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A Satyr's Tale: Zaza and Sylus
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When their best friends, Selby and Darius decide to get married, trouble
ensues… Entertainment Executive, Zaza Draper, has no patience for men
in general. Therefore, as the maid of honor in her best friend, Selby's,
wedding it forces her to work closely with the pompous best man, Sylus
de Gauls Musician extraordinaire. Sylus de Gauls, thought after
centuries of all species of women he could handle this one, but Zaza was
more than one Satyr should have to deal with in a lifetime. Za and Sy
are on a mission to find Selby’s birth mother before the big wedding. As
Sy learns Za’s secrets, a forbidden love develops, bringing the forces
of the Darkworld upon their heads. Can love prevail or is death
imminent? Highly erotic romance.
A Satyr's Tale: Zaza and Sylus


Zaza Draper stood in the bathroom doorway casting a frustrated glance at the naked woman still sleeping in her bed. She finished towel drying her boy-short hair and pitched the bath towel into the trendy, chic clothes hamper.
She was trying to resist the impulse to wake her up and tell her to get out. Za tried not to be rude with Megan.  She had been her lover on and off since she elected to live openly a lesbian lifestyle three years ago. Long enough for Megan to adequately get that she didn't allow women to remain all night, or move any of their shit into her house. Not even a toothbrush. That is, unless you were her close friend, Selby Maison.
Selby was the only individual, be it male or female, who understood virtually everything there was to comprehend about Za. They became immediate best friends while residing in the county orphanage awaiting foster homes.
She glanced at the bed again and swept her fingers through her fuzzy hair as she made her way over to the off-white vanity. She sat upon the red velvet upholstered bench and looked at her image in the mirror.
Za removed a tube of hair gel from a side drawer, squirted a line in her hand, and spread the gel between both palms. Deftly, she swept her hands through her mane and fingered it into style, sculpting spiked bangs to feather across the forehead.
Her eyes drifted over Megan's prone figure wrapped in the cream-colored satin sheets, one pale slender thigh and calf exposed as if she were erotically posing for one of her magazine photo shoots, and questioned for the second time that evening, what the fuck had she been thinking? Allowing Megan back into her private life and her bed again, after the episode she pulled the last time they were together, this was probably a foolish mistake.
Za appreciated that Megan was convinced she was the love of her life and, at the beginning, it felt wonderful. It even made the sex better. Now, Megan was like the other women she'd slept with after her ex-fiancé Peter Worth. They all wanted long-term assurances.
She wondered why folks spoiled good sex by thinking about the future. Why not just live for the moment, and appreciate the fundamental fact that sex is an essential need. Besides, it was too easy to retract verbal statements of love and promises so why bother expressing it at all.
Za smiled briefly as she saw Megan's reflection as she sat up. Her long, model-thin arms stretched above her head, causing her small, big-nippled breasts to thrust forward with the elegant arch of her back.
Za considered Meagan a natural beauty. An authentic redhead with luscious full lips, slanted green eyes, she stood six feet tall in two-inch heels. She was the cover girl for numerous ads and billboards nationwide.  She even had her own personal line of cosmetics. Megan was every man's wet dream and she could graze pussy like there would be no tomorrow. Hence, the fundamental basis she'd found her way back into Za's bed.
“Hey, baby, why are you up, it’s after midnight? Come back to bed.”
Za reached for the lotion bottle and automatically started carefully applying it to her arms and legs. “Time for you to go, Megan,” she stated without turning around to view the dissatisfaction she expected to find on the other woman's face.
She noted the loud sighs of displeasure in the quietness of the room and noted the shifting of bed covers out of the corner of her eye as she applied lotion on the other leg.
Za looked up from her task as the graceful naked figure stepped down from the built-in dais steps leading up to the bed.
Megan came closer, looking down at her intently.  Za sat up, inwardly releasing a quiet curse as she waited for the theatrics to come.
A livid light smoldered in Megan's green eyes as they seized Za's full golden-brown stare.
“Baby, don't give me that rude look, I understand where I fit in with you. I'm not going to cry and implore you to love me, or mention that we move in together, or anything else that will supply you with a reason to push me out of your life.” She pouted prettily as she eased closer, reaching out a hand to run her fingers down Za's arm. “I learned my lesson after the last time.”
