This is a work of fiction, using a character from the film, “Gladiator".  No insult or invasion of privacy or infringement of copyright is intended. The story is for readers over the age of 18 only, and contains adult language. The writer is not responsible for any "discomfort" caused to the reader by this language and these situations.

Maximum Magic

©2008 by: Jackie

The last thing he remembers is the wheat field, the wheat field and his wife, and his son, and then he was free...

The gray-haired lady at the museum gingerly attacked the crate with a crow bar that looked heavy enough to topple her. The crate came all the way from Santesteban, in the north of Spain. Santesteban and Magic had set up a cultural exchange programme as of last year, and now a part of her highly treasured Native American collection had been sent off to a little Spanish museum not unlike the one she was standing in now, to be replaced by this crate. It was odd. There wasn’t even a note, not even a letter with a description of the contents. And for this she had sent off her priceless, ancient... She softly muttered to herself, displeased to the utmost.

The top came loose with a sighing creak. She lifted it off and peered in. Styrofoam, just her luck. She scooped out hand after hand of the hideous stuff. It stuck to one’s clothes something nasty, so each handful went into a plastic bag she had at the ready for just such an event. And finally, after scooping for what seemed minutes, something showed underneath. It was wood, a lid, a large chest. Immensely old, with big iron nails.

Was it medieval, or even older? She shook her head. This was way out of her league. And where was the file from the Santesteban museum? Carefully, she worked to remove the rest of the crate, until the chest stood in the middle of the smallish storage room, free, in all its ancient glory.

She tried lifting the lid. It was so heavy, it only gave for an inch or so, then she had to let go again. A whiff of a very strange, though certainly not unpleasant smell escaped, then the lid fell back with a ringing THUD. She sighed, looked around for a solution to this problem, and when nothing presented itself she left the storage room, in search of help. Maybe that nice young man with the muscled arms, um, what was his name again, Myron, wasn’t it? Maybe Myron was about somewhere outside, and he could give her a hand opening this chest. There had to be something in there, something that smelled nice, something that…

…he was free, finally he was free from the fighting, the betrayal, free to go back to his family and his farm, free to… THUD.

…thud? What? What was that sound? And why was he even capable of noticing it? Apparently one could hear, in the afterlife. Perhaps, then, seeing would be an option too. He opened his eyes, but was greeted by nothing but blackness. No sight. Touch then? His fingers wiggled carefully, then he let them wander over the rough surface of… he was inside a… coffin?

Suddenly, panic gripped him. He was dead, and apparently, in the afterlife he was conscious, able to move, no pain from his wounds, yet stuck in a coffin, for ever and ever in all eternity? His panic quickly shifted to an aggressive energy and he  lifted his arms, coiled his legs, placed hands and feet against the lid of the coffin and gave a mighty push.

The lid came clear off, clattered to the floor, and immediately a blinding light seared his eyes. The light of the Gods! Had to be, there was no other explanation. He shut his eyes and saw red behind his eyelids. Carefully, he sat up, hands feeling the edges of the coffin. When he was upright, he waited. And waited a bit more. Strange sounds attacked his ears, buzzing, humming, growling sounds that he’d never heard before. And suddenly he couldn’t control himself and he cracked open one eye.

Walls full of shelves. Bags full of strange, unnameable stuff. A miniature sun, dangling from the ceiling. He sat and stared in wonder at his strange surroundings. Never in his life would he have thought that the afterlife could take such shape.

Myron was nowhere in sight. The museum lady shielded her eyes with her hand and scanned the street outside the museum once more, then… She froze. She had heard a bang, coming from inside the museum. A bang, followed by a clatter. Impossible; there was no one in there! She turned on her heel and practically ran back inside, stopping only to retrieve an old baseball bat from behind the till. She’d kept it there after that bus full of rowdy city kids had come by and one had tried to rob her. He’d said it was for fun too, that monster of a boy.

Intrepid, bat at the ready, she entered the storage room, where to her intense alarm she saw a large man dressed as a Roman general gingerly climbing out of the chest. He had his back to her, but she could clearly see that he was built like a tank. The room was filled with this strange but pleasant scent that she had smelled coming from the chest.

Where did he come from? Was it a prank, like that time with the school kids? Unbelievable! She shuddered with indignation. And suddenly something inside her took over and she stormed forward, swung the bat and landed it on the guy’s head with a sickening crack.

His eyes rolled back into his head, his joints turned to jelly, and Maximus Decimus Meridius, Commander of the Armies of the North, General of the Felix Legions, muttered a surprised ‘…strength and honour?’ before slumping back into the chest that had magically brought him to Magic, California.

~*~

‘Oh my goodness,’ said the gray-haired lady, who was British by birth. She had married an American soldier in her youth, and had followed him all around the world. They had been through a lot together, until she had come here to live out her life with him, and then, unexpectedly and far too soon, he had gone and died on her. She had been devastated; he had been her one and only love… Nothing however, not even the death of her beloved Bill, had ever managed to erode her manners.

So, predictably, she was now appalled at her own behaviour. She dropped the bat, covered her mouth with her hands and scuttled over to the chest, where the fellow in Roman attire lay sprawled. She peered into his face, gently patted his cheek and said; ‘…are you all right, pet? I’m truly sorry, I didn’t mean to hit you like that!’

The man opened one eye and grunted softly. His hand shot up to feel the bump starting to form on the back of his head, and his jaw worked. Then, to the surprise of the lady, whose name happened to be Rose, he said: ‘…you can’t be from my pantheon.’

‘What was that?’ she inquired, not sure if she had heard right, and backed off a few steps as he sat up. My, but he was a big lad!

‘What is this coming out of my mouth?’ thought Maximus. ‘It’s not Latin. Nor is it Hispanic. I don’t know what I am saying, yet the words form themselves on my tongue. Must be the language of the Gods then, though which of the Gods I am facing now…  I can’t be certain. Better tread carefully; after all, the Gods are fickle.’ He had a beauty of a lump on his head; it was a bit of an unpleasant surprise to him that pain, and physical hardship, still seemed to exist in the afterlife. But he would adapt; he always had.

‘What is your name, dear?’ said Rose from a relatively safe distance. She mused, silently. Did he just say pantheon?

‘Maximus Decimus Meridius,’ said Maximus on automatic pilot, frowning, still feeling his head.

