Chapter Two

Clara sat in stunned silence. She tried not to look at the Doctor but it was like ogling a car wreck. She couldn't resist looking, even though she didn't want to.

The first thing she did notice was that the Doctor seemed to be in great physical shape for his age, or rather the age of his body. The second thin she noticed was how well endowed he was. She was well hung and it didn't go unnoticed in the crowd because she could hear a few men around her discussing him and marveling how a man his age could still be fit enough to participate in the games.

As she stared at the Doctor, trying not to look at his crotch, the Doctor strode around taking in the scenery. He wasn't warming up or stretching like the others, merely taking a relaxed approach to the games. He was scanning the crowd and Clara suddenly realized he was looking for her.

Then their eyes locked and the Doctor grinned, a very smug grin in Clara's opinion. Granted, the word cocky did pop into her head but she instantly dismissed it since cocky made her think of cock which was the last thing she wanted to think about right now. The Doctor chuckled and Clara could tell he saw her embarrassment and was getting a laugh from it.

Then an old man dressed in white robes with black trim stepped onto the pitch and everyone fell silent as he raised his hands for attention.

"Runners, take their places," he bellowed.

The Doctor and everyone else walked up to the part of the track marked off by the stone markers and stood side by side. The Doctor was on the end closest to the amphitheater. He shifted from one foot to the other and put his hands on his hips while he waited for the signal to go.

"You will run three times around the track," the man said to the runners. "The first one to finish all circuits and run past the marker wins. Now, get into position!"

Everyone except the Doctor stood there with one leg positioned behind them in order to push off when the signal was given. But the Doctor chose to hunker down and position himself like a modern sprinter, causing him to be the center of attention from everyone.

"I say, what is he doing?" the man next to Clara muttered to her as he pointed to the Doctor.

"Um…that's how we start a race where we come from," Clara said uncertainly.

The man frowned.

"Never seen anyone start off a race like that," he said to her.

The old man in charge of the foot race brought himself back to reality and told the runners as he raised his hands that when he lowered his arms, the race was on. The Doctor tensed his body, ignoring the snickers from his competitors but when the man lowered his arms, the Doctor pushed off the ground and to the surprise of everyone, zoomed out in front of the startled runners. The other runners shook off their surprise and hurried to catch up with him as the Doctor neared the first bend in the track.

"Wow, that fellow is on to something," the man beside Clara said as he nudged her. "He left everyone behind. Where did you say you were from then?"

Clara smiled at the man. He was middle aged with short salt and pepper hair that was thinning out on top. He had a round, slightly lined face and dark brown eyes that sparkled. He was slightly pudgy but otherwise in good shape. He had on a white robe with red trim on it. While he waited for Clara's answer, she struggled to think of somewhere convincing.

"Um…Troy, I'm from Troy," she said, unable to think of anything else.

The man's expression darkened a bit but he politely nodded.

"I'm from Sparta," he said pointedly.

"Oh," Clara said. "So when someone is traveling and needs to know where they're at, do you say "THIS…IS…SPARTAAAA!"

"No," the man said confused. "Why would I say it like that?"

"Nothing, just a joke," Clara said, shaking her head.

She turned her attention back to the Doctor. She couldn't tell what lap they were on but they were still running and the Doctor still had the lead. A sizable lead, she realized, and she could tell the others were busting a gut trying to overtake him. She looked at the Doctor and noticed he wasn't winded or breaking a sweat at all as he confidently ran the course. She figured it was from all those centuries of having to run from things. Her eyes inadvertently caught a glimpse of his swaying John Thomas and she quickly looked away. She noticed the old man was looking at her again.

"What's your name?" he asked her.

"Um…" Clara had to stop and think for a moment what name the Doctor had given her which amused the old man.

"They do not have names in Troy?" he teased her.

"No, sorry, it's Heracles," she said to him.

"Ah, named after the legendary hero I see," the man said nodding. "So they have heard of him in Troy."

"Yes, they have," Clara said, not sure whether they had or not but not really caring.

"I am Pelios, it is a pleasure to meet you even if you are a Trojan," he said.

