Sylvia composed herself as the two guards stepped into the chamber, the gladiator chained between them. His olive skin was flushed, and his black eyes...shone like wet rocks. He was shirtless, and his skin bore the signs of the day’s fight. Bright red lines crossed his chest and arms, and old scars stood out, white colored, on the skin. Sylvia drank her fill as she shooed the guards away with a flick of her wrist. At last, she was alone with him. He had bathed, and his muscles shone in the dim. Lots of his female students had been batting their eyes at him but I had put them on notice that I would beat the living shit out of the first girl who put her hands on him. I was in no mood to compete with a hot ass twenty year old who wanted my man. I’d karate chop the little whore right in the throat if she got pushy. I also taught at the university but I taught English – specifically Southern Literature. Faulkner was my specialty. Our offices were in different buildings but we managed to. More

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