Paris, a daring athlete and massive stud, finds his equal in a slender sunflower of a woman named Clytie. They’re bull leapers, practicing the deadly sport of the ancient Minoans for the amusement of a super-wealthy modern audience on a private island. Clytie and Paris are also consorts, trained to give their masters all varieties of pleasure. Their love for one another is as inevitable as it is forbidden.
The crowd chants her name. “Cly-tie, Cly-tie, Cly-tie.”
The bull, Triton, stops his prancing and bellowing. His narrow eyes see his rival. He circles her. She turns on her heel to face him. The crowd claps in rhythm.
Triton lowers his head, rips the dirt with his horns, gouges the ground with his hooves, and bellows.
The novice bends her neck, puts her hands aside her head like horns, and kicks the dirt.
The Godlike cheer.
The JumboTron centers on her face. Her wide forehead, high cheekbones, and narrow chin make her dusky eyes huge. I search those eyes for fear, and find amusement.
Triton bellows his loudest. She sticks out her tongue at him.
The Godlike roar.
Triton charges. She runs toward him.
