2 comments/ 32461 views/ 1 favorites Talisman Ch. 5: Victoria Grace Tilden By: JUDO As if the rumble wasn't distracting enough, the hot wind began to intrude on her thoughts as well. An endless ocean of sand flew by on the right as her nose braved the continuous assault of blighted streams, wheat fields, cattle herds, caravans along the road, and smelling worst of all, the natives in the outer coaches. It'd been days since they'd begun travel and two hours in this heat, but it felt longer. Perhaps it was the months preceding that made it so. A handkerchief clutched to her nose and mouth as protection against the smoke and dust coming in the open windows, Sarah McAuley leaned in close to her charge. "Are you unwell, Miss Victoria? You have scarcely said a word since the port." She coughed lightly and covered up again. "I am very well, Miss McAuley. Just a little fatigued." She breathed deeply just once, then the smells reminded her not to do that again. "It's so hot." Sarah mopped the sweat from her brow and covered up again. "I think it will be more comfortable once we've arrived." Sarah tried to appear pleasant as though their arduous journey could be considered in such a manner. Victoria nodded affirmatively to the shorter woman who'd worked for her family these past few years. Satisfied, Sarah crouched lower into the seat, hiding her face in the folds of her traveling skirt Victoria worried about their luggage. It had been thrown onto the top of the carriage. She looked up. On the rack above them, two hatboxes and a Gladstone bag jostled against one another as mile after mile of uneven track clattered by. Old and rickety - like me, her grandfather would say - certainly not the Orient Express. Her glance set her mind to wondering if it was still there at all. "I do hope that our baggage is secure." Victoria pointed up as she shouted over the din. A muffled "What?" answered from Sarah. She tapped her shoulder, but Sarah refused to budge. A final glance to the roof told her to forget what she could do nothing about and she settled back onto the upholstered backing of the seats. A heavy sigh escaped her lips as the sand dunes flowed by. Thousands of them, exactly the same, yet different like the waves at Brighton in the summer. Her family vacations spent there felt like this when she was young - exciting, new, and little adventures around each corner. However, at the end of this journey Michael would be waiting. He'd written her every week about the progress he was making with Sir Ceril Winthrop's company: the delays, his fears, the grand opportunities. What was it he expected of her? Would he still feel as close in spirit as they had this past spring? Why had he sent for her at this moment in time? She grabbed Sarah as the train lurched and slowed down. Impatient, she got to her knees on the seat, placed a hand on her hat and leaned out the window to look. Blinking though the onslaught of smoke and dust, she saw the river approach out of agricultural fields. A single boat sailed upstream. Small buildings and villages appeared. A hand pulled at her backside, hauling her into the cabin. "Miss Victoria, what do you think you're doing? Have a care; you are risking your life when you put your head out of the window. If you are not concerned for your own sake would you at least consider the consequences for me?" Sarah puffed herself up, spitting out the words. Victoria had a grin ear-to-ear. "It's the Nile. Look. Isn't it wonderful?" Sarah leaned closely into her shoulder as they both watched a large section of the ancient river drop into view. They smiled at one another and hugged as they marveled at their first sight of the river's waters. The young woman was giddy now, not tired any longer. "I can't believe we're almost here." "And look up ahead, that must be Cairo." Sarah pointed at the buildings fast approaching alongside the tracks. "Will we travel to Sir Winthrop's company first or do we have time to see any of the sights?" Sarah gave her a funny look. "Miss Victoria, must I remind you of our status. We're not here as tourists. We're in the employee of Sir Ceril Winthrop now and sightseeing will have to done if and when we have time of our own. I fully expect a carriage waiting at the station when we arrive." "Oh, I had not realized that you had notified them of our arrival." The excitement of the new fled her shoulders and they drooped. "This morning from Alexandria after we docked. I've sent a telegram." Sarah McAuley had reverted to her role of efficient Companion and chaperone, the brief moment of informal intimacy had past. Sarah saw the sudden lull in her spirits and nudged her with an elbow. "Perhaps young Mister Berringer will be there to greet you, Miss Victoria?" She smiled quickly and looked out the window as the center of town near Opera Square slid into view. She knew that Sarah was attempting to lift her spirits, but a mention of Michael wasn't necessarily the best medicine. There were so many unanswered questions about their betrothal. If you are getting married, you can only do it for one of two reasons, her mother had always told her: financial security or…the other she could not remember. However, she loved Michael or, at least, felt she did. With so little knowledge of what love felt like, how was one to know when confronted with it? He was financially secure with a respected profession, a substantial income and good prospects from his family's business concerns. He treated her with the utmost respect and care. Forever the gentleman, he still found time to tell her how he felt about issues and didn't mind listening to her opinions from time to time when he told her about world events. If that wasn't behavior enabling a marriage, then she didn't know what was. She'd missed their carriage rides through the park and walks around Cambridge the past six months. She'd attended concerts and lectures in the stead of his company to fend off loneliness. Was it possible that they could begin where they'd left off and in such an odd place? At the train station, Sarah went about the business of arranging for two porters, at least it seemed like they worked for the railway company, to fetch their baggage off the roof and stack it near the entrance. It was sheer misery waiting. If could be, it was even hotter inside the building than out. Sarah returned from her endeavors and marched right past her. "Where are you going? Is the carriage here?" She waved, but Sarah strode on. "I'm going to check the street. The coachmen have not arrived nor or there any messages." With a turn of her heel, she disappeared around the corner. Victoria could feel sweat trickling down her back. In front of the pile of trunks and bags, she paced for a bit, trying to start a breeze, but succeeded in only making herself hotter. She couldn't stand it any longer and unbuttoned her jacket, throwing it on top of the pile. This helped a little, but it was still very hot and with no breeze at all… Where was Sarah? She unbuttoned her cuffs and collar, then closed her eyes as she fanned herself with her hat. "Goodness, I wasn't gone that long was I?" Victoria looked up at Sarah. A large, older swarthy man stood beside her in British khakis. "Oh, I didn't hear you return." Victoria slid off the trunk, donned her hat and started rolling her sleeves back down. "Miss Victoria, cover yourself up this instant. There are many men about." Sarah looked at her sternly. "But it's so hot." Victoria gave her a whining tone and gesture. "That is no reason for you to start going native. There are standards an Englishwoman should maintain, no matter where in the world she is. We can wash at the hotel when we arrive. Until then, let's remember just how far from civilization we've ventured." Sarah turned to her right and gestured at the large man. He had a large unkempt black mustache with flecks of gray and a line of hair between his eyebrows. His belly protruded beyond his belt buckle and his messy gray hair stuck to his face. He smiled in Victoria's direction, but stared keenly at her breasts. Victoria looked down. Her cotton blouse was stuck wetly to her skin at the bodice. The pink of her skin showed through. She quickly glanced back at the man's eyes, flustered, and grabbed her jacket, putting one arm into it. The man just smiled more broadly. "Mr. Perridopolis, this is Miss Victoria Tilden. Miss Tilden, this is Mr. Perridopolis. He is Sir Ceril's foreman on the dig at, ah…dig at Giza. He has brought our transport." Victoria finished pulling on her jacket as Mr. Perridopolis extended a huge hand in greeting. "Please, Miss Tilden, call me Tony. Everyone does." He had a deep voice and a very harsh Greek accent. Victoria started to reach out to the hand, but stopped when his smiling eyes dropped between her lapels, glancing furtively at her breasts again. She closed her jacket with both hands and replied coldly. "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Perridopolis, but as you are a - fellow employee, I will address you accordingly. Now, which way is our carriage?" Sarah quickly turned, but Tony spoke first. "I'm sorry, I must apologize. Our accommodations here are not perhaps what you are used to, Miss Tilden. I have a wagon and three camels outside for us…" "A camel? A camel for me to ride? How ridiculous! Mr. Perridopolis, I have not the faintest notion nor the desire to learn how one rides such a creature." Sarah held up her hands and shrugged. "Nothing to be done, I'm afraid. I must confess for our friend here, Mr. Perridopolis, that the arrangements were apparently made last minute. Mr. Berringer was intending to come, but due to issues, he had to stay behind. That is correct, Mr. Perridopolis?" "Yes, terribly sorry. The best I could find on such quick