LUST IN THE CITY OF THE DEAD

2613 B.C.E. Dashur, Ancient Egypt

Snefru was trembling. It wasn't the final move that had him crowned as Pharaoh that heated his blood, it was not the approved plans for his pyramid. No, what made the man, the general, the leader of the known world as weak as a young boy was the staggering beauty of Hetepheres, his sister, his bride.

She was as beautiful as any goddess, though he imagined her as Isis, and Hetepheres was every bit as magical. Tonight they had wed on the celebration of Isis, just outside the Necropolis, at the site where his great pyramid was to be built and their bodies would enter eternity.

She came to him bathed and oiled, her wig long and black. Her eyes lined with kohl, her body naked. Her curves were rich and strong. She looked like her mother, his father's first wife, but younger, more beautiful.

"Brother," she said with love.

He could wait no longer and pulled her to the bed. She tasted of t he rich sweet meats from the feast and honey. He wanted to drizzle honey on her and lick it off, worship her as the earthbound deity she was, but there was too great an urgency.

She kissed him back with hunger and need, aroused and prepared for him by the servants. The women had caressed her body, inflaming her, and he had watched as they bathed her, stroked hr, caressed her. Now he rose above her and as she begged, slid inside.

She cried out, finally filled by the man she desired above all others. She had known physical love before, but not like this. Her brother, her husband, and now her lover. His cock slid in deep, stretching her, and she wrapped her legs around his waist and clung to him weakly.

Snefru began to thrust, each stab of his cock buried deep inside her warm pussy made them both cry out. They rocked together, bodies slick with oils and sweat. He thrust harder, obeying her demands, claiming her. They shared blood and now with the sharing of their bodies their souls mingled.

He felt the peak boil up from his balls and held back, rubbing her, grinding, begging then ordering her to take the journey with him. At last she did, her head thrown back, crying out his name. Snefru let himself go and spilled his seed deep within her, feeling he had touched the realm of the gods with that pleasure.

She fluttered around him, squeezing him, milking him dry, and once done he cried out with renewed joy. Hetepheres' eyes rolled back showing the whites and he braced himself up on his forearms. She was having a vision.

"Together we shall rule in peace and prosperity, we shall be blessed with many children. Our son will build an even greater pyramid, an even greater kingdom. Our bodies will lay in our not into eternity but until a time when two souls such as our meet. In their love and passion we shall again walk the earth."

Her large brown eyes came back into focus and she smiled. "Our love has given me strength I never knew I had."

He kissed her deeply and felt himself hardening again, like a younger man. Vigor he had not known in ten years was his once more. "I live for the future, always with you, sister."

"Always with you," she promised.

1928 C.E. Cairo, Egypt

It was a shame what they had done to the world around them for the shindig. The British Museum members had joined with the Americans for a party. As far as Susan could tell, they always loved a party. Though the Brits weren't nearly as big on Halloween as Americans were, they had agreed to a costume party to celebrate the find from Dashur.

Someone had gotten real mummies for the bash. They were in the great tent of the dig into the City of the Dead, the canvas structure almost permanent. The sand below had been stamped down and covered with Oriental rugs, and all along the tent poles real mummies lay propped up for atmosphere. The centerpieces were the two sarcophagi on either side of the stage, worn with age. The great king Snefru and his wife. The British team had sent them over for testing, and Susan would begin in two days, the Day of All Souls.

All around them native Egyptians worked as waiters, milling about dressed as Desert Sheiks. "God, it's dreadful," she said to her compatriot Ellen Barnaby. They were the only two women on the dig not there as wives or daughters, but as archeologists in their own right.

Susan's young brother Jonas was there as well, but a finer researcher she couldn't think of. The British were trying to seduce him away and the monetary offers were growing every day. A few of his paintings were hung there; he had a talent for bringing the dead to life with a fine eye.

"The British think they are so sophisticated, but my god, they are garish."