Za couldn't help but sigh with relief. Finally, Megan seemed to comprehend how things were between them. “It means a lot to me that you're not giving me attitude. Megan,” she admitted. “I was concerned this evening might have been a mistake.”
Megan went down on her knees before her. Za shook with pending desire as the other woman began to touch her outer thighs with long manicured fingers.
"I'm not sure how I should acknowledge that." Megan's eyes dropped to where her pale hands rested on Za's upper thigh. “It's not flattering to be perceived as potential drama.”
Za swallowed and licked her lips, trying hard to ignore the palpable sensations of Megan's fingers against her skin and was doing a lousy job of it. “Shouldn't you be getting dressed now?”
Megan closed the last few inches between them; her lips brushed against hers. When their lips made contact a second time, the kiss became deep and seductive as Megan brought her hands behind Za's head and drew her down on top of her as she relaxed back on the richly soft and plush gold-tinted carpet.
Their bodies strained against each other, their nipples hardened. Za felt a moisture pool between her thighs and, based on Megan's familiar reaction as she prompted Za over onto her back, she was feeling the intense warmth too.
Megan ran her hand along Za's leg, massaging the heated smooth skin. Her other hand successfully acquired hold of hers, lifting it to her small breast, inviting Za to appreciate its softness.
Za twirled her thumbs across the pliant flesh, teasing the thick nipples, squeezing until Megan eventually unleashed a loud moan.
Opening her mouth to Megan's kiss, Za spread her thighs wide as Megan glided her hand down between her shaky legs and roughly stroked her. Eagerly, their tongues slipped against each other and moans filtered trough the room. After a couple of minutes of rubbing and kissing, Za adjusted her frame; she exchanged her palm on Megan's breast for her mouth. She wasted no time closing her lips around the rosy areola and swept the flat of her tongue against her nipple.
"Mmm," Megan hummed, arching into Za’s suckling mouth. “That feels so good.”
Za desired Megan.  Undeniably, lust was a good reason to presume you could create a long-term bond.  That is, if someone wanted a committed relationship.  The reality stood, she didn't.  Her physical attraction to Megan didn't leave her witless as to what she was trying to do.
Megan was seducing her.  If she allowed it, the woman would continue doing so until the morning sun appeared. Megan was attempting to ultimately fulfill her goal of remaining the night and, as Za laid there a quivering mass of flesh, Megan was winning this ongoing battle.
Having a woman that really enjoyed making love to women was gratifying in ways that only women could ever understand. It was as satisfactory as masturbating your own body. There was no rush to begin and no erection placing your orgasm on a crucial time clock. You could come as many times as you needed, and enjoy penetration only if you were in the mood to offer the toys. Megan was the right partner in bed; however, out of bed, she could be selfish, demanding, clingy, and most of all, insecure.
Za allowed herself to float on the relieving waves of delight that Megan was sending through her flesh as she continued a tour down the span of her body.
Za pressed the heel of her foot into the small of Megan's back and humped against her active fingers, pushing first one, then two digits deep inside her vagina simulating a ramming cock. Her lips, teeth and tongue, kissed, nibbled, and teased.
"Oh, God," Za gasped for air. Her head bobbed from side to side as she bit her bottom lip. There was an intensive perception of a deep need inside her to surrender to Megan's crooning words of affections and love, strongly pressing her into conceding the same. Za mentally acknowledged she understood why Megan would want her love so desperately, but it would be a lie if she said she loved her in return.  She steadfastly stayed quiet, deciding lust was a long way from being in love.
“Let me love you, Zaza…please, let me love you.” Megan balanced her body so that she was lying atop of Za. She mastered and sucked on her lips in a breath-stealing kiss. Her fingers joined with Megan’s as she grunted and rotated her pubic bone against the other woman’s clitoris.
Passions flamed hot as Za rocked back and forth against her womanly curves. Musky sweat emerged in thin layers over their flesh. Megan was the first to have a dramatic release. The vocals from her pleasure provided Za with a final push. Her flushed body stiffened as she cried her orgasm into Megan's mouth. Sweet ripples of satisfaction forcefully produced a seductive bewilderment to her quivering form and she shut her eyes.
“I will never love anyone else…ever.”
“Megan,” Zaza warned.