notice. Please, uh, ladies. This way." Tony bowed and gestured towards the door leading to the street. Staring worriedly at Sarah, Victoria finally made her feet move past Tony and they headed outside. Stepping outside, the sun baked into them instantly. Victoria shielded her eyes with her an arm and held one hand up, covering the troubling light. "My God, is that the sun? I feel like I'm under a lens." Sarah pushed at her. "Get over there under that market awning in the shade. That's all I need - you fainting on the street. Go on, now." Tony yelled at a couple of men, who hurried inside and began streaming back and forth with their luggage, piling it into a huge wagon that stood beside the curb. As they got closer, Victoria realized its drab color was the result of a thick coating of dust that covered every visible part of the conveyance. Victoria stood quietly in the shade trying to think of anything that would take her mind off the smell or the heat. She looked at the marketplace surrounding the small square in front of the railway station. Nearby, several covered carts were full of melons and freshly picked vegetables. She couldn't imagine that the area could be so conducive to such amazing agriculture. Behind the cart was an old man sitting near the wall. Victoria walked to the cart and the old man looked up. Around his eyes crawled flies for which he showed great tolerance, shooing them away quietly. His gown ended abruptly below his knees, as he didn't have any legs. Victoria covered her startled expression and backed away. She bumped into someone and instantly smelled a viciously sweet smell - French perfume. She turned to look. It was Tony, smiling down at her. "Goodness gracious, Mr. Perridopolis. Did you see? That poor man …" Sarah couldn't stop herself from rudely pointing at the cart. "Yes, he's been in that same spot for years. His family raises the melons." Tony waved. The old man smiled a toothless smile. "We are ready. Would you like assistance?" "Assistance? What do you mean assistance, Mr. Perridopolis?" Tony backed away and held out his hand. In it were reins holding a camel. Sarah was already on the back of one with a young man leading it in the street. Shocked and wide-eyed, Victoria looked at the big eyes of the camel standing over her. They were surrounded with the self-same flies of the old melon man. Just as she met its alien gaze, it honked and spit, splattering her skirt. Victoria screamed. The smell of the spittle rankled her nose, breaking her composure. "My God. Do they always do that?" "Not all the time. Can I give you help?" "Hurry up, Miss Victoria. This is thrilling. Quite the view up here." Sarah rocked in the saddle behind the little man leading her camel, but smiled down at her all the same. Victoria nodded at Tony. The big Greek smacked the animal in the leg with a little stick, but the camel just barked and roared back at him. "Down, down!" Tony yanked at the reins, but still the camel refused to lower itself to the ground for mounting. "It looks like the camel doesn't want to. Maybe I could just walk?" Victoria backed up closer to the market wall. Frustrated, Tony approached Victoria. "There's no more time for this. We have to go. Now." Tony picked Victoria up off the ground and carried her to the camel. "Okay. Well I… Wait! What are you…? Put me down!" Never had she been manhandled in such a manner. The situation was compounded by the fact that this man was not only a relative stranger, but also a foreigner from the lower serving classes. "Mr. Perridopolis! How dare you. Put me down this instant! I am warning you, I shall inform Sir Ceril of your unwarranted behavior." He appeared to be oblivious to the impropriety of his actions and the possible consequences. "Quit struggling. This won't take a second." Tony pushed her up the side of the camel, but Victoria kept fighting him. She slipped once, but Tony caught her - one hand on her butt and the other across her breasts. "Unhand me, you - you scoundrel. I shall inform Mr. Berringer!" Indignant and embarrassed, Victoria couldn't make any headway. Tony smiled. "I told Mr. Berringer I would fetch you. So, what is it going to be? Do I have to carry you or do you ride the camel?" Victoria gazed at him with quiet anger. "Right, camel it is." He grabbed her hips and pushed her up onto the saddle. She slapped at his hands until she was in place and he let go. Gesturing like a jockey, Tony admonished the young woman. "I would hold on tightly, Miss Tilden. Camels - not easy to ride." Tony climbed up onto his camel and with the words, "Hut! Hut!" he was off down the road. The loping walk of her camel, nearly tumbled her off into a ditch when they first started, but after a street corner or two, she understood the motion, but had to pay attention at every step as it jostled her side-to-side. Sarah rode alongside her. Two chatting, young Egyptian boys led their camels along, carefully avoiding any beggars and other street traffic. "Miss Victoria, isn't this exciting? Romantic even, like something in a novel?" Sarah had a faraway look in her eyes like you might get when thinking of something pleasant. Victoria couldn't possibly understand how this situation warranted such vision. "We're riding camels in Cairo, making way to our lodgings near the sands of the great desert outside Giza. Absolutely incredible, wouldn't you say?" Victoria couldn't. "Not the words I would choose, Sarah. At least, not at the moment. Did you see how that ruffian grabbed me?" "Who?" Sarah still looked oblivious. "Tony. Tony the Greek… Whatever he is." "He's the foreman, dear, of the Egyptian laborers. And you were being difficult." "I was being difficult? This is ridiculous. Who wouldn't be? A week on a ship. Four hours on a train barely holding together. It's a wonder we didn't suffocate. And now camels? In this blazing heat? Really, Miss McAuley, I think you are forgetting your station. How dare you address me as dear." "Don't upset yourself, dear, you'll just make yourself hotter. Remember, beyond the point of positive action in difficult proceedings, you simply have to lie back and let them pass." Victoria closed her eyes and sighed heavily. Sarah always quoted her father to her when she started getting upset. It had always had the annoying effect of calming her. The wagon filled with their luggage trundled along behind them, kicking up a wall of dust to passersby, although, they didn't seem to mind at all. As they lazily rocked along on the back of the camels, a cool breeze kicked up from their right. Victoria wasn't sure at first, but after a time, she could see the banks of the Nile coming closer and closer between buildings. She turned to Sarah. "How much longer to Sir Winthrop's?" "Oh, let's see. Not long until we get to the crossing. " "The crossing?" "Yes, we transfer the camels to a ferry to take us across the river. Then, another camel ride to our accommodations. About two and a half hours, not long." "Two and a…? Not long? On these things? I'll be a cripple! Oh, my God." Victoria wanted to cover her sour face, but couldn't release the steely hold she had on the saddle for fear of falling off. "Watch your language, young lady. I've been lax on you up until now, but we're getting ready to be amongst civilized ladies and gentlemen quite soon, so, please watch that filthy mouth of yours." Indignant, Sarah's Welsh face screwed her eyebrows up to her hairline. Having no further options, she tried to clear her mind and picture her family's home north of London, where her father managed his cattle: the rolling hills, the oak trees, her mother's garden… Victoria thought of Michael just then. With all of this to go through just to see him, he might be the least of her worries by the time they arrived. Talisman Ch. 5: Victoria Grace Tilden Now a hotel, Mena House had once been a hunting lodge situated far from the city, but now the city had grown considerably and was extending even beyond the hotel's property. Just thirty years before, Princess Eugenie of France had driven the road outside to witness the great pyramids. The Ottoman ruler, Ismail, planted her beloved acacia trees along it. But so much had happened since the opening of the Suez. British rule here and in the Sudan. The horrid Boer wars in the south - when for the first time, the apparently invincible British army had been reduced to impotence and near defeat by an improvised force of farmers. Only within the last year had law and order really been stabilized in the region. Moreover, Eugenie's trees were mostly gone; some replaced by eucalyptus. But the hotel remained dutiful throughout with all of the entrapments of its European counterparts - walnut bar and card room, murals in the lobby and dining rooms, crystal chandeliers ­- an amazing bit of work that. And largely transported here on the backs of camels and caravans. In the smoke-filled bar, Winthrop pushed his chair out and plopped his great backside into one of the handcrafted walnut chairs at the card table. Berringer breathed a sigh of relief to be off his feet. He had to get out of these dusty clothes and riding boots soon somehow. "Feels good to finally sit, Sir Winth - Ceril." Winthrop smiled. "Tell me of this bride-to-be, Berringer. Can she really handle our needs?" A barman approached with a silver tray and drinks, placing them quietly as they continued talking. "Absolutely. She has wanted to be involved in fieldwork since she was seventeen. She heard a presentation by Sir Peter le Page Renouf at the Royal Society and was rapt on the subject of ancient Egypt ever since. She's a smart girl. She has had private tutoring her entire life and until last year, studied with Peltrie at University College." Winthrop almost spit up his beer. "Flinders Peltrie? The