Wolf

by Wolf (lit)

  “Dr. LaPlante!”

  There was concern in the voice that struck Gaby as odd at first. Reluctantly yielding up the urge to curl up and enjoy the strange sense of completeness a little longer, Gaby pushed herself upright with an effort. Her eyes had adjusted to the dimness and she saw that she was wearing nothing but her panties and a shirt, lying on a stone platform instead of her cot.

  “Dr. LaPlante! Gaby! Are you all right?”

  Memory descended upon her in an avalanche of images. “Yes,” she called out, discovered her voice was hoarse, scratchy, barely audible and cleared her throat to try again. “I’m all right.”

  Except she had to pee. The thought reminded her of why she wasn’t wearing her pants. Relieved for some reason she couldn’t quite identify to discover she’d removed her pants herself, Gaby glanced around until she located them and moved to the edge of the altar near the steps that led up to it. The crotch of her panties, she discovered, embarrassed, was damp … more than damp, actually. The musky scent of sex tickled at her nostrils as she touched the space between her thighs. The outer lips of her sex tingled, sending a faint throb through her lower belly.

  My god, she thought in dismay! A wet dream?

  Frowning, probing her memory gently, she scooted to the edge of the platform until she could feel the cold stone of the first step beneath her toes. Her muscles protested the movements as she climbed stiffly down. Her inner thighs quivered.

  She’d dreamed … something … something bizarre, she remembered.

  Her skin prickled all over, the fine hairs on the back of her neck lifting.

  She glanced toward the darkened alcove where the god sat on his throne, but she found she couldn’t probe the deeper shadows that concealed him.

  Distracted by that discovery, she glanced toward the floodlight she’d left burning the night before. It was off. Guilt and dismay filled her. She’d left it on and the battery had gone dead.

  She didn’t know why she even bothered to check it. She supposed it was one of those mindless things one did when one didn’t want to believe, but when she’d pulled her pants on, she strode toward the light as she fastened up her pants. Squatting down, she peered at the thing in the gloom and finally reached for the switch, flicking it in the opposite direction.

  The light blinded her, startled her, and she sat backwards in the dust, twisting her face to one side to avoid the light.

  When had she turned it off, she wondered, jogging her mind for a memory that remained elusive?

  Shaking her head with the thought that she must have been far more upset than she’d realized to forget getting up to turn the thing off, she blindly sought the switch and turned it off again.

  It took many moments for her eyes to adjust to the dimness once more. She sat where she’d fallen, blinking, rubbing her eyes, testing her memory for flickering bits of information that teased at her but determinedly eluded her efforts to grasp them.

  “The men came back this morning. They’re working on a support we can use to wench you up.”

  Wench her up? Dismayed, feeling like a cow, Gaby pushed herself up right and got to her feet stiffly, brushing at the dust she’d collected on her pants when she sprawled out. “What about the rope?” she called up to Dr. Oldman when she reached the opening of the shaft.

  “Enrique found a piece of rope we missed last night,” he responded.

  There was just enough sarcasm in the statement to suggest the ‘found’ rope hadn’t been found where it was supposed to be. Not that she was going to quibble over it. At least someone had produced it and she could get out.

  The experience hadn’t been near as terrifying as she’d thought it would be, but she had no desire to spend another night in the temple.

  “I’m going to test the thing as soon as they have it rigged up … to make sure it will hold you when we pull you up,” Dr. Sheffield offered.

  Gaby’s lips twisted wryly. Right, she thought, in a pig’s eye. She could hear the excitement threading his voice. He was just anxious to get down and explore the chamber. She was surprised he hadn’t slithered down the shaft behind her the night before.

  No doubt he’d wanted to be sure there weren’t any dangerous traps in the chamber itself before risking his neck.

  She didn’t care. She just hoped they hurried. She had to pee and she didn’t want to be squatting in the corner when Dr. Sheffield arrived. She could just imagine his outrage if he discovered she’d pissed in his great find.

  To her relief, she heard sounds indicating Dr. Sheffield’s imminent arrival only a few minutes later. Moving back out of the way as his booted feet slid into view, she stood to one side as he extracted himself and got to his feet. He didn’t glance at her as he untied the rope that had been looped around each of his thighs to form a sling support. He merely dropped the rope, staring blank faced at the chamber.

  The rope was snatched upward again before Gaby could grab it.

  “Hey!”

  “Just a minute,” Mark called. “I’m coming down, too!”

  Gaby ground her teeth. Was the whole fucking team coming down, she wondered angrily, to ‘rescue’ her?

