Lucretia left the orgy in a huff.
It had become boring for her.
All that sweaty flesh and grunting like boars.
It wasn’t like the good old days, when Rome was mighty and the orgies were edgy and fun; when the parties were secret and you had to be part of the in-crowd to know where it was being held. Now everyone was holding an event and they were filled with cheap liquamen and badly sculpted mentulae.
The ides was really upon them, she told herself, as she climbed into her chariot. And about bloody time too.