Hercules, Omphale and the Redoubtable Wives of Bath.
(Part 2 — On The Sovereignty of Women)
“Splendid,” Jane remarked out of the blue, agog since setting eyes on Peter. “That leaves just one matter..”
“..Not quite,” I interrupted.
Before everyone got carried away with his sheer, physical presence, I was determined to explore the depths of Peter’s character.
“Tell me, Peter,” I began, with a raised eyebrow, “given your Herculean role in our Holy Trinity, if, for example, you were to show me your natural ability to share in the veneration of my presence, what part in my ecstasy might you play?”
“It may be my destiny to be there, my Lady, like the loving embrace of the couch upon which you might choose to lay,” he replied promptly. “My tumescence may exist solely to be the pillow of your repose, its restorative powers, revitalizing your resting coccyx through the silk of your dress.”
“It is the purpose of my might,” he went on to say, the magnitude of his hands, opening up before me, “indeed, my very reason for living, to be nothing more than balm for your soul. With your divine permission, upon your shoulder, my kiss may be permitted to fall. It is I who will hold you with the strength of love, as you behold your Adonis and swoon to the rapture of Priapic fulfillment.”
“I’m struck by your eloquence, Peter,” I observed.
“Lady Florence schooled me in the manners and edicts of courtly love,” Peter made known. “She thought it best suited to my military training.”
“It shows,” Jane said encouragingly. “Your etiquette and terms of reference are above reproach.
“Yes,” I agreed, “but I’m sensing a deeper cultural influence.”
“Well, my Lady,” Peter thought, “I did read literature and the classics at university.”
I looked over Peter’s resume again.
“Good grief!” I proclaimed. “In all the excitement, I’d completely overlooked this.”
Crossing my legs, the sound and feel of the nylon stockings beneath my dress felt amplified.
“I’m intrigued,” I said with heightened interest, “with such academic beginnings, what made you join the marines?”
“Forgive me, ma’am,” Peter began. “I am fascinated by academia but, in truth, back then, I was more of a physical person.”
“It is my assurance that Peter has lost nothing of his physical prowess since then,” Claire felt compelled to comment.
“It would be wonderful, my Lady,” Peter said, as if daring to express something significant, “if, on my odyssey of devotion, there was perhaps an opportunity to study further.”
Once again, those azure eyes held my gaze.
“If my Lady will permit me to say,” he posed with deference. “I’ve read all your published work, Professor.”
Like all scholars, my academic ego was never above the flattery of recognition. As a Professor of Philosophy, Peter’s every word was music to my ears.
“If you were to pursue your studies further, what would you read?” I asked.
“Why, I should like to read gender and women’s studies,” Peter divulged.
“Of course,” I said, smiling, “whatever else?”
“As a scholar of the classics,” I continued, keen to explore this newfound side to Peter, “you will be aware that, as an Argonaut, Hercules had a lover.”
“Yes ma’am,” Peter replied, “the beautiful, youthful, Hylas.”
“Wasn’t Hylas a man?” Kate enquired.
“That’s correct ma’am,” Peter confirmed. “Hylas was a fellow Argonaut. As well as lover, he was also servant to Hercules.”
“I had no idea, Hercules liked men,” Kate confessed.
“We can’t allow the men to have all the fun,” Claire teased. “Hercules is for girls too. I mean, just look!”
Peter’s eyelids dropped as everyone in the room took a long, lingering, objectified look at him.
“Tell me more about Hylas,” I said eventually.
“Yes ma’am. On their quest for the Golden Fleece,” Peter went on to explain, “the Argonauts landed upon an island. Hylas was sent to fetch water for the camp. At a pool in a clearing, he reached down to fill his pitcher. He looked up to the enchanting discovery of water nymphs encircling him. Drawn by his beauty, one of the nymphs reached up to kiss Hylas. From that moment, Hylas disappeared without trace. Such was the passage of time Hercules spent searching the island for his beloved, the ship left without him.”
“One always thinks of Hercules to be strong, macho and heterosexual,” Kate revealed. “Who would have thought that he held a fondness for cute, young men?”
“I too carry fantasies of ridiculously gorgeous young men,” Jane remarked, “but, I imagine the designs Hercules may have held for a young man’s body may have been more penetrative than mine.”
“Tell me, Peter,” I commanded in expectation of an answer. “Have you ever penetrated a man or nurtured a desire to do so?”
“Would that be a requirement, my Lady?” Peter asked.
“I would thank you to remember, Peter, that it is we who are asking the questions,” I asserted, “but, since you ask, yes, it could well be a requirement. You might never know the breadth of our tastes in entertainment. In your standing in our ‘stud harem’, performance will be everything. Failure to perform would be regrettable and might jeopardize your position.”