Maybe he should ask this God who she was. Would that be considered impolite? If it was a vain God, she would be angry with him for not knowing her on sight, and maybe she would hit him again. It was a fairly harmless punishment; he had withstood far worse, but it was uncomfortable nonetheless. Perhaps he should…

‘I’m Rose Cookson,’ offered Rose, ‘Sorry for the, um, well, the thing with the bat.’ She came forward, smiling, unable to fight her breeding. She had her brittle, old ladies’ hand outstretched. ‘Nice to meet you, um, Maximus. Can I call you Max? Do call me Rose.’

Maximus looked at her hand and seemed at a loss.

Was he supposed to do something? Should he give this Rose something? An offering? Clearly, it was some kind of greeting ritual. He creased his brow in anguish. What if he got it wrong?

‘It’s all right, pet,’ Rose said kindly, ‘I won’t harm you, just give me your hand.’

Max raised a hand, and to his clearly visible surprise, Rose took it in her own small hand and shook it briskly.

‘There, now. Now we’re introduced. That’s better, isn’t it? And now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, maybe you should come with me into the kitchen; I can make you a nice cup of tea, and I’ll have a look at the bump on your head. Gosh, I’m ever so sorry to have overreacted so terribly, but you see, I thought you were one of those nasty boys, just like last time…’ Rose softly tugged at Max’ arm, indicating he should get up. He complied meekly, but was a little shaky on his legs, so Rose had to support him as he climbed out of the chest.

When finally he stood next to Rose, she had to tilt her head back at a dangerous angle to look at his face. Good grief, he was enormous! She only stood chest height to him, and she felt dwarfed. But he seemed a friendly, non-threatening soul, and so she was all the more ashamed for having clubbed him on the head like that.

He was very quiet, also, and Rose wondered where he was from. When he spoke, he had a strange lilt that she couldn’t place.

‘Max?’ she asked, as she tugged him along by the hand, into the tiny kitchen.

‘Yes,’ he said.

‘Sit here, dearie.’ She indicated a stool, and Max lowered himself onto it.

‘Now tell, me, how did you get to be in the chest, where are you from? And what’s with the costume?’

Max thought for quite a long time.

She seemed like quite a friendly God, after all. From the look of it, she didn’t want to hurt him again, so it stood to reason she wanted to weigh him. Judge whether he would go to Hades, to pay his homage to Pluto, or he would dine at the side of Mars and see his family again. He would have to be completely honest with her; he was sure she would be able to see right through him. But lying wasn’t his way; he had lived and died with honour.

Rose in the mean time was busy with the water heater. When the water was on, she turned to face him, the question in her face.

‘I do not know how I happened to be in the chest.’ Max said, earnestly.

Rose suddenly had an idea. Perhaps he was an, um, what was the word again, an illegal alien. Perhaps he had climbed into the chest in Spain, in the hope of starting a new life for himself here in the States. Perhaps hitting him on the head had confused him, or perhaps he was afraid to be open with her, afraid she would send him to the police.

‘Don’t worry, pet,’ she reassured him, ‘I won’t breathe a word of what you’re telling me. But I do so want to know where you’re from. I’m a curious old bat,’ and she giggled at herself.

Max didn’t join her laughter. Instead, he once again thought for a long time. ‘Originally, I am from Hispania,’ he finally said. ‘But I was a Roman above all else. And then I was dead. And then I was here.’

‘You were… dead?’ Rose said, incredulously. ‘As a figure of speech, you mean? You left your old you behind and… became Maximus Desimeridious? What is that, a Greek name?’

‘Roman,’ he said, with just a hint of proud indignation.

‘Oh I do beg your pardon,’ Rose said. ‘Tea, dear?’ And suddenly a shock went through her. What if she had hit him so hard that he had lost part of his memory? That he didn’t remember who he was, or had been, what his plans were, or where he was going? What if it all was her fault?

‘Do you know what year it is, Max?’ she asked cautiously.

‘CXCII,’ he said without hesitation.

‘What’s that, pet?’

‘Pardon me,’ Max said. ‘ I should say 192.’

‘No, the year. This year, the one we live in.’

‘Yes, 192. The year in which I died.’

What was the God up to? He may not be able to read and write, but he wasn’t a fool. He knew exactly what year it was.

Now it was Roses turn to be quiet. She sipped her tea and regarded Max with an earnest eye.

‘Do you know,’ Rose proceeded cautiously, ‘it’s the year 2008. You’re in a town called Magic, in California, in the United States of America. Does any of this ring a bell, at all?’

‘2008?’ Max softly repeated the outrageous number to himself. ‘2008? MMVIII? By the Gods, am I in the future? And what is this place, the United States? Is it a Republic?’

Rose laughed. ‘You’re having me on, aren’t you? You and your Halloween outfit. For a moment there you had me. But I’ve cottoned on to you now, you silly Greek.’

‘Roman,’ Max said patiently.

‘I will get to the bottom of this, with you. But in the mean time, you’re coming home with me. I think you have no place to go to, and I think I should try to make it up to you for hitting you on the head. Tell me, are you hungry?’

Max gave it some thought, and suddenly found his stomach growling something furious. ‘Yes,’ he answered truthfully.

‘Right, it’s settled then. Come on, Max, drink up your tea, I’m closing up and we’re going home.’

‘Home?’ Max repeated quietly.

He was thinking about his villa, burned down by the hated Praetorians. His wife and son, killed. How long before he would see them again? How long would he have to linger in this world in between, this strange and bewildering… future? He would just have to wait and see, the Gods would decide. In the mean time it appeared like this God wanted to take him into her dwelling. Surely, that had to be a great honour?

He drank his tea – not bad, by the way, as drinks go – got up, and followed Rose to the wardrobe of the museum.

‘Here, Max,’ Rose said, handing him a large trench coat. ‘This was left here by some gentleman passing through, and it has sat here all this time. Put it on; you can’t walk the streets in your silly costume, pretty as it may be.’ She eyed the breastplate he was wearing and noticed the nicks and dents. It looked… lived in. Used. As in: in fights. Amazing.

Rose shook her head. It couldn’t be. She helped Max into the coat and watched him fumble with the buttons. She did one for him, he watched closely, and then did the rest of them himself. Maybe he had lost his memory after all, the poor lad, couldn’t even remember how to button up his coat.

His bare legs looked funny under the coat, not to mention his sandals. Fashion disaster. But Rose lived only two blocks away and she was hoping to get Max home and inside before anyone could gawp at him and start asking funny questions. At home, she would have to dig around in the belongings of her son-in-law. Here dead son-in-law. Randy had been a big guy too; with a bit of luck there would be at least a tracksuit that would fit Max. And here, a tiny spark of an idea blossomed in Rose’s head. Perhaps… if she had enough time… she might just be able to… She allowed herself a little smile, and mentioned to Max. ‘Come on, dear, this way,’ and she scuttled off home, followed obediently by the powerful loping sandal stride of Maximus.

