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Plot synopsis: This story takes place during Dark Side of Paradise by Jaime and me, as to what Mennehotep is up to. KISS is on hiatus pending a new album release. Ace and Sohkarra are off on a trip where Sohkarra is helping Ace confront his addictions. Mennehotep decides to confront Tuthmosis III, the pharaoh she married in her past life, who is now a mummy, about the change in their relationship. He has forbidden her to explore the new world, but she has done so despite his protests. Yet Mennehotep, in reading history textbooks has discovered that Tuthmosis III smashed her mother Queen Hapshetsut's statues and images during the time the Queen reigned as regent till Tuthmosis III was of age to take the throne. Effectively Tuthmosis III erased Haphetsut's reign from history. Her love has turned to hate and disgust....
"So, you have come back..." Tuthmosis said, after a long silence. Those eyes fixed into hers sharply. Menne lowered her gaze, staring at the floor.
"Yes..."
"Do you know how worried we all were, regarding your absence? Why did you not make contact sooner?"
"It was a delicate situation..." Mennehotep mumbled.
"Do you realize the situation we are in? The integrity of the guardians has been compromised because of your desire to run away and see the outside world..."
"It was more then that! My friend required my aid! And that meant understanding about the nature of the situation she faced!" Mennehotep countered, still trying to keep her voice from rising in volume. Anger squirmed in the pit of her stomach.
"Must I remind you of the danger your forays into the outside world put you... in? If we were to be discovered..."
"Must we hide like rats in the larder?" she shot back. "How can I fight my sister if I am to remain here in a tomb?"
"You are as I am!" Tuthmosis said coldly. "You belong with your own kind! Not traipsing about the country with a traveling minstrel group! It does not become a daughter of Ra... to..."
"A daughter of whom?" Menne suddenly clenched her fists, her nails biting into her palms. "Do you forget the name of she who is our mother?"
"What has this to do with the other matter?"
"Everything!" Menne shouted. "You cannot presume to instruct me, you who erased my mother's.... Hapshetsut! From existence! Is that why you seek to keep me holed up here?"
"What are you saying?" Tuthmosis hissed.
"I read things in the outside world. It has changed so much, yet not so much. I read all about what happened after I died, Akhenamut... about how you smashed her statues, defaced her name in the temple... after I died! Why?"
"You have not questioned me in this matter before? What relevance does this have now? Help me to understand! Why do you speak of this matter?"
"Because I have been denying my true feelings till now. I was in such denial! You erased my mother's existence... because Ra forbid a Woman be Pharaoh!"
"You know perfectly well it was law... and history must be preserved..."
"Bullshit!" Menne snapped, her eyes blazing. "You were furious that she ruled for years, and you only hid in her shadow till..."
"How dare you!" he roared, his hand flashing up to strike her face. Menne lifted her hand, blocking his blow.
"How dare you!" she spat back, stopping his fist as she pushed back with all her strength. "I loved her! Why? Why erase the name of a prosperous ruler who wanted nothing but to make Egypt strong?"
"Egypt strong?" he snarled, pushing against her wrist as he grabbed it. "Do you know how the boarders languished under her care? How the army fell into ruins? Every enemy knocking at our doors to attack like thieves in the night? What do you know about any..."
"Go ahead and say it. What do I know about anything? I'm just a woman..."
"You are more then a mere woman! You are the daughter of Isis, the Great Wife!"
"My sister held that distinct honor before me... before you sent her away..."
"Which you agreed upon... and rightly sided with me..."
"How do I know that? If I had stood at her side my mother's name would be remembered! But for ;love I betrayed her!"
"You would now question my decision? What has changed?" he gasped, after a long pause. He released her hand and stepped back.
"I was sixteen years old! I loved you so much... and I did what I did for Egypt... but now that I have seen..."
"Your mind has been polluted by the filth of this time... your vision clouded by..."
"No, my eyes have been opened!" Menne shot back. "It is you who is blind, Tuthmosis! Would that you could understand what I have seen!"