Susan frowned and wished she could wear her glasses with the costume. Her sight wasn't terribly bad; they just brought everything into sharp focus. "I spent my summers in London as a child and for the most part the British are delightful. I think it's just this lot. They spent so much time moldering in the jungle before coming to the desert. Perhaps their minds have jungle rot."

Ellen giggled. "Oh, their men do speak so divinely but they refuse to treat us with respect. If I hear Lord Wilson tell me my place is at home one more time I'll scream. At least McConnell seems nice."

"It was nice of him to convince the Brits to agree to this party. One thing I do hate about work is missing the fun at home. I hear New York is buzzing tonight, Halloween is still all the rage."

"You should hear McConnell talk about it. He calls it Samhain and has the wildest tales, Jonas would love it! Speaking of your delicious brother, where is he?"

"Down girl! My brother is only eighteen, too young to seduce."

Ellen gave her a minxish look. "We'll see. He's so athletic, just as gorgeous as you, and so smart. He always treats me like a lady."

"Perhaps because I am such a harridan," Susan quipped.

Why should her friend's interest in her brother bother her so much? Jonas was coming into his own. Over the summer he had grown to his full height over six feet, just like their father. Like her he was athletic and tanned, his hair a bright gold and his eyes a deep green, an all American boy. As much as he enjoyed the sporting life he also adored books and painting. Two semesters into school he showed great promise and was delaying his return to university to join her on this excavation of the simple graves of the common people of a long-dead empire. He had been most excited about Snefru and was likely still in their tent, mixing up oils, trying to give the old king life on the day when the living sand the dead were destined to mingle.

She had been enjoying her freedom as an independent woman, far from her parent's eyes. She didn't tell Susan but she had seduced Lord Wilson and found his vanity extended into the bedroom, the bumbling fool. She was twenty four and had been a woman of the world for some time. Perhaps it was time for Jonas to join the ranks of the adults, but she didn't want her sweet brother introduced to it with the wild Ellen who regarded men as toys to be played with, broken, and discarded.

"What is he dressed as?"

"I don't know," Susan confessed, looking at a mirror behind a mummy at her own costume. Just to be daring before the British she was a harem girl, her pants gauzy and diaphanous. Her hair was piled atop her head and covered with soft purple lace matching some of the scarves making up her pants. Her top was dark peach satin and exposed her toned belly, covered with a vest of the same gauzy purple and red. Her mask was red lace and covered her eyes, a veil of peach below. "I do hope Jonas isn't dressed as a Sultan!"

Ellen laughed. She was dressed as a dove in a shimmering white dress with a hat to match, her mask the same shimmering color with white and silver sequins. At least that night they blended in with the other women. The wives and daughters of the other archeologists were dressed in equally glamorous confections. The Americans and the Irishman were good sports and wore costumes, but most of the British men had declined and instead wore their usual evening suits, looking like penguins.

Susan looked over the crush for her brother but there were many tall men with broad shoulders, all of them either British or costumed. There really was no one quite like her brother, she thought. He was so handsome; he was destined to be a heartbreaker.

"You know, if McConnell intrigues you so, perhaps you should set your cap for him."

Ellen reached for a glass of Nelson's Blood from the tray of a passing sheik and twisted her lips. "Catholics have such damnable guilt."

Susan laughed. "You need to spend more time with the Irish. They're only Catholic when it suits them, and for a beautiful woman like you he'll convert for the night."

Ellen chuckled with her and waved her friend closer. "We're going to have a séance at midnight; Lady Firestone has brought in a medium from Paris. And I have a bottle the good medium brought from Paris and sold to me. Have a taste." She drained her glass and parted the skirt of her dress.

Pulling a flask from her garter she unscrewed it and poured green liquid into the glass, passing it to her friend. "Drink this. They call it the green fairy."

Never one to shrink from a challenge, Susan took a sip. "Strong! Hmm, interesting." She knocked it back and passed the glass over. "What exactly is it?"

"Absinthe, made from wormwood. Come on, let's find your brother."

