Chapter 2.5 - Locker Room Talk

When Billy stepped into the torchlit chambers of the gymnasium, he suddenly remembered the meaning of the Greek word ‘gymnos’. Naked. Granted, the local flavor here was decidedly Latin, but the Roman counterpart wasn’t far removed from its Hellenic roots.

A pair of buff, nude athletes fell into the pit of sand, mid-grapple, right in front of Billy’s eyes. The living statues—oiled and rippling with sinewy muscle--grunted and grabbed at each other’s sweaty bodies, trying to get on top of the other. The man on the bottom, a toned, curly haired blonde, bridged to avoid the pin, inadvertently giving Billy a great look at his cock and balls.

Billy tugged at his new, loose-fitting tunic, ensuring the rope around his waist was properly secure. Damn, are they all hung like horses here, or what?

State of the male anatomy aside, Billy shuddered to think how he would need to adjust to the Roman Republic, if he was going to be holed up here for a few days (or however long it took to fulfill his mission). Mostly, he dreaded the old-school lavatories. A sponge on stick, steeped in a bucket of vinegar, was not simply an unacceptable replacement for toilet paper, but borderline hostile to bottomkind. Potable water was not readily available either. Thankfully, Billy still had one or two clandestine sports drinks bottles he’d tucked into his backpack at journey’s outset.

Shy, and feeling a bit socially awkward (he was still adjusting to the whole ‘being in the past’ thing) Billy looked around the wide room. Men—in all shapes, sizes, and colors—lounged around naked and carefree, stretching, talking, or rough playing. It was like being in a less homophobic locker room or hanging out on a nude beach. The casual atmosphere took out some of the eroticism.

If this was nothing more than an ancient locker room, then it was easy for Billy to identify the big man on campus. All the lads approached Sergius with stars in their eyes, happy to share his breathing space. While Serge busied himself with his ‘fan-club’, Billy’s eyes fell upon a familiar idol nestled in a nearby alcove. It looked exactly like the statue of Eros in the museum. He suddenly remembered the god of love specifically mentioning his double-duty as the patron god of wrestling.

He would invent a sport completely focused on dry-humping and grabbing another man. Billy made sure nobody was watching him before he approached the statue of Cupid, glaring at it deeply. “I’m sure there’s no way you can hear me, but I have a major bone to pick with you.”

An echoing voice emerged from inside Billy’s skull, even though he knew it was the statue’s doing. “AGAIN, BITCH?”

Billy flinched. So, the mischievous god could hear him after all! “Stop doing that! Wait, how are you doing that? I thought you had to possess someone.”

“What part of divinity do you not understand, himbo? Time and space? Easy shit. By the way, saw what you did with Auru. Nice work! As you can see, I decided to spice things up for your second challenge.”

“Yeah, well it’s pretty damn spicy, Eros. Or do I call you ‘Cupid’ here?” Billy looked over at Serge, in the middle of teaching the cute, wrestler boys how to strike bodybuilder poses. “Anyways, the gladiator was hot to trot. 10/10, would do again. I get to move on now, right?”

“Heh. You forgot the part where I mentioned you also have to sort out your hero hunk du jour’s ‘love problem’. Remember Brennus, that scrumptious redhead with the big butt? You know, the guy whose man you TOTALLY STOLE RIGHT IN FRONT OF HIM LIKE A HORNY SOAP OPERA MINX?”

Billy groaned. “Is that a hint of Greek guilt I detect?”

“I’ve turned people into goats for far less, Billy, and do NOT ask me if I’m joking. As much as this little game of ours is designed partially to bring me sadistic amusement, and partially to punish your himbo hubris, it’s also meant to TEACH YOU A LESSON ABOUT LOVE.”

The sour taste of shame and guilt washed over Billy’s tongue. “Hey, Serge came on to me.”

“Oh, and I’m sure his big, girthy gladius polished itself, hmm? HMMM?”

“There was…a non-zero amount of gladius polishing, yeah.”

The marble statue’s face was beatific, but somehow Billy felt the rage seep through. “Fix this mess, Billy, or good luck living through the Social Wars. And I do not mean Twitter vs Instagram!”

“I know what the Social Wars are, Eros, I’m a HISTORIAN!”

“And you’ll be a dead one if you don’t sort this ‘ish’ out, Billy Travers! I’ll keep it simple stupid. Your goal is nothing short of getting Brennus together with Circuit-Party Maximus over there.”

“Sure, fine, whatever—but won’t my actions here have consequences on the future? My presence in the past means influencing Bren and Serge’s destiny, right?”

“Destiny? Lol. Not that I’m going to give you a crash-course on time paradoxes and that sort of thing, but you are now part of the natural course of events, Billy-babe. As long as you don’t go assassinating the emperor, or having sex with your grandfather—”

“Why would I have sex with my grandfather?”

“—Then you’ll be fine.”

Easier said than done, of course, but hardly impossible. “Okay, I understand my assignment. But let’s say I do manage to get those lovebirds—those extremely violent, scary lovebirds—together? Who’s to say that relationship won’t flicker and end.”

