The Rain of Pharaoh

ONE

She slammed her hand on the countertop. “What do you mean, there’s no reservation? Rhianne Fitzgerald, PhD. I made the reservation a month ago.”

“Sorry miss,” said the harried clerk behind the counter. “I’ve got one room left with a king sized bed. I can give you a cot.”

It was late afternoon, and a few rays of sunlight faded to yellow through the tinted windows of the lobby.

Dr. Fitzgerald was flipping through the pages of her pocket calendar. “Here it is… Oh wait.” She turned to me sheepishly. “I made it for next week, accidentally.”

I sighed. It had been a long flight. Not the part in the air, but lines in the airport. And now a line was forming behind us as we stood with our heavy luggage in the crowded frenetic lobby of the hotel. “Welcome Archæologists — to the Dig It Conference!” read a large banner on one wall. A top corner of it had flapped over, covering part of the “W.” The air resonated with the deafening joyful noise of collaboration between long-separated colleagues.

“I’ll take the room, I guess,” said Dr. Fitzgerald, frowning. “We were supposed to have two.”

“You may as well,” said the clerk. “With the convention, every room in our little town is booked. Unless you want to pitch a tent.”

“Look, just do it,” said Dr. Fitzgerald impatiently.

“Dr. Fitzgerald!” called out a voice. I turned to see a young blonde girl with long hair flowing loose. She was thin and graceful.

“Is that,” Dr. Fitzgerald squinted. “Crissy?”

“You taught my high school history class. Remember?” said Crissy. “I’m all grown now.”

Dr. Fitzgerald laughed. “Good for you! I’m groaning under the weight of these cursed bags. We have to get settled, but I’ll come down in a bit, and we can catch up!”

“OK!” And Crissy flashed a smile at me that sent a tingle through the male members. Of course, it didn’t take much, as wiped out as I was from staying up until morning to get Dr. Fitzgerald’s presentation slides in order. As an Egyptologist, she was brilliant. With Power Point, not so much. Hardly as if being a Power Point whiz were something to be proud of. I was just the grunt labor, she was my boss.

Dr. Fitzgerald completed the transaction with the clerk, and received the two key cards, one of which she handed to me. “Room 354,” she said. “Three and six times nine. Divisible by three.” In the state I was in, merely hearing those numbers, 3, 6, 9, from her straitlaced dignified lips was enough to send another tingle.

We traipsed over to the elevators, lugging suitcases, backpacks, and computers as we clambered on. Several people joined us, getting off on the second floor. A ‘mellow’ version of Purple Haze whispered from the speakers, dubiously orchestrated with flute, guitar, harp, and a large string section. The doors opened with swish and we clambered off.

The abrupt quiet was refreshing. I followed the good doctor down the hall, across the plush leaf-themed carpet to room 354.

I could hear her gentle breathing, a little faster from the effort of carrying her suitcase and computer. She was in her late twenties or early thirties, with shoulder-length chestnut hair. With my fatigue, social filters were weak, and my eyes lingered on the fullness of her breasts as I watched her in profile, fumbling with the key. Even with the modest high-collar dress she wore. In the close quarters, I noticed that she still had freckles, and dimples even.

After a few attempts with the card in wrong directions, the door relented and allowed us entry.

“Sorry about that,” she said. “You were supposed to have another room.”

“It’s OK, boss. We’ll manage,” I said. “I need to take a nap, though. I was up all night.”

She smiled. “I know. You did a great job with those slides. I don’t know what it is about that silly software…”

“Thanks.”

“Why don’t lie down for a bit while I go socialize? I’ll be back in like a half an hour. There are a couple of people I need to talk to about logistics.”

“Sounds good,” I said, letting the backpack slip to the floor and falling flat on my face on the middle of the bed. Vaguely I overheard Dr. Fitzgerald directing the bellhop to put the cot next to the bed, then everyone left and an assertive spring mechanism slammed the door shut. Soon after, I lost consciousness.

TWO

Next I knew, there was a scratching at the door. Two women’s voices tittering. “This dang card. What are you supposed to do with it?” Dr. Fitzgerald’s alto voice.

“Like this,” a younger, soprano voice.

There was a slide and a click, and all at once I was in the company of two women. The second was the graceful thin blonde from before.

“Are you awake?” said Dr. Fitzgerald.

I thought a minute. “Now I am,” I said.

“Roy, this is Crissy. Crissy, Roy.”

Crissy bounded over to offer her hand. I offered my groggy digits in return. She was soft and warm, and I didn’t want to let it go.

“Roy, like a king!” said Crissy. “Like in a king threesome! You know, two girls and a guy!”

I blinked. “I did not know,” I said.

“Or a Pharaoh,” remarked the professor.

Crissy turned to Dr. Fitzgerald. “Does he know that you like girls?

Dr. Fitzgerald smiled nervously. “Now he does.”

“It’s OK,” I said awkwardly. “Don’t worry. I have no problem with it.”

Dr. Fitzgerald sighed with relief. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“Oh, Dr. Fitzgerald, I always wanted to do you,” said Crissy, putting one arm around Dr. Fitzgerald’s shoulder, and stroking her breasts with the other. “You were always so hot.”

