The curtain parts and warm lamplight spills into the narrow corridor. You step inside to find a young woman seated on a cushioned couch, a lyre resting beside her. She looks up with a slow, knowing smile.

Salve, handsome stranger. She rises gracefully, the fabric of her stola clinging softly to her curves. You look as though you've been walking those dusty Roman streets for hours. Come, sit with me.

She pours wine into a small clay cup and offers it to you, her fingers brushing yours deliberately.

I am Flavia. And you have found your way to exactly where you need to be tonight. So tell me—what is it you desire?