Desired The Untold Story of Samson and D - By Ginger Garrett Page 0,1
wanted to miss a temple service.
Of course, I had never been allowed at the temple to see such sights. What little I knew came from Astra, who had ears that always heard the most delectable pieces of gossip and lore. She had a gift for secrets. Though two years younger than me, she knew much more. Her hair was longer than mine, and darker, and her face more alluring, with almond-shaped eyes and a full, pink mouth. She had many gifts I did not, I suppose. I was not unpleasant to look at, but I was ordinary.
I lifted my face to the moon and let her bathe my unremarkable face. A shiver of anticipation went through me. The night, illuminated by moon and fire, woke strange new desires.
While the men worshipped, the wives left at home would drink too much wine and eat all the raisins before collapsing into bed with stained tunics. Children would creep from their pallets and rush out into the streets to play until dawn. We loved the festivals, which were always dictated by the planting seasons. We celebrated when it was time to plant, and begged Dagon for a good harvest, and we celebrated when it was time to harvest, and begged Dagon for good prices at market.
My father stood to leave, and my mother kissed him good-bye before announcing she would go to bed early this evening. I begged permission, and received it, for Astra and me to flee to the rooftop and spend the evening there. We had pallets on the roof for just such nights, but we did not sleep. As soon as we settled in, I walked to stand near the edge of the roof, raising my arms to welcome the night.
Had my mother ever felt as I did right then, my breath roaring in my ears like a lion, my heart racing as I stood on our roof, surveying the city? The wind moved beneath my tunic, lifting the fabric to float out between my arms like the wings of a butterfly. I was weightless and soft. I could pretend to be beautiful, fresh, powerful. Someday, perhaps, a man would notice when I walked past; I would hear his sharp intake of breath, catch the furtive second glance. In his eyes, I would see that I had truly become beautiful, and my beauty would make him afraid. Astra already had this effect on men.
Astra had warned me about what awaited us both. There would be a wedding, and sheets hung from the roof, the honorable stain of blood on display, and someday, birth cries. She heard what wives talked about as they worked.
But in this last season of our youth, before men had claim on either of us, these nights were delicious and intoxicating. We dreamed. We stretched out on the roof, staring at the stars, giggling, calling out on the winds to our friends who watched the stars too. We were cradled this way, above our parents, above our lives, under the stars.
“The incense burned out. Do we have any more?”
Astra was sitting cross-legged on her pallet, looking at the night’s stars. The incense pot was within her reach, but I returned from the roof’s edge to lift the lid and check inside. I saw the shiny sludge inside and reached for the little spoon, scooping a fresh dollop of incense from the little stone pot, ladling it into the square dish over the fire. Gray smoke grew at the edges and curled up, spinning and spiraling into the air.
I sat down next to her and took in the rich scent, holding my long black hair back with my hands at my shoulders, leaning over the fire and inhaling. Mother bought her incense from the Egyptian chemist who frequented our city, which rested between the coastal plains of the sea and the Judean Hills. He created blends of musk and florals and spices, fragrances that bottled emotions we had no names for yet.
I sighed with pleasure and poured a fresh bowl of wine for myself. Astra glanced at her own bowl, which sat next to her, empty, but I shook my head no. Too much wine gave her nightmares. She would crawl into my bed and weep, and nothing I said was of any comfort.
“Milk, then?” she asked.
“I’ll have to go below.”
“No. Don’t bother.” She straightened her legs before lying down on her pallet and grinning at me. I often served her like a slave and didn’t mind.