“You are everything I could ever want in a woman, Za. I love everything about you. I even love watching you come," Megan continued as she smeared the sheen of sweat from Za's brow. “I know you loathe to hear this, but I can't help it. I genuinely believe I would die without you.”
“Don't say stuff like that.” Za sat up, drawing her knees up beneath her chin, then wrapped her arms about her legs and rested her chin on her knees.
“You must admit you like the way I touch you,” Megan said in a tense, clipped voice that forbade any denials.
"Yes, you are the best, Megan," Za softly agreed.
"So?" Megan asked, smiling at the look of bliss that lingered on her lover's face.
"So…what, Megan?” Za looked up into Megan's searching eyes. She saw the expectation and longing for everything, Za couldn't give to her.
“Tell me that we can be exclusive. Tell me that after a few months we can hopefully take it to the next level and move in together.”
Za visibly tensed.
“Look, if you can't offer me what I desire then fuck you, Zaza! I have women and men knocking down my door.” She flung her hair over her shoulders in a gesture of defiance. “There is no reason for me to continue kissing your ass, but I do it because I recognize you love me. You're just too stubborn to acknowledge you need someone in your life.”
“I got someone, it’s just not you.” Za responded clearly, abandoning all pretenses. “I got Selby and she appreciates me as I am.”
Megan face became enraged. “Fuck Selby! She doesn't want you the way I do. She is more of a pal with whom you get off with occasionally. She's blissfully marrying a man, for God's sake. Then where will that leave you, when she no longer has time for you?”
“I've informed you time and time again to lay off, Megan and since you can't take a hint…it's over! This time I mean it,” Za declared as she moved onto her feet. “Now get dressed and make sure you turn the latch when you get the fuck out of my house.”
Without a backward glance, Zaza walked into the bathroom slamming the door behind her.
Zaza was tired and felt in the desperate need of a nip of something more calming than six cups of the espresso she had throughout the day. It had been twenty-two hours since she managed a quick power nap on the office sofa; it was just enough to get her through the three a.m. conference call from Berlin. At least this was her last stop before she could go home and crash.
Life was running her ragged. She had an executive palm pilot full of commitments just waiting for her to manage. Her capable assistant took care of her share of it but the majority required her special expertise in the area of ass kissing. Mainly, the production promoters were her entrepreneurial beast of burden. She personally spent most of the morning rearranging her friend and invaluable client, Selby Mason's, future sold-out concert dates around her upcoming nuptials.
Once you stir in the labors of being the maid of honor for said wedding and heighten it with the repeated calls from a possessive ex-lover, you have the makings of hysteria.
Za's motive for having her drink at this exact location wasn't spur-of-the-moment. She never took a step without a principal purpose. She continued dropping by here in hopes of conferring with the seemingly reclusive owner. No one she questioned even knew his name. They widely identified him only by his initials and the fact he drops in from time to time to perform with the house band.  Otherwise, there was not much else to tell.
Well, she decided this would be the last effort on her part. The man didn't even have the courtesy to acknowledge any of the messages or free show passes she'd left here for him. At this point, Za wasn't sure she still wanted to book her clients in this place. She sighed heavily. All in all, this had been a fucked-up week.
Now, what was she going to do about Selby? Za was still was having a hard time accepting her friend was marrying a man she met and made out with in a local hotel lobby men's room.
That had to be one of the most buck-wild crazy moves anyone could make. Especially someone as well known as Selby was in the entertainment field. Her friend used to be one of the most levelheaded women she knew, but lately, since Selby had met Darius it was as if she was dealing with a completely unknown person. Za couldn't say it was a bad thing because she'd never seen her happier, she was absolutely glowing. Admittedly, in a way, Za envied her finding that kind of love.
Of course, on the down low, Za ensured to the best of her abilities that Selby wasn't being deluded again, as her first husband had managed. That lying bastard had the nerve to sue Selby for a half of everything she possessed. It was as if breaking her heart hadn't been enough.
Zaza independently took it upon herself to find out all that she could about Selby’s new fiancée, Darius Andros, before they exchanged their vows. This time she would be a true friend and do a better job of looking after Selby's interests.
It surprised her when Darius hadn't wanted a prenuptial agreement of his own. After all, he was the first-born son of a wealthy and well-known Greek family who founded the Satyrs' Wine Empire. His portfolio was impressive, but monies didn't say much for his character; that was something that only time would report.