Susan followed Ellen feeling pleasantly warm. She'd had some brandy while her maid helped her dress and two glasses of Nelson's Blood, the drink du jour perfect for the night, already. The party had been in swing since nine, but they had made a fashionable entrance close to eleven. There was dancing and laughter, but at the end of the day it was a gathering of scientists with adventurous spirits, not inclined to much merry making beyond celebrating a major find.

They were on the verge of s big discovery at their own dig, she could feel it. Perhaps even the answer to how the great pyramids were built. For the past few months a feeling of restlessness had possessed her, feeling every day like she was on the verge of something new and wondrous.

She was waylaid by the son of her boss, Thomas. He'd paid off the band to play the Charleston and they danced the scandalous dance together, laughing. Ellen was drawn into the dance by the Irishman, though she had to teach him the rapid steps.

Some pompous Brit with a title gave them a sneering look and passed money to the bandleader to play a waltz when the rousing song ended. She spent the next half hour dancing with various partners including her boss and lost track of her friend, never spotting Jonas.

The call came at minutes to midnight for those who wished to join the circle to be seated. Giggling and lightheaded Susan grabbed a glass of Nelson's Blood and wove her way to the table. It was primarily women seated, but she saw two men in costume as well as the Irishman with Ellen next to him.

Once seated the others who wished to watch sat in chairs pulled from the tables. Two workers who aided in the dig were asked to leave after a loud conversation about the price mummies were fetching to be used as fuel for the train. The clash of cultures seemed ruffled by the introduction of magic into the night, a testy subject for all.

Finally when it was quiet, and those uninterested sat at the other end smoking and drinking, one costumed woman whom she recognized as Lady Firestone announced Madame Petrinka.

The medium swept in, large and matronly, she was stuffed into a corset that made her top heavy, poured into a tight dress with no visible buttons. It was flesh colored and light, imbued with sequins. Her turban matched, settled heavily above a face that should have been plain, but her intense dark eyes made it somehow captivating.

"Good evening," she said with a heavy Russian accent, pronouncing it good evenink.

"Boy, Houdini would have loved this one," Susan whispered to the woman beside her.

"You don't believe?" the young woman asked, a bit too loudly.

"You will," Madame Petrinka said loudly as she took her seat, staring at Susan.

The chair was pushed in by a young male attendant, beautiful in his evening suit. He stepped back quickly and stood next to a mummy, jumping slightly when he brushed against it.

"My son is sensitive to the dead," Madam Petrinka said without looking. "It is good we have so many open souls here in our circle. Perhaps tonight one will hear the message they seek from the dead all around us. Join hands!"

She brought hers out with flourish, shaking back her sleeves. "Would the gentlemen watching please turn the kerosene low?"

The men in back scrambled to do her bidding as the twelve at the table clasped hands. Susan knocked back her drink and joined hands with her neighbors, feeling nervous as the lights dipped low.

"Good. Now, we will close our eyes and open our souls to the spirit ream. Do not make a sound! The spirits shall come to my voice, manifest within me. Do not be terrified of what you hear or see. Concentrate on happy memories. It will draw happy spirits to us!"

Susan resisted the urge to giggle. A happy thought, a happy thought...her mind settled on a rather startling one. Just weeks earlier she had entered the tent she shared with her brother before he finished his bath. He lay back in the copper tub, his valet shaving him. Above the water the firm lines of his upper body were visible, as starkly defined as any of the workmen.

He preferred to work on his books and paintings by kerosene light, and in the day he worked with the workmen, digging and hauling earth. His skin was beautifully tanned, his hands large and rough-skinned, yet capable of such delicate work. She'd set her hat down and found herself staring at those hands.

Even now she remembered just what she had thought. How would they feel against her body? No shame came with it, she was light headed enough that it seemed no shame could touch her. There was no shame at how she had returned, time and time again, before he finished his bath, delighting. No shame at how she had stopped her own work at dusk to look up and see him without his shirt on, muscles working as he flung sand and earth.

Susan had enjoyed a handful of lovers at college and on the dig. Older and experienced, they somehow left her flat. The thought of a sweet young virgin, a man who truly loved her, was powerfully arousing. Dear god, she desired her own brother more than she had ever wanted a man before.

