“Not so loud,” Cressa murmurs, with one hand over her eyes. She is sipping her way through a small glass of wine, trying to recover from her hangover.

“That cook should have taken a few tips from my kitchen,” Zoskales says from behind the bar. “And I could have supplied him with a much more reasonable wine than two thousand sesterces a jar.” He snorts at the absurdity of the sum.

“This Cornelius,” Nicandrus loiters at their table, “the one who liked your singing. He seemed like an honest man?”

Amara and Dido look at each other. “A bit early to tell,” Dido replies, glancing up at him. She has one of the roses he gave her yesterday in her hair. It’s the sole survivor from his garland which spent the night bundled up in her discarded toga.

“Come on!” Victoria says. “What about afterward?”

Nicandrus moves away, heading back to the kitchen. Amara shrugs. “Not that impressive. I preferred the party.” It had been a strange end to the night. The four of them back at Quintus’s house, all in the same bedroom, slaves wandering in and out to top up the wine, sex just another social exchange.

“You telling me they paid seventy denarii for no poking?” Victoria says. There’s an edge to her voice. She has been laughing along with everyone else, but Amara knows she is devastated to have been excluded from such an exciting night. None of Felix’s women have ever been paid to attend a private house party.

“They were quite drunk,” Dido says.

Beronice and Zoskales laugh. “Money can’t buy you everything,” the landlord says. “Certainly not sense.”

Victoria pulls a disgusted face. “Couldn’t get it up then?”

Dido shakes her head. This isn’t entirely true. Marcus had been unable to perform after the party but had more success in the morning. He had proved an exhausting lover, nagging Dido for constant approval, wanting to know if she was really enjoying herself, would she like it better from behind? Even Quintus had rolled his eyes. Amara guesses Dido would prefer Nicandrus to hear a less eventful version of her exploits whenever the evesdropping Zoskales fills him in.

“Yours was a flop too?” Victoria needles, jigging Amara’s arm. “No action at all?”

She feels irritated at the focus on the least interesting part of the evening. “A few blow jobs,” she replies with a shrug. “The action was the party.” Amara turns back to Dido with a smile. “I still can’t believe we sang that bar song. The look on their faces when you started!”

“And they didn’t even want to swap girls? Having paid for both of you?”