She couldn't help wondering about a man that proposed to a woman he only knew from a one-night escapade in a public bathroom. Something else was going on here and she just couldn't fathom what he was after. It could be just basic natural love, she surmised—at least for some individuals.
In particular, Za pondered about Darius's platinum-blond sidekick, Sylus.  He appeared to be more than a close friend to Darius.  She also notices he was always hanging around the happy couple. Selby seemed to be fond of him, but Za didn't care for his pompous attitude.
Za felt relieved when she saw the couple at her favorite table in the back of the cocktail bar get up and leave. It was always the best place to sit and people watch undisturbed.
Diamond Blue was the hottest blues bar in Vegas. It was far enough off the beaten path of the busy strip that tourists didn't bombard it. It was more of a secret watering hole for the locals and a retreat where entertainers could frequent and not be disturbed by the press. There was a metal detector and guards at the door. 
If you couldn't leave your phones at the coat desk in the decorative hall of the club you didn't get in.   This is the place to chill in the midst of a bustling town and not worry about someone's camera phone recording you during your most private moments.
Za sighed aloud, smiling at the bartender who motioned he was on his way. Her thoughts returned to Selby’s reckless behavior and constant need for wine. She didn’t know if this was a good thing or not.     It didn't seem to influence her performance in any way. In fact, her new stuff was better than anything she'd creatively written in the past. It was different from her original style, but these days’ entertainers needed different and bold material just to continue in the mainstream.
Slowly, she leaned back, resting her head against the back cushion of the booth. Her eyes took in the surroundings for lack of anything else to do; she wasn’t used to being without her electronic toys and she felt uncomfortable sitting there alone.
Her honey-brown eyes took in the mellow romantic atmosphere. The decor was masculine with key shades of navy and cream surrounded by redwood tables and paneling. There were no TVs to take away from people tuning into each other instead. A medium-size stage was awaiting the live entertainment that was to come: usually solo individuals or an occasional quartet.
This place caused some of the finest careers in the music business and it has been around so long no one was sure when it originated. She tried for years to get Selby a sit-in with the tiny house band but they had always been engaged years in advance. Even her influence wasn't good enough to get a scheduled meeting with the reclusive owner of the establishment.
He even had the nerve to leave a note with the bartender that if she wished to meet with him, she would have to be around on the nights he chose to stop in and perform. When she asked the bartender when that would be, he politely told her, “S.D. said you would probably ask that and he informed me to tell you, to have faith.” What a screwy nonsense way to run negotiations?
Za learned early in her business pursuits that if you wanted to get on the top and stay on top you had to be structured. She would warrant this man never wanted for anything. If he had to struggle half as hard as a black woman did try to make it in an industry that catered to men, he wouldn't be making a simple meeting request so difficult.
In the initial days of getting Selby's career off the ground, Za scratched and worked her way to make the right connections to get Selby gigs that weren't typically offered to newcomers. Before she knew it, she had established her own business and now she was a recognized conglomerate with several other entertainment agents working for her.
Draper's Entertainment Incorporated was her baby, but Selby's career was the only one she continued to maintain personally. Selby had held her promise and placed her career in Za's hands, and she made Selby a household name, locking in seven-figure music deals.
As soft instrumental jazz filtered through the surround-sound speakers, Zaza Draper, businesswoman extraordinaire, stayed centrally targeted on the issue at hand quite blind to the many interested glances at her petite figure.
Still, they weren’t foolish enough to approach any woman while in Diamond Blue unless she approached first. This was a “ladies’ choice” bar and many men lost their membership by not following the rules.  It was one of the reasons she came here with some of her female dates when she wanted to go out for dinner and dancing.
“If it isn't the too fine for sunshine Zaza Draper. I can die now, for all is right in the competitive world.  It's good to see you again. It's been awhile.” Bartender Ed smiled and kissed her proffered cheek as he placed her regular apple martini in front of her.
“Hello, Eddie. I see you're busy tonight; it generally don't take me twenty minutes to get my much-needed martini,” she teased.
“Yah, well, word’s out on the streets that the boss is performing tonight and the horny babes been creeping up in here like bees on a hive.” He beamed a smile that was flawless against his dark handsome face. “I take it that’s why you picked tonight to stop in, too.”