"Good thoughts, good, good- oh!" Madame Petrinka's cry had them all jerking, eyes open.

The medium's head was rolling around on her shoulders and she was making strange humming sounds. Susan rolled her eyes, thinking people could get awfully silly on Halloween, even in the north of Africa, a world away from most of the parties celebrating the holiday.

"Hello." The mediums voice had dropped an octave and the accent had turned form Russian to untraceable. "I am in your service."

Susan snorted. "My, what beautiful English you speak."

The medium's eyes fixed in her, somehow darker and smaller. When she spoke it was gibberish with a cadence to it. The other women seemed impressed, but the archeologists at the table remained stoic.

"I learn from listening." Her next words were foreign to many ears.

At the fluent Arabic Susan blinked. Then again, saying I also speak Arabic was not that much of a challenge, even for a Russian woman new in town.

"You will not find happiness, little one, until you learn to be brave in your desire. New worlds are built on what our heart seeks most." The medium's head dropped and rolled, the humming began anew. The grandfather clock permanently housed in the great tent struck midnight, making them all jump.

Susan jerked her hands free and stood. Immediately the medium's head snapped up and her eyes focused on Susan. "You break the circle!"

She opened her mouth but realized everyone was staring at her, even the men on the other side of the tent. Flushing, she ran from the tent into the cold desert night.

Outside she was alone. Torches lit their little tent city, and the pyramids rose up in the distance. Further away Cairo was quiet in the cool night. At times like this she considered smoking to enjoy time alone out of doors, but she had tried it once and found it vulgar.

For a moment, when the madam had looked at her with those alien eyes, it was like there had been a spirit inside her who had guessed at Susan's thoughts. No leering, no judgment, just simple honest truth. If it had been a lie, it was a doozy.

"Are you all right?"

She turned an Ellen was there.

"Yes, it's just...you know how I feel about those people. I quite agree with Houdini. Splendid man," she sighed. "He left us all too early."

"Here." Ellen pulled out her flask and passed it over. "Drink more of this. I know you're sore."

Ellen had been her friend at college, and it had been there when the news of her parents' deaths had come. Ellen had been there for the mediums hired to contact them, all the failures. She alone had witnessed Susan's loss of faith.

Susan grabbed the flask and took a long pull. "It's not that. It's just when she asked us to think of a happy thought..."

"Yes?"

"May I finish this?" she asked, an Ellen nodded. "I pictured something I shouldn't have, and it was like she knew."

Ellen took the empty flask and tottered in her heels, giggling. "Some man?"

Susan blushed. "An unattainable one."

"Well, if Madam Petrinka is to be believed, you're going to have to get over those nerves and get your man."

"It's not that simple."

"Well, warm up on another. The one dressed as the highwayman sitting to my right couldn't take his eyes off you."

"Who is he?"

"I don't know. But he has a nice body, good lips. Does it matter? It's Halloween, it's a costume party, we're young, and the world is ours!" Ellen held out her hands and spun around, stumbling in the shifting sands.

"You'd best go in to McConnell, Ellie. You're drunk."

She giggled. "All the better for him to seduce me. Don't stay out too long. Perhaps the madam will revive the mummies, you won't want to miss it!"

At the gruesome image Susan shuddered. She waggled her fingers as Ellen stumbled back in, and then Susan adjusted her veil. She couldn't get the image of Jonas out of her head, those hands, that body. Squeezing her eyes shut she prayed to a god who had never answered, asking for strength.

"Here," a deep voice said as something heavy settled around her shoulders.

She opened her eyes and it was the highwayman, being a gentleman and offering her his cloak. Embarrassed to be caught with tears in her eyes, Susan had no urge to reveal her identity. 'Thank you," she said with a British accent.

His gloved hand reached up and gently he brushed her tears away. "Why is such a beautiful woman so sad?"

That voice. The highwayman was Jonas!

She stepped back and stumbled, falling in the sand. Pain shot through her ankle and she cried out. Instantly he was there, kneeling. "Are you all right?"