~*~

Rose’s house was not big, but it was neat and cosy. She was very orderly and kept it spotless and ready for guests at all times. Max would be no trouble at all to have around. It was a bit odd, actually, to take him home with her just like that; after all, she didn’t know anything of him, apart from the fact that he was probably suffering from memory loss because she had walloped him on the head with a baseball bat, and that he was probably Greek. But she trusted her instincts, and besides, she had a plan.

He was a kind man, she decided, and a bright one, if somewhat muddled at the moment. She could see the intelligence shine through in his eyes; it became apparent in the way he assessed the situation and dealt with things efficiently and without fuss.

He had however surprised her when she told him that he was welcome to the bathroom and, in response, he had immediately stripped to the skin.  That was a little too efficient, even for her. He shed his Roman army gear methodically in a matter of seconds and appeared completely uninhibited as he stood before her, gloriously naked, gazing down at her expectantly.

She swallowed and for an instant wished she was thirty years younger. But then her maternal instincts took over and she led him through to the bathroom, where another surprise awaited: apparently he didn’t remember how to work the taps. So, calmly and meticulously, she ran him through everything down to the flushing of the toilet, all the while feeling the tiniest of flusters from being right next to this absurdly well-built, big, strong, yet gentle, and, most importantly, nude man.

She left him in the shower, an amazed and delighted look upon his face, and said to him as the bathroom began to mist up: ‘Listen, Max, when you’re done, there’s a big white fluffy towel waiting for you here, and right next to it is a tracksuit for you to wear. It’s clean, don’t worry. I think it will fit you nicely.’

Then, she went downstairs to the kitchen. What would he like to eat? She decided on a large omelette with mushrooms, and went to work with her usual briskness.

Maximus lifted his face into the jet and marvelled at the feeling of clean, abundant warm water pounding on his head and shoulders. If the afterlife had things like these, what was the word, showers, he could certainly live with it. He almost smiled at the contradiction huddling in that thought. But, he had to ask himself, was this actually the afterlife? Or was this something else entirely? The future? He wasn’t certain. He did know with certainty though that Rose was kind, even though she might not be a God after all. If this was indeed the future, maybe she was… a mere mortal, just like he was. She did seem genuinely sorry for having hit him on the head. He immediately forgave her; he would have done the same if the roles had been reversed. Gods, he probably would have killed himself, wouldn’t have let himself off with just the one crack to the skull. Now, a definite smile tugged at the corners of his mouth and he allowed it for an instant, as the hot water mellowed him.

It smelled divine and as Rose neatly landed the omelette on three generous slices of bread, Max - comfortably clad in the tracksuit - came padding down the stairs, attracted by the promise of food. He stood in the doorframe, relaxed but poised, at ease but ready for action.

Rose smiled at him and invited him to sit at the table.

He sat, quietly, and stared at the fork and knife next to his plate. The knife he could figure out, though he frowned at the blunt tip, but the fork puzzled him to no end. He picked it up and inspected it, tested the prongs with his finger, weighed it in his hand.

‘It’s a fork,’ said Rose kindly. ‘Don’t you remember a fork, pet?’

‘I do not remember a fork,’ stated Max resolutely, and he laid it down on the table. He eyed the food on his plate hungrily, but wasn’t sure how to go about eating it.

‘Oh all right then,’ said Rose, smiling, ‘I’ll show you how. I’m sure it’ll come back to you soon as you’ve seen it done, eh, Max?’ And she took the knife and fork, sliced off a chunk of bread and omelette, speared it on the fork and handed it to him.

He accepted the fork and hesitated. It smelled utterly enticing and he had to take care not to drool on his hooded top.

‘Go on, open wide,’ encouraged Rose, as if he were a five-year-old.

And then Max popped it in and chewed, eyes closed in bliss. Rose grinned happily as he then dug into the food with passion, making it disappear before her eyes. She had always liked a man with a healthy appetite.

‘Good?’ she asked when his plate was empty.

‘Good,’ said Max, nodding at her gracefully, his light eyes sparkling. ‘You are a good cook, Rose. My thanks. It is kind of you to have me at your house, and it is good to be clean again. I do not always get the chance on the field of battle.’

That was the longest speech he’d made so far. His English sounded strange, stilted, as if he wasn’t used to it, yet he didn’t have a real foreigner’s accent. Rose looked him over curiously, as he sat there in the dark blue trackies. He picked at the fabric of his top, feeling it between his fingers, stroking it.

‘Do you feel comfortable in that, dear?’ asked Rose. ‘Would you like anything else to eat, or would you like something to drink?’

Max shook his head. He plucked at the fabric again and said, sounding almost surprised: ‘This is very soft.’

‘So, you’re a soldier then?’ asked Rose, desperate to keep the conversation going and hoping to get a little more information out of him.

‘I was a soldier, a general; I fought for emperor Marcus Aurelius. Commanded the Felix legions. Then everything changed and I was just a fighter.’

‘What happened?’ Rose kept a straight face and thought: Marcus Aurelius, upon my word! But oddly enough, Max sounded completely sincere.

She started to wonder though, in a dark little corner of her mind, if the town was… well… acting up again. It had been quiet for a very long time; no sudden appearances, no unexplained deaths, in short, no surprises either pleasant or unpleasant. Nothing out of the ordinary for at least ten or fifteen years. Long enough to forget reality and believe none of it had ever happened. And maybe all these strange stories her nonagenarian neighbour Beth had told her over endless cups of tea before she died, were no more than that. Strange stories. Better not to dwell on…

That’s not true, Rose, whispered her mind. They are more than just stories and you bloody well know it. You do remember how you ended up here, don’t you? She remembered. And didn’t want to go there; the memory of how she, Bill, and their daughter Diana, ten years old at the time, had arrived in Magic and what had happened subsequently was too painful, and too confusing.

According to Beth though, Magic had its episodes, and during one of these, Rose had come into the town. Unlike most of the newcomers in town, Rose had immediately been aware on some level that something special was happening. Some people had died, the last of which had been her beloved Bill, and a lot of new faces had flooded in. The funny thing was, that Rose actually found it very, very hard to remember any specific details of that time, but she was sure that there had been some… strange occurrences. And now… Perhaps the arrival of Max signalled another of those episodes starting? If that were the case, it would put things in a totally different perspective.

