For the Pleasure of Men by Nora Weaving

with promise, and Kalliope thought she saw just a hint of lust behind their fierceness.
    “I’m sorry, I doubted you. Please forgive me as I acquaint myself with so many new people.”
    “Of course,” he said graciously. “Now tell me, how are you feeling today?”
    “Better,” she admitted, “Though I’m still quite sore. I’ve been ordered to rest the next two days.”
    Damianos nodded thoughtfully. “Tell me, have you been treated well?”
    Kalliope studied Damianos. She couldn’t understand why he seemed to care so much, or why he seemed so invested in her. “Yes. Well enough. I don’t want any special treatment,” she sniffed, raising her head proudly. Kalliope certainly didn’t want to be known at Hera Selene as a woman who received preferential treatment. She wanted to build her own name and success.
    Damianos’ face darkened. “I told Priska that I didn’t want Spyro going anywhere near you but she told me she couldn’t make any promises,” he growled.
    Kalliope paled. She hadn’t thought about meeting again with Spyro in the future, and possibly having to sleep with him again. She knew that Priska was right, though. She couldn’t ban customers, especially if they were well paying ones.
    “Let’s hope he’s better behaved then,” Kalliope said grimly. She would have to deal with that when the time came.
    Damianos moved towards Kalliope, and she marveled at his height. Standing before her, Damianos was nearly an entire head taller than she. “Where are you from?” he asked softly. “I know nothing about you.”
    Kalliope flashed him a small smile. “You know nothing about me, because we just met. I’m from a small village up north.”
    Damianos’ gaze was intense, and Kalliope could feel the air spark between them. Her heart was suddenly hammering in her chest, and she feared that Damianos would be able to hear it.
    He reached out and gently touched her cheek. “And how does a lovely country girl from the north find herself in the most exclusive brothel in all of Athens?” His question was but a whisper, yet something about it made Kalliope dizzy with desire.
    “I was brought here by a soldier named Orestes. He discovered me in a brothel. He made the owner an offer she could not refuse.” Kalliope looked away, the sadness still fresh in her mind.
    Damianos picked up on her change in mood. “Did you not want to leave your former workplace?”
    Kalliope shook her head. “It was more than a place of employment. It was my home. I had been there since I was six years old. The owner, she was like a mother to me.” She looked away, not wanting Damianos to see the gulf of emotion in her eyes. She didn’t want his pity, either.
    But instead of pitying her, Damianos said, “If she had been like a mother, then I am certain she sold you only because she thought it was best for you. That is what mothers do. They make hard decisions that you sometimes can’t understand, but they do it with your best interests at heart. I’m sure it was very difficult for her.”
    Kalliope turned around to look at him, floored by the honesty and truth in his words. “What makes you say that?” she whispered.
    Now Damianos looked away. “I know from experience,” he said gruffly. He cleared his throat, the moment gone, and looked back at Kalliope. He smiled slyly. “I heard you are a beautiful singer. Would you do the pleasure of serenading me?”
    Kalliope protested.
    “Just one song!” he said quickly.
    The problem with Damianos was that Kalliope couldn’t refuse him. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, before singing a Greek hymn. Damianos was riveted, and at one point he closed his eyes, as if ridding himself of sight would help him listen better.
    When Kalliope finished, she looked at him. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but the air still hung with the last notes of her song. Damianos opened his eyes and looked at her, and in that instant, Kalliope knew she would do anything that