"My ankle...it's twisted."

He undid the strap of her shoe and set it down, massaging the aching joint. She cried out at a sharp pain. "We should ice it. Can you walk?"

"I don't think so," she said softly.

He nodded and before she knew what he was about he lifted her in his arms. She gasped at the feel of his strong muscles holding her with ease. "Where is your tent?"Her panicked mind raced. "My parents...I am supposed to abed already. Please."

He nodded with a knowing smile. "My sister should be dancing all night, if I know her. We can go to my tent." He walked her there and peeled back the flap.

She'd been holding her breath but her maid and his valet had turned down their beds and lowered the canvas flap between their "rooms." They were alone when he set her on his bed gently, pulling his cloak from her shoulders to the floor.

"Wait here."

He left and she knew he was walking to the mess tent to get ice from the ice box. Looking around, she took in his area with fresh eyes. He used his steamer trunks as armoires, turned on their sides. A small table by the bed held a lamp that burned low with a kerosene flame and a picture of their parents.

With great guilt she turned it away and glanced to the photo on the trunk. It was her, taken just the year before. She was posing with a complete skeleton she had unearthed of a woman, one of the few they had found at the site. She was smiling into the sun, her hair slipping from its bun, a few strands across her face.

Jonas had taken it with his new camera, a birthday gift she had given him for his seventeenth birthday. He'd spent the summer with her before going off to NYU, coming back a little bit taller, a little bit more filled out, and a lot more handsome.

"Here we go," he said, entering the tent. He secured the flap behind him and brought the bundle over, proving to be ice wrapped in a thick dishrag. He knelt by the bed and pushed her pant leg up, pressing the ice.

"Ouch!"

"I'm sorry, does it still hurt?"

She nodded, unable to speak with the feel of his hand on her flesh. Her eyes flickered down to the contact and his followed. Boldly Jonas stroked her skin. "Sometimes a massage can make it feel better."

Again she nodded and lay back, breathless. How wicked to keep up this deception with her own brother! But curiosity was winning over shame, and she was ever curious. That sense of adventure, the need to explore, to push boundaries, is what led her into her field. While most women her age lamented the lack of a husband she was gathering evidence to publish papers.

Now she had found a final frontier, a new, terrifyingly beautiful world to explore.

He lifted her legs and sat on the wide cot, setting them in his lap. He braced the ice pack between his thigh and her ankle, and gently began massaging it.

His hands felt good, strong. She couldn't help but moan, and felt his sure strokes falter for a moment. God, she had to remember how shy he was, sheltered. Back in New York he lived with their Great Uncle who been old since the Stone Age. Most kids would have used it as an excuse to run wild and free, but Jonas had always been a good boy. He was forever studying at home or in school, or out sporting with his friends but back by curfew to paint. As far as she knew, this could very well be the first time he touched a girl.

"Does that feel good?" he asked softly.

His massaging had returned, almost caressing her leg now, pushing her gauzy pants higher. "Oh, yes."

"I wish I could see your face," he murmured.

She felt herself stiffen. "Tonight, we keep our masks." The accent was getting harder to hold but she had to, for this madness to continue. She was actually considering the best way to seduce her own brother!

Her head swam with the absinthe and Nelson's Blood, and she couldn't make up her mind. Normally with men she was confident and bold, if reserved at times. With Jonas she felt almost shy.

His hands worked up to her thigh and she gasped, moaning softly. Behind the mask his bright eyes sharpened. "You feel so soft."

Trembling Susan could only sigh as both his hands began to stroke the soft, pale flesh of her thigh. Outside in the distance laughter came from the workers huddled over a fire and she became aware of the band in the grand tent striking up a jazzy tune.

It was a night for magic, a night to be away from reality. Ghosts walked among them and witches were surely casting spells, why couldn't she? Boldly she reached down and grabbed his gloved hand, bringing it to rest between her legs. She moaned and raised her head, meeting his eyes.

"I know that you are beautiful, but I wish I could see more of your face."

She sat up and peeled the vest off, stroking her hands down over her small breasts and firm stomach. "There is so much else to see."

