The Touch of Isis
S. Wolf
Published by S. Wolf at Smashwords
Copyright 2010 S. Wolf
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Note: This story contains sexually explicit material, and is intended only for persons over the age of 18. By downloading and opening this document, you are stating that you are of legal age to access and view this work of fiction.
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Valley of the Queens, Egypt, 1904
Sarah squinted in the low light, generated only by the several gas lanterns spread around the ancient room. Had she already inventoried this piece or not? She could barely read her own writing, and a frustrated sigh escaped her lips.
“You ok Sarah?” asked Matt, her fellow intern and inventory partner. They were both here after winning highly competitive summer college internships – her from Vassar and him from Princeton, but their work turned out to be slightly less exotic than they had expected. While the leader of their archeological expedition, Professor Schiaparelli, discovered the tomb and received world-wide accolades, they were here with the mundane task of writing down every single item found in the crypt.
Well, sitting in the lavish antechamber of the tomb of Nefertari, favorite wife of Ramesses the Great, could ever be mundane. She realized she was lucky to be here, being one of only a handful of people to enter these rooms in the last thousand years. But the monotonous paperwork was finally getting to her.
“I’m fine Matt. My eyes are getting tired, that’s all.”
“Same here,” he said, “I’m seeing double. You want to take a break?”
“I’d love to,” she replied, and walked over to the small bench where their knapsacks were sitting. Retrieving her canteen, she sat on one end of the bench.
After getting his water, Matt sat beside her, a bit closer than she would have preferred. Not that she minded, but when he was close she found it hard to concentrate on other things. He had a body built for this rugged life, and sometimes her mind would wander, imagining what it looked like – thoughts a proper lady shouldn’t be having.
Proper lady. Those words reminded her of her father, a wealthy Boston banker who had been dead set against her coming here, claiming that proper ladies didn’t run off to the desert, crawling through the dirt in men’s clothes. But for once, her mother had stepped in and insisted she be allowed to go. Her mother and she were kindred spirits, each sharing a natural curiosity about the world. And while the elder had given up her dreams of adventure to have a family, she wanted her daughter to experience the world before settling down and marrying.
“Ah,” said Matt, after taking a drink, “that hit the spot.” Although he attended a big-city school, he was a farm boy at heart. Originally from Wyoming, he was the first in his family to go to college, attending Princeton on a well-earned academic scholarship. He had caught the Egyptologist bug when he was young, reading every book he could find on the subject. Getting to know him this past month, she knew he was destined for greatness in this field, and she sometimes fantasized about them being married; a team of world-famous archeologist by day, and lovers by night. The lovers part made her blush, and sometimes a warm feeling arose between her legs when she thought of him that way.
He had obviously been raised to respect women, and it showed in how he treated her with courtesy. They spent most of their time together, and he had always been polite to her. There were a few times when she had turned quickly towards him and thought she had caught him admiring her body, but his eyes would look at her with open honesty, and she assumed she must have been imagining things. Wishful thinking, probably.
“Hey, you want to do some exploring?”
She smiled. “Love to.” They weren’t supposed to be doing this. Their job was to inventory, that’s all. The real archeologists would carefully search the tomb by day, lay out what they found on canvas tarps, and Sarah and Matt would spend the night cataloging it. But boredom sometimes overtook them, and they would spend a few minutes inspecting the crypt. After all, they were explorers, weren’t they?
“Want to try the tomb this time?” he asked.
Her smile widened. “Lead the way,” she said. They hadn’t been down there yet, but she had been looking forward to it for a while.
He grinned back and stood, taking one of the lanterns and heading for the dark entrance leading to the tomb room. She followed closely behind.
The stairs leading to the burial chamber angled downward to the right, with colorful paintings on the walls that seemed to come alive in the dancing light of the lantern. The stairs were uneven, and Sarah lost her balance slightly, bumping into his back. His hand took hold of hers for a moment, steadying her. Feeling his touch, she found it difficult to focus on the ancient artwork surrounding her.
