The Nile isn't Just a River Ch. 02

Lucy entered the drug store and headed to the back.

The petite brunette was casually dressed in a white tee with cut-away shorts. Heads turned to follow her toned figure as she moved through the store, on her way to pick up her gift. She joined the line for the post office and waited impatiently for her turn.

"Picking up or shipping out?"

The slouching teenager behind the counter didn't look up from his computer when Lucy stepped to the counter. Lucy felt a flicker of annoyance at his casual indifference.

"Picking up," she replied just as briefly, though her tone was pleasant.

"Tracking number and I.D.," he said without so much as a please.

"Here's the tracking number," Lucy responded. She placed the paper where she'd recorded the number John sent her on the counter.

"And your I.D.?," the teenager sighed. "No I.D., no pa-gah!"

The garbled sound escaped the teen's lips when he finally looked away from his screen. The pimply-faced youth's jaw went slack as he cut himself off mid-sentence.

"'No I.D., no pa-gah?'" Lucy repeated as if confused. She placed her hand on the counter and leaned forward slightly. "What does that mean?"

"It uh, it means . . . Hi?" the teenage employee stammered. His eyes were riveted on the neck of Lucy's t-shirt which - due to the loose neck and her leaning forward - had revealed a hint of bronzed cleavage beneath.

"Hi to you too," Lucy smiled. She almost felt bad for the kid. He looked like he was about to topple over - heart attack, at such a young age! -, or burst into song. Maybe he'd manage both. "Can you pull up my tracking number?" she prompted and nudged the slip of paper forward suggestively.

"Yes," he nodded. "I can do that." He made no move to look at the paper.

"Could you do it today?" Lucy asked. Slowly, with emphasis.

As funny as the boy's reaction was, she had no interest in acquiring a new puppy. She just wanted to finally retrieve the gift her best client had sent her.

It was nearly two weeks since Lucy's and John's special session. The older gentleman had seen her several times since then. Sometimes to take her out to dinner or a show, others in private at the agency's condo. They didn't repeat that special scene - at John's request - but Lucy still knew how to show John a good time.

The brunette's mind flashed back to their most recent private session. In another first, John had asked her to stand on the bed over his head. He'd gazed fixedly up under her skirt, with her worn panties pressed tightly to his nose. It was the first time he'd seen any part of her not visible in public. Lucy had felt a little strange about it. Not in a bad way - just . . . as if they'd crossed another milestone.

John's hips had jerked while he'd gazed hungrily up her bare thighs. She'd felt a warmth spread from her core, a thrill of passion as she stood above him and looked down at his near-worshipful face. Passion, and power.

"Yeah, Romeo," a middle-aged man in the line behind her called. "Today would be nice!"

The employee flushed as customers laughed at his expense. He snatched the piece of paper off the counter and ducked his head towards the keyboard. The teenager pulled up some information, then scurried into the back and returned with a shoebox-sized container. This he set on the counter, avoiding eye contact with Lucy all the while.

"Here," he mumbled. He pushed the container in her direction with barely a glance at the card. she'd placed on the counter. "Next!"

Lucy recovered her I.D. with a mix of emotions at the teen's embarrassment. On the one hand, she felt like he got what he deserved but on the other, she couldn't really blame him for raging hormones.

Beneath the conflicting feelings of vindication and sympathy Lucy felt a pale glimmer of the empowerment she'd experienced with John. Standing over that man - one who in any other circumstances society would call powerful - while she verbally abused him . . . Lucy had enjoyed that feeling in a way she never would have thought possible.

Lucy left the store and walked out into the warm, late afternoon sun. The sidewalks were crowded as she headed towards the subway. She took her phone out of her purse and started a playlist, then put in her earbuds and let the music carry her thoughts away. Back to her dinner with John - their first after the special session, the very next night.

"I changed my mind about your gift," he'd said as the waiter brought their wine.

