“I found notebooks and scrolls among my father’s papers.” Euan enthused. “It says in the scrolls he had translated by a Greek scholar, The Staff of Asklepios wishes to be held by one who knows the subject's heart. There is a ritual… an incantation…to bring the magical powers into the object while it penetrates the subject.”
I’d longed to own the Staff since Euan had first shown it to me when we snuck into his father’s study all those years ago. After years of research, I had not found out how to use it properly. Clearly, this was because Lord Ardmillan obtained the sacred scrolls of instruction with the Staff.
“This all sounds rather heathen and ungodly, don’t you think?” I said, feigning displeasure. I could not let Euan know how much the thought of such a sex ritual intrigued and excited me.
“Please Ben. Consider it. I can make it worth your while.” Euan pleaded. It was clear to me then that his inability to become aroused had made him desperate…and in business I had learned that desperate men are pliable.
“How can you make it worth my while?” I queried. I was a man of trade after all and I had come to Dunecht Hall to do business.
“If you do this for me—if you use the Staff to restore my virility, it’s yours… the Staff, I mean.” Euan smirked at the accidental innuendo.
“If this ancient ritual works and I can regain my stand I don’t give a damn about anything else.”
“So, are you saying that you would not auction the Staff?”
“I would not. It will be my gift to you… it is Christmas for Englishmen, after all!”
My thoughts tunneled. Euan was one of the few men who knew I was secretly fixated with ancient depictions of the phallus—the symbol of male virility, strength, and power. No matter what new civilization adventurers discovered, archeologists always found depictions of the phallus in wall art, stone carvings, wood, and metalwork. I was intrigued that in some cultures the phallus was worshipped and representations of it were accompanied by stories of magical powers and the health benefits of consuming life-creating seed.
My personal collection of phallic statues was housed in a secret room in my London townhouse. I could not very-well have them on display, not only because of their obscene nature and rarity but because I am sure my housekeeper Mrs. Twigg would have an attack of the vapors should she ever find the secreted door that led to my collection room. I owned exhibits from ancient Scandinavia, Egypt, Assyria, India, and the Orient. My collection would be incomplete without this Greek Staff and, with its rarity and supposed powers, there was nothing that could match it for the use I wanted to put it to. It seemed that when it came to using the Staff, Euan and I were on the same page.
My mind was set and I had nary a thought about the unchristian nature of what I was about to do. I would do whatever I needed to do to possess the Staff and recant later. Gods, I’d live in the confessional box and say a thousand prayers if it would admonish me of the sin I was about to commit to own the Staff of Asklepios.
“If you will formally sign ownership of the Staff over to me and let me study the scrolls of instruction, I will carry out the ritual for you,” I confirmed. Euan’s countenance brightened.
“Excellent, excellent.” He said clapping with glee like a child. “Tomorrow night. Yes? The other guests depart at midday, after the auction. You will stay on as my guest for another day and I will arrange everything.”
The Marauder
After Euan left my chamber I lay in my bed, far too awake and alert at this late hour. My whole body was humming with satisfaction from attaining completion at the hands of my lover. And on waking from sleep I knew the wave of shame would come next. I needed to atone for my slip-up, attend confession, and repent for my sin.
I listened to the fierce gale buffet the old stone house and violently rattle the shutters on my window. My thoughts focused on the ritual that Euan spoke of—using the Staff of Asklepios to attempt to heal him of his lost virility. I worried that we might conjure unholy forces that neither of us could deal with. What if we summoned a Greek God from tales of old? What if we doomed our immortal souls by partaking in such a ritual? Had my need for the Staff led to me making a dreadful decision?
I was pulled from my thoughts by the sound of a loud bang in the hall outside my room. The sound was followed by a pained whisper of “Damn it”. I remained silent and still in my bed but my hearing became distinctly attuned to the sounds in the hall, and whoever was wandering around the house after midnight. It could not be Euan returning to my bed—as the Lord of Dunecht Hall he had no need to creep around in the wee small hours.
“OUCH!” another curse came from outside my door this time. If this was Euan coming back for some more entertainment he was sorely mistaken. I rose from my warm bed, groped for my nightgown, stepped into my slippers, and moved silently to the door. I waited for a beat before dragging my door open. I saw a silhouetted figure take off down the hall. I was correct after all, it was not Euan. Who the hell was it behaving so suspiciously? My