Rose sighed, pulled her attention back to the here and now, and saw that Max was just as lost in thought as was she. There was pain in his eyes. She laid her hand on his arm, ever so softly, and he jolted back to the present, his muscles tensing with an almost audible whip crack.

‘It’s all right, Max, you’re quite safe here. Won’t you tell me what happened to you?’

Max swallowed and blinked a couple of times; then he willed himself to relax. He looked at Rose, and made up his mind to speak. ‘My emperor,’ he almost whispered, ‘was like a father to me. When he lay dying, he wanted to proclaim me his heir. But his son Commodus made sure he was dead before this could come to pass, and when I refused to pledge allegiance to Commodus, the new emperor, he had me taken captive by his Praetorian guard, to be killed in the forest. Praetorians were also sent to my villa in Hispania, where my wife and son awaited my return.’ He paused, having trouble continuing.

Rose patted his arm. ‘There, there, sweetness,’ she comforted him, as he struggled to go on.

‘I killed the Praetorians before they could kill me, and rode to my villa with all speed. But…’ he sighed and a single tear rolled down from his eye, ‘I was too late.’

‘Were they…?’ asked Rose.

He nodded. ‘Everything burned to the ground. I was exhausted. Wounds, both inside and out. I wanted to die there and then, but the Gods did not allow it. I was taken captive, came to a gladiator school and was made to fight.’

‘For real?’ asked Rose, disbelief in her voice.

‘Yes. To the death, every time.’ Max replied matter-of-factly. ‘But I did not die. I tried, I fought hard and reckless, but I did not die. We fought every arena until we came back to Rome, and I faced Commodus again. He did not fight with honour. Finally, I was allowed to die, and be rejoined with my family, but now I find myself…’he spread his arms a little, and whispered: ‘…here. With you, Rose.’

Rose nodded, and suddenly she believed him. Max was no illegal alien. He was no Greek with memory loss, he was a Roman, a real one, and Magic was working its magic again.

She also knew without a doubt that the little idea she had had when she decided to take Max home was more than that; it was the town doing what it did. Manipulating the lives of its inhabitants, and drawing new people in. After all, a town was only a town if it had inhabitants, and Magic wasn’t about to go without.

~*~

Max was in the back yard, working the leaf blower with military precision. He liked it, just as he liked all those modern appliances that Rose had explained to him. He picked up on the 21^st century really quickly, Rose thought as she watched him calmly strolling the grounds. They had sorted through Randy’s clothes to find the ones that fit him, and the ones he liked. He apparently didn’t want to wear anything dark red or purple, but he was intrigued by the jeans. He liked the pockets. He also liked flannel shirts and other soft fabrics. What he didn’t like though were shoes. No sneakers, no boots, nothing that covered his feet. So Rose had gone to the shop and had bought him flip-flops. He loved those.

He looked good in his modern clothes, Rose mused; there was something in the way he held himself that made them sit well on him. He looked, well, noble, old-fashioned as that may sound. He moved gracefully yet economically, like he was sitting on a large amount of power, to be unleashed at his command. If he weren’t so poised and centred, he’d be frightening.

Rose checked her watch. They should arrive any minute now, and her little plan could come into play. And just as she got up to make coffee, the doorbell rang and she heard her grandson calling her name from outside.

‘Grandma Rose, Grandma Rose, it’s us, open up!’

‘Yes, I know, Leo, here I am, pet, come on in!’ and she opened the door to the five-year-old boy bouncing up and down excitedly. Her daughter stood right behind him with his backpack in her hand and a wide grin on her face.

‘Hi Mom, he’s been so excited, I couldn’t get him to sit still in the car…’ and then mother and daughter hugged and kissed.

‘Come inside,’ said Rose when they finally let go of each other, ‘I’ll ask Max to help you with the bags.’

‘Who’s Max,’ laughed Diana, ‘you’re not going to tell me you have a new boyfrie…’

At that point Max came in from the back yard. He stopped abruptly in the middle of the room and stood very still.

‘…Oh my God he’s wearing Randy’s clothes…’ Diana screamed in a whisper, a look of horror on her face.

‘Gods!’ was all that Max could think as he stared at Diana. ‘She is… beautiful is not good enough a word. She knows pain. She is powerful… and she hates me!’ At the realization of that, something sank in his heart, something he didn’t know he still possessed. He wondered if he appeared so displeasing to her, to justify the way she looked at him. Had he become repulsi…

‘Who are you?’ demanded Leo, tugging at Max’ shirt.

Max blinked and looked down into the boy’s face. ‘I am Maximus. Max. Who are you?’ he said solemnly.

‘Leo,’ said Leo, ‘just Leo. What are you doing here? You’ve got my dad’s clothes on.’

‘This is Max,’ Rose hastened to explain, ‘he’s, um, he came along with the museum exchange, to help with the exhibition, but unfortunately he’s lost all his luggage on the way over, so I put him up here and, well, he had to wear something, didn’t he? I was really happy I hadn’t chucked out Randy’s clothes yet…’

‘Mom, you were supposed to get rid of that bastard’s things months ago. You promised! Why in hell do you keep them laying around?’

‘Well I was going to bring them to the church, wasn’t I? I just never got round to it. Come on, Diana, sweetness, calm down. Randy’s been gone for over a year now, and…’

‘…and I’m still looking over my shoulder all the time! I’m still worried for my son! Come here, Leo,’ and she yanked the boy away from Max, giving him an angry stare.

‘Di, love, calm down, Max is not Randy, he’s just wearing his…’

Max quietly took off the flannel shirt, and the tee he had on underneath. He held the clothes in one hand and spread his arms a little, letting the body language of his undeniably impressive bare chest and muscular arms convey the message that he was not the clothes he was wearing.

Diana looked at him until her eyes brimmed over and she turned away. Leo stood very still, mesmerized by Max.

‘It’s OK, Max, just put your shirt back on,’ Rose said calmly, but Max shook his head, turned, dropped the clothes on a chair and went back out. Through the window, Rose saw him pick up a rake and get back to work in the yard, his movements clipped and more eloquent than words could be.

That went well, Rose thought cynically, as she went into the kitchen to finish making coffee. Diana went outside to her car, to drag in the luggage she had stowed in the trunk. It took her three stiff legged trips to bring in every item. Rose marvelled at the amount of stuff she had brought for just the one week of staying over.

‘You try travelling with a five-year-old,’ Diana grumbled as she caught Rose’s look. ‘Where’s Leo?’