"Oh?" she'd replied, surprised. "I understand," she'd continued, trying to recover from her disappointment and mask it with a smile. "You were more than generous enough yesterday."

"No, that's not what I meant," the older man had said. He'd looked elegant and sophisticated in his tuxedo, handsome face accented by fine lines and the dash of grey in his brown hair. "You're still getting your gift. It's just not going to be from a store so it'll take a little longer than I thought."

"What, are you knitting me a sweater?" Lucy had teased. She'd adjusted the strap of her blue evening gown, then smiled when she'd seen John's eyes stray to her shoulder. She'd known, that he'd known, it was a ploy to catch his attention. It was a game they played on their private dates. John was normally far too focused and reserved to allow a stray glance in casual company but he enjoyed relaxing his guard with her when it was just the two of them together.

"How very domestic of you," Lucy had continued, then deliberately adjusted the strap on her other shoulder.

"How very delightful of you, Little Sphinx," John had murmured, his nickname for her nickname. "You know I have a conference early in the morning."

"I know," she'd smiled demurely. "I'm hoping you'll come visit when you break for lunch."

John's nostrils had flared slightly, and a thrill had run down Lucy's spine. She'd shifted in her seat and crossed her legs under the table. She'd imagined what was going through John's mind - a reflexive inhalation as he pictured himself sampling her scent, her worn panties crushed tight to his nostrils.

"Keep that up and you can count on it," he'd said in a deeper rumble. His eyes had looked fit to devour her whole.

Lucy exited the subway system and walked the short distance to her condo. It wasn't the same condo where she met John, obviously - that grand but sterile building was in the downtown core and owned by the agency. This building was much smaller, more intimate. And the unit was entirely her own. Located on the outskirts of the suburbs, it was far enough to keep her 'personal life' and 'escort life' relatively separate, but close enough to make travel convenient.

The petite brunette took the elevator to her floor and entered her unit. She put her package on the kitchen counter then looked for the old knife she used to open envelopes. She removed the plain brown wrapping, eager to finally see her gift.

"Unbelievable," Lucy breathed as she examined the treasure thus revealed with a growing sense of wonder.

The ornate, burnished metal box was covered in intricate, hand-crafted art of the highest quality. Each of the six, golden panels was different, though clearly inter-related. The top of the box was a raised motif that could have been lifted out of some documentary on ancient Egypt. A sculpted, textured pyramid set the background. The foreground showed two figures - a man and a woman from the waist up - with chests bared and the heads of animals.

The four sides showed either the man or the woman alone, one long side and one short side apiece. The bottom panel showed them both together again, fully nude, with the woman on top of the man and her hands at his throat.

They were also quite clearly engaged in carnal activity, though the effect was artistic rather than salacious.

Lucy didn't specifically remember how long she examined the box. When she next glanced dazedly at the microwave clock, it was at least a quarter hour after she'd gotten in. She shook herself and belatedly noticed a loose slip of paper on the kitchen floor.

It must have fallen, unnoticed, from the box's packaging. She bent down to scoop it up.

"To my dear Cleopatra," the handwritten note said. "A gift fit for the Queen you are."

Lucy felt a lump rise in her throat as she imagined hearing the note read in John's voice.

"John," she breathed to herself, alone in her kitchen. She rushed to find her phone.

"I won't take it back," John chuckled through her phone's speaker.

"You have to!" Lucy exclaimed. "It's . . . I don't know what to call it. It's a work of art! It's gorgeous! It looks like it should be in a museum, not some grubby prostitute's hovel!"

"I never want to hear you call yourself that again," John's icy voice snapped the sense back into back into her.

"I'm sorry," Lucy said. "It just slipped it out. I don't even think of myself that way, normally."

"Nor should you, Cleopatra," John said. Some warmth had returned to his voice but it was still harsher than Lucy had ever heard it before. She wondered if this was the commanding side of John that he showed in business dealings.

"It's just Lucy," she replied. "Not Cleopatra. A mere 'Lucy' don't deserve this. Please. Take it back."