Dr. Fitzgerald cleared her throat. “I see you’re all grown now.”

Crissy laughed. “I might moan,” she said. “Not groan!”

Dr. Fitzgerald separated from Crissy and turned to me. “I do apologize,” she said. “I didn’t mean let my personal life interfere. However, you should know that the restaurant closes at eight, which is in about a half an hour.”

“Got it,” I said, sliding off the bed. “I’ll leave you ladies to your business.”

Dr. Fitzgerald touched my shoulder. “We will go somewhere else. This is your room, and you’re welcome here.”

THREE

The hotel restaurant dinner was good. I didn’t know anyone really, and everyone else was absorbed in energetic chatter of which I understand maybe every third word, so I sat at a table by myself, trying to concentrate a local newspaper. But my mind kept drifting back to what might be going on back in the room.

The restaurant offered cherry cobbler with vanilla ice cream for dessert. It was excellent. Cherries…

FOUR

Back upstairs again, I tapped on the door of room 354, just to be sure everyone was decent. The door opened before I could slide my key in. “Come in! Are you done already?” It was Crissy. “And here we’ve been nothing but yammering away.”

I wasn’t sure whether to believe that nothing more interesting had taken place, but evidently it was the case. Both were still fully dressed. Dr. Fitzgerald was seated in a chair at the desk in front of a computer that had her presentation going on it.

“I really love what you did with her slides!” said Crissy. “I know what they’re like when she does them.”

“Hey!” protested Dr. Fitzgerald.

Crissy stood behind Dr. Fitzgerald, running her hands through the professor’s hair. “You’re still the most inspiring Egyptologist in the world. I love how you explain everything so it makes sense and I can understand it.”

“Why thank you. I spend a lot of time with dry dusty books, that’s all.”

“You just suck at Power Point,” continued Crissy.

The word “suck” made the professor flinch slightly. She flashed a worried glance at me.

Standing next to her so I could see what they were looking at, I found myself drowning in the aroma of female arousal.

Crissy smiled at me with big blue eyes, her moist lips only inches away from mine.

“Now I’m in love with both of you,” said Crissy. “Have the two of you ever had sex?”

I and Dr. Fitzgerald both cleared our throats. I let her speak. “No,” she said faintly.

Crissy smiled, still stroking Dr. Fitzgerald’s hair. “But you’ve thought about it, haven’t you?”

“Well…” continued Dr. Fitzgerald.

“I bet he would, wouldn’t you?” she turned to me, still smiling.

“Can I speak with my lawyer?” I said.

“Hold on,” said Dr. Fitzgerald standing. “I have to take a break.” She went into the bathroom and shut the door. We could hear the sound of liquid streaming into the toilet bowl. I wondered what Dr. Fitzgerald’s genitalia looked like. Did she shave?

Crissy leaned over and kissed me on the lips. She placed her hand gently on the stiffening bulge inside my pants. “I think you need to adjust down there,” she whispered, tapping with her fingers to indicate where. “Go ahead. I don’t mind.”

In a state of shock, I slipped my hands into my pants to shift positions to relieve the discomfort. I felt a little droplet from the stimulation. “I barely know you,” I protested.

Crissy smiled, pulling me closer, so her flat chest pressed into me. “Isn’t it better like that? You get to know someone, all those tricky feelings start getting in the way.” She kissed me again. Her mouth tasted faintly of chocolate, that mingled with the scent of fresh girl sweat in my nostrils.

Dr. Fitzgerald re-emerged, freshened, drying her hands. “I see the two of you are getting to know each other. Stealing my date, are you?”

“I didn’t…” I started.

Crissy pouted. “He’s not stealing. I just wanted to try three for once,” she said. “I never have before. Come on. It will be fun.”

Dr Fitzgerald was stern.

“I know you don’t go for guys,” said Crissy. “But does it really matter? Hard in the middle, soft in the middle. It’s the same urge. The same beautiful human desire to share love with another.”

“Well…”

“Don’t you want to gain intimate understanding of the life experience of the Pharaohs? They had lots of wives, and you can bet they had some wild sex.”

Dr. Fitzgerald rolled her eyes. “What have I gotten myself into?” she sighed.

“Come on,” said Crissy. “For the sake of historical research. So you can speak with even greater authenticity than you already do about the social lives of ancient Egyptians. I know you want to. And he’s all ready!”

“Very unprofessional,” protested Dr. Fitzgerald, her resolve weakening. “Completely…”

Crissy leapt over and wrapped her arms around the good professor, smothering the last word with a kiss. A long, slow, sensuous kiss, with tongues. Dr. Fitzgerald was stiff at first, but gradually softened and acquiesced, holding Crissy’s head with one hand while she caressed the small of the younger girl’s back with the other.

I sat down in a chair facing them. Watching the two girls make out was like a magnet. I couldn’t look away.

“See, that wasn’t so difficult,” said Crissy, once they came up for air.

“Little devil,” said Dr. Fitzgerald.

Crissy turned to me. “You can be our Pharaoh. You could pretend she’s my mom. I bet that would turn you on.”