At the bottom, the hallway opened up into the burial chamber. Here, the paintings on the wall were even more brilliant, and the roof was painted a dark blue, with white stars sprinkled across it. The floor at the center of the room was higher, with three steps leading up to it, and in the middle was a platform where the sarcophagus had sat.
Grave robbers had long ago stolen the body of the Queen from this room, along with most of its golden treasures. But many artifacts remained, from statues to personal effects of the Queen herself. It fascinated Sarah to think that Nefertari had actually held the objects in this room in her hands. Examining an ivory comb, she imagined it running through the Queen’s long dark hair.
Matt set the lantern in the middle of the room, and they began to look around, each taking an opposite side of the chamber. Sarah was in the middle of examining an ebony statuette, when Matt called to her.
“Sarah, bring the lantern over and take a look at this.”
She lifted the light and went to him, noticing he was peering intently into a shelf built into the wall.
“Look at these things. What do you think they are?”
The shelf was chest high, and she set the lamp on the edge, giving her enough light to examine the contents closely.
It was a collection of cylindrical items, with varying widths and lengths, rounded at one end and flat at the other. Some were made out of smooth wood, others were ivory, and a few smaller ones were jade. She furrowed her brow. What could they be? She could feel an old memory trying to bubble up, and then finally it came to her.
One day when she was twelve, her older sister Gretchen and she were trying on their mother's clothes, and she had discovered an object in the back of her mother's drawer. It was long and cylindrical, made out of smooth marble, and tapered to a rounded point on one end. Her sister blushed when Sarah showed it to her, and the curiosity that would eventually lead her to Egypt took over, and she badgered Gretchen until she explained what it was.
Now she was looking at Nefertari’s collection of those same objects. And just as she had done with the comb, she imagined how the Queen had used these items.
Her face turned a deep red, and even with the dim light from the lamp, Matt noticed.
“What?” he asked.
“Um,” she said, not even close to finding the words.
He could tell there was something she wasn’t telling him. “Sarah, what is it?”
She tried to remember how her sister had explained it to her. “Um, you know how sometimes women are alone?”
He looked at her as if she were speaking Chinese.
“They're alone but they wish they weren't,” she continued, “They wish there was a man around?”
She could tell by his expression that she wasn't getting through. She picked up the nearest object and showed it to him, holding it in one hand and laying it across the palm of her other, curling her fingers slightly around it. “They wish there was a man around?” she repeated, this time emphasizing the word 'man'.
He finally got it. His eyes opened wide and his mouth looked like it was saying “oh” but no sound came out. The flush in his cheeks quickly matched hers.
But what he did next surprised her. Stepping close to her, he said, “Let me see those again.” She moved to the side and stood there as he peered into the shelf, re-examining the objects with his new perspective.
He was close to her, almost touching, and she could feel the heat coming off of his body. She was still holding the object she had shown him, and she realized she was gripping it with both hands, unconsciously running her fingers along its length. Remembering that it was an ancient artifact that she was fondling, she gingerly placed it back in its spot, and the two of them looked down on the collection together.
She wondered if he was doing the same thing she had done; allowing his imagination to paint mental pictures of how the Queen had used these items.
“Hey, what's that?” he said, interrupting her thoughts. She looked to where he was pointing, and could make out a dark object lying against the back wall of the shelf. Adjusting the position of the lantern, she could see that it had a thin wooden handle, with some kind of shapeless mass on one end.
Matt reached in, stretched out his arm, and was barely able to get hold of it. Pulling it out, they both saw what it was. On one end of the handle, a bundle of feathers were attached, their soft ends gently swaying with each movement. If they had found it anywhere else, they would have wondered what it had been used for, but its location made it very clear what its purpose was. It was still in excellent shape for how old it must have been, and Sarah wondered how it would feel caressing her skin.