archeologist?" "Yes, yes, of course. Not only that, she's been his assistant these last several months proofreading his new text on methods of archeology." "I must say this is incredible. How did such a…a wonder woman get involved with a cad like yourself?" Winthrop brushed the foam off his mustache and sipped some more of the amber ale. Berringer laughed at Winthrop's jest and downed some of the beer at last. "Oh, that's good. Can't believe they'd have this here." He lowered the glass and looked out the window overlooking the tennis courts. "We met at the Spring Cotillion two years ago. She was the picture of loveliness, if you don't mind my saying so." "Not at all, not at all. Do go on." "She stole my heart instantly. I'd never seen such a beauty, a full flesh and blood woman, sir. After we'd met her parents and shared our minds, I loved her even more. I can not believe that she is going to be right here with us." "Has she traveled before?" Winthrop gave him a concerned look. Berringer looked puzzled for a moment. "Well, I…I don't…I hadn't thought about that. She has a strong spirit, Sir Ceril, I…" "Don't worry yourself, Berringer. I'm sure she's no delicate flower or you'd never have suggested it. But mind you this…" Winthrop leaned in close. "We're not in England now, boy. Where a woman's concerned, you can't trust Johnny Foreigner. Stay close to that fiancée of yours whilst she's here. There are a thousand snakes lurking in the dark, so near to so much treasure to be found. Mark my words." Berringer's surprised look softened a bit as he sat back and drank the last of his beer. "I say, Mr. Kranar!" The bartender smiled as Winthrop raised his voice. "Did you mention a game was to be had at this table, sir?" Talisman Ch. 5: Victoria Grace Tilden "Please lower your voice, dear. Someone might hear. I'm terribly sorry, it has been too long. I couldn't help myself. Please forgive me." He knew he was wrong. Victoria pulled a mirror out of her bag and checked her lips to make certain no trace of the deed remained. "Mr. Berringer, you have gone too far inveigling me to be alone with you on this balcony, then losing all sense of self control. You are an Englishman and here you are acting like some dog of the streets. What if one of the natives had witnessed your behavior? If we are to work together, I can't have you pressing your…your…yourself against me at every chance you get. It's just unspeakably embarrassing. We are not man and wife yet. Remember that, Mr. Berringer." "Yes, of course, you're right, Miss Tilden. I'm quite myself again." Michael folded his hands and looked away at the pyramids. Victoria put her mirror away and sighed, watching Michael. "I shall attribute your impropriety to the heat, but in future, Mr. Berringer, I shall expect you to remember who you are and act as an English gentleman should, not like some - gigolo." She put her arm in his and composed herself. "Shall we return to the others then?" Michael smiled briefly and looked to the Heavens for guidance as he took Miss Tilden's hand. They returned to the dining room and began introductions all around the table. After a good ten minutes, they finally approached the fine silken suit of Sir Winthrop. He was smoking near the windows at the far end of the room, gazing at the moonlit desert. "And dearest, this is our host and company president, Sir Ceril Winthrop." Winthrop quickly put out his cigar and smiled brightly as he saw Victoria. She curtsied as the older man took her hand and patted it. "Well, my goodness, Berringer, I can see why you were so excited about the approach of Miss Tilden's entourage this afternoon. She is quite a charming lady. Pleased to meet you after all this time, my dear." "Thank you, Sir Winthrop." Victoria smiled at the white-haired gentleman. Winthrop took Victoria's arm and put it across his, laying his hand over hers. "Now, I've got to get you off on the right foot, Miss Tilden. My name is Ceril. Sir Ceril will do nicely. Michael keeps shouting my father's name whenever he addresses me and I can't stand it." "Yes, Sir Ceril. It's a fitting name for you, sir." "Miss Tilden, may I call you Miss Victoria?" "Sir, I should be offended if you did not." Winthrop laughed and coughed. "Did you hear that, Berringer? Wit and beauty. My, my, what a lucky man you are." "Yes, sir. At least, I'm glad that makes two of us who think so." Michael smiled radiantly down at Victoria, completely lost in her beauty. Winthrop looked between the two of them smiling into each other's eyes. "Berringer, wasn't there something you wanted to give to…?" "Oh, I'd almost forgotten. Forgive me, my dear." Michael hurriedly approached a waiter near the kitchen door, whispering something to him. The man nodded and went through the door. "How was your trip, Miss Victoria? I understand this is the first time you have ventured to leave England." "Yes, sir. It was long, but today… Oh my, I couldn't believe the heat and there was this man at the market… Ghastly condition. I was shocked." "Oh yes, you'll see that from time to time. The poverty you'll find hereabouts. I could tell you stories, but enough of that. Here's your young man again." Michael approached, hands behind his back. "What is this? What are you hiding from me?" Victoria knew what was coming, but she still played the part for the men. Michael turned to the room and raised his hands. In one hand was a gift-wrapped box. "Everyone. Everyone, please. A moment of your time." He turned back to Victoria, looking her in the eyes now with the gift in his hands in front of her. "Miss Victoria Grace Tilden of London, you have traveled these many miles to join our company this evening, and I wish to honor the event with a gift of gratitude." He held the box out to her and laid it across her open palms. "Thank you, Mr. Berringer. I'm very surprised." She looked at the gift wrapped in flowered paper and decorated with a bright red bow of silk. A smiling Winthrop elbowed her. "Well, go on. Open it, Miss Victoria. Please, m'dear, indulge an impatient and somewhat irascible old man." "Yes sir." She untied the bow and pulled at the papers, tearing them away revealing a bright silver box with a silver clasp shaped like a cat. It had tiny little feet on the bottom as though meant for display - but to display what? "Go on, open it." Michael prodded her. She flipped up the clasp from the cat's paws and opened the box. Inside, wrapped in a padded red silk interior was a delicate ivory medallion bordered by a fine gold chain woven through its edge. Open mouthed and speechless, Victoria looked at the delicate craftsmanship. The chain links so tiny, she felt they might break if she touched them. The medallion itself was beautiful. Luminous in the candlelight, it almost glowed. Carefully, she picked it up and looked at it. On the face of the piece was an engraved relief of Indian origin, she was certain of it. She looked at the back - a dancing man also of Indian origin, a god - Shiva, the destroyer of the world. Flipping it back over, she realized the large-busted Indian woman on the front must be Shakti, the nurturer and Shiva's wife. She quickly looked at Michael. "Where did you get this? Certainly, not at the dig?" "No, no, not at the dig, no. I bought it in a market in Tanta on a research trip there. Met a most interesting man, but I knew how you loved these interesting trinkets. It's old, isn't it?" She looked back at the medallion in her fingers and smiled. "Yes, I think so. It must be very old. I'll have to ask Professor Peltrie about…" "Try it on, dear. Let's see how it looks about that fine neck of yours." Puffed up and proud of his company, Sir Winthrop was pushy when drunk and the evening was young. Michael took the chain from the box and looked at Victoria. "May I?" She nodded. Michael stood behind her and draped the delicate necklace over her head, laying it gently around her neck. The chain wasn't cold; it felt warm. The medallion rested in her cleavage. She felt tingly inside her stomach. "I can hardly feel it. It's so light, so beautiful, Michael, - I mean, Mr. Berringer." She touched the medallion with her fingers and lightly brushed her breast as she did. "Do you like it, darling?" Michael looked her in the eyes and she melted inside. She turned around and threw her arms around him, hugging him to her. Surprised, Michael stood there for a moment, smiled and patted her shoulders. She looked up at him, tears in her eyes, her lips trembling. "Are you alright?" Victoria looked up at the room of silent guests. "Excuse me, please. Excuse me." She hurried out of the room. Sarah trailed along quickly behind her. Michael started to run after her, but Winthrop caught him. "Don't go, old man. She's fine. You've simply overwhelmed her, that's all. She'll be back shortly. Let the women settle themselves." A waiter near the kitchen door gestured and Winthrop called to the room. "Come on, everyone. Dinner is on. I'm famished." He patted his belly and threw an arm around Michael, leading him to the table. "Come on, old man, we'll start you with a whiskey." In the ladies parlor down the hall, Sarah entered gently, looking for Victoria. "Miss Tilden? Miss Tilden? You there? Are you all right?" She was standing at the mirror with her kerchief out of her bag, blotting tears from her face. She looked up at herself as Sarah approached and placed her hands on her shoulders, looking in the mirror at Victoria. "There, there, dear, everything is going splendidly. Are you all right?" She felt anything but all right. Her insides were electrified. She felt tense. She felt tight. What is wrong with me? "I'm sorry, I guess it's just the long trip, seeing Michael for the first time." "You must be tired. If you'd like, I could make our excuses and we'll retire