  They were. The moment Mark disentangled himself, he gave the rope a jerk and again it disappeared.

  “Fuck!” Gaby muttered under her breath before she thought better of it.

  She needn’t have worried. Neither Mark nor the professor gave any indication at all that they’d heard her. Dr. Sheffield had flicked on the floodlight and both men moved like zombies toward the frieze that covered the walls of the chamber.

  Gaby stared at them irritably for several moments before her gaze was drawn to the figure seated in the alcove. Without quite realizing it, she moved toward him, tilting her head back to stare into his glittering green gaze.

  Warmth flooded her as she stared up at him. With surprise and more than a little embarrassment, she realized it was desire stirring to life inside of her. Images flickered through her mind that built upon the burgeoning warmth. A shiver went through her as the images became so profound she could almost feel his skin brushing along hers, felt her belly clench as if she could feel his cock surging inside of her.

  “Anka,” she said on a breath of sound, unaware of the yearning in her voice.

  “What?”

  Jolted out of her absorption, Gaby glanced at Dr. Sheffield blankly, wondering when he’d come to stand next to her. “What?”

  “I thought you said something,” he said absently. “Anka?”

  Adjusting his glasses, he leaned forward slightly at the waist, as if trying to bring the image into focus. “Is that what he’s holding?” he asked doubtfully. “My god! I believe you’re right! This is … I don’t know what to make of this, to be honest.”

  Gaby glanced up at Anka’s eyes again, but the odd, almost electric current that had enveloped her before had vanished. “His name is Anka,” she said, rubbing at the ache between her eyes that hadn’t been there moments ago.

  The comment drew Dr. Sheffield’s attention to her again. He studied her thoughtfully. “You should go to your tent and try to get some rest. I know this has been an ordeal for you.”

  His concern would’ve been more touching if he’d seemed the least interested in helping her out of the chamber instead of coming down to explore and ignoring her as if she wasn’t even there, Gaby thought irritably. She didn’t argue with him, though, or address the implication that the experience had somehow ‘disturbed’ her mind.

  Turning away, she moved to the altar to gather up her belongings. She noticed when she climbed down again that Mark had followed her. He barely acknowledged her, however. He was focused on the altar.

  “What’s this?”

  Gaby noticed he’d touched the oily residue of the lubricant she’d sprayed on the stone. He was rubbing it between his fingertips. “Oil. I sprayed the stones down last night to make sure scorpions couldn’t crawl into my sleeping bag with me.”

  His eyes were bulging as he looked
directly at her for the first time. “Oil?”

  She caught the disapproval in his tone. “It didn’t hurt the rocks,” she said dryly, turning and stalking to the shaft and securing her bundle in the rope.

  “You sprayed oil on the … in this …. You didn’t consider the possibility of damaging something irreplaceable?” Dr. Sheffield demanded, obviously outraged as he moved to examine the edges of the altar.

  Gaby turned to glare at the man as the workers began hauling her sleeping bag up in response to her tug on the rope. “I consider my health and well being of some importance,” she snapped.

  Instead of responding, he looked around as if searching the room. “I haven’t seen any scorpions in here.”

  “It’s dark in here,” Gaby responded testily. “Just because you haven’t seen any doesn’t mean there aren’t any.”

  “But the tomb was sealed,” Mark objected.

  “It isn’t a tomb,” Gaby shot back. “This is a temple to the fertility god, Anka, and this is the sacred breeding ground.”

  That statement caught the attention of everyone present. She glanced around at them, feeling more than a little defensive at their expressions.

  “How did you arrive at that?” Sheila demanded.

  Gaby gave her a look. “The frieze along the walls?”

  Sheila’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not stupid. Anyone can see the depictions suggest fertility rites. But how did you arrive at the conclusion that this was the chamber where the rituals were held? If this chamber is any indication, the temple must be massive and filled with dozens of chambers. And how did you get the idea he was called Anka? That’s Egyptian, isn’t it?”

  Frowning as it sank into her that she had no idea how she knew, Gaby searched for something to say.

  She’d dreamed it, she realized abruptly, feeling hot color begin to creep into her cheeks. Before she could embarrass herself further, Mark drew everyone’s attention.

  “Hey! I don’t think this is an altar at all! The slab of rock on top is just resting on the supports. I think this is a tomb!”

  She’d been sleeping on some dead person’s tomb, Gaby thought, horrified?

  Having sex on somebody’s tomb, her mind corrected.

  God! Was that worse than dancing on somebody’s grave?