She pulled the buttons on the side of her top and pulled it off, baring her breasts proudly. A small tremor passed through him and Jonas licked his lips. "Come here," she whispered, enticing him by stroking her hands across her hard nipples.

When he draped over her, his face close, she brought his gloved hands to her breasts. Cautiously he gripped them, but at her little moans he was encouraged and grew bolder. Massaging still he discovered he loved how her breath hitched when he gently rolled her nipples between his fingers.

Her breath was hot on his face and he shifted, slightly embarrassed by his erection pressing into her. "Why?"

"Why not?" she asked in return. "I desire you, you desire me, and this is a night for madness made real."

She kissed him. His lips were soft and firm, and at first he kept them pressed together. Clutching his arms now she licked the seam of his lips and he figured out what to do, opening. He shivered delightfully when she slid her tongue in, showing him the basics.

It didn't take long until it changed and Jonas had taken command of the kiss. With shock Susan realized his hands had kept moving, drawing shivers and shooting heat through her. She let her hand trail down his arm, over his hip, and then settled it on his cock.

He groaned and his hips pumped reflexively. God, he felt huge, and so hard. She stroked, gripping it firmly, and his tremors delighted her. There was no question now that she knew he had never known physical love. Who better to show him than the one who loved him best?

He changed the angle of the kiss, guided by ancient instinct, and it was now Susan who shivered.

"Take your gloves off," she whispered against his lips. The image of him naked in the bath, those strong hands, it just wouldn't leave her mind.

Pulling back he did, his eyes unable to meet hers. Once bare handed he reached again for her breasts. The thrill was ice and fire. At last, those hands...and they felt better than she had imagined. He pressed her back into his pillows and she luxuriated in his touch. Drawing her arms above her head she arched her back, wordlessly begging for more.

Jonas bent and his mouth replaced a hand. Shifting on the bed, he lowered his hand to the waistband of her pants. Moisture rushed. This was so forbidden yet it felt so right. She threaded her hands into his hair, knocking his hat back. The bright blonde tresses glowed in the lamplight.

The sight of him bent over her, dressed so darkly, her own brother touching her intimately made her cry out with need. He looked so large, so masculine, her little brother all grown up. He murmured in response on her beast, pulling at her nipple pressed between his teeth and tongue. His other hand gripped her pants, pushing the cloth belt down.

Her heart pounded and for a moment she was the one without surety. Her lust swelled and she trembled as if this were the first time a man had touched her. Indeed it felt as such.

He fumbled slightly but worked his hand under and found her bare. He stroked at her damp curls as if fascinated and her hips urged him lower. His hand stroked all around, memorizing the soft lines of her body. Susan felt hotter and wetter than she could ever recall and then a finger parted her folds. When he found the little nubbin she cried out, a broken sound.

"Are you all right?" he asked, lifting his head.

"Y-yes, please, don't stop." She'd lost her accent, lost the ability to pretend any longer.

"How do you wish to be touched?" His voice was gentle, inquisitive.

"S-softly. Y-yes! Just like that!"

Two of his fingertips now trailed lightly over that nubbin and she found herself shivering.

"I read a book," he said, "a most scandalous one. It showed men and women and all manner of things to do."

"I would show you them all," she husked out, promise and surrender in one.

Awkwardly he shifted his hand and she felt two thick fingers slide inside her. Susan reached out and clutched his head, bringing Jonas to her for another kiss. At first he tried to move his hand rapidly but at her cry of "Slow!" he did as bade.

She reached down pushed the pants down her legs. He removed his hand to help her and when she was naked she guided his hand back. He slid in easily, the path cleared by her flowing juices. At her urging his thumb rested on the nubbin and he began to move slowly, gently.

She was so powerfully aroused that all it took was his gentle kiss and she peaked. Shaking with it she clutched at his shirt and cried out his name into his mouth, completely unaware of herself. He kept moving through it, moaning himself until it passed.

"That was amazing," he whispered, his eyes close to hers, the same green she always saw in the mirror.