Rose and Diana both turned and looked out the window, to see that Max and Leo were both in the yard, working side by side. Leo chatted away to Max, throwing him admiring looks from time to time, and Max lifted a very large rock off the ground to move it out of the way, his muscles bulging.

‘Who is he, Mum?’ Diana asked quietly, beginning to regret her earlier outburst already.

‘He’s a good lad, Di. He’s Spanish by birth and he, um, spent a lot of time in Italy. He is, well, very knowledgeable of the Roman period and I’m very glad he’s here to help me out with the exhibition. They sent me a full Roman army uniform, and he knows so much about that sort of stuff…’ Rose was fibbing for England and she was beginning to get uncomfortable with all these white lies, but on the other hand, the plan had to be set in motion. ‘Isn’t he great with Leo, love?’ she asked her daughter with a sideways glance.

‘Leo’s just dying for a male role model in his life; he’d idolize this Max guy just as much if he were fat, lazy and smelly.’ Diana tried to sound dismissive.

‘He isn’t, though,’ Rose said quietly.

‘Um… well, no.’ conceded her daughter, with a sideways glance of her own. ‘He smells rather… I don’t know; what kind of aftershave does he wear?’

‘I actually think it’s, well, him, you know?’ said Rose. ‘I did notice the first time I met him, but now I’ve gotten used to it I reckon. It’s pleasant though, in its own way, don’t you think? Sort of spicy.’

‘Yyeahh…’ said Diana, lost in a thought all her own as Max, solemn-looking but friendly nonetheless, turned and ruffled Leo’s hair. ‘He doesn’t smile much, does he?’

‘He is a bit serious, but that’s not surprising; he’s been through a lot. Lost his wife and child, you know?’

‘Oh my God, how?’ asked Diana, appalled, her sympathy for Max increasing by leaps and bounds.

Rose smiled inwardly. The water cooker emitted a small “ding!” and she poured boiling water on the coffee grinds. ‘Terrible story, really. Apparently his wife and his boy were murdered by um, well, from what I understand, a sort of special police troops. Corrupt, they were; burned down his house and all …’

Diana kept silent, her eyes glued on Max and Leo, making their way over to the back door.

~*~

Over the next couple of days, Max and Leo became inseparable. Max remained very quiet while Leo talked a mile a minute, and sometimes the hesitant, rather rusty beginnings of a smile would make itself known on Max’ face. It transformed him, and Diana found herself watching him closely for these moments. She felt a sharp tug in her chest every time and she realized she wanted to see him smile, see him happy, hear him laugh out loud. She kept her distance however, and Max never approached her.

Until finally he did, on the third day. He just briskly walked up to her until she couldn’t ignore him any longer, stood in front of her, and searched her face with his intense, slate-gray eyes. ‘Diana, I am sorry for wearing your dead husband’s clothes,’ he finally said, his voice low, ‘I did not mean to insult or scare you.’

‘It’s okay, Max,’ Diana said, a strange confusion spreading through her as his eyes travelled over her face, ‘I’m sorry too, for reacting the way I did. Randy’s dead; it was just a shock to see… well, you know…’

Max inclined his head in understanding and asked, after another heartbeat of looking at her: ‘…he did not treat you well?’ His voice was oddly soothing and she found herself gravitating towards him almost imperceptibly.

Diana shook her head. ‘He was a policeman, but he turned bad. And he was very violent. He hit Leo, and, um... me as well.’ She looked embarrassed by that confession, but took a deep breath and went on nonetheless. ‘He was killed by the criminals he was in league with. He tried to trick them in some way; I don’t know the particulars. There was a lot of money involved, and I’ve been scared all this time that they would come after me and Leo.’ She shook her head. ‘Shit, Max, I’m starting to talk as funny as you.’

‘Do I… talk funny?’ Max asked, tipping his head to the side, gazing at her face intently. Everything about him was seriousness, apart from a little light twinkling in his eyes.

‘You most certainly do, Max. You don’t speak... colloquial, I guess, its the word; not at all. You sound very formal.’

‘Oh,’ said Max, a frown crawling over his forehead. Then, he raised an eyebrow at her and asked: ‘is that bad?’

Diana wondered for an instant if he was actually... flirting with her, but then Leo came running into the room, waving a book, shouting: ‘Max, Max, read me a story? Max?’

Max gave a little shake of his head and, with visible effort, tore his eyes off Diana’s face. Then he took the book from Leo’s hands, looked at it almost in slow motion, and said thoughtfully: ‘…I never mastered the art, young Leo. I can tell you a story, but I cannot read you one.’

‘You can’t read?’ Leo asked incredulously.

‘Wait a minute,’ said Diana, suspicion hardening her voice. ‘How can you work for a museum if you’re an illiterate?’ She narrowed her eyes at him and took a hasty step back.

Max gave her a sorrowful look, but then something seemed to descend behind his eyes and his face became hard, impassive. He pinched his lips, made a sharp, soldierly turn and marched out, leaving the book on the table in passing, just as Rose came into the room.

‘What’s going on?’ she asked suspiciously.

‘Mom,’ said Diana with a dangerous edge to her voice, ‘I don’t think Max is who he says he is.’

‘Oh, I can assure you that he is precisely who he says he is, love,’

‘But he just can’t be a curator in a museum if he can’t even fucking read!’ Diana almost shouted. ‘Mom, you took this man in and you don’t even know who or what he is! For God’s sakes, he might be a serial killer for all we know!’

‘Oh calm down, Di, and mind your language in front of the boy.’

‘He’s heard much worse coming out of his father’s mouth, believe me. Come on, Mom, it’s not safe, he should go as soon as possible, I mean, do you know where he lives in Spain, does he even have last name?’

‘Desimeridious. That’s his last name.’

‘What kind of a name is that?

‘I don’t know, but that’s what he said. First I thought he was Greek, but he’s told me a bit of his background and now I know he’s…’

‘He told you? And you believed him? Just like that? Jesus Christ, and I thought I was naive!’

Leo, in the mean time, had quietly slipped outside to where he saw Max sitting on a log, his back toward the house. Max had his head in his hands and stared into space.

‘She really hates me,’ Max thought miserably. ‘I have never been blessed with a smooth tongue, but this is… this…’ He frowned. And tried very hard to think about his wife, but for some reason all he could see was Diana narrowing her eyes at him. Diana had been in his thoughts a lot these last couple of days, which confused him intensely. And just now, when he finally had gathered the courage to speak to her, his heart had hammered in his chest and he simultaneously wanted to bolt and take her in his arms. He groaned and clasped his hands at the back of his head, elbows on his knees, staring into the grass at his feet.