“No, I absolutely needed this drink before I went home.” She took a sip and released a deep sigh. She crossed her shapely legs. The black skirt didn't do anything to hide her lean, naked thighs.  “Yet, if I happened to encounter the man himself while I was here, all the better.”
Za didn’t miss the appreciation in Ed’s eyes, nor did she care.
“I don’t understand why S.D. has been making it so hard on you.  I told him how fine you were.”
“Mmm, did you happen to tell him I was a lesbian too?”  She arched an eyebrow at him.
He must have realized she had his number. “Huh… I don’t think so but I don’t know a red-blooded male that wouldn’t see a lesbian as a challenge or a possible two for one.”
“I hear ya.” Za put on her best come-hither smile and crossed her arms beneath her breasts until they peaked into a prominent cleavage. Her white georgette beaded button-front blouse opened wider as she leaned forward. “So Eddie, tell me, did you do that little favor I asked of you? Did you check upstairs in his office to see if he had anything with his full name on it?”
Ed's eyes drifted to the cleavage and once again he moistened his full lips, “Yeah, and you owe me big.  His name is—Ed.  I need you at the counter right now,” the frantic waitress interrupted.  “That asshole is trying to say he gave me a fifty and it was a twenty!”
  “Damn, not another idiot.” The bartender's irritation was plain on his wry face; he glanced at Za's breasts once more and cursed. “Za, baby, I will check back on ya in a piece. I must get this handled. I can't have any shit going down tonight, with the owner comin'.”
“Wait, Eddie! What…” she sighed and cursed softly.
Za turned her attention to her martini, taking a couple of more tiny sips. On crowded nights like this, Za learned to consume slowly, because her limit was one drink per outing.
She looked around with curious eyes; there were plenty of physically attractive women up in here. If she decided she desired to get rid of some of this stress with some sexual therapy, she saw she wouldn't have any difficulties getting action tonight.
Was she honestly in the mood for company? With her luck, she'd probably find someone who wished to snuggle, talk, and draw out the night afterwards.  Za definitely wasn't in the state of mind for anyone's emotional baggage.  She had overstuffed luggage of her own to deal with.  A shadow of sadness came across her face and she shrugged it off. Tonight she wanted to not talk or think any more for at least four hours.
Za took another sip and enjoyed the smooth burning sensation in her chest as the liquid ease down.  Suddenly the club lights grew dimmer into near darkness except for the mini flashlights the servers used to maneuver their way between the tables.
A hush fell over the room. She felt her heart thump against her chest, a perception of foolish excitement flowed through her. So, I'm about to see you. 
She was about to get her first glimpse of this S.D., character. For some reason she felt nervous and excited at the same time as she waited for the owner of Diamond Blue to make his grand entrance. She was more than curious to see and hear the enigma that caused all this excitement amongst the women.  Maybe he could use an agent that is if she liked what she heard.
Blood coursed through his body and he could feel each heartbeat fall into calm unison as his tall frame lowered onto the awaiting barstool. One long muscular leg rested upon the stage as the other braced against the footrest of the stool as he supported the feminine curve of the René Vaboam classical guitar on his leg. He adored this guitar; it was a gift from one of his former enthusiasts, made specifically for him in seventeenth-century Paris after a very delightful two-month stay.
The lighting crew knew to wait until the second intro before turning the spotlight on; they could appreciate the clear effect of his music and not focus solely on his appearance. His elder brother Quintan taught him that and so much more when it came to becoming one with the music and closing out his surroundings.
His ordinary hearing was acute, but humans had become desensitized by the noise and distractions that surrounded them.  They ceased to appreciate how music was more than just a song they heard on the radio or TV for background noise. Music is like a remarkable work of cultural art, and as refine as expensive wine, or uninhibited sex.  You just had to learn to listen.
His objectification was to heighten their senses with darkness before allowing them to see who composed the music that created emotional reflections.
He strummed the first note before music, melodious and haunting, filled the sizeable bar with a longing for all that was wonderful and glorious.  His long, deft fingers played the guitar’s strings with proficient care.
In the endless darkness, he could hear their breathing released in tiny puffs and sighs as if they were in the throes of passion.  His nostrils flared as a particularly familiar scent of her state of arousal wafted his senses staggering him into tightening his hold on the guitar.  His fingers stumbled over a few notes. A frown marred his smooth features; he was accustomed to being a distraction, not being distracted.
