The Case Of The Roman Kintsugi

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Hi all, thanks for reading! This is the start of a longer story, but it isn't a quickie -- if you're looking for instant gratification you should skip the first 1000 words or so. I think the buildup helps, but you're free to draw your own conclusions. I promise that once things are in full swing the action will come fast and heavy!

If you like what you've read, please let me know! Comments are great, or shoot me message via the CONTACT tab on my profile. I'll continue the story if there's interest, so I need to know if there's interest! Critiques and responses are always welcome.

THE CASE OF THE ROMAN KINTSUGI

James was tired. It was nearing 3 in the morning, he still hadn't slept, and he just couldn'tget it to make sense. Maybe it

didn't

make sense. He knew it was a long shot; honestly, how many people must have found the same book, had the same idea, and been disappointed just the same as he was? But James decided to give it one more try; this had become a problem to solve. And for someone as studious as he was, a problem like that was too tempting, too tantalizing to just set aside.

His Latin was pretty good; 4 years in high school, and another semester under his belt so far in his first year of college. He knew the shape of what he was reading, but there were a few words he couldn't work out and they weren't in any dictionary he could find. His library didn't have a copy of Adams'

The

Latin Sexual Vocabulary

, or he might have shortened his search.

Even so, he had a pretty good idea of what he was looking at. It was a copy of an inscription found on a lead tablet in the Roman province of Dacia. Modern day Romania? Or Moldova? Lead tablets were used in the ancient world for spells; you carved your spell into the soft lead and threw it into a pit, a well, or something like that. The important part was that it got underground, where the spirits could find it and bring it to fruition.

This particular inscription was a spell, or maybe a curse, and he had the gist of it. It was a love spell, an invocation to make the object of affection fall in love with the person who used it. 'Love' was maybe too soft a word; it was very specific about what the enchanted person would want, and even if all of the words weren't the kind that were covered in Latin class, he could make a pretty good guess at their meaning; lots of

phallus

alongside

cunnus

. The object of the spell is supposed to offer up their

cunnus

to the spell-user's

phallus

, etc. etc. This was all clear enough. But there was one fragment at the very end that he just couldn't work out.

Res plena fiat fracta. Malus kintsugi mihi est; potens dispersa me petant animi incisi incisum

.

The first part wasn't too bad.

Fiat

was weird, but he had the sense that it worked.

"Let the full thing be broken. A bad (wicked? evil?)

kintsugi

is for me. The dispersed power, they seek me, the minds,

incisi

incisum?

" James mumbled to himself.

For the life of him he couldn't figure out

kintsugi

; it didn't even look like a Latin word. And the rest of his translation was a bit of guesswork too. He was missing something.

He put aside the book containing the inscription and sighed. It was late, and he had class early tomorrow - early being 10am, but when you're a freshman in college that counts as early. He had actual homework that he had been working on before getting sidetracked; his class tomorrow was Roman History, where he was supposed to have been reading about the Roman empire's expansion but had instead discovered the book of love spells tucked away in a dusty corner of the campus library stacks. One of the benefits of attending an old, private college like his was the library. It had countless volumes: all the new, important academic works of course, but also room after room of oddities donated by alumni in the 19th century. He loved it, even if it did occasionally distract from what he was supposed to be reading.

James set his phone alarm for 8am, with every intention of getting up early to finish the assigned reading before class. He shuffled the pile of books off of his extra long twin bed, thankful once again that his roommate had decided at the last minute to take a gap year; he had the small double room to himself, an empty bed the exact match of his across the room currently served as storage for his books and clothes that he hadn't put away in their proper home. As he flicked off his lamp and turned on his side in the dark, he turned the inscription over in his mind for just a minute or two, then fell fast asleep.

------

James woke, frazzled. He felt like he had been asleep for ages or maybe not at all. The sunlight coming through the window of his dorm room told him it was morning, and not especially early either. He grabbed his phone from the nightstand; 9:40am. He had class in twenty minutes!