"And what would that be?" He asked. "Dressing in that outrageous manner? Sidling around with men who discard women left and right? Acting as a trollop..."
"If that is what you wish to see..." Menne said coldly. "But these times are different. Women stand on a more equal footing with men... unlike our own time..."
"Is it equal footing to disrespect one's husband? Have you met a man of this time and lain with him? Is that it?"
"As you had your concubines?" Menne laughed back. "Don't try that with me..."
"Harlot!" he snapped, shoving her to the floor.
"I have done nothing... that you wouldn't have done yourself," Menne looked up at him, her eyes defiant and distant.
"This matter... is closed. You have not acted in a manner according to a royal wife," Tuthmosis said, gulping down his anger. "Clearly this modern world has left its taint upon you. Until you see fit to take the role that is yours, you are no longer Great Wife in my eyes. I see what I see, a Princess acting as a commoner... and you are only that to me now..."
Menne looked down at his sandaled feet, her hair mussed over her face, "And what does this mean then, oh Great one?"
"As long as you remain in the outside world, you are as one of them. No longer Queen. But I am not unreasonable. If you think well on this... and apologize for your transgressions... I may see fit to forgive you..."
"Forgive me? You forgive me, for what?" she laughed at him. "This is ridiculous! You who marred my mother's name? Who hides like a coward in the holes while his enemy gains every advantage of modern society?"
"Enough! Get out of my site, trollop! Begone with you...." he snapped. "You are no wife of mine to speak to me in such a manner!"
"Very well then, I will..." she said, and Tuthmosis turned his back on her. He could hear silence, and a rustling as she rose. There came the noise of footsteps, and the slamming of the door. Any minute now...
Tears
burned down her face as Mennehotep walked quickly from the room.
She stormed past Rath, who stopped her only momentarily.
"Menne..." he said softly.
"Please Rath, don't make this any harder..."
"I just wanted to say to you... how proud I am of you..." he whispered, kissing her cheek softly. "Ra be with you..."
"Thank you... Rath..." she choked as he released her hand.
"Will you be all right?" he asked.
"Yes. I have friends I shall stay with for the time being. I will return. I promise...." she said.
So saying, Mennehotep hugged him good-bye one last time. She embraced Armon, who had just come out of the kitchen with a snack, and looked to JaKal and Presley, who were just coming in from their practice with the boomer-Ra.
"Menne..." JaKal said.
"I... have to go. I've... been banished..." she said to them.
"What?" JaKal asked.
"Good-bye... my friends... I must leave you again... I... I am sorry..."
"But..."
"Don't stop her JaKal," Rath whispered. "Tuthmosis has made his intentions clear..."
"Ra... be with you..." JaKal lowered his eyes. Mennehotep threw her arms around him briefly, pressing a kiss to his cheek.
"Thank you. And I will tell she whom you still love... that you
miss her... greatly..." she whispered low enough for only the Hunter to
hear. A moment later and she was gone.
"Where is she?" he asked.
"Whom, Great one?" Rath asked.
"My wife..."
"I thought she was... no longer that in your eyes," Rath said. "Forgive me for my... confusion..."
"Where is Mennehotep?"
"She is no longer here, Great One," he said.
"What? Why did you not stop her?"
"It is not my duty to do so sire," he said. "For you yourself ordered her from your presence..."
"But you are Scribe... servant..."
"Of Rapses. I have my hands full of the affairs of Amenhotep," he said. "Now if you'll excuse me, I must speak to my Pharaoh..."
Tuthmosis snarled with anger, rounding on him. Only to find JaKal standing between them, calmly saying, "Is there a problem, Sire?"
"Why did you not stop her?"
"It is not our duty..." JaKal reminded him. "We serve Rapses..."
"Yeah, what he said," Armon nodded.
"You speak to me like this?" Tuthmosis asked. "With the same lack of respect?"
"Yeah," Presley put hands on his hips. "You sent her away, so she left. Are you surprised?"