"Let me show you," she said, and pushed at his chest.

Jonas stood and held out his hand to help her stand. Once she found her feet he pulled her to him and she gasped. She had not truly noticed how much he had grown, easily as tall as their father now. He looked down at her and let his hands cup her ass, kneading the cheeks.

"Does your ankle still hurt?"

"It will feel better if you lie down. Take off your shirt." She went up onto the toes of her uninjured foot and nipped at his lips, sucking on it firmly.

Rubbing against him like a cat she felt him harden even more. Confident now she helped him with the buttons of his shirt. When his shirt opened, baring his body, she left him to shrug out of it, captured as she was by Jonas' body. He was strong and tanned, his skin smooth, only the barest sprinkling of hair covered the defined muscles.

"You're beautiful," she said reverently. He chuckled but shivered as she brushed her own fingers across his nipples. "Sit."

He did as she bade and sat on the cot. Susan sank to her knees and spread his legs wide. Settling between them she looked up at him, winking through the red lace mask as she unbuttoned his pants.

His cock sprang out and new moisture rushed between her legs. It was just as it had felt beneath his pants, thick and smooth, hard as rock. He was frozen, gripping the metal frame of the bed, his breath held as her hands found his staff and gripped it firmly.

"Oh, god," he whispered reverently.

Stroking his cock, she leaned and licked the tip, pulling the moisture leaking from him onto her tongue. Jonas gasped and his hands came to rest on the gauzy lace restraining her hair. His hips twitched as she covered the tip with her entire mouth, teasing him.

"Please," he whispered tenderly.

It was that that spurred her on, the care and consideration that was always present in her brother, a defining characteristic that endeared him to one and all. She wanted to show him pleasure, to give him this gift, and so she engulfed his cock, taking as much as she could. What she couldn't swallow she covered with her hand. Susan began to move, sucking him, sliding her tongue along his shaft, teasing the head. Before she could even work a hand into his pants to cup his balls he sweetly built up, nearly shouting, and filled her mouth.

Susan moaned, delighting in his pleasure as he came, spurting hot cum down her throat. She swallowed it all and when the spasms passed she lifted her mouth. His head was thrown back, his throat working as if searching for words. His chest heaved with breath, covered with a light sheen of sweat.

God bless youth, she thought. Soon he would be hard again and they could cross that line from which there was no return. Did she tell him? Would he turn from her in horror, push away despite the depth of the love between then, expanded now into something beautiful with this new dimension?

He did not speak but pulled her up and shifted them to lay on the cot. He held her, pressed her to his chest, her face buried in his neck. She smelled the shaving cream his valet mixed up, the oil in it local and smoky. The night was so exotic already. The wondrous holiday where the rules of normal behavior fell to the wayside had spurred her to the realization of just how much she loved her brother.

It was time.

"Jonas," she said simply and sat up. First she peeled off the layers of cloth from her hair, letting the golden waves fall to frame her face. Then she untied the mask, eyes closed, held her breath and finally looked at him.

"My sweetest Susan, did you think I didn't know?"

She was shocked to her core and pliantly let him pull her into a kiss. Pulling back he reached up and removed his mask. She cupped his cheek, admiring the beauty of his face, the youth, the virility he so easily possessed. "Why?"

"Last summer I- I can't explain it. I saw you not as my sister, but as a woman. A beautiful headstrong woman. All the workers watch you, most of the archeologists too, and you never even notice. But when you looked at me, I saw the love there, shining in your eyes.

"I was so happy when I came back and I had finally grown into a man. You have no idea how long I've been waiting for you to see me as a man, see me for who I am. To see the desire I've so long felt for you. There has been no one else, not even the girls at school. I have waited for you for so long."

"I fought it," she murmured and let her fingertips dance over his chest. "But slowly it dawned on me. All those times I walked in on you in the bath. You looked like one of your paintings, like a pharaoh from a relief. But it wasn't until tonight, the one night of the year we aren't ourselves and anything is possible, that I dared."

"So this is the desire that was discussed in the séance," he teased.