He scrambled out of bed and into the bathroom. A quick brush of his teeth -- he had forgotten the night before -- and a comb through his short, dark hair had him presentable as he threw a t-shirt and jeans on his 6'1" frame. He was lanky, but not a total stringbean. At 170 pounds he looked decent enough with his shirt off, but no one would call him ripped, exactly. That was just fine. James knew he looked good enough, and it's not like anyone had seen him shirtless recently anyway. He had his own bathroom thanks to the absent roommate, and aside from a few drunken hookups at the start of school he hadn't been into the party scene. He liked to have fun but usually in smaller groups, and he wasn't exactly the type to meet a girl on the dancefloor at a party and try to bring her home to his room. It just wasn't his style.

As James slouched into his seat only two minutes late, he was relieved to see the lecturer had not yet arrived. It was a fairly big class, maybe 50 students, and best of all it was independent. Professor Quayle gave her lecture twice a week for 45 minutes, and the rest of the course was reading and assignments. Professor Quayle had that wonderful quality of caring about learning more than grades, so as long as you demonstrated that you attended class and did the work you didn't have much to worry about. James was one of the few students who knew Latin, so he occasionally asked a question or two after class; sometimes he was curious, but other times he was showing off just a little bit, if he was being honest. College was different, but some high school habits had yet to be broken.

Professor Quayle walked in and smiled at the room. She was cute, but not the kind of woman who college boys elbowed each other about. In her mid-forties she had dyed blonde hair with brown peeking through, and stood a charming 5'6". She looked more or less how you might expect: certainly pretty, a body that showed her age but not without grace, maybe a little mousey. She was the kind of woman who made scared young freshmen feel comfortable. Professor Quayle was warm, and her smile showed it.

As she dove into the lecture James yawned and sank lower into his seat. His mind wandered back to last night, driven as much by the frustrating grammar and vocabulary of the spell as by its admittedly exciting purpose. As his eyes wandered from the blackboard and over the room he started to think about what he would do if he could use such a spell, even if right now he wasn't able to read it properly let alone put it into action.

His eyes stopped first on Rebecca. A sophomore, she had been assigned to his dorm to help on move-in day. He felt a little bad thinking about her in such explicit terms, since she had been nothing but lovely to him -- friendly, helpful, outgoing, almost like a big sister. She had brown hair that was very thick, and it stretched down to her mid back. She was maybe a tad pudgy, but that only added to her charm. She seemed comfortable and happy in her body, even if her legs weren't pencil thin and she had a little bit of a tummy. James admired that about her, and even though he was a little intimidated -- she was a sophomore, after all -- he was sure it wasn't just an act. Rebecca was the kind of girl who would probably go on to be everyone's favorite fifth grade teacher, and spend her life making other people's lives better.

Feeling slightly ashamed -- but once again noticing how soft the curves of her body looked -- James ripped his gaze away, landing next on Sophia. Sophia lived down the hall from him in the same building, and that was about all he knew of her. They'd said hello at a dorm meet-and-greet back in September, and his sense was that she was if anything more shy than him. She was also petite. Scratch that,

tiny

. Sophia could not have been more than 4'11", and James didn't even know how to guess her weight. She was Asian and rail thin; a tank top in September had revealed to James that she had hardly any breasts to speak of, and two little points in the front of it had told him she certainly didn't feel the need for a bra. It wasn't everyone's cup of tea, but even someone who didn't prefer her body type would be lying if they said she wasn't cute. And she was very pretty, too -- lovely smooth hair and a sweet little face. She was shy, yes, but she looked people in the eye and her smile was dazzling.

To James, she was in the maybe category. It's not that he didn't like her -- he did -- but she was just so remote from him that he had a hard time imagining her doing anything sexual. His mind didn't even know where to begin.

Finally, his eyes landed on Jolene. She was a definite yes for him, and for just about every single male and a fair proportion of the females on campus. It was almost comical, and she must have known it: she looked like the kind of grown woman who played a college kid in movies. Blonde, gently curled hair sat atop her 5'8" frame toned by years of field hockey and lacrosse. She was tall, yes, but the first thing James and everyone else noticed was her eyes, bright blue and accented with long, fluttery lashes.

