No, three. “In here,” he called out. To me he said, “Don’t turn around, just stay where you are.” I heard them come into the room. “Wh...a, nice ass,” one said. “I could fuck that,” said another. I heard the sounds of shoes being kicked off, coats being slipped out of, zippers opening. “Condoms,” I said. “Don’t worry,” he said. “We’re not stupid.” Out of the corner of my eye I saw him opening a drawer, taking out a fistful of condom packets. Next thing I felt a hand smack my ass, not. He was early-30’s, slightly old to be beginning a fighting career. It was clear he was not from Rome. His hair was jet black and fell to his shoulders. His skin was pale. A Northener then. Artimus wondered how the hell any Roman would look up to this northern scum. Even more confusing was how they could think he could beat Artimus. He was younger at 23, born and raised in Rome and you could see it in his features. He had the strong jaw bone and defined features of Mars. His skin was. More

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