"No." He said it with such finality that she doubted she'd have the courage to ask again. "Lucy may be your name - and no 'mere' about it - but Cleopatra is who you are."

"Only to you," Lucy said, but the certainty with which he said it made her feel better.

"Only for now," John said. Perhaps due to her state of mind she didn't question the curious comment. "Good night, Little Sphinx. I'll come to you tomorrow."

"Thank you, John," Lucy said quietly. "Good night."

John hung up, and Lucy lost herself in contemplating the ornate box until she finally set it aside to make dinner.

Lucy slept through the night into the late morning. She didn't remember her dreams, other than a heat in her core, a wild sense of passion and power. When she got ready to leave, she debated taking the box with her to the agency's condo. In the end, she decided she just couldn't wait to see the look on Melissa's face so she tucked it in a plain-looking bag with a grin.

"Oh em gee," Melissa breathed as she rotated the box in her hands.

"What's it made of?" Rebecca asked curiously. The beautiful young blonde reached out and rubbed a finger against the tiny, engraved bricks of the pyramid. "It feels warm!" she said with surprise.

"I noticed that too," Lucy nodded. "Is that unusual?"

"It depends," Rebecca said absently. The newest addition to the escort agency was studying machining in school. She rubbed her fingers against the burnished, golden metal, then lifted her hand to her nose and sniffed. "It could be conducting the heat from Mel holding," she said, then lowered a finger to her mouth and licked it with the tip of her tongue.

"Gross, Becky," Melissa said and scrunched up her pretty face. "This thing might not have been washed in, like, a million years."

"And who's been fondling the dirty old thing for the last five minutes?" Lucy asked tartly. Melissa made a face and Lucy smiled back.

"It doesn't have any smell, or taste," Rebecca observed. She frowned as she looked at the box.

"Is that unusual?" Lucy repeated her earlier question, dryly.

"It depends," Rebecca said, then shrugged. "Sorry. Identifying priceless, ancient Egyptian boxes isn't my major. I just think it's interesting."

"This thing looks like it should be in a museum," Melissa said.

"I said so too," Lucy sighed. "John was quite firm that he wants me to have it."

"One of my regulars gave me a pretty jewellery box once, " Melissa said. The redhead hefted the golden box thoughtfully, then handed it back to Lucy. "This makes it look like a grade school Paper Mache project. It'd probably fetch a decent chunk of change on an auction site."

"I'm not selling it," Lucy said flatly. She pulled the box to her chest protectively.

"You can't sell it!" Rebecca gasped at the same time.

"I wasn't suggesting actually selling it," Melissa said defensively. "It wouldn't hurt to get it appraised though . . . Okay, okay. Don't look at me like I suggested sacrificing your favourite puppies to a dead Egyptian god, or something."

"I don't think it's a jewellery box," Lucy said. "If it is, it's a very good one because I haven't figured out how to.open it."

"Mind if I take a look?" Rebecca asked.

The three young women chatted about Lucy's box - with Melissa and Lucy competing for the most double entendres - until first Melissa, then Rebecca had to get ready for incoming clients. Rebecca hadn't found any obvious latches or hinges, though she'd said good craftsmen often had clever ways of hiding them. Melissa suggested the panels might tell a story, and if so they might hide a clue. Lucy said she'd been watching too many movies.

Lucy was alone in the condo's living room, oblivious to the muffled cries of passion down the hall. She stared intently at the box from all angles until her phone beeped from an incoming text.

'John: I'll be there in an hour.'

Lucy set the burnished metal box in her lap as she typed out a reply.

'Cleopatra: Anything special today?'

The response came back after a few minutes delay.

'John: Did you bring your box?'

Lucy's eyebrows rose. Was she that predictable, she wondered?

'Cleopatra: Yes. Is that okay?'

'John: It's okay.'

Then, a few seconds later -

'John: Can you have a condom ready?'