“Forgive me, ma’am,” Peter begged. “To answer your question, no, I have never penetrated a man but, if it pleases my Lady, henceforth, I will do everything in my power to nurture that desire.”
“I’m delighted to hear it,” I said, satisfied, at least, with Peter’s outward response to my questioning.
“You see, Peter, darling,” I addressed him, in the kind of flirtatious tones to which I am prone when wearing a dress, “before my husband met me, he was just another closet cross-dresser. Since his adherence to the terms I set in The Maidservant’s Cuckold Covenant, his trans-odyssey has progressed leaps and bounds but it is high time for him to make the next transition.”
Peter looked at me, rather puzzled.
“A deflowering ceremony is long overdue,” I revealed. “It might be something you could perform for me when you and I are indulging in one of the many philosophical chats I can see we are going to enjoy.”
“This is all very interesting,” Jane remarked, “but can we please move on to the most important matter at hand?”
“You must forgive Lady Jane’s impatience,” I presumed to say, my apology to Peter achieving little to disguise my waspishness. “She can be very excitable at times like this.”
“It is not for me to judge, ma’am,” Peter assured me. “Like any woman, that is Lady Jane’s prerogative.”
Jane shot me a look of self satisfaction. It was plain to see, Peter had us eating out of his mighty hands.
“Nonetheless, I should like to quiz you more on your literary studies,” I ensued. “Are you familiar with The Wife of Bath’s Tale?”
I could see Jane, rolling her eyes.
“Why yes, ma’am,” Peter answered with enthusiasm. “Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales was the subject of my dissertation.”
“Splendid!” I announced approvingly. “Then, for the benefit of Ladies Jane, Kate and Claire, perhaps, in your own words, you could tell us the Wife of Bath’s Tale.”
“Well, my Lady,” Peter said, pausing for breath. “There was a knight in King Arthur’s time who raped a fair young maiden. King Arthur issued a decree that the Knight must be brought to justice. When the Knight was captured, he was condemned to death, but Queen Guinevere interceded on his behalf and asked the King to allow her to pass judgment upon him. The Queen told the Knight that he will be spared his life if he can discover for her what it is that women most desire. He was allotted a year and a day in which to roam wherever he pleases and return with an answer.”
“A merciful queen,” Claire noted.
“Indeed, my Lady,” Peter concurred. “Everywhere the Knight went, he explained his predicament to the women he met but no two of those he questioned answered the same.
“Ah!” Kate interrupted, clearly enjoying Peter’s tale, “the foolishness of men who question women.”
“Quite, my Lady,” Peter acknowledged. “Answers ranged from fame and riches to play, or clothes, or sexual pleasure, or flattery, or freedom.”
“Depending on which day you asked me,” Jane announced, “I might have chosen any one of those.
“Quite so, my Lady,” Peter agreed. “When, at last, the time came for him to return to the Court, he still lacked the answer he so desperately needed.”
I was bewitched. My expectations of our Hercules had not included the unexpected bonus of his literary talents. As Peter spoke, I was lost in a fantasy, lying in his arms, listening to his arousing tales whilst my darling, John, made love to me.
“Outside a castle in the woods,” Peter continued, “The Knight saw twenty-four maidens dancing and singing, but, when he approached, they disappeared, as if by magic, and all that was left was an old woman. The Knight explained the problem to the old woman, who was wise and may have known the answer. She forced him to promise to grant any favour she might ask of him in return. With no other option, the Knight agreed. Arriving at the Court, he knelt before his Queen. When asked if he had discovered what it is that women most desire, he gave the answer that women most desire sovereignty over men. This was unanimously agreed to be true by the women of the Court who, accordingly, freed the Knight.”
“I’d say he got off rather lightly,” Kate suggested.
“Yes, my Lady,” Peter acquiesced, “but the old woman then explained to the Court the deal she had struck with the Knight, and publicly requested his hand in marriage. Although aghast, he realized he had no other choice and eventually agreed. On their wedding night the old woman was upset that he was repulsed by her in bed. She reminded him that she will be a virtuous wife to him because no other men would desire her. She asked him which one he would prefer, a wife who is true and loyal or a beautiful young woman, who may not be faithful. The Knight responded by saying that the choice was hers. Because of his wise response, she decided to promise him both beauty and fidelity. When the Knight turned to look at the old woman again, he now found a young and lovely woman.”
“Extraordinary,” Kate proclaimed, “on so many levels.”
“Beautifully told,” I congratulated, in praise of our Herculean beauty.
“Yes, yes. Blah-de-blah,” Jane interrupted, finally losing her patience. “We can take it as read that Peter has intellect, wit, charm and metro-sexuality in spades. Like I said, that leaves just one matter. Now can we please get on with it? If you would be so kind, Peter..”
Peter looked beguilingly at the female assemblage before him.
“Yes, Peter, if you would care to get undressed,” I suggested as a matter of fact.
To be continued…