 He felt a small hand on his knee and looked up to see little Leo stand in front of him. He adored the boy; he was so like how he had envisioned his son to be. One of the things he had regretted most was how little time he had been able to spend with his child, being a soldier, and he instinctively felt that he could play an important role in Leo’s life. Leo needed a father, a real one who loved him and taught him things, like values, and how to handle a sword… 

Max was hit by another note of desperation. His skills meant nothing in this time. Values? Diana thought his behaviour was appallingly formal and stiff. Swordsmanship? No one carried a sword. He was still learning how all the amazing machines in this time actually worked, and he couldn’t even read! All he was good at was fighting, leading his legion, inspiring his men to give their lives for Rome... What use could he to be to a young boy who needed a father figure, what use could he even hope be to the boy’s mother...

‘Max?’  Leo asked in a very small voice, ‘are you okay, Max?’ He looked very worried and his lip trembled.

Max sighed. ‘I am okay,’ he said softly, but not with a lot of conviction behind it. He lifted a hand and mussed up Leo’s hair, then giving his little shoulder an affectionate squeeze.

‘I can read, you know,’ said Leo, ‘I can teach you if you want... maybe my Mom will like you better when you know how to read.’

Max blinked. Children can be so blindingly honest and to the point. ‘Your mother does not like me. She will probably not change her mind when I know how to read,’ he said, a little sadly.

‘Do you... want my Mom to like you?’ asked Leo, a hopeful note lurking behind his words.

Max thought for some time, and then decided the truth was best. ‘Yes,’ he said simply.

Leo patted his knee with his little chubby hand. ‘I want that too,’ he said, ‘so come on, Max, we’d better get to work.’

~*~

That afternoon, Max and Leo sat at the dinner table, heads bent over one of Leo’s books. Leo had his drawing pad out as well, and a couple of felt pens. He had carefully drawn all the letters of the alphabet, and Max had followed suit. He had a steady hand; he was used to drawing battle plans in the dirt.

Leo was a very intelligent boy, and a patient one at that. Max felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth as he gave it his best effort and managed to spell out a few words at the end of the afternoon, and Leo gave an excited whoop. ‘Mom!’ He shouted across the room, ‘Mom, Max can read now, everything’s fine!’

Max couldn’t help himself. He felt elated at his first attempts at reading (it wasn’t as hard as he had always envisioned) and Leo’s determination and enthusiasm had warmed his heart. So, he stretched out his arms towards Leo without giving it a second thought, Leo climbed into him, and he hugged the boy tight, eyes closed and a big grin on his face.

When Max finally opened his eyes and let go of Leo, he saw Diana standing in the doorframe with tear-streaked cheeks.

Leo bounded off Max’ lap and ran to his Mom, who picked him up - for once he wasn’t embarrassed when she did that - and held him very close. Leo squirmed around in her arms and stretched out a little arm towards Max, who got up from his chair without thinking and took two quick strides across the room until he could grab Leo’s hand.

And then something amazing happened.

Diana and Leo just sort of fell against him. Leo slung his arm around his neck and Diana laid her head on his shoulder. Max slipped one arm around Leo, the other around Diana, and he felt a strange peace descend in his heart as he softly stroked Diana’s long brown hair. It was smooth as silk. Diana sniffled into his shoulder, Leo tightened his grip like a little monkey and Max stood there, solid as a rock, his arms around them both.

‘I will protect you,’ he whispered softly into Diana’s ear, ‘both of you...’ at which she trembled and stifled a sob.

Leo started to squirm again, and Max and Diana bent to set him down. Leo gave another whoop and ran outside, and through the window they could see him dash around on the grass, burning off his excess of happy energy.

Max and Diana stood very close, a little stiffly, Max’ hand at the small of her back. They were both awkward now that Leo was gone, but neither moved away.

‘You really called Maximus?’ Diana asked softly, her cheeks still wet.

‘Yes,’ said Max in his rumbling voice, and he wondered if she would let him brush away the tears with his hand. He wanted to, very much actually, but didn’t dare to.

‘What sort of a name is that?’ inquired Diana defiantly, looking straight into his eyes. A last straggling tear piled over the rim of her eyelid and coursed down.

‘Well, I was a big infant...’ said Max with a smile, and finally he gathered the courage to cover Diana’s cheek with his palm.

She sighed without knowing it and closed her eyes, leaning into his hand a little.

That fuelled Max’ courage, and he just wrapped himself around her completely, one arm around her back, the other hand in her hair, pulling her snug against his chest. Diana’s arms came around his middle and she relaxed against him, snuggling up against his neck.

‘Diana...’ he muttered in her hair, ‘the huntress... I have cause to fear you...’

She lifted her face and looked at him with curiosity, their noses touching, their lips inches apart. ‘Why is that?’ she whispered, entranced.

‘Because you may shoot an arrow in my butt if I try to kiss you?’ Max softly said to her, with a mischievous glint in his eye she hadn’t thought he possessed.

Diana laughed out loud, and so did Max. Well, Max giggled. He giggled! Diana couldn’t help herself but that was the most magical sound she’s ever heard, and she softly touched his cheek with her fingertips, stood on tiptoe and pressed her lips against his for a warm, soft, confusing instant.

Max drew a sharp breath and gave her an almost startled look.

‘No arrow,’ she softly said, feeling a little embarrassed all of a sudden.

Max swallowed and wanted to say something, but then Rose came into the room, carrying three brown bags full of groceries. He quickly stepped away from Diana, and hurried over to Rose to relieve her of her load.

‘Oh thank you Max, just put them in the kitchen please, do you know where everything goes?’ said Rose.

Max nodded.

‘Well if you feel like it, pet, maybe you can put everything away for me. You know, meat and milk in the fridge...’ But Max had already left the room.

‘Mom,’ Diana said, sounding upset, ’ you should let me go to the mart for you. You don’t have to...’

‘Oh shush. I take are of myself when you’re not here, so there’s really no reason why I shouldn’t take care of all of you now.’ Rose smiled and walked up to her daughter, patting her arm. ‘I see that Max and you are finally beginning to get along?’

Diana gave an embarrassed snort. ‘You know what Leo did?’

Rose gave her a questioning look but kept still.

‘Leo taught Max to read. In one afternoon! And then, he hugged my boy, Max did, and it was such a heart wrenching thing to see, and I realized how much Leo must be missing, you know, having had Randy for a Dad, I mean, I can’t believe I’ve been this stupid. Leo’s the only good thing that came out of it, really, and to see Max and Leo, like that... Oh God, I’m rambling.’ Diana covered her face with her hands.