The elixir of life Ashake had given her would last for an entire week. She had Rath to thank for its use, for he retained a small portion for just a purpose. Somehow she knew that this was just a respite from the upcoming storm. Yet to the task at hand.
At the next stop she leapt off, slinging her bag across her chest as she pulled her Psycho Circus T-shirt down over her hips. The silver belt with the stars jingled about her waist. Menne glanced left, then right on the busy stretch of hill receding into the line of houses. By a newspaper stand she stopped to glance at something that jumped out from the magazine rack. On the cover of People Magazine section she saw a familiar face, looking up at her with deep soulful eyes. At sight of his picture alone she felt her pulse quicken.
"I'll see you soon," she whispered, kissing her fingers as she pressed them to his photo. It was only an image in ink, but somehow she missed him badly.
"Hey, if you want that picture so badly, why don't you buy the magazine?" came the newsstand owner's laugh. "He's in town... at some big auction..."
"Really," Menne pretended to be surprised.
"Yeah. In the paper is a write-up about it...."
Menne extracted some change from the pocket of her leather jacket, and paid the man. Taking both paper and Magazine, she hurried along down the busy sidewalk. Within she read the advertisement:
Bid for a chance at a new life...
Today several famous celebrities will
donate their items for free to an auction... the proceeds of
which go to the Children's Cancer Prevention
Society....
Guests include Christina Agulera, Ricky Martin, Tina Turner, and Paul Stanley...
A performance will accompany with autograph signings. All sales go towards...
"This is an awesome item, people," said its donator. All eyes fixed on the slender figure that had strode up, holding the instrument lovingly in his pale hands.
"And
here to present it, is none other then the Star Child himself..." the attractive
auctioneer laughed as he strode out onto the open area on silver platforms.
A rousing cheer and a huge sigh rose from the female members of the assembly.
Clearly they were surprised to see him in full makeup!
"Nice to be here, Bree," he laughed to her, kissing her hand as he dropped into a graceful bow. Turning to the assembly, he slipped the guitar off his back, and held it up for all to see. As Bree continued to describe the item, he posed it in various positions in a manner worthy of the girls on the Price is Right.
"Play something!" called a voice.
"Yeah! Does it actually work?" someone else laughed.
"This is a Signature series, the very same one I use on-stage with KISS," he nodded. "So you want a test drive, eh? It just so happens that I came prepared...."
Two men heaved an amp up to him, and he slipped the plug in. "The amp is up for a separate lot... but what the hell, I'll throw it in for an extra few bucks..."
Everyone shouted as he prepared to play, and started up with a definitive riff. Excitement filled the small space as the amp hummed under his chords.
"You really like... my limousine... you really like the way the wheels roll..." ripped through the audience. Mennehotep's ears pricked up to the familiar sound, her heart quickening as she struggled to the front.
"You like my seven inch... leather heels..." he continued, lifting one boot and shaking it with a sway in his hips. "And going to all of the shows... but..."
"Do you love me?" he sang out, pointing straight into the audience. By now Mennehotep had moved halfway up, struggling to see around the cheering auctioneers.
"I need to know... I have to know..."
For a moment she leapt up, and saw the flash of white makeup on his cheeks. He swung round, his dark eyes flashing with excitement. Off his costume the rhinestones glittered equally bright in the lighting of the auction house. Everyone was clapping along, even the younger members of the audience couldn't stay still.
"You really like, rock and roll, all of the fame and the masquerade..." Paul continued.
Menne tripped, and fell headlong into the aisle. Everyone's hands went to help her up, and she glanced up right into his face.
For a split second their eyes met, and Paul skipped a beat. Only temporarily daunted, he continued, "You like the concerts... Studios... and all the money honey... that I make... but do you love me?"
His finger pointed right at her as she scrambled to her feet, blushing as laughter surrounded her. Someone elbowed her into a chair for the rest of the song that faded into a dull roar. All that existed was him, before her on that stage. His look of sheer surprise and delight turned her legs to jelly.
"I love you... Paul," she whispered back as people helped
her into a chair.