For a moment, Billy wondered if Eros had ‘flickered out’ himself, snubbing him and dispossessing his icon. “All relationships end, Billy,” he said. “That’s not the point of love. Or trying for it.

“You have my blessing and my promise to be free of this era once your task is accomplished. And my words are as good as gold. Now, on you go! Get the gladiator and his guy together; I’ve got a Pilates class to attend. MWAH!”

Annoyed, but hardly surprised at Eros’s nonchalance, Billy clenched his fists and leaned towards the idol like he was about to bite its head off. “Wait! Don’t you—” He stopped quick when he noticed a shadow fall over him. Billy looked up—and up higher still—into the face of a man whose skin was as dark as night, and with a smile as bright as the moon.

Billy felt his heart skip a beat. “Oh…hello there, very, very large man.”

The very, very large man in question was an East African Hercules with skin like the night and a mouth full of pearls. “Ah, I see he prays to flighty Cupid—as we all do.” The giant greeted Billy by tapping is fist against his chest—a chest that could have given ol’ Serge a run for his denarii. “I am guild maestro Bato, a proud citizen of Rome, dear friend to Sergius, and the strongest man in Ethiopia!”

“I believe it.” Billy looked down, wondering why the wrestler had bothered tying anything at all around his waist, especially with that giant anaconda peeking out beneath the hem of his breechcloth.

A handsome, tall, curly-haired fighter strode past them. Like Bato, he was minimally garbed, and his body was likewise impressive. He’d bandaged his chest with wrappings, up around his right shoulder.

Bato pulled him, quite literally, into the conversation. “This is Astanyx,” Bato said, enthusiastically, slapping his back with a loud thunk! “He has a PUSSY! Graceful Apollo was drunk when he made him, but he’s more man than anybody else in these stables.”

Astanyx laughed at the remark, which told Billy everything he needed to know about his friendship with Bato. “Well, if you didn’t advertise it out loud, Bato, I certainly would. It’s true, that my strength is formidable, and that noble men and women alike have patroned me outside these gates.” He cupped his hand to his mouth and bent forward to whisper to Billy. “They even bottle my sweat as aphrodisiac!”

Billy found both wrestlers delightful and warm (and hunky). Okay, trans-affirming Rome, I see you.

“I have been asked by our dearest moron, Sergius, to be your bodyguard for the day,” Astanyx promised Billy. “I will ensure that our men don’t give you a hard time or use you as a practice dummy.”

“Unless you want them to, of course!” Bato added heartily. Billy felt the giant’s laughter reverberate through the stonework beneath his feet.

As much as ‘all of that’ sounded just swell to Billy, he remembered Eros’s instruction. “Bato. Astanyx. I am very concerned about your dearest moron.” He looked behind them. Sergius had left the building, likely to go lift weights, or train, or whatever gladiators did when they weren’t gladiating.

“As are we,” Astanyx lamented. “Brennus, too, is a cause for worry. I have asked the handsome Celt to forego the trident and join us here in the guild, but he refuses. He is adamant he can win Serge’s heart by way of impression and esteem. Brennus would gladly challenge Mars himself to a contest of swords without a single care, yet the very thought of speaking his love to Sergius seems to turn the boy green.”

Bato was in firm agreement (which made sense, as everything about the man was firm). “Everyone but Serge can see that he and that flame-haired beauty are intertwined by the threads of fate. Yet, they are both gladiators. Combat is their language, not harmony.”

For Billy, it was obvious Astanyx was the tactician of the guild. A chalk slate hanging on the wall behind them, scrawled with detailed move formations, was most likely his work. “Sounds like you two know them best. What do we do?”

Capable Astanyx paced back and forth, trying to untangle the puzzle that was Serge and Bren. “One man cursed with an overabundance of confidence and ego,” he said, weighing the facts with one hand, “and the other man full of reckless abandon. That is, until it comes time to face his rival—his

 own emotions. Indeed, the Greek playwrights couldn’t envision such a tragic farce, Billy.”

“Make no mistake,” Bato said, “my desire to bring those two warriors into the palaistra’s fold is not born out of pure altruism. I need good wrestlers, and I know fine stock when I see it. Still, I greatly adore those two boys. It would be a shame to see them ruined by their own stubbornness!”

“Wow, your biceps are the size of my head.” Momentarily distracted, Billy re-directed his train of thought back onto the rails. “So, we’re all on the same page—er—papyrus. Bato, what do you say to making like the Greeks and getting a little Socratic session together in order to help our buddies?”

Astanyx and the guild master looked at each other in confirmation. The giant man stroked his strong chin. “Hmm. Let us formulate something. Until then, Billy, you are under our care. Now, you’re overdressed. Lose the tunic and get in the pit and we’ll find you a strong lad for you to practice your mounts.”

Suddenly, Billy forgot all about the task at hand. “Am I…allowed to make requests?”

TO BE CONTINUED