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it did with monthly regularity. When the night sky’s orb hung swollen and round, his passion would unleash. It was essential he curtail his business here in Tivoli and return to Satyr land before the Calling overtook him.
    Hours later, he entered the sumptuous abode of Mona, one of his favorite meretrici in Rome. She greeted him effusively, and he found himself engulfed in her bosom and smothered by the falseness of her perfume. For the first time he felt vaguely repulsed by its brazenness, so unlike the delicate fragrance he’d tracked earlier that evening.
    He pulled away and saw she had readied herself for him. She was dressed as he liked, in a manner which proclaimed she’d once been part of accepted society. No bawdy-house woman here, but rather a figure that might have graced the finest ballroom if she hadn’t fallen into financial difficulty and chosen this profession as a way out.
    Her mild plumpness and elegance pleased him. His taste in women varied, but on the whole he preferred them cultured and genteel—at least on the outside.
    A movement in the salon doorway attracted his notice, and he turned to observe another of her kind waiting in the dimness beyond. He’d sent word ahead that he would be calling. Mona had obviously prepared some sort of entertainment for him.
    The other woman wore a scarlet bombazine gown that appeared determined to bind its wearer as tightly as his trousers restrained his burgeoning cock. Though the gown’s design bordered on prim, its waist was sharply curtailed and its bodice forced her ample bosom high.
    Marking his interest, Mona waved a manicured hand toward her companion, inviting her closer for his inspection.
    “I hope you don’t mind,” she teased throatily, linking her arm with his and the other woman’s to draw their threesome more intimately together. “My sister will be joining us.”
    Giggling, the younger version of his meretrice jiggled coyly, purposely attracting his gaze to the undulating globes that swelled precariously above the neckline of her gown.
    “Angela!” Mona scolded. “Lord Satyr comes to us seeking refinement, not the behavior one might expect from a whore of the back alleys.”
    The younger woman straightened, chastised.
    Nick smiled at her, flashing even white teeth. Her expression melted as she quickly fell under his thrall.
    Both women had lush figures but were different of feature. He doubted they were related. Still he gave Mona high marks for the creativity she displayed. The fantasy of having sisters attend him was always quite diverting.
    Nick shook off the notion that such pleasures, though as necessary to him as breathing, had come to seem empty in recent months. The addition of a wife and children to his household would prove a welcome distraction from a growing awareness that there was a void in his life.
    “Vino, signore?” asked Mona, pressing her bosom into his arm. Candlelight flickered on the bottle she lifted from the liquor cart. It bore the Satyr Vineyard emblem, an embossed SV.
    He nodded.
    A soft hand grazed the fabric over his crotch, as though by accident. Her supposed sister. He ignored the overture for the moment and lifted the glass that was poured for him, anticipating the first swallow.
    The intimate touch at his trousers grew bolder as the shimmering liquid spilled over his tongue. The tart sweetness tightened his taste buds even as the skilled fingers released his engorged prick to the caress of a feminine mouth.
    Ah! There was nothing like the taste of Satyr…wine.

4
    W ine! It disgusted her!
    Jane kicked the empty bottle she’d tripped over just inside her aunt’s gate.
    Normally she wasn’t so clumsy. But after leaving Villa d’Este, she’d been rattled by the bizarre notion that she was being pursued. A few more steps and she’d be on the stairs leading inside Aunt Izabel’s town house.
    She picked up the wine bottle for closer examination and rubbed her thumb over the raised insignia molded into