now." Victoria clutched at Sarah's hand suddenly and with a worried expression, turned to look at her. "Oh, no, we mustn't. Not after Michael - after he and I have been separated for so long. Besides, this is my first introduction to Sir Ceril. I can't leave him thinking of me as a silly woman." Suddenly, she went quiet, looking at the high curve of Sarah's cheekbones, the deep green color in her eyes, and the full lips on her mouth, ready to say something to her, ready to… "We'll rejoin the others then - as soon as you are ready. Is something wrong, dear? Did I spill my wine?" Sarah turned to look in the mirror. In profile, Sarah checked her face and her blouse, looking down at her breasts and arms. She is shorter than I, thought Victoria, but she has a fuller figure and such a small waist, really quite an attractive woman. "No, Sarah, you didn't spill. It's just that I'd never noticed you were shorter than I before now and a bit smaller woman, aren't you?" Sarah smiled at Victoria and laughed a high pearl-noted giggle - such a pleasant sound. "Well, of course, you silly girl." Victoria stared at her beauty and laughed along with her. "I'm sorry, I'd always thought of us as being the same size. I don't know why." She put an arm around Sarah's shoulders and looked in the mirror at the two of them together. Sarah put an arm around Victoria's waist. "You really are a lovely woman, Sarah. Why aren't you married?" Sarah blushed red, looked down at the counter and became very serious. "I just haven't got… I just haven't got everything I need as yet, Victoria. I have a suitor back home where I come from, but we're waiting until our ducks are in a row. Until we can buy a proper home and - and get married." Victoria felt great compassion wash over her and moved behind her friend, placing her hands on her shoulders and kneading them roughly like dough. "Goodness, you are very tight, Sarah." Sarah sucked in a deep breath and blew it out, letting her head loll forward. She put her hands on the counter. "Oh, Miss Victoria, that feels wonderful." She could feel the warmth start at her neck and creep down her back as the younger woman massaged her. "It's terrible, isn't it?" Victoria watched as Sarah rolled her head to one side and closed her eyes. "What is, Miss Victoria?" "All this waiting, waiting for the right moment as you say. Delaying what you want, waiting for the natural order to slide in alignment with one another. Waiting is terrible, horrible. I hate it." She pressed her hands more firmly into Sarah's flesh. Sarah moaned. "Oh, you're good at this, Victoria. I love your hands." Victoria pressed her body against the back of Sarah. Her full breasts pressed into her back. Her groin pressed into the shorter woman's buttocks. She could feel the heat coming off Sarah, coming off this beautiful, tantalizing friend. "We shouldn't have to wait, Sarah. It's not the natural order. Human beings have needs on all levels, not only socially, monetarily and mentally, but physiological as well. There is a time for all things under the sun." Victoria looked down at her friend. Sarah was breathing deeply and steadily. The hard bumps of her nipples showed through her bodice. A sheen of sweat appeared beneath her ear. Her own breasts, pressed into her friends back, felt full and tingled with a force unknown to her. She looked at Sarah's neck, at the moisture there and wondered how it might feel, wondered how it might - taste. She bent forward, opening her mouth, extending her tongue. Yes, lick her. Lick her neck, right there, behind her ear. Suddenly, the door swung open and two women chattering mightily about something crashed into the room. Victoria jumped up still holding Sarah. Sarah moved quickly away from her charge and began straightening her hair. The two women saw them at the mirror. The first one spoke. "Oh, hello, how are you this evening?" Sarah was taken aback by the informality of the other woman. After all, they had never been introduced. Deciding that some of the social rules must be in abeyance in this foreign place, she decided to reply in the same informal manner. "We are very well, thank you, and all is well with you?" "Oh, yes. It's a grand evening. You should visit the garden next to the tennis lawns outside. Absolutely wonderful in the full of the moon." The ladies disappeared into two adjacent toilets and shut the doors. Victoria just stared after the two women and then looked to Sarah, who turned back to her. "Shall we rejoin the others now?" Sarah smiled and held out her arm. Still not certain what happened, Victoria took Sarah's arm and followed her out into the hall. The dinner party was progressing nicely. Victoria took the seat between Michael and Sir Winthrop. The servants were excellent, filling glasses and plates as needed and without any interruption to the conversation. As the hotel staff served a sumptuous meal of duck, pheasant, dumplings and fresh salad, Victoria was suddenly famished. Everything tasted so wonderful. It felt as though she'd never eaten before. The textures, the flavors, the smells all conspired to fulfill her senses. She couldn't get enough of the pleasurable sensation of eating. As a result, she hardly spoke at dinner as she ate several platefuls to the astonishment of Sir Winthrop. "How does she manage to remain so svelte and eat like a horse?" He chided Michael who could only laugh and gaze in astonishment. She tried to apologize. "I don't know what it is, this food tastes so incredible. It must be the climate. I can't seem to get enough of it. Would you mind serving more of the duck?" By dessert's end and the end of the evening, Victoria could hardly contain herself. She had several glasses of the German dessert wine and an enormous piece of cake. She began to feel quite ill and Sarah took her back upstairs. Michael helped her up the stairs to her chamber's entrance as Sarah opened the door. "I think I can take it from here, Mr. Berringer." Sarah nodded as he released Victoria. "We'll see you at breakfast." With the mention of more food, Victoria groaned. Sarah pulled her into the room and sat her at the vanity. "We must get you out of that corset, Miss. You must be bursting." Sarah locked the chamber door, but Victoria could not wait. She stood up suddenly and ran into the toilet. "Are you alright, Victoria? Do you…?" Victoria vomited into the toilet several times. Sarah turned green at the sight, but grabbed some towels, trying her best to control the damage. Victoria was as white as a sheet. Her friend wetted one of the towels and cleaned Victoria's face, hands and bodice. Then she helped the young woman out of the confines of the corset and into a dressing gown. Pulling back the bed's coverlet and sheets, Sarah helped Victoria into it. "If you need me, dear, I'll be right next door. I'll leave the connecting door unlocked and open. Just call and I'll come. Alright?" Victoria fell asleep instantly as soon as Sarah drew the coverlet over her. Sarah unlocked the adjoining door between their two chambers, then walked out the front door and locked it. Michael was still there. "Miss McAuley, how is Miss Tilden?" "She was dreadfully sick for a while there, but she's sleeping now, Mr. Berringer." "What happened? I've never seen her do anything like that before." Michael paced and threw concerned looks at the chamber door. "I think it must have been the travel that sickened her. The heat and the new food." Sarah dropped the key in her bag and entered her own room down next door. "Good night, Mr. Berringer. It was a lovely dinner. See you in the morning." Sarah closed her door and locked it. Michael stood there, looking very concerned. All the food had been English, prepared by an English-manned kitchen. Victoria had been eating such foods her entire life. He walked slowly down the hall, worriedly glancing at the double doors of his fiancée's chambers. Victoria awoke suddenly in darkness, sitting up in bed. She was hot and perspiring. She pushed the bed coverings off her. The front of her gown was soaked through with sweat. She got out of bed, lit the lamp on her vanity table and walked into the bath. She washed her face in the basin, toweled off and went to the armoire for another gown. As she pulled out the gown, she noticed a sliver of light shining across the tile floor from the tall window beside her bed. She crossed to the window, pulling aside the curtain. The moon was setting over the sea of dunes beyond the hotel grounds. She smiled at the beauty of the desert at this time of night: cool, not threatening, mysterious with the artifacts hidden by its winds and storms. She dropped the gown and stripped the damp one over her head. Her breasts felt chilled by the night air and her hands went to them, brushing the remains of dampness away. Her nipples rose against their areola and for a moment she felt as though someone was watching her from over her left shoulder. She turned quickly. There in the light of the moon, Michael's gift, the medallion was glowing on her vanity table. Curious, she walked to the vanity table and picked up the delicate chain and its medallion. The ivory rocked in and out of the slit of light. In the Moon's glow, the ivory seemed to catch the light and hold it as though lit by a phosphorescence from within. She smiled at the gift, put the chain over her head and tilted the mirror to admire it. As the ivory settled between her breasts, a warmth slowly spread through her chest, neck and shoulders winding its way to her head and down her body. She closed her eyes for a moment and stretched her arms out, rolling her neck as the sensation relaxed her. It felt as though she were being massaged - such a sensuous feeling, such a comfortable feeling. She opened her eyes and saw her naked