Honestly, she looked like sex. From her bright red toenails in her strappy leather sandals to her bare, well-defined legs, to her short denim skirt and midriff-baring red tanktop that showed off her breasts. James was far from expert, but he guessed they had to be at least a C cup. Her smooth skin made him think of honey and cream.

Yes

, James thought to himself.

If I can figure out the language and make this stupid spell work, she's my first target

. Not that he really expected it to work, of course. But since his mind was wandering he allowed himself the fantasy.

Class ended and James silently remonstrated with himself for failing to pay attention to the lecture.

Some extra reading for me I guess

, he thought. Which reminded him again of the reading from last night. It had really grabbed a hold of him, and he found himself curiously eager to look at it with fresh eyes.

------

Back in his dorm James found himself drawn to the Latin text again. He was working his way through it, becoming more sure of himself, when he had a revelation.

Res plena fiat fracta. Malus kintsugi mihi est; potens dispersa me petant animi incisi incisum.

"

Let the whole become broken. There is a wicked

kintsugi

for me. After the power is dispersed, the severed minds will seek me also severed

." That was it!

He still didn't know what

kintsugi

meant, or if it was even Latin, but the rest made so much more sense. It didn't just make sense grammatically, though, it

made sense

. He could feel it. What he had just said was right, and he knew it somehow deep in his core. He read the whole thing once more aloud in Latin, knowing now what it was meant to express, at least for the most part. He came to that final line:

Res plena fiat fracta. Malus kintsugi mihi est; potens dispersa me petant animi incisi incisum!

James found himself slipping down to the floor, the book still on his bed, and the last thing he remembered was a soft golden web descending over his vision, tracing lines like a lightning bolt in darkness.

----

James woke to a soft, insistent rapping on his door. He looked around surprised from his position on the floor of his dorm room, feeling almost hungover. He felt dreamy and a little bit achy, like everything was in soft focus. When he looked at the door, however, things seemed to clarify. He stood and moved to the door.

"What's up?" he asked as he pulled the door open slowly, curious about who was knocking and a little embarrassed by the state of his room and the fact that he seemed to have just napped for an hour or two on the floor.

"James?" Sophia looked up at him with alarm in her eyes.

"James, thank god! This is the third door I've knocked on."

"Uh, hi Sophia" James let the confusion show on his face as he looked down at Sophia. What could she want? History notes? His mind flashed briefly back to his assessment of her in class that morning and he hoped the guilt didn't show on his face. "What's wrong? Is everything okay?"

Sophia was dressed in just a t-shirt and shorts, feet bare. As before, two small twists in the fabric that James courteously tried to stop his eyes from lingering on confirmed that she was not a fan of bras, that it wasn't just something she forewent the first day they met. Not that she really needed one, if he was being honest. She seemed to have come straight from her room in something of a rush.

James noticed something else, too. As soon as he had opened the door Sophia had started to drift closer to him. It seemed almost subconscious. She was now standing in front of him just a few inches away, staring at him with a look he couldn't quite understand.

"Uh, Sophia? I said is everything okay?" James asked.

That seemed to break her out of her trance. "James!" She started. "Yes. No. I'm not sure...listen, would it be crazy if I told you I think I'm having a stroke?"

James' eyes went wide with surprise and concern. "Oh my god! Should I call an ambulance? What happened?" His thoughts from class disappeared, overtaken by genuine concern and the adrenaline of a medical emergency pumping through his veins.

"I'm not sure. I was napping after Roman history this morning, then when I woke up I hadn't taken two steps before my vision went kind of...funny. It was like there was a lightning flash behind my eyes, except it was soft and gentle and not at all scary. It's gone now, but I feel like I'm underwater or something."

James was shocked. He was still worried about Sophia, but he couldn't fail to notice that what she described was more or less exactly what he had seen before he fell asleep. Or rather, before he passed out. And she was still inching closer to him.

