“Honestly, it was the biggest one I’ve ever seen!”  

“Oh yes, she ran off with the slave…from Gaul….terrible tragedy”

“What does he think he’s staring at?”

“And I thought I had seen bigger!”

She drew her arms more tightly around herself, momentarily enjoying the cool breeze coursing through her. If I have to attend another one of mother’s parties I shall spike my own wine! She thought irritably.

Atia, ever the hostess, had thrown, what she liked to call, “A little get together”-for the fourth time this week. 

“Not to be courteous or generous.  To work her business of destruction.  Wars may come, leaders will change, and blood may rain down from the heavens.  But she will never stop.” Octavia muttered under her breath.  Indeed her mother could be listening at this very moment, or probably employed someone else to do so.  No one of Timon’s gang, thank the Gods.  Though they were built for the hack and slash, they had no guile in espionage.  No, probably Merula, or one of Antony’s soldiers. The ones still loyal to him anyway.  Atia was always curious about what others said about her. Maybe because she says so much about them.  Octavia sighed, and glanced around her.

Six barrels of wine stood just outside their greeting hall, while Castor darted about madly, pouring wine, offering refreshments, and otherwise catering to Atia’s every whim and fancy.  Atia herself swanned from the room to room, bedecked in a beautiful (and terribly expensive) pomegranate coloured gown, slightly cinched in at the waist.  The hem barely touched the floor so that it was possible to see her golden sandals, seeming woven with river ferns.  She wore a bright red wig, shocked into curls and a most unusual hairpiece; beads woven into a band, enmeshed between strands of flame red hair.  Although her green eyes had a look of contempt about them, no one could deny her beauty nor compare to her grace.  Atia, ever the tigress, prowled in and out of crowds, a word here, a pat there; the perfect socialite.

Not like me thought Octavia as she moodily turned her back on the crowd again. “Gods! Will it never end?” She felt as if she would explode at times, due to the sheer helplessness of it all. 

The breeze thickened, and Octavia had the faintest sensation that someone was behind her.  She moved to turn when-“Don’t”.

That voice.  Soft and low.  Said only for her ears.  Octavia shivered, straining to move her feet from where they had frozen.

A hand tenderly reached out, caressing her neck, her hair, stroking the golden waves.  Gentle fingers, strong hands, warm with wanting.  Octavia leaned back and sighed very quietly.  The hand caught her elbow, and lightly spun her around, so that she found herself staring into deep green eyes, fringed with the lashes she never got tired of looking at.  Agrippa.

“What are you-“she began.

Agrippa lowered his head, pressing his lips softly against hers, for the briefest of moments.  Warm, sensual lips filled with passion, desire.  For her. 

Octavia closed her eyes, as all else melted away.  There was only him.  He pulled away, stroking her face from temple to chin, smiling slightly.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, finally managing to get he words out.

“You looked lonely.  Standing here, by yourself” He replied, his voice steady and even.

“What else can one do at one of mother’s parties?” Octavia laughed, causing Agrippa’s face to crease into a smile.   He drew her to away to one side of the veranda obscured by the hanging silks, Merula had placed there earlier. She smiled knowingly and touched his chest lightly, her hand travelling up to his cheek.  Hidden from all, by Agrippa’s shoulders, her fingertips explore his face.  High firm cheekbones, sandy eyebrows, straight nose, wet lips…

This time it was Octavia who bent forward, pressing herself to Agrippa’s mouth, her tongue gently licking his lower lip, begging for entrance.  Gladly, he obliged, as she slid her tongue in, caressing his with hers.  Her hands raked his hair, as his gripped her waist, and pulled her closer to him, until she was unsure of which body was hers.

Through his clothing she could feel his swell, and pressed herself against him tighter.  He moaned softly, burrowing himself in her neck, kissing the sides of her throat.  Octavia threw her head back, and looked up at the sky, the stars, losing herself in her pleasure as Agrippa continued to pulse against her abdomen, against the throbbing that lay there. 

“Oh gods…I want you” she breathed.  “I don’t care who’s watching or where we are.  Please just take me.  Just hold me. Now”   

Agrippa, so close to ecstasy almost obliged, but, instead, he stood upright, and tenderly gripped Octavia to him.  He knew it was not safe, not allowed, especially in this house.  If they were to be discovered, what would become of them? He would surely be deported, to Africa or to Gaul.  To join the army there and maintain the Roman Empire whereas she…she would fade away out of sight, out of mind, where he could never again so much as look at her. 

This thought in his hear, he hugged Octavia to him and said, with as much control as he could muster, “No.  I can’t, we…we shouldn’t.  Not here.  Not yet”

Octavia stared searchingly into his eyes for a moment, before leaning against his chest, slowly nodding in agreement.  His arms were round her and he held her as if she was his only reason for living, sole reason to breathe.  She breathed in his smell, comforting and familiar, struggling to fight back the tears that came of her frustrations. “What are we to do?”

Of course, there was no answer, no fail safe solution for this kind of predicament.  There was only hope, hope that they would be able to be together, for all time.  As lovers were meant to be.

As Agrippa, left that night, with Octavian and Maecenus Octavia watched them go.  She saw Agrippa, briefly look back, up into the darkness that was her face.

She watched him turn, sadly.  She watched him swallowed up by darkness, as all other too left.  She watched as her mother, the slaves, the cooks, the dancers, the whores all retired to their beds of wine and song.  She watched the lights go out, as all became dead to the world.