reflection staring back, but she wasn't surprised and she wasn't concerned. It was as though her Victorian manner had been silenced. She turned her shoulders side-to-side, admiring how the chain glinted against her skin. Her left hand touched the beautiful carving on the face of the ivory. Seating herself in the low chair at the table, she watched the chain rock back and forth between her breasts. She breathed in deeply, then slowly sighed as she watched. She felt relaxed and at the same time, very alive, very aware of everything around her - the linen curtains on the windows behind her, the wood and velvet paneling lining the walls of the chamber, the glow of the oil-filled glass lamp beside the mirror and its burning wick. Her hand drifted off the medallion and brushed her breast lightly, gently. She closed her eyes momentarily at the pleasurable sensation, then opened them, watching her fingers press into the soft flesh. The fingertips lightly traced its fullness, finding a sensitive path along its bottom to her ribs beneath. Her warm, damp palm cupped and pressed upwards, lifting the flesh from her ribs like an offering. A tingle of pleasurable sensation shot through her body and her nipples balled into tight little knots, casting faint shadows along the curve of her breasts. She relaxed into the back of the chair, her shoulders molding themselves to the curved walnut. Looking in the mirror, she saw her body outlined by the strong, cool light of the Moon shining through the curtains over her shoulder. The pale light of the flickering candle lent its warm glow to her face and breasts. Her heart was beating heavily, deep inside her body. It's steady thump, thump, thump playing a rhythmic tattoo to which her mind could dance. Talisman Ch. 5: Victoria Grace Tilden Victoria moved her other hand steadily up her side until, it too, reached the breast there, cupping its tender underside. Looking down, her eyes noticed the stiffness of her nipples against the soft texture of the breasts surrounding them. Her mouth opened, breathing deeply over her lips. "How beautiful. So soft, so warm…" Her hands lifted her breasts, pressing them to her chest and a thousand tingles of delight passed into her body. She closed her eyes, let her head loll back and quietly moved the hot palms of her hands over her nipples, continuing to press against them. Her breath forced her lips apart again as a steady stream of air pushed out of her lungs and a light moan escaped from the depths of her throat. She stretched her legs out stiffly in front of her, raised her hips forward and arched her back, pressing the sensation to the four corners of her body. She relaxed back into the chair, letting her knees fall open. A cool sensation played between her legs like a spirit from the bath revisiting her once again. She opened her eyes and looked down at her body. Her breasts felt tight and full in her hands as thought they might burst, but every squeeze of her hands sent teasing shocks of adrenaline pushing her heart's song faster. Past her tummy, the hips pressed forward, their furry mound now parted with pink wet flesh in the middle. A smile from her belly, grinning at her. Her hands reached up and pulled the top of the mirror forward, angling the glass down to see. She placed her left foot up on the edge of the chair to get a better look at herself. A more different view of who she was had never been presented to her. This state of womanhood, this body that held her soul - it was a new experience entirely. Not merely carrying her from place to place, she had become the destination - a temple to explore. Her finger touched the delicate hair perched atop her mound. It felt light as a feather and wispier than a gentle breeze. The thumb trapped the hair between itself and the finger, twirling, twisting and pulling at the decoration. Why would we have hair where no one can ever see? Is it to keep the child warm who would live within or for some other reason? Her fingers twisted themselves into the hair, playing the tufts into little curls at the base of her belly. Then, one finger brushed along the ridge of pink fleshy labia, now blushed with curiosity. A shot of electricity jolted into Victoria's brain, pushing the air from her lungs and making her sit up so very quickly. A single "Oh!" echoed into the room's darkness. Talisman Ch. 5: Victoria Grace Tilden "What do you think is so funny?" Michael looked a little perturbed now as though Victoria was having fun at his expense which, of course, she was. Victoria looked over at the dark doorway, then up at Michael's eyes. She took his hands, then leaned forward and kissed him, pressing his hands to her breasts and holding them there. Michael jumped, gasped once, then settled with Victoria's breasts against the palms of his hands. Victoria pressed her soft, full lips against Michael's thinner, firmer ones steadily prying them apart, getting him to open his mouth. Once open, she sucked air from his mouth, which flowed momentarily through his nose and into her lungs. She held him there for a long moment and then, slowly released him, their lips sticking together for a moment. Michael was panting through this open mouth, his eyes half-open, looking at Victoria. "What - what if someone were to see us?" Victoria smiled a wry smile and kissed Michael quickly again. She parted and looked to her left at the doorway. "Someone did see us." Michael turned to the doorway to see one of the girls looking expectedly his way, her eyes boring into his. "Oh, just one of the…" "Is your thing hard?" The words tumbled easily across Victoria's tongue. Surprised, Michael shot his eyes back to Victoria. Victoria smiled at a hidden secret. Her look said, get ready. "Wh…what did you say?" "Not a difficult question, Michael. I asked if your, ah…thing was hard." Victoria leaned forward, pressing the palm of her hand against the hard lump in his trousers and grinned. "Good, it's very hard." Michael jumped his hips away from her gloved hand. "Well, of course I'm hard - erect. After a kiss like that, what would you…?" "Go to her, Michael." Victoria turned her head towards the young woman. Michael looked back to the Egyptian watching them from the doorway. He could see the full breasts and hips tightly outlined by her robes. He looked back at his fiancée. She was different somehow, but what was…? He felt scared. "Why? What are you…?" "I'll be with you, Michael. Don't be afraid. It's okay. I want to watch. I need to watch her." Michael was astounded. His collar was suddenly tight. "Watch her?" "How else can a lady learn what her man wants? Come." Victoria led Michael to the doorway. The young woman smiled at him and held her fingers up, indicating the amount of exchange. Michael stood rooted to the spot, unable to speak. Victoria opened her bag, paid, and then backed into the corner with the two other women to watch. However, once the transaction was complete, the two women left, mixing into the surrounding crowd. The girl turned up a short stairway to their right, gesturing for them to follow. At the top of the stairs was a door, leading to a small narrow room with a pallet in the corner and a table. She lit a candle on the table, then pulled the shutter aside, revealing a cloth-covered window which flooded the small space with soft light. The girl unfastened her veil. She was young and beautiful with delicate features. Smiling seductively, she tiptoed forward and kissed Michael. She was shorter than Victoria but more full-figured. The young woman took his arms and holding them to her, turned around in his grasp and placed his hands on her hips. She backed her hips into his crotch pushing Michael back to the wall, then pressed her buttocks onto his hard lump, rubbing and wriggling. She spread her legs, bending forward further still until Michael's cock was rubbing along her vagina through her robe. The fresh smell of her juices soon filled the tight confines of the small enclosure. Michael was pressed firmly against the stone wall at his back as the woman rocked against him. He moaned as he felt his shaft slip between her buttocks, gliding up and down her heavenly cleft. Victoria's heart tripped along quickly watching the scene play before her. With a big smile across her face, she felt excited, vital, alive and happy as she watched. Michael's pleasure was almost palpable. The young woman's mouth was open wide, breathing heavily as her knees danced, pressing her bottom against Michael. She mumbled a few impassioned words of Egyptian. The prostitute stood up suddenly, turned around and dropped to her knees in front of Michael. Expertly, she unbuttoned his trousers and deftly fished out his erection. It looked enormous in her tight little fist, jutting out from his fly. Looking up at him, she licked the palm of her hand, then grabbed the base of his cock with one hand and started jacking the head of it with the other in quick little strokes. As her hand came up, her thumb flicked at the juncture just beneath the bottom of his crown. Michael's eyes rolled back in his head. He looked like he was in pain. "Oh God. Oh my God," he moaned and thrust his hips forward as the woman continued her expert touch. His heart started to pound and he could feel the familiar tightening of his sac as the woman kept administering her sexual therapy on him. Then, as if doused with water, Michael moaned loudly, threw his head back and stood quite still. His hands clawed at the rough stone behind him. Finally, he looked down and frantically opened his eyes. The woman had thrust half of his cock deep into her mouth. Her lips stretched obscenely wide to accommodate his girth. She withdrew her lips, leaving the end of his hard cock shiny and slick with saliva, then circled his glans twice