‘Gezundheit,’ Peter said with a laugh.
‘Who?’ Val asked.
André gave them both a withering look. ‘Akhenekhbet,’ he repeated, pronouncing it slowly for them. ‘She was a priestess of the vulture goddess Nekhbet.’
‘Eww,’ Val said, wrinkling her nose.
‘You may think “eww”, young lady,’ André said, ‘but the vulture was sacred to the ancient Egyptians, along with plenty of other creatures you’d probably have the same reaction to, like scarab beetles and scorpions.’
‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘Please go on.’
André told them all about the tomb and its patron goddess while Val snuggled up against Peter, smiling mischievously. The bouncing of the jeep through the hot sand had created a subtle vibration underneath her seat and she’d been squirming through most of the long drive as she felt herself growing ever damper with lust. Peter had picked up on her excitement and given her a surreptitious caress whenever her uncle wasn’t looking. And as André rambled on about ancient Egyptian burial customs and funerary rites, Peter slipped a finger inside Val’s sodden knickers and stroked her pussy lips. Each flick of his finger made her gasp and twitch and by the time they reached the tomb she was so aroused she could hardly walk.
They had already ascertained through carefully worded questions that there were no CCTV cameras or guards. No one to interfere with their plans, in other words. This was her uncle’s find. His dig; therefore his jurisdiction. They were being let in because he had vouched for their trustworthiness.
‘Well, here we are,’ André said, gesturing grandly into the dusty cave entrance.
Peter shouldered their bags and peered into the darkness. ‘Hmm. It’s smaller than I expected.’
‘And just what did you expect?’ André asked, clearly offended. ‘A lavish film set, something out of Indiana Jones perhaps?’
Val was quick to pacify him. ‘No, no, it’s perfect! It’s the real thing. That’s what we want. Something authentic. Something that obviously hasn’t just been knocked up in a studio.’
‘Absolutely,’ Peter said, nodding his approval as he looked around. ‘I just meant that – well, it might be crowded with all four of us …’
Hossam was lingering in the doorway and watching them closely. It was clear he didn’t trust them.
‘Yes, yes,’ André said irritably. ‘I know you want privacy for your – art.’
Val giggled at that. Art. Oh, if only he knew.
The tomb was no less impressive for its cosy intimacy. The walls were decorated with hieroglyphics and above the doorway was a carved figure of what Val guessed must be the goddess Nekhbet. The vulture-headed lady spread her wings out to either side as though sheltering the occupant of the room, watching over her faithful priestess for all eternity.
In the centre of the floor lay a stone sarcophagus carved with more hieroglyphics. They had no doubt once been brilliantly coloured but now the symbols had faded and the stone had crumbled away in places.
‘Is she in there?’ Val asked in an awed whisper.
André smiled proudly. ‘She is indeed. Asleep these many thousands of years.’
Peter aimed his camera at the sarcophagus and snapped a few pictures. ‘Are you going to let her out?’
‘In time,’ André said. ‘These things must be done carefully and in stages. We’re a little more respectful than the Victorians who charged in and plundered the great tombs like thieves in the night. But don’t worry. I don’t think you’ll wake her up.’
Val grinned as he gave her an uncharacteristic wink. Maybe the old boffin had a sense of humour after all.
‘Well, I’ll leave you to it, then,’ he said. ‘Will two hours be enough time?’
‘Plenty,’ Peter said.
‘Very well.’ He looked as though he was itching to tell them – again – not to touch anything, but finally he replaced his hat and waved goodbye as he left the tomb.
They listened until they heard the jeep’s engine rev and then drive away. They were alone at last.
‘How awesome is this!’ Val exclaimed with a little spin as she took in their surroundings.
Peter smiled and slipped his arms around her from behind. He cupped her breasts beneath her light cotton dress, squeezing them firmly. The heat outside had been phenomenal but inside the tomb it was cool. Her nipples stiffened at his touch and she leaned her head back for a kiss.
Peter obliged her, then gently pushed her away. ‘We’d better get started so we have something to show for our adventure.’
Val glanced back at the doorway and listened for a moment to make sure the jeep wasn’t coming back before pulling her dress off over her head. Immediately the cool air of the tomb caressed her sweat-dappled skin and she shivered with pleasure. She folded the dress neatly and laid it on top of her bag in a corner of the room. Then she unhooked her bra and slipped her knickers off. The simple act of undressing here felt wildly transgressive, if not blasphemous. But the feeling was so erotic she didn’t care. She kicked off her sandals and tiptoed, naked, over to the sarcophagus.
‘Beautiful,’ Peter said, admiring her body. ‘Just beautiful.’
‘As beautiful as Akhe– … as her, do you think?’
‘A vulture priestess?’ Peter scoffed. ‘How could she possibly compete?’
Val laughed but she felt a little uneasy mocking the lady in whose tomb she was standing stark naked. She glanced nervously up at the winged figure over the doorway and smiled meekly at it as if to apologise for their behaviour.
When she looked back down Peter was opening the oversized first-aid kit he’d brought with them. A flurry of anticipation ran the length of her body as she watched him take out the first roll of bandages.
‘Are you ready, my dear?’ he asked, giving her his most wicked smile.
She nodded, nervous and excited.
Peter crouched down and began winding the gauze carefully around her foot, then up around her calf, then her knee, then her thigh. When he reached her pelvis he split the trailing end of the gauze down the middle, wrapped it back around her leg and tied it off. Then he grabbed another roll of bandages and started the same process on her other leg.
Val sighed at the sensual pleasure as the gauze swallowed her inch by inch. It was soft as silk against her bare skin. There was something strangely soothing in the constriction of the material tightly wound around her, both minimising and intensifying her sense of touch.
When he reached the delta of her sex again she moved her hips in a sinuous figure eight, gyrating like a belly dancer. Peter grinned and kissed the shaved mound of her sex, teasing her for a moment with his tongue before returning to the first-aid kit for another roll of bandages.
‘Not
