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Soapsuds and rubber ducks


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Rufus did not often get time to himself, and very much appreciated it when he did. He had learned his way around, at least enough to recognise the Palatine from different angles to find his way home again, and was going to take advantage of a very rare afternoon off and spend a few hard-earned asses at the Thermae Mercuari, which were the nearest public baths that he knew of to his master's house.

He knew what to do and how bathing worked, in the Roman fashion, not because he had ever been a customer but because he had attended his master there. It would be nice to be a patron for once, and there was nothing at all that forbade a slave from making use of the baths so long as they did not bring their masters into disrepute. Rufus had no intention of that, of course.

He paid his entrance fee and stripped off in the apodyterium, folding his clothing neatly to leave in a cubbyhole there before joining the other patrons. By the time he came to have a massage, he was as relaxed as he'd ever been, and couldn't help smiling at the waiting slave.



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