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His gaze touched something deep within her, something she didn’t want touching, but she couldn’t help herself now. There was something hypnotic about his eyes. It was almost like being in a trance. “Mmmmm,” she smiled, “It does look like fun.” She knew what she was doing, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself doing it as she unbuttoned her blue silk blouse and tossed it on a chair, then unzipped her skirt, stepped out of it and tossed it onto the chair too. Since it was a warm day, she wasn’t wearing tights or stockings, so she just kicked off her strappy sandals and walked towards the bed. “Take your bra off,” Marcus said softly. Alana obeyed, reaching behind her to undo the clasp, then slipping it down off her arms and tossing it on the chair. Her breasts were magnificent! Large, but very firm, with up-thrusting nipples with coral pink aureoles. “Beautiful!” Marcus whispered, “Beautiful! Now those,” he pointed at her little pale blue silk panties. Alana slipped them. We quickly dressed and I opened the door. It was Ghammal, our guide. Once the door was opened he rushed in, shutting the door behind him, looking scared and breathing hard. His gaze darted from Michael to me, then he inspected the bathroom, looked under the beds, behind the curtains before coming to rest on my bed. His hands trembled as he removed a long heavy package from his sling bag. Ghammal is a small bald middle-aged Egyptian with a thin mustache. “Thank be to Allah, you’re here, Christine.” He pushed the packet into my hands. “Hide this, please.” He got up, took both my hands, kissed it and said: “Meet me tomorrow morning at ten in the Chamber of the Dead. Bring the package with.” Before I could say or do anything he was out the door. “What’s this all about?” Michael and I looked at each other, stunned. My biggest regret was that our most intimate moment was also gone like it never happened. I wanted Michael so badly that I could still taste his sweet. But the fear in.
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