‘So, what happened?’ asked Rose softly, smiling at her daughter.

‘I kissed him.’ Diana blurted out. ‘I kissed Max, on the lips. I think I’ve scared him off now. He was so sweet to Leo, and I started to cry, and then he came over and hugged us both and he said he’d protect us...’ Diana was laughing and crying at the same time, and Rose pulled her into a hug of her own, making soothing noises.

‘Be still, Di, my sweet, and just let it all run its course. It’s the town working its magic...’ she whispered, barely audible, to her daughter trembling in her arms.

Max, in the kitchen, was trembling too, albeit inwardly, as he was putting the milk in the fridge. He had been completely taken by surprise when Diana had kissed him like that. It wasn’t that Rome hadn’t spawned her share of forward women; some of them were downright shameless and wouldn’t have hesitated to grab him and have their way with him. But he usually picked out the type at a glance, and Diana hadn’t struck him as… She was more like… Like what exactly? He shook his head; he didn’t know the answer. He only knew she shook him to the core and he wanted to kiss her again. Longer. Deeper. He wanted to explore her mouth, taste her, let his senses fill up with the essence of her. He wanted to be with Diana, more than he could ever remember wanting to be with any woman in his life.

He nearly dropped a carton of eggs and had to check himself. Could this be happening? Everything was moving so fast that he didn’t even have the time to ask himself what it was he wanted… For too long he had wanted to die, to be with his wife and son… Now he just wanted to live, to perhaps have a chance to share the lives of Diana and Leo, even if it meant he would have to exist in this bewildering future. He looked up. The Gods had strange ways of moving their pieces across the board. But who was he to question their motives?

~*~

The next morning, Max got up early. He nearly always woke at dawn, like he had an internal clock ticking after all these years of army life. He quietly got dressed, slipped out of the small but comfortable guest room that Rose had made available to him, and made his way down without waking anyone.

He sat down on the floor in the living room, carefully unfolded a newspaper, and went to work, spelling out the words until they stringed themselves together into sentences and he could derive meaning from them. He almost felt his brain adapt, the synapses crackling with electricity as they formed and opened up, and he noticed how his reading abilities increased by the minute.

After two hours of concentrated effort, he was reading fluently, albeit still fairly slowly, and he revelled in it. He absorbed the information in the newspaper like a sponge, even though most of the items he read didn’t really make sense to him. Yet. But what a strange and wondrous place he found himself in! Fast, horseless vehicles, the miracle of flight, the power of the media – mightier than the sword, indeed! Max began to understand that the weapons of choice in this time ranged from the far more destructive to the far more precise, and all showed a level of development, of… sophistication, for want of a better word, that left him reeling. Just like all these machines, designed to make life more comfortable, amazed him to no end.

Rose, who had risen early as well, came down the stairs and spotted Max in the living room, engrossed in the paper, and she found herself wondering if the town actively helped him adapt. It was uncanny, the way he picked up on things. Rose only had to show him but once, and he understood how he had to work the microwave. The dishwasher, the water cooker, the lawn mower. He was a natural.

‘Max?’ she now inquired, entering the living room, ‘What would you like for breakfast?’

Max quickly looked up, tensing only a little. He was beginning to relax, she noticed with pleasure; finally he seemed to be settling a little. And things between him and Diana were moving along nicely. She smiled and sat on the edge of the couch for a minute, looking down on him.

‘You know, Max, you should tell Di.’

‘Tell… Di?’ he repeated, his voice low, his eyes a little startled.

‘Yes. Tell her of your life, before you came here. She has a right to know the truth, don’t you think?’

‘She will not believe me. I would not believe me,’ Max said emphatically.

‘Maybe she will though… You know, Max, dear, I need to tell you something about this town, the town of Magic. You see, it’s a very special place; it has…. I guess you could say it has a mind of its own. And this mind is, as far as I can see, mostly bent upon keeping its population healthy and abundant and diversified, and therefore it sometimes attracts people, when it has the need for them. It attracts people through time and space alike, and I can’t really understand how it selects its people but I do believe that it’s how you came to find yourself here. The town has called you. And I also think the town is helping you adapt, because for you in particular, it’s a big job, isn’t it?’

Max dipped his head in agreement, in one of those wonderfully graceful yet economical gestures of his.

‘But you are doing a wonderful job, pet, really you are. I’m so proud of you.’

‘Rose,’ Max said pensively, a big question creasing his brow, ‘why would the town need me, in particular? What do I have to add? I do not… fit.’

‘Oh, but you do, don’t you see? You are a fine, strapping lad, and you’re very smart, and kind, and honourable. Any town would be happy to have you I’m sure… if they were aware of their inhabitants the way Magic appears to be, that is.’ Rose smiled down on Max, and Max, bless him, Max blushed a little.

‘Besides,’ Rose went on, ‘my grandson needs you, I think my daughter needs you as well, and I need you. I’m old, Max, and I can’t run the museum forever. Between you and me, I think the town needs you to look after its treasures, and my daughter needs you to look out for her safety. And Leo’s. And you, my dear lad,’ here, she laid her old, soft hand on his muscled shoulder, ‘you need a new family to take care of.’ She looked at him affectionately. ‘Magic is a magical place, and it has a lot of natural… wisdom, I’d almost say. Now, all we have to do is make sure Diana stays here, and we’ll be all set, don’t you think?’

‘All set for what, Rose?’ asked Max, as in his mind this glorious image of Diana, Leo and he, living together in this house as a family, began to unfold.

‘All set for… I don’t know exactly, pet, I must confess; it just feels like we’ll have achieved something… necessary, something that will give me peace.’ Rose smiled, an old, suddenly tired smile, and she realized she longed for a certain amount of closure. There was no other way she could describe it. She didn’t want to dwell on the thought, and what it might entail, for too long – not yet anyway, and so she got up energetically, rubbed her hands together and said: ‘So. Breakfast. What will it be, this morning? Full English?’

Max grinned happily; he had learned by now what delights a full English breakfast held for a soldier who was used to eat when he could, what he could, while every meal could be his last.

~*~

The next two days, Max got fully claimed by Leo during the day, while he shot furtive glances at Diana as often as he could. Most times, he found she was looking at him as well, which he found absolutely thrilling, but also frightening beyond belief. He couldn’t remember ever having felt this blinding fear when he had to fight in the arena and he knew his life was on the line.