slowly with her tongue. Shivers of delight ran up and down his spine as he tried to maintain some control. Victoria watched he young woman as though she were back in school. The prostitute was obviously skilled at her profession. She breathed through her nose and swallowed, allowing the penis to penetrate her mouth deeply. The smell of her fiancé played delicately in Victoria's nose as she watched the woman press her lips to his pubic hair briefly. Then the prostitute withdrew the penis, breathed once while licking Michael's testicles, then started to pump the shaft with her other hand as she began sucking again from the beginning. Excited as she was, Victoria made mental notes of what she was witnessing for future reference. Then, Victoria watched Michael. If she focused simply on his facial expression, it looked as though he was being subjected to some excruciating torture below his waist. He looked tense, frightened and helpless. She started feeling sorry for the poor man. Talk to him. Teach him. You know what to do. "Michael?" Her voice sounded out-of-place. Michael took his eyes off the woman at his cock, threw his head back against the wall and looked at Victoria. "Breathe deeply, Michael. You must breathe." Michael's eyebrows knitted tightly. Victoria's face looked steady, calm, and balanced. He latched onto her voice and tried to think clearly. "It will help you relax. Breathe, Michael. Breathe deeply." Michael took in a deep breath. He could feel the air enter his lungs, his chest expanding. The coolness of the expansion within his body felt good. "Concentrate on the breathing, Michael. Think about that." Michael opened his mouth wide and began breathing rhythmically in and out. He closed his eyes. "Now slow down your breathing. Make the tempo decelerate steadily." Michael could feel some semblance of control returning to him - a feeling of sanity. His face relaxed. His body sagged back against the wall. Opening his eyes, he looked at his fiancée. She smiled at him, almost giggling. Victoria felt proud of Michael. Not many men could pull themselves back from the brink of ecstasy as he just had. "Now watch my eyes, Michael. There is nothing else, only my eyes." Victoria took a step forward. That was all it took for her to be by his side. She looked up into his eyes. "Kiss me." Michael bent his head forward until their lips met. Her lips felt wonderfully soft and full against his mouth. Her mouth was open slightly, tasting his lips, licking his lips with her tongue until her tongue glided into his mouth, teasing the skin at the top of his mouth. He pulled away, panting hotly. "Regain your balance, Michael. Watch my eyes. Breathe deeply. Slow your body down." Victoria's voice was almost a monotone - expressionless, simply giving out direction like a minister at Sunday services. Michael knew his cock was still hard in the young prostitute's mouth, but his mind didn't seem to mind as much any more. "Good, Michael. You are doing great. Slower, slow down your body. Breathe." Victoria tapped the prostitute on the shoulder. She pulled her mouth off Michael's cock. Victoria gestured for her to stand. She looked confused, but did what Victoria wanted. Michael watched the young woman and his fiancée standing side by side in front of him, looking down. He looked down at himself. His cock was stiff as a board, standing straight out in front of him, hard, pink and with a reddened, swollen crown. Still wet with the woman's saliva, it looked almost artificial, like a ceramic sculpture. Victoria smiled and touched the tip of his crown with a finger lightly. Michael quickly closed his eyes, looked away and breathed in deeply, holding himself under control. He heard movement and opened his eyes. Victoria pulled the young woman to her and kissed her as she had him, long, deep and hard. The prostitute accepted the kiss stiffly at first, then relaxed into Victoria's arms, holding her lightly. They leaned into the wall across from Michael, still kissing, until Victoria pulled the young woman's head away from her mouth, looking into her eyes. She placed her hands on the young woman's shoulder's and turned her towards Michael, but still held her closely against her body. "Touch yourself, Michael, but take care. You must not orgasm - yet." Victoria's direction would normally have shocked him, but they had left normal behind many minutes before. He reached out with his hand and encircling his glans, began lightly stroking his cock. The sensation was exquisite, as though little shocks of delight were being sent to him from Heaven or wherever they kept such beautiful tortures. Victoria pulled the young woman's robe apart, down and away from her breasts. The flesh there was pale, untouched by the sun. Her neck was chestnut, but her breasts were a light pine color with thick hardened nipples at the end of the swaying globes. Victoria's hands continued down until the robe fully parted, revealing the young woman's rounded lower belly and triangular tuft of hair between her legs. Michael looked at the erotic sight before him and began gripping his penis firmer and stroking faster. The woman was a goddess and Victoria her high priestess. "No, Michael. Stop. Slow yourself down. Don't get carried away. Breathe. Your time is not come." Michael's mind snapped back to the presence of the moment. He breathed deeply and rhythmically, lightly touching himself, keeping his penis hard. Victoria brought her hands up to the young woman's breasts and began lightly stroking them underneath with her hands and fingers. The prostitute closed her eyes and her head lolled back against Victoria, exposing her long neck. Victoria bent forward and began kissing her there, licking the muscles along the side and kissing up to her ear. Victoria cupped the young woman's breasts and brought her fingers to their erect nipples, trapping them between her thumbs and forefingers, turning them tightly, gently. The prostitute moaned and saying something soft in Egyptian, turned her head and pulled Victoria's mouth against her own, kissing her deeply. Michael watched, engrossed as one of Victoria's hands left the woman's breasts and ventured down her belly, slowly pushing down until her fingers were lodged deeply between her legs, exploring, petting and pushing. The prostitute moved her knees apart, exposing her reddened wet pussy to Michael's trance-like gaze. Victoria's fingers pressed in, moving in a little circle across her labia, stroking, then she raised her hand and turned it towards Michael. Her fingertips shone wetly in the little light coming through the curtains. Michael looked at Victoria and her eyes were fixed on his. Victoria moved her mouth away from the woman's kiss. "She's ready, Michael." At those words, the prostitute looked at Michael's cock with a lustful passion. She smiled at his erection and reached for it., her fingers brushing the head of Michael's cock. Michael took a step forward, pushing himself off the wall with a shrug of his shoulders. His penis bounced once then touched the thigh of the prostitute. She grabbed his penis and placed the aching head against her vagina's entrance, low between her legs. Victoria watched the proceedings, all the while kneading and caressing the breasts of the young woman as her fiancée advanced. "Now, Michael, press forward with your hips, but mind you, go slowly. Otherwise, you will not last." Michael looked into the deep pools of Victoria's azure eyes and sank the head of his cock into the young woman's pussy. Slowly, he pushed. He watched as just the soft, velvety head wedged itself for a moment between her lips, stretching them out wide, then slipped into the mouth of her vagina. The woman moaned as his cock began to move her insides around, pushing her organs out of the way, making room for itself and the pleasurable pressure that it brought. Michael pressed forward steadily, feeling the heat of the prostitute's experienced pussy envelope the first inches of his penis. He stopped and withdrew until the head of his cock was almost out, then he pressed forward again. This time driving himself a little deeper into her, a little more pressure to push open the woman, a little more pleasure clutching at his mind. Victoria watched all of this in close-up. It was as though Michael was sinking his penis into her, but she could feel nothing. She could see it, but the feeling was someone else's as if in a dream. She delighted in the pleasure she was bringing her fiancé and the woman. "Now, Michael. Find your rhythm; seek the tempo that drives you both to the end. Go faster until you can go no faster." Victoria smiled at the look of excitement and terror that flowed over Michael's face. He grabbed the young woman's hips and sank his cock all the way in. He could feel the head of his penis press against her cervix. She threw her head to the side, wide-eyed and moaned loudly. Victoria held her as Michael began driving his cock into the woman, thrusting, pushing and drawing out to thrust again. His knuckles grew pale where he gripped her hips. Her breasts bounced in Victoria's palms as she continued to kiss her and pinch the young prostitute's nipples. Immediately, Michael's heart began racing like a man running uphill. His breathing grew louder, he began moaning at the effort. The young woman's hips thrust back at him, pressing when he pressed, trying to increase the friction. She moaned loudly once and then convulsed against Victoria, shaking and stiffly pressing her hips forward again and again. "Victoria, If I keep doing this I will…" Michael panted and thrust, trying to meet the eyes of his fiancée. "Yes, I know, Michael. Tell me when..." "Now! Now, I'm going to… I'm going…" The veins in Michael's neck stood out, his eyes were panicked. His arms