"Yes. That was the moment I finally realized it."

"I'm glad you did." He kissed her again and she wrapped her arms around him, holding him close. Now that everything was in the open she wanted everything he had to give, to give him all she had.

His hands smoothed over her skin and glided back down to stroke her pussy, teasing her. He tugged her nether curls, teasing, and drew out more moisture. Reaching down as well Susan found his penis hardening. As she gripped him and stroked, his fingers cleverly followed the steps of the dance she had shown him. Quickly she was gasping, climbing towards another peak.

She stopped him, pushing his hands away. "Let me show you."

He looked puzzled but helped her remove his pants and shoes until he was naked. Susan rolled him to his back and climbed astride him. She took a moment to loving stroke his arms, his shoulders, his face. Jonas reached out and smoothed his hands over her hips, skimming up to her breasts.

"Just let go, Jonas. Let me watch your pleasure. Hold nothing back. Give it all to me," she ordered softly.

"I love you," he said with a smile.

Biting her lip Susan rose, feeling like an ancient goddess from one of the pyramid walls, conquering an initiate into her cult. With that thought she slid down and took him inside. Nothing on earth had ever felt so good to her as that moment.

When their hips met Jonas pulled her down and let his mouth settle on her breast. Gripping the metal cot frame now, Susan began to move over him. Against her swollen skin he made the most delicious noises as she showed him this pleasure, taught him the ancient dance filled with love.

Again and again she rose and fell, feeling him so hard inside her, brushing every point deep inside that made her ache and whimper. She kissed his forehead, murmured words of love and longing as he cried out at each new plateau of desire.

Soon, so soon, sweetly she felt it, he was there. She had been holding back, desperately on edge. Knowing she had brought him there with her she exploded, shivering, crying out his name, pumping her hips with brutal voice.

Beneath her Jonas thrashed, caught in the whirl of the most powerful orgasm of his life. He filled her and thrust up, his face pressed between her breasts as he shook with it.

The climax passed like a sandstorm, having consumed them whole, it left them in total eerie peace and calm once it had swept through. Susan came to herself kissing him. He tasted so sweet, a mixture of Jonas' own unique flavor and that of her juices.

With a sigh she rolled to the side. "What do we do now?"

Jonas laughed. "So far you are by far a better teacher than any I have ever had. I love you. I don't care if you're my sister, to me you are the most beautiful woman in the world. I want to be with you. I want to stay here. I'll be your secretary, your personal tomb digger, hell I'll be your maid since we'll have to fire her and my valet."

Cupping his face she felt her heart swell. "Do you mean it? Tonight is not just a once in a lifetime meeting?"

He laughed softly. "It may have taken Halloween in a land far away, a night of ghosts and masks, a night where we were never ourselves, but we finally found the courage to do what we should have done ages ago."

"If I didn't know any better I'd say this was planned. Ellen kept giving me absinthe."

Jonas smiled. "Where do you think she got it?"

She gasped and laughed. "You are naughty!"

"I love you, Susan Ann Minter."

"And I love you, Jonas Allen Minter."

They kissed again and it led to deeper explorations. This time when he took her Jonas was the aggressor and instinct guided him. Sated easily, they found themselves hungry and giggling helped each redress. No one knew Jonas was the Highwayman and only Ellen knew she was the harem girl.

And so with the masks in place they returned to the party and danced in each other's arms, basking in their love for all to see. Just two anonymous lovers lost to the magic of the night that was Halloween.

In the corner the medium watched, her body given over to the great Pharaoh Snefru. One too he had loved his sister, married her, and their son had built the great Pyramid beyond. Now these two had found each other from their union would spring a dynasty of another kind.

They would know the secrets of the dead.

Smiling, Snefru slipped from the woman's body and stepped outside and called to his brethren buried beneath the shifting sands. Hetepheres appeared, shining brightest of all the spirits, and once more he was joined with his bride, his sister, his queen, and his lover.

To the tunes of the modern band, across the ancient land, the dead rose on a night never before celebrated in their lands, and danced the night away.