"Do you need a doctor? That sounds scary and..." James trailed off as Sophia stepped between his feet and wrapped her arms around his midsection. The top of her head barely reached the middle of his chest.

"Uh, Sophia?" James sounded like a broken record, but he was surprised. This was new. She was murmuring softly into his chest, almost purring.

"Mmmmmm James. James." Her voice was small and contented, and she nuzzled into him like a kitten or a baby.

"Sophia, are you okay? I'm not sure what you're doing." Ever the gentleman, James was concerned. At the same time, this almost felt better than anything else had in his life. It was like an ache he didn't know he had was being soothed, and his vision seemed sharper. Maybe the cobwebs from his nap were dissipating.

"It's okay Sophia, it's okay." Not sure what else to say he wrapped his arms around her and gently rubbed her back. This elicited a muffled moan from the smaller girl, and she pressed herself against him more forcefully, her legs planted on either side of one of his. James noted with concern and, despite himself, a stirring between his legs that she was grinding her very small shorts against his thigh. He gently took her shoulders in his hands and moved her a step away from him, looking down into her face. She shuttered a little, a frown creeping across her face.

"God, I think I

am

having a stroke. Sorry James, I don't know why I did that. It just felt like the right thing to do, and I think I needed it. It felt so nice being close to you like that." Sophia was clearly uncomfortable, but honest. "In fact, I kind of knew it. Ever since that lightning bolt I've felt like I was in a dream and all I needed was you. This probably sounds crazy but..."

James let her trail off, thinking. "No, that felt nice for me too. I mean obviously you're very sweet..." Why was he talking to her like he was trying to let her down gently? There was nothing wrong here and she

did

feel good pressed against him. It was just too strange.

While James thought Sophia had taken a step closer, and before he knew it was pressed to him again. She had learned last time how good it felt to be that close to James, and she was much less bashful now. She didn't know what she was doing, but she knew she needed it.

James was once again surprised by the shy, petite, Asian girl stepping into his embrace and winding her body around his. His mind was in overdrive, and he couldn't shake the thought that she had described exactly what he had seen. And now here she was, pressing herself against him. No,

grinding

herself against him.

By now he was fairly sure she was not, in fact, having a stroke, but she was definitely acting weird. Still, James couldn't see how anything he was doing was immoral, and he was starting to enjoy it.

As if it were an accident, he let one of his hands wander under the thin material of her t-shirt to her bare back. She was warm and smooth, and he continued to rub her back, cooing vague assurances into the top of her head as she nuzzled his chest. Her hands were on his back, sliding down to the waistband of his jeans. She was clearly and unashamedly grinding herself against his thigh, and James had the good sense to close the door behind them.

"James, please, I need this" she said softly, almost at a whisper, into his midsection. "Please. I need you close. Closer than close. Please." She continued to repeat variations of this as she ground herself against him, her cheeks starting to flush and her motions taking on an extra dose of neediness. James was fully hard by now, a fact he thought her unlikely to miss. She seemed to take no notice for the time being, content to simply mold herself around him like putty.

As his hands slid up her back they lifted the front of her shirt and her bare stomach touched him. For Sophia it was electric. She let out an excited little gasp and redoubled her efforts, now sliding down his body like a pole, desperate for her bare skin to be in contact with him again. James, emboldened by this, started nervously to lift the hem of her shirt; as if this had never occurred to her, Sophia growled in her throat and, stepping back for the briefest of flashes, whipped it up and over her head, tossing it aside.

In the few seconds she had taken to remove her shirt James was met with the sight of her small, lithe body naked from the waist up and covered only by her small pair of gym shorts. Her flat, tight tummy was more skinny than toned; he could see her ribs when she drew a shuddering breath. There had not been much left to the imagination, but her breasts were indeed small, topped by chocolate-colored nipples that protruded further than he would have thought. James was not the most experienced lover in the world, and he drank in the sight for as long as he could. The only thought that rattled around in his head -- aside from the steady drumbeat of want and need -- was that he loved how her nipples looked; they must have been a half inch out from her body and the thickness of a Sharpie marker.