Well, in a sense, his life was on the line, wasn’t it? His life with Diana and Leo. He had to talk to Diana, Rose had been right; he’d have to tell her the truth. But how? When? All they did was look at each other from under hooded eyelids, but they were never alone for long enough for a serious conversation.

After dinner, Max took it upon himself to take Leo to bed; the boy could make a world of fuss when it was time to go to sleep, but Max he obeyed with blind adoration. And so, after the whole ritual of washing up, getting him into his pj’s and having him clean his teeth, Max sat on the edge of the bed to tell Leo a story.

‘There once was…’ he began.

‘No, you’re supposed to start with once upon a time, Max,’ Leo muttered, half asleep already.

‘Yes, be that as it may,’ said Max, ‘but I am the one telling this story, and in this case, there once was is more appropriate. So. There once was a Roman general who fought for emperor Marcus Aurelius. He was well loved by the emperor because he had won him many victories, and the emperor trusted his loyalty beyond question. The emperor almost thought of him as a son. And when the emperor was old, and frail, he wanted to name the general his heir, which would make him the next emperor of Rome. But, young Leo, the emperor had a son of his own, who was not to be trusted, and this son did not want the emperor giving away what he thought of as his birthright. So, he killed the emperor before the general could be made his heir.’

‘Wow,’ Leo muttered from under the covers, ‘He killed his own dad? Cool.’

‘Do you truly believe that is…cool?’ Max grasped the general gist of the expression, as he understood most things intuitively, but it surprised him on another level all the same. ‘It is dishonourable. Your own father!’

‘Yeah,’ said Leo sleepily, ‘I know, but I wanted to kill my dad every time he was hitting my Mom, only I was too little. If you’d have been my dad, I wouldn’t have wanted to kill you, you know, Max?’ Then, he gave a mighty yawn and his eyes fell shut, even though he tried very hard to keep them open.

Max smiled and felt something begin to glow in his heart region. ‘You are ready to sleep now, I believe. I will continue this story tomorrow night.’ He pulled the covers straight, stroked Leo’s tousled hair and quietly switched off the light. And Leo obediently closed his eyes and promptly fell asleep.

When Max got up to leave the room, he saw Diana standing in the doorframe. She smiled at him and followed him into the corridor. ‘Max?’ she said softly, making the hairs on his forearms stand on end. The sound of her voice affected him like that. ‘I’d like to hear the rest of your story. If you’ll tell me...’ And she quietly took him by the hand and led him into her bedroom.

He had a little trouble breathing as she made him sit on the bed and then sat right next to him, their thighs touching.

‘What happened to the Roman general, Max?’ Diana asked, leaning into him a little. ‘My mother told me you’re an expert on all things Roman, so I’m really curious to know…’

Max put out an arm behind Diana for support, as he took the weight of her leaning against him, but he soon realized it was much easier to just wrap the arm around her and pull her in. She offered no resistance and seemed to mould to his body, he noticed somewhere in a fairly disused corner of his mind.

‘The Roman general…’ Max whispered into Diana’s hair, ‘…was betrayed, and would have been put to the sword by the Praetorian guard if he had not fought them off. And then he returned home, to find his wife and child killed by that same Praetorian guard; his villa burned, his reason for living utterly destroyed. He was maddened by grief, and so, being unable to defend himself for a time, the general was captured, and as a slave he was made to fight in a gladiator school that travelled around the smaller arenas. He was strong, well trained, seasoned in battle and he had nothing to lose. So he was a very dangerous man and he won every fight he was in. He was so unhappy that he would have welcomed death, but he was not allowed to die.’

Diana, almost drugged by his wonderful smell, snuggled up to him a bit more. She pulled up her legs and tucked her feet in, resting her knees against his thighs. Max turned a little to accommodate her and he found that if he leaned back against the headrest of the bed, it provided a much more comfortable position for holding her. He could even hold her with both arms. She didn’t seem to object at all; she calmly settled into his embrace and softly nudged him to continue his story.

He complied, his low rumble travelling right through her. ‘The general fought, and won, and the gladiator school grew in respectability. The arenas grew bigger, the enemies grew more dangerous, and then we suddenly found ourselves back in Rome.’ Max didn’t notice that the point of view of his narrative had changed, but Diana heard. To her own surprise, she took it at face value. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he was with her, here and now.

‘I was so very tired of it all,’ he softly continued, his lips brushing Diana’s temple, ‘I wanted nothing more than to be joined with my family in death, but I wasn’t allowed to die until I faced emperor Commodus again. He insisted on vanquishing me in the arena, before all of Rome, but he wounded me before the battle, to ensure his own victory. We fought, and finally, I felt myself drifting off to the fields of glory and I could almost taste seeing my wife and child again, so much did I want to find them again in the afterlife. But then…’

Max sighed from the depths of his soul. Diana moved against him, lifting her face to look at him. He was staring into the distance, lost in his own private maze of thoughts. Diana found she was focusing on his softly bearded cheek. He had a mole. She’d never been particular to moles, but this specimen she found utterly intriguing. Actually, she couldn’t stop looking at it.

Max swallowed, then seemed to be shaken out of his reverie by Diana’s intense stare. He turned his head towards her, their noses almost colliding, and gazed into her eyes. ‘You do not think I have lost my mind?’ he whispered to her mouth.

‘No… should I?’ she whispered right back, their lips almost touching. The intensity of the moment was almost too much.

And then, suddenly, explanations were no longer needed as they kissed, a slow, warm, meandering exploration that lasted an eternal instant and that left them both panting lightly.

‘You feel so right,’ Diana sighed as she stretched out and rolled against him. He hummed in approval and gathered her in even closer, sliding down until they were both lying down comfortably. Then, he cupped her chin and lifted it so that he could kiss her again. Another heart-stopping, epic kiss that just went on and on, taking their senses by storm and not leaving any room for ratio, resulting in Diana finding herself on top of Max, slowly and delightfully grinding against his obvious arousal. He ground right back, and delighted in it just as much.

Diana raised her head in embarrassment, but Max silenced her with the look in his eyes even before she could speak, stroking her back soothingly, calming her, all the while not easing up on the grinding. He was an experienced lover, Roman general or no.

‘I would like to lie with you,’ Max whispered, and the way he said it made it sound like the greatest compliment Diana had ever received. Oddly phrased as it was.

‘And I with you, Max,’ she replied softly, smiling into his face. She boldly hitched up his tee a bit so she could touch the skin on his belly – well, strictly speaking it was Randy’s tee, but strangely enough, she didn’t think of it as Randy’s any more, not at all – and Max scrunched up his face until he looked truly comical.