Matt held the object between them, and they examined it closely. The wooden handle was made of ebony, gleaming black in the flickering light. One end had a hole where a leather strap may have once been, and the other flared out into a holder where the feathers were embedded. The feathers themselves were an odd mixture of red and black, and Sarah wondered what kind of bird they were from.
“Very nice,” said Matt, waving it gently, almost touching her bare arm. The skin there became warm, and almost felt like it was rising up, searching for that touch, like a dog or cat does when you hold your hand close to its head and it presses into you, wanting to be petted.
“It’s beautiful,” she replied, trying to ignore the feeling in her arm, “and in perfect condition.”
“You know,” said Matt, “something about this is familiar, but I can’t place it.”
It struck no familiar chords with Sarah, other than looking like the feather duster their maid had used. But she knew this had a much more sensual purpose.
“And look at the feathers,” he added. “Thousands of years old and they still look as soft as new. Do they feel soft to you?” And with that, he drew them lightly over the skin of her arm, the contact lasting just for a moment.
The burst of sensation bolted through her, lasting only a second but breathtaking in its intensity. For that moment, it felt like her body was being held in a warm strong embrace, and she could feel the muscles of whoever was holding her taut beneath the skin. Strong hands pulled her close, and she could smell his scent, a heady musky aroma of maleness, a mixture of sweat and passion that filled her mind. Something moved between her legs, and she could swear she felt something wet and forceful, like a tongue, sliding between her labia and slithering over her clitoris.
Then it was gone. Completely and without a trace. The only remaining evidence was the wetness between her legs.
She must have had an odd expression, because Matt looked at her and asked, “Are you ok?”
Her eyes took a second to focus on him, but she said, “Sure. I’m fine.” Had she just imagined that? Was it even possible to imagine something like that?
She wanted to try something. “Can I see it?”
“Here you go,” he said, and turned back towards the shelf. “I wonder if there's anything else like that here.”
He leaned into the opening, looking around intently, his hands resting on the ledge and his elbows back. “Wonder if we'll ever see this kind of stuff in a museum?” he said, still rambling on. She looked at the skin of his exposed arm, deciding if she should try it. Making her choice, she brushed the feathers softly against him, just as he had touched her with it.
His head lifted up, and he became silent, as if he had lost track of what he was saying. He turned to face her, wearing an odd look.
“Matt, you ok?”
He blinked and said, “Yeah, just got disoriented there for a moment.” Seeming to come to his senses, he added, “We better get back, our shift is just about over.” As he turned to get the lantern, she quickly glanced down, and could make out the large bulge tenting out the front of his pants.
They were halfway to the steps, when she remembered she was still holding the feathered wand. “Oh, I forgot about this.”
“Here, I'll return it,” he said, taking it from her. She noticed he was very careful not to touch any of the feathers.
After a few moments, he returned to her and they headed back up the stairs.
They collected their journals in the antechamber, then took the stairs that led up to the outside, feeling the cool morning air as the early light of dawn filled the sky. A few of the archeologists were heading their way, getting an early start on their workday as Sarah and Matt ended theirs.
An hour later she was lying in her small bed, reading a book and hoping sleep would come. She and Matt had eaten quietly together, and then she had taken a shower before returning to her tent. The spray of tepid water had cooled the smoldering between her legs, but hadn’t extinguished it entirely.
The tinkling of the little bell by her tent entrance startled her.
“Yes?” she said, not used to people visiting her here.
“Sarah, it's me.”
“Matt? What are you doing here?” In all the time they had been here, he had never once tried to visit her tent. It would be considered improper for a man to do so.
“I have to show you something, can I come in?”
“Matt!” she said, shock in her voice. “I'm not dressed.” She was wearing a white, full length cotton nightgown that left too much of her cleavage visible.
“Well put something on Sarah, this is important.”
She had never seen him this forward. “One minute,” she replied.