"Likewise," Clara said with a nod.

They heard cheering and Clara turned her head just in time to see the Doctor crossing the marker, his arms over his head in triumph as he slowed to a job. The other men were slightly winded and gasping as the Doctor stopped and grinned at the crowd.

"So your friend is from Troy as well?" Pelios said, nudging Clara.

"Yes, he is."

"And they start off foot races like he did in Troy?"

"Yeah, they do," Clara said.

"Amazing. Perhaps the Spartans should do the same. It seems to be effective," Pelios mused.

The Doctor caught Clara's eye again and a mischievous grin spread over his face as he put his hands on his hips and thrust his crotch at her. He chuckled when Clara gave him a withering look.

"Your friend is quite endowed," Pelios said. "He truly has been blessed by the gods."

"Oh God, don't tell him that. His head is swelled enough as it is," Clara said.

The old man walked up to the Doctor, carrying an olive branch wreath that someone had handed him. He conferred with the Doctor for a moment before holding up his hands for silence.

"Spectators, this man is known as Socrates," the old man yelled to the crowd. "He comes from Athens and his father's name is Archemedes!"

"Athens, I thought you said he was a Trojan?" Pelios said to Clara.

Clara groaned inwardly, wishing she'd gotten her background information straight with the Doctor beforehand.

"He was originally from Athens but he moved to Troy several months ago," Clara said to Pelios. "But he still considers himself Athenian."

"Ah, I see," Pelios said, nodding, as Clara breathed a sigh of relief.

"Socrates has run a great race and pleased the gods," the old man yelled. "And in the sight of the gods, we award him this wreath."

Everyone cheered as the man put the olive branch wreath on the Doctor's head and he raised his arms in triumph. He caught Clara's eye again and used his right hand to point at the wreath before he lowered his arms to his sides. Then just when Clara thought it was over, a young boy came up to the old man with a palm branch and several red woolen ribbons. The old man handed the Doctor the palm leaf and tied the ribbons around his head, arms, legs and to Clara's embarrassment, a ribbon was tied around his penis. The crowd cheered and the Doctor raised the hand holding the palm leaf over his head and waved it around. Then the old man announced the next foot race but the Doctor strode away, not interested in joining in. Clara excused herself to Pelios and left her seat, slowly walking down the row of spectators to the stone steps. She hurried out of the amphitheater and saw the Doctor was leaning up against a nearby tree, smiling at her as he waved his palm leaf in greeting.

"Did you enjoy the race, Clara?" he asked her.

"I'd enjoy it even more if you put some clothes back on," Clara said as she walked up to him, trying to avert her eyes away from the red ribboned penis.

"That's how it was done," the Doctor said. "The contestants were nude. I couldn't show up fully dressed in my kit, Clara, I would have been laughed out of the stadium."

He grinned again when he noticed Clara was trying very hard not to look at his crotch.

"Pleasant breeze this morning, eh?" the Doctor said, enjoying her obvious discomfort. "You know this wreath was supposed to grant me mystical powers from the gods. Perhaps I should wear it from now on, eh? And I do like the ribbons, they're very pretty, don't you think?"

"Yeah, they're wonderful," Clara muttered, still averting her eyes.

"I betcha if I were Rupert the Bear, you'd be eyeing the goods," the Doctor said.

He chuckled when Clara turned completely red at that statement.

"So…" he said turning the stem of the palm leaf over and over in his hand. "They're gonna have a huuuuge party tonight for all the winners and everyone makes up special songs about themselves and there's drinking and carousing till the break of dawn. Interested?"

"No, I've seen all I wanted to see," Clara said.

"Sure about that? It'll be fun," the Doctor said. "Maybe I could oil myself up and be extra shiny for the festivities."

"You do that, heading back to the TARDIS now," Clara said, hurrying past him.

"Ah come on, Clara, I have to look my best," the Doctor said as Clara walked away. "Maybe I'll even wear my ribbons!"

"Not listening!" Clara called out as she hurried towards the TARDIS.

The Doctor chuckled before dropping the palm leaf and following his companion back to the TARDIS.


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