strained to thrust harder. Victoria calmly reached between the two and pulled Michael's swollen cock out of the young woman's pussy. She firmly gripped his cock as it thrust between the tight "O" of her fingers once, twice, three times… Michael groaned loudly as his penis spewed white hot sperm onto the young woman's belly, breasts and pussy, coating her body in a opalescent spew which ran into her navel and cleavage collecting into little pools of white, still rocking with her orgasm. A last great stringy drip of sperm ran out of the end of Michael's cock and over the fingers of Victoria's tight fist as she finished pumping him. She let go and Michael collapsed against the far wall, still fighting to get his breath and remain upright. Her fingers were coated with the sticky white liquid and she watched it glisten in the soft light of the afternoon. Then she brought her fingers to her mouth and licked the ropes of sperm from them, tasting the tangy salty mixture that immediately flooded her nose with tingling sensation. "Oh my God. Victoria, what have you done to me?" Sweating, Michael looked as though he'd been working all day in the hot sun. Victoria smiled and looking down, saw the young prostitute smile along with her. Moments later, Michael was smoking a cigarette just outside the marketplace, waiting as Victoria collected herself in the chamber of their new intimate acquaintance. The sun was low now and a journey back to Giza would be much easier to tolerate. Victoria, looking as prim and proper as one could in the such conditions, walked to Michael's side happily, kissed him once and took his arm as they made their way to the young boys who tended their horses. Behind them, in the market, a swarthy powerful man watched them mount their steeds and leave. He knew something he shouldn't know, but he was glad he did. Talisman Ch. 5: Victoria Grace Tilden Winthrop looked over her knuckles as he kissed her hand. "Never as lovely a day without your presence, Victoria." At Winthrop's obvious drunken flirtation, Victoria rolled her eyes. "Well, my my… A generous compliment, I am certain. And may I get an introduction to your handsome friend?" Still standing, the man from Sydney bowed at the waist and held out his hand. "Stephen Melville of Sydney, Australia, Miss Tilden. I'm afraid, Sir Ceril has made you out to be the most gracious being since our late queen. Funny that, it's not like him to be so unreserved with his compliments." Victoria took the man's hand and smiled at his comment. Winthrop pulled out a chair for her and she sat down, crossing one knee slowly over the other. "Where is that man of yours? I haven't seen him since breakfast and I've got news." Winthrop gestured to the barman and took his seat beside her. "Oh, well, he's feeling a bit tired and is upstairs in his room taking a nap, I believe." "Taking naps? At his age? Ridiculous notion. I'm at least twice his age and don't relish naps." Winthrop took another ale from the barman's tray and began to sip. Victoria smiled and waited for a proper moment. "Perhaps you haven't spent your morning entertaining a young woman's wishes, Sir Ceril?" Beer shot out his nose and foam clear across the table as Winthrop reacted to Victoria's statement. He yelled and stood up, coughing - beer foam clinging to the ends of his mustache and ale running over his chin. Mr. Melville stood and began clapping Winthrop on the back. "A little go down the wrong pipe, Sir Ceril? Are you okay?" "Yes, yes, fine," he wheezed. A side glance at the smirk on Victoria's face told him all he needed to know. He pointed at her. "She did that on purpose. Almost skewered me on that razor sharp wit of hers. Ha ha! I feel doubly sorry for our friend Michael Berringer now. Perhaps I'll send some lilies along to his chambers. Ha!" Victoria leaned up to Winthrop and kissed a little of the foam away. "I think I like you better like this, Sir Ceril. Another round perhaps?" Winthrop chuckled and laughed heartily. "Oh my, we'd best get to the gates, Melville. What did we work out about our wager?" Melville looked dourly. "Three-to-one, Sir Winthrop." "Where are you going?" Victoria smiled at the two gentlemen. "The camel races." Winthrop pulled out his pocket watch to check the time. "Starts in a quarter-hour, dear. Care to join us?" "I thought you'd never ask." Melville smiled along with Winthrop and pulled out Victoria's chair as she stood. Winthrop signed for the check and they all ventured out the front door towards the grandstands in the distance. Talisman Ch. 5: Victoria Grace Tilden Aziza looked at her hand and her eyes widened. "Yes, mademoiselle." She reached behind her, then shrugged her shoulders forward casting the straps down her arms. Her breasts turned up at the nipple and settled away from her chest and more under her arms. She handed the garment to Victoria. Victoria looked it over briefly, then looked back to the maid. "You are a very beautiful woman, Aziza. Your figure doesn't really need any assistance." The young girl bowed her head. "Thank you, mademoiselle." "Now, the skirt." She looked up quickly. "My skirt?" "Yes, please, and the rest of your clothes. I need a bath. We don't want you getting wet. Do we?" Victoria sat on her cot and looked at Aziza. For a moment, she looked back at her, breasts held high, shoulders back, and then she relaxed and smiled. "No, mademoiselle." Aziza reached behind herself, unbuttoning the skirt, then pushed it over her hips, revealing short lacy drawers. She turned, folding and placing her garments on the camp chair at the table. "The short knickers as well, Aziza." Victoria's eyes examined the woman's body, the long thin arms and curved legs. She was exquisitely proportioned. Aziza turned away to the chair, using it for balance. She pushed the knickers down, revealing her twice-rounded buttocks as she stepped out of her last garment, one foot at a time. She turned to face Victoria. Victoria was surprised to see the woman's pubic hair, what little there was of it. Unlike herself, there was just a slight darkening of very fine silk at her mound, her cleft easily seen. "In the travel cabinet, you will find a large wash tub, please bring it and some towels. There is soap here and water in the pitcher." Aziza bowed and went about assembling Victoria's bath. Moments later, Victoria stood in the tub as Aziza squeezed a sponge of water over her shoulders. The water was cold, but now scented by salts from the trunk. She flinched as the water cascaded over her breasts, her nipples standing hard against the gentle stream. Aziza rubbed the bar of soap against the sponge and began washing her. She washed Victoria's back, then her arms, quietly and gently applied the soap to her body. She then cleansed it away with the cool water. Aziza washed Victoria's shoulders and stomach, but hesitated at washing her breasts. They stood proudly away from the British woman's chest, her nipples wrinkled against the cool water and night air. The maid hesitated, afraid of doing the wrong thing. She knew the British were very conservative, but this woman seemed different. She seemed to behave more like her previous employer, more like a French lady. She looked carefully at the two pale breasts before her, their small areolas, their pink color, not dark and large like her own. She looked up at Victoria, hoping for a sign to continue. She met her gaze - a longing gaze, a welcoming gaze. Her heart began racing. A chill ran down her body. It was if a voice spoke to her then, telling her to kiss, to touch. Aziza looked down again, staring at Victoria's breasts. Her lips parted and she licked them. A finger stroked her cheek and she looked up. "Are you feeling well?" Victoria smiled. "Yes, mademoiselle, but…" Aziza glanced at Victoria's breasts again. "I think you can call me Victoria now, Aziza." Victoria leaned forward and kiss Aziza's surprised face. Victoria took the sponge from her and dropped it into the wash basin at her feet. "Please, Aziza, wash all of me, but not with this." Her hands reached out and gently pulled Aziza towards her breast. Almost in a daze, Aziza watched the approach of Victoria's breast, sighed deeply and opened her mouth. Her hand cupped the breast from beneath as she took the nipple into her mouth, sucking it and licking it. As she did so, a warm feeling of contentment washed through the young woman then as though a blanket had been wrapped around her. She thrust her tongue out and began washing the breast, licking underneath it and around the areola in tight, little circles. Victoria closed her eyes as Aziza continued. She loved the feeling, this wicked pleasure of intimacy with another. She turned her head towards the young woman and opened her eyes, watching her gentle ministrations to her breasts, licking one moment, then kissing them, then sucking at her hot skin. A quiet pulse of warmth extended to her toes and fingertips, generated from her core at her heart, which lay just beneath the soft glow of ivory. Aziza's mouth was open wide as her tongue danced across the scented warm flesh of this woman. She wanted to please her, to make her cry out, to have her body sing with pleasure. Her hands left Victoria's breasts as she kissed down her stomach. She paused at her navel, licking the little bowl, then she moved lower, licking down the little line of hair on her belly, moving lower, licking down the belly towards… Hearing a moan, Victoria opened her eyes. Aziza turned her head, startled by the sound. There, on her cot, just across the large tent sat Sarah. She had her skirt hiked up above her hips and her knickers were gone, discarded on the carpet at her feet. Her face was flushed and shiny with sweat. Her legs were spread and both of her hands played with her pussy. Her