Why was she here? Was it by chance or had she intentionally sought out his company?  No if she came to him it would never be for personal reasons.
His penis hardened and he shifted on the stool, shutting his eyes, concentrating on the music, not the woman that had possessed his thoughts since the moment he had seen her in his thoughts.  Through his bond with Darius he watched this woman and her friend Selby make love.  It had been more than a month but continued to haunt his dreams.  How was this possible?
Sy found Zaza Draper an impossible shrew of a woman. Darius claimed the woman hadn't even been with a man for over three years and only slept with women.  What good would she be to one such as he?
I do not need a man-hating woman in my life. She will be nothing but trouble, Sylus thought with growing agitation.
 “Sylus, my friend, do you need me?”
“No Darius I am fine… go back to fucking your woman and leave me be!”
“I can hear the mistakes in your music, others won’t know the difference so don’t worry.  But it’s because Za is there isn’t she?”
“Go away Darius, I can handle one simple minded human female!”
The masculine voice in his head chuckled and faded.
As the song vibrated through Za’s body in the darkness, she ran her fingers over her bare thighs, pushing the black linen pleated miniskirt up as she went along.
Her fingers trembled and her pussy was already wet with growing desire. She itched to feel those wonderful fingers tickling at her clitoris the way he tickled over the strings of that guitar. At this moment Za didn't care what he looked like or what his name was as long as he didn't stop playing.
Slowly her sling-pumped feet slid apart, causing her thighs to spread wide; she scooted down in her seat. She was so horny she didn't even have to wet her fingers with the moistness of her mouth. Achingly, Za slid her wandering fingers though the lace-scalloped edging of her black Victoria's Secret underwear and felt the thick lips of her Brazilian-waxed pussy. With a deep need, she pushed two fingers between her labia, pushing until the flat of her palm pressed against her clitoris.
She enjoyed the consuming feelings of arousal.  She felt the juices from her vaginal walls seeping between the cheeks of her ass and it turned her on even more.  Za was thankful for the convenient leather seating and her underwear for there was no turning back now.  She had to come or die.
Za bit inside her bottom lip to keep from moaning aloud even though she could swear mixed in the eroticism of the music she heard the sounds of people fucking.  It was as if she was flashed back into one big Greek orgy.
My God, who is this man? How is it possible for him to do this to me with music?
She rolled halfway on her side, lifting a shaky leg until it hit beneath the top of the wooden table, she started fucking herself to the rhythm of the guitar… faster… faster as if he were encouraging her to follow him. Her heart was violently pounding faster and she stiffened while quick little spasms rippled against her fingers.
The fragrance of her sex seemed to permeate her nostrils… but it didn't matter… nothing mattered but this guitar-playing fool. Her eyes were clenched tightly, she didn't even care if the lights had come on and everyone was watching… she was so close to sweet relief.
Her cheeks and upper body grew flushed.  Beads of sweat appeared on her brow.  Za’s upper lip curled back off her teeth in a guttural swish as she pushed against one… two… three fingers.
As the surrounding area remained in the dark, a solo spotlight appeared on the musician sitting in a chair on the platform.
As if sensing a change in the room, Zaza opened her eyes. Gazing straight at her, as if he could see through the darkness, all the way to the rear of the room, was none other than the man she had been doing her best to avoid.
Za’s release came upon her; she cried out his name.
“Nooo… Sylus… Sylus…” Spasm after spasm seized her in a sweet, glorious release that seemed to go on as long as he continued to play that guitar.
After what felt like a two-minute orgasm, Zaza finally felt freed from the magical sound as he concluded the melody. She cursed him for making her lose domination over her own body.
“Damn you, it’s been you all along, Sylus de Gauls,” Za murmured as she picked up her purse, dropped a twenty on the table and hurried from the club, praying it was only in her imagination that he had been watching her through the shadows of darkness.
She would have been even more mortified if she had known for certain Sylus could see and appreciated every second of watching the ecstasy of her release on her beautiful face.  Of course she would undoubtedly deny she was even here. Still, she couldn't deny, for one defining moment, she had been extremely thrilled to see the mysterious S.D. was Darius's friend, Sylus de Gauls.