came from the fog, a voice he had heard before, the voice of a Goddess, “Ariston.”
He fell to his knees, “Yes.”
“I have a task for you, Ariston. Only you can do what is needed,” she said.
“What do I have to do, my Goddess?”
“Listen. The worshippers of the Evil One, the Dark One, have established a hidden temple. Their purpose is to divert people from the worship of the great gods and trick them into worship of the Evil One. You are to find the hidden Temple of Evil, find their God, and bring him to my Temple.”
Ariston was stunned. Bring a God to the temple? “How am I to find the temple?”
“Trust the gods.”
“When shall I do this deed?” Ariston asked.
“In three nights, the moon will be at her brightest. The Evil One hates the light. The temple will be closed and his followers will be in hiding at their hatred of the clean silver light. You will enter the temple and bring their god to me,” the voice said.
“Yes, my Goddess,” he said.
The blue light inside the swirling fog faded. As it winked out, Ariston saw a flicker of blue light on the ground. He rose and went over. An amulet lay on the ground, a great white crystal set in the middle. He picked it up, not knowing where it could have come from. He put his trust in the gods.
On the third night, as promised, the moon was full and cast its silver light upon the city that seemed nearly as bright as day, throwing shadows as the sun does. Ariston was dressed in his hunting clothes, his sword in hand, and his knife in his belt. He donned the amulet. The light from the moon hit the crystal and a silver finger of light flashed onto the ground. As he moved, the light seemed to lead him on. He followed it. As he approached the first intersection of streets, the crystal caught the light of the moon and flashed ahead into one street. Ariston turned and followed, astonished at this strange gift from the Goddess.
The light led him on to the thief’s quarter; the streets became dark and narrow. He could feel eyes around him. His gait changed to his nocturnal hunting stalk as he blended into the dark. Silently, Ariston moved through the shadowy quarter, the dark becoming Stygian. But always, the crystal seemed able to catch the light of the moon and lead him on, twisting and turning through alleys.
Down one alley, Ariston found a blank wall. Stymied, he stood straight. The crystal alit on a stone on the wall and stayed. Ariston approached. The light had descried a cleft between two stones. Ariston’s fingers slid between the stones and hit metal, a lever. He pulled and the wall pivoted, half swinging in and half out. A dark tunnel was before him. Whispering a prayer to the Goddess, Ariston descended into the abyss of the Evil One’s temple.
The tunnel twisted and turned, like a snake’s track, slick from the dampness coming off the walls. The crystal glowed now, with an unearthly light, blue, barely illuminating the scene as the dark seemed to swallow the light. The walls were slick and smooth, dark black stone, like obsidian. Onward, deeper and deeper into the bowels of the earth, the tunnel led him on, always twisting. Suddenly, a dark hole was before him. He could see that the tunnel emptied into a large area, the details hidden by the creeping darkness.
Ariston crept forward, quiet as a mouse with an owl watching. He stepped into the room. Nothing was moving. But his senses, honed by his life in the wilds, felt something. He drew his sword in anticipation. A sound… A black shape lunged towards him. Only his near superhuman skill allowed him to avoid the lunge. The crystal on his chest flashed into bright light displaying a scene of primitive horror before his eyes. A giant black snake, a thing of nightmares, thick as a man’s waist, reared before him, the tongue flicking, the red eyes blazing with malevolent desire to kill.
The horrid snake struck again, the mouth open, the great fangs, large as knives, dripping poison. His knife and sword met the beast, the knife hitting the roof of its great mouth and slicing through into the brain as his sword half chopped through the neck. The great thing fell to the side, ripping the knife from his hand as it twisted in its death agonies. Coming to rest finally, the poison of the fangs scoring the stones where it lay.
Ariston grabbed the handle of his knife, pulling it free. With a great slash, he cut the head from the body, which writhed on the floor in its death agonies. Ariston’s mind recoiled at the evil thing that lay twitching on the floor. He turned away to avoid looking at it.
There was a fire, burnt down to red coals now, across the room. Ariston stuck the head of the serpent on his sword and dropped the grotesque head and his befouled knife into the glowing coals. Black, greasy, noxious smoke arose.
He glanced around the room and saw a golden snake on an altar. He hurried towards it. As he reached out, suddenly it was as if his hand had been caught. The muscles on his arm stood out and sweat covered him. The crystal flamed on his chest and he was able to, with a final mighty shove, put his hand on the snake.
A dread hissing sound filled the temple. The hair on his neck stood on end. He wondered if there was another black denizen in the temple. As he tilted the golden idol, a sound like the chopping of a great ax filled the air, and the hissing grew into a shrieking wail, filling the room, reverberating off the walls. Fear filling him, for the noise would be heard by anything in that dread temple; Ariston grabbed the golden snake and ran as fast as he could up the winding twisting tunnel back to the surface of the world. Several times, the damp slick floor caused a foot to slip, crashing him into a wall. Heedless, he sped onward and upward. Escaping from the darkness filled his mind near overcome with the sense of primordial danger and pushed all else away.
The golden snake in one hand and his sword in the other, Ariston sped up the slimy slanting tunnel. By instinct, for his movement was too fast to be conscious reaction, Ariston threw himself down, hitting on his shoulder and rolling to his feet. A sword, more felt than heard, swished through the dank fetid air only inches above him. He lashed out into the Stygian gloom with his sword, cutting through something only to hear a wail of pain. The jewel on his chest flashed into the dark to illuminate a towering figure, a great sword held above ready to slash down. The jewel's light hit the man square, blinding him for a moment. The moment was all the wilderness trained Ariston needed, his sword, a blinding arc in the clean light of the jewel, disemboweled the hulking figure, his entrails spilling onto the ground, his howl of pain cut short as the sword returned to lop his ugly head from his shoulders. Ariston turned to see the other brute holding his leg trying to staunch the flow of blood from his nearly severed leg. A flash of bright metal in the threatening dark added one more rolling head to its twin as Ariston leapt away towards the relief of the surface world ahead.
Ariston burst from the wall and into the alley, thanking the gods. Even the clammy filthy alley smelled fresh and clean compared to the fetid temple below. Without slowing, Ariston scampered from the thieves’ quarter to the center of the city. A priestess awaited him at the Temple entrance. She quickly led him into the temple where acolytes had a great fire going and a cauldron heated red.
Ariston handed the golden snake to the priestess, who ritually offered it to the goddess, then dropped it into the cauldron. As the thing melted, a great hissing sound issued from the cauldron. As the last of the metal turned liquid, a shriek of elemental evil filled the air, then faded and was gone.
The Priestess intoned, “Great Goddess. We, your servants, offer this now pure gold to you. It has been cleansed of evil by burning in the heat of your Grace.”
The acolytes poured the liquid gold into molds making it into ornaments for the temple.
The High Priestess turned to Ariston. “Listen, man. The goddess gives you much favor. The Goddess so wishes that you may enter the temple anytime you desire and worship her with any devotee... or priestess.” Her eyes seemed to shine with a special purpose at him.
“Now?” Ariston asked, wondering what it would be like to worship with a woman whose whole life was devoted to pleasure.
The Priestess smiled, took his hand, and led him to the soft carpets. “It is the will of the Goddess,” the Priestess whispered sensually, her eyes flashing with sensual fire, her hips swaying, her breasts heaving with desire.
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