right hand was spinning a twirling pattern across her clitoris and her left had sunk two fingers deep into her vagina. As she moaned and rocked on the bed, her eyes stared hard at the maid. Victoria crouched down low next to Aziza. "See how she desires you?" "Desires me?" Aziza didn't know whether to be scared or excited. Victoria whispered quietly to the young woman, who steadfastly watched Sarah as she masturbated on the bed. "Yes, Aziza. Sarah loves only women, she has always loved them. She hasn't admitted this to herself, but she can't love a man. I saw her looking at you the day we arrived and I knew you were meant to be together. Don't you think she is beautiful?" Aziza watched Sarah's hands for a moment, then looked at her face, tight with concentration and her mouth, breathing hotly. She felt her breasts rise and swell, her nipples tighten into two little points. Victoria was close by her side, whispering the most delicious words to her. "Yes, she is most desirable and very beautiful. She makes me feel…" "How does she make you feel?" "She makes me feel dizzy." "Go to her, then, Aziza. Kiss her. Hold her." Aziza rose from the tub and stepped onto the towels surrounding it, slowly advancing to Sarah. She kissed Sarah lightly on top of her head, then Sarah raised her mouth to the young woman and they kissed a lover's kiss. Naked, Aziza pushed Sarah back on the bed, her breasts hanging down, swaying with their motion. Her arm encircled Sarah's waist and she sank into her, her knee landing hotly on Sarah's wet pussy. They embraced and kissed, breasts to breasts. Victoria rose quietly and toweled herself dry, then donning her robe and slippers, she dimmed the light and walked out into the night. Michael was asleep and had been so for some time - likely dreaming of treasure yet to be found. Discretely, Victoria entered his dark tent and softly approached the netting hanging around his cot. She pulled the netting up in the soft light, then squatted next to him, listening. The soft rhythmic breathing of Michael's dreams comforted her. She took one of his hands, enveloped it in hers and held it to her breast while she watched him sleep. This man she had known for many years through his family. This man to be her husband. This man who desired to share a life with her. At that moment, her love of him overwhelmed her as he slept. His head was facing her, tilted on the pillow with his eyes closed. She looked down at the hand she held and opened it, kissing the palm. She took a deep breath and rubbed the back of his hand against the robe and across her breasts. She smiled as her nipples stiffened and Michael's hand brushed them. Loosening her robe, she placed his hand inside it where the warm skin met the soft material and rubbed his open palm against her hard bud of a nipple. Michael rolled his head and moaned. She smiled and pulled at the sheet until his nightshirt came into view and his bare legs. She put a hand against his leg and ran it slowly up the inside of his thigh until the backs of her fingers brushed his soft warm sac. She turned her palm over and gently cradled his testicles, feeling their texture and their warmth. Placing his hand back on his chest, Victoria shrugged the robe off her shoulders. Her pale breasts were lit soft blue by the moonlit night shining through the tent's doorway. She bent forward on the bed and glanced at Michael's eyes briefly. His eyelids flickered quickly inside their sockets. She wondered briefly of whom he might be dreaming - the young prostitute perhaps, herself… Using her other hand, she pulled the tail of the nightshirt up and away from Michael, gently laying it down at his waist. There, his cock lay quiet against his thigh, slightly swollen from her touch, but not like it should be. She opened her mouth and ran her tongue ever so lightly over the tip of it. A salty taste permeated her mouth as she withdrew her tongue. Again, her tongue descended and licked the length of Michael's shaft, leaving a wet trail of saliva along it. Michael made a small sound. Arranging herself over Michael, she stood his penis up with her left hand and popped the head of it into her mouth. She caressed the hot flesh with her tongue and as she did, it began to grow, to swell and stiffen. Faster, she thought as she began to slide her hand up and down the wet shaft, stroking Michael's penis towards its finality. Michael's dream was a mass of sensation. Prostitutes overwhelmed him, pulling at him, pinching and caressing him. He couldn't stand it. He tried to run, but got nowhere. The women chased him and tore at his clothes. Naked, they climbed on top of him, sucking his lips, licking his cock, and begging to make love. He felt delirious. Never had he had such a dream before. Victoria stroked Michael's cock firmly into her mouth. She began thrusting her soft, red lips down the shaft with each stroke. She planted her tongue firmly beneath the crown, rubbing it with the delicious texture every time it passed deeply into her mouth. A slick, wet, sound created by her actions echoed throughout the quiet tent. Michael was moaning constantly now, trying to speak in his slumber. His hands clawed at the sheets, pulling, twisting their way along the bed. Victoria felt his testicles withdraw from her palm, rising up to meet his hard cock. She knew the time was coming that Michael would soon be cumming in her mouth. She clamped her lips down and sucked as she continued stroking. Michael awoke with a start, sitting up in bed as the first shot of semen blasted into the back of Victoria's throat. He grabbed her head and thrust his cock deeply into her mouth. Blast after blast of the salty sperm coated Victoria's tongue and mouth. She smiled deep inside herself at the pleasure she had brought her man, her future husband. Michael was panting like a dog, lying back in bed. His body relaxed at the release of tension. His hands slumped back to the bed. Victoria sat up, his cock still firmly held in her hand, stiff as ever. She smiled down at him. A little sperm dribbled down at the corner of her mouth. She stood, still holding his cock and crouched over him, her breasts hanging in his face with a knee on each side of his hips. He felt the head of his cock rub against something hot and wet, slippery with her natural oils. "Victoria, what…what are we doing?" "You are about to become my lover, my bedmate, my Shiva. Do you not want me, Michael? Do you not want to love me with this magnificent penis of yours?" Michael could think of nothing else. He looked up at the rounded breasts hanging above him and then at the longing in Victoria's face. He smiled and with both hands, he grabbed her hips and pushed. The head of his cock slipped between her labia, pushing steadily upwards, spreading her open - a perfect tightness that he had never known before. Then, his penetration met a firm resistance. Victoria groaned and shook fiercely. His eyes looked at her with open panic. Baring her teeth, she narrowed her eyes, then lifting slightly, she bore down with all of her weight onto him. Michael yelled as they connected. Victoria screamed as her hymen ruptured and the engorged penis wedged her insides apart. They settled at the deepest point. Victoria breathing deeply to regain composure and Michael concentrating, trying not to loose his seed too soon. Victoria opened her eyes and looked at Michael, lying underneath her: his firmly molded chest, the broad shoulders, his face shoved aside, concentrating on their lovemaking. She loved the feeling - a wonderful moment of two bodies conjoined, fighting to be the lovers they were meant to be. She leaned forward her hands on the cot by his shoulders, pressing her breasts to Michael's face. "Suck my nipples, Michael. It will help me make love with you." Michael leaned his face forward, took one of the distended teats in his mouth, and sucked hard. Victoria pulled away. "No, Michael, softly, gently like I did with your penis." With that, she gently rose, then pressed her hips further down, driving his cock into her hot channel, firmly wedging his cock deeply inside of her. She closed her eyes, concentrating on the feeling and began rising slowly, spreading open her insides some more. She drove back down, taking more of him. In addition, with each thrust down, then up, then down, she took more of the stiff cock into her wet pussy. She could feel his pubic hair touch her own, then press deeper, trying to reach that perfect spot down inside her body, where they could become one. Michael licked at the nipples, then releasing her hips, he brought his hands to her breasts and guided them to his mouth, licking and sucking them until they were hard, hot little points. He gently squeezed her breasts as he did this until she started moaning. The cot began to shake as she continually thrust down upon his penis. Her butt rose and thrust down, shaking her breasts, making them jiggle in his face. He fought, he struggled to hold on, to maintain control, but he could feel the inevitable rising of tension, the tingling sensation in his balls. She was panting now as she fucked Michael, desperately driving herself towards their release. "Michael, you feel so good inside of me. I want you there always. Keep going, Michael. Love me. Oh God, love me." The tension rose from within her hips, shivers of delight ran up her back. As Michael sucked her nipples she could feel little shocks of energy travel up her breasts and into her body, shocking her system to sexual awareness and to a sexual hunger for climax. In the shadows, another was watching. Another had heard them. Another came up behind Victoria and slapped a small leather bludgeon across the back of her head. She collapsed on a startled Michael and then the darkness hit him, too.