I let out a sound of protest. “I could never…” I said.

“It’s OK,” said Crissy. “You can imagine whatever you want. Pretend I’m your little girl, if you like. I don’t mind.”

“Look,” said Dr. Fitzgerald, “if this ever gets out… Not a word to anyone, either of you.”

“Of course not!” cooed Crissy, arms still wrapped, kissing her on the cheek.

“I won’t tell,” I said.

“You have to promise,” said Dr. Fitzgerald.

“Of course,” I replied. “Nobody will ever know.”

Dr. Fitzgerald hesitated, then broke away to fasten the latch, locking the door from the inside. “I hope I don’t regret this,” she said.

“Oh, come on,” said Crissy. “You would only regret if you pass up the wonderful opportunity to share your love with two beautiful friends. Not to mention the research value. Now don’t roll your eyes at me. You know it’s true.”

“In addition to compromising the professionalism of our relationship,” said Dr. Fitzgerald, looking at me worriedly.

Crissy continued in a soothing voice. “But married people work together all the time. Just because you have sex doesn’t mean you can’t be professional.”

“I think we’ll be OK,” I said. “Though it’s certainly not what I expected from the stodgy professor.”

Dr. Fitzgerald gave me a sudden glare, with a twinkle in her eye. “Stodgy,” she said. “We’ll see about that.” She approached me carefully, beckoning me to standing, then putting her arms around me. “You don’t have to kiss me,” she said as I held her. “Ugly old person lips.”

I laughed. “You’re not old,” I said. I felt her soft breasts pressing comfortably against my chest, as I noticed how beautifully rounded her rear end was. In contrast with the equally attractive skinny younger girl.

Crissy tapped her shoulder from behind. “The first thing we have to do,” she said, “is get you out of this ridiculous dress.”

Dr. Fitzgerald smiled, glancing behind her down Crissy’s low-cut red-and-white striped shirt. “Do you ever wear a bra?” she said.

Crissy shrugged. “Why bother?” she said. “They’re the same size they were when I was twelve.” I could see her little stiff nipples poking the fabric. “Come on. Off it goes, Dr. Fitzgerald.” She was unbuttoning the dress from behind.

“Call me Rhianne, please.” She extended her arms so the younger girl could slip the sleeves over them, one by one.

I was standing in front of Rhianne while thin Crissy pulled womanly Rhianne’s dress down over her shapely buttocks, revealing a lacy white bra, and cleavage through the lace. Rhianne’s breasts were round and full, aesthetic perfection. A small plain metal cross hung on a black cord between them.

“You have very nice mammaries,” I said impulsively.

Dr. Fitzgerald — Rhianne — smiled up at me as she stepped out of the dress. “I hope we will have good mammaries about this in the future,” she quipped.

“I think we will,” I said.

Crissy had paused in the disrobing, amused.

“Would you like to hold them?” Rhianne asked me.

Timidly I approached, gently cupping my hands around them inside the bra. She let out a trembling sigh. “Oh!” she said.

I caressed them affectionately while Crissy continued pulling the dress down over the slip. One foot at a time, Rhianne stepped out of the dress, then she looked back up at me. Her freckles were like a galaxy of stars across her face. The milky way.

I leaned forward and kissed her on the lips. Her eyes widened with surprise, but she acquiesced, lips only. Then when I started to break away the famous archæologist placed her hand behind my neck and forced her tongue into my mouth, passionately. We kissed for a while. My stiffness was pressing against her now. Crissy placed the dress on a chair and came up from behind me, embracing the two of us.

“See?” she said. “I knew the two of you would get along.”

Our kiss ended, and Rhianne stared at me. “You kiss OK, for a guy,” she said. “But I’m a virgin, you know. I’ll never let one of those inside me,” She said tapping a now very sensitive bulge in my pants.

“I understand,” I said. “I respect your choice.”

“How about… he can fuck your boobs?” said Crissy. “Meanwhile, I can take care of you, down there.”

Rhianne flinched at the obscenity, but then was thoughtful. “I’ve never done this before,” she said.

Crissy laughed. “I never have either, so there!”

“I guess the cleavage would be OK,” said Rhianne.

Crissy let go of us. “Dr. Fitzgerald, face up on the bed.” She pointed. “A hard cock shoved between your bazookas while you’re having an orgasm won’t do you any harm.”

“It’s Rhianne,” said Dr. Fitzgerald, letting go of me.

Crissy laughed. “OK, Rhianne. But first…” she got behind Rhianne and undid her bra. As it fell to reveal her lovely bare breasts and nipples to me for the first time, Rhianne looked up at me with an odd expression. I reached over and gently cupped them once more. She gave a tremulous moan of pleasure. I bent over and kissed each nipple, taking them into my mouth briefly one by one.

She looked at me again as we separated, and then down at her stiffening nipples now shining with my saliva.

“Face up. On the bed,” said Crissy.

Rhianne turned and climbed onto the bed, rolling over into the center, on her back. “Now slide down, so he won’t be hitting the wall when he fucks your boobs.”

Rhianne nodded and slid towards the foot of the bed a little.