Jacob rubbed his bulging organ. “Whine like your beloved Venus, and I’ll tell you.”

Let him flog her. Kill her. She was ready to die. But she would not whine like a donkey.

“Deck yourself with my jewels first.”

Her chilling gaze was aimed at him like a curse.

“Go! Or I’ll drown Gold Dust in the well.”

Rebekah ran to retrieve her coffer of trinkets. She would protect her daughter even if she had to whine, even if it would take her hours to rouse Jacob to such ecstasy that he would exhaust himself without touching her.

She emerged unafraid of Jacob but surprised by the hardness that filled her. Had she lost all feeling? The metal ornaments Jacob had designed covered most of her naked body, dangling from her ears, neck, waist, and ankles. His latest gifts, bronze toe rings, hurt her feet. From a rope around her neck hung a copper medal fashioned to the size and circumference of her brand to conceal it from Jacob.

“Open your legs!” he cried.

Rebekah stretched out on the carpet and spread her thighs.

“Wide! Don’t you have hands?”

Her fingers revealed the dark blush. His stare stabbed like daggers.

“Moan!”

She arched her back, raised her mound, sighs rising from her throat.

“Louder!”

Animal sounds sprang from the pit of her stomach; dew glistened on her body. Her buttocks trembled with the tension of holding herself exposed to him.

“Now get up and dance for me!”

Underneath the oil burner, Rebekah spun on her toes, curls flying, breasts swaying. With a flurry of ringing metals, she whirled from one corner to another, gathering fistfuls of mint from bowls around the room and tossing them into the flames. The smell of cremated mint permeated the air.

She dangled her breasts in front of his eyes, swung her rosette-clad nipples over his knees, teased him with one, then the other, her body pliant from years of dancing. He twisted in his chair. Sweat beaded his nose. His eyeballs rolled up, leaving two white crescents behind. She clutched him. His moans intensified. A single squeeze sent him into painful convulsions.

You son of a burned dog, empty yourself clean because this will be your last release.

“Don’t you dare grow old on me,” he panted.

“I won’t,” she replied, her voice sweet and sticky. “If you teach me how to become immortal.”

Jacob stood in front of the kiln, his back to Rebekah. She held on to the door frame, one palm resting against her heart. Tonight you’ll turn into gold. Have courage. Be a man. Defeat the fire, she begged silently. If she could only toss more mint into the flames, erase the last traces of doubt; remind him of his virility, his power to triumph.

She had to muster courage, brace and ready herself for the unknown, guide this night into the one she had been awaiting.