"Sold! For ten thousand!" called the last bid. Paul nodded and waved good-bye, disappearing off the auction block as his guitar was eagerly claimed. A clot of people split off from the auction as Mennehotep rushed down the aisle. The chase of fans spilled out the front door to the street out front. Just before her the security guards were forming a corridor for Paul to his limousine. Quickly she rushed to the head of the line, pushing. Elbows rudely caged her in, impeding her progress. Menne fought against the squirming mass of females that thrust their autograph books at Paul as he walked past. She leaned up on her platform soles to try and get him to see her.
"Paul!" she shrieked, her voice blending into the other shouts. His head turned, eyes bright as she could swear he heard her voice, then he glanced down again at the girl just before him, who shoved a glossy poster into his grasp. Patiently he signed each item as he held up his hands. Worming her way through, Menne broke free and stood up once again, on tiptoes. She was but ten feet from him, as he was about to turn to the limousine.
"Starchild!" she screamed loudly, waving.
"Menne?" he said distinctly, turning as he glanced. The querying crowds, the reporters all vanished as he rushed back to the line of fans. When his eyes met hers, there was a warm glow that spread into her. He reached out a hand to her as she finally fought her way to the front. A dozen women fawned over him as he leaned into them.
Menne reached farther, almost tripping as his hand closed around hers. Extending a long arm into the screaming mass, he gripped her arm and tugged her free.
"So great to see you baby," he whispered as he pulled her before him. A dozen jealous eyes fell on Mennehotep there, as Paul drew her close to him in a comforting hug. So much he towered over her that he rested his chin snugly in the familiar curve of her shoulder as she pressed her cheek to his bare chest. The rest of the world dropped out of sight and sound in that moment of communion.
Warm lips closed over hers, and she felt his hands kneading over her back. She knew Paul had no compunctions about kissing her then and there before the public, but somehow she felt shy, as if she should not occupy this privileged position. She drew back for a moment, glancing up into those soul deep pools.
"Aren't you missing something?" she joked.
"That's an understatement," he winked back at her, with the eye beneath the trademark patch of black.
"Your fans..." she looked up.
"They'll just have to get over it," Paul smiled. He drew her to his side, arm still around her hips, as he called out to the assembly, "Sorry to cut this short, but the lady and I have some unfinished business. Stay tuned for our latest album, which is in production! And remember, you put me here! I wish I could reach out and touch every one of you..."
Behind him Paul pulled Menne quickly towards the waiting limo. He waited as he urged her inside, before climbing in after her. Menne clutched her bag, which was quickly taken away by a security guard. Once they had settled down, Paul draped an arm over her shoulders as he did so many times before.
"Now, anything to drink, love?" he asked her, extending an arm to fish in the wet bar to one side.
"Well..."
"I know the perfect thing..." Paul smiled. He slipped a Guinness into
her hand, and she marveled at how strange it all seemed,
as she pried off the bottle cap and took a grateful sip.
"There we are," he nodded with satisfaction, cuddling up close to her. "How did it go? I mean... was it what you wanted?"
Looking down at her hands folded in her lap she sighed, "I suppose... he ... he actually tried to guilt trip me into coming back. He always did that before. I can just see the look on his face when I didn't..."
"So... it's over?" Paul asked her.
"Yes. He said... that until I could act in a manner befitting a royal.. I was dead and gone to him. That he cast me out..."
"Man, that's a bummer," Paul whispered, his eyebrows lowered. "So will you be all right now?"
"I will be... given time," Menne glanced up at him.
"But there's something else... isn't there?" Paul said, stroking her shoulder. "I can tell by that look on your face there's something else he said to you that's upsetting you..."
"He... called me a trollop. That one such as me is not befitting one such as him..."
"That is not true," Paul said firmly, grabbing her chin and forcing her to stare into his face. "It's only his opinion..."
"It still hurts..."
Paul's hands enclosed around hers, his soft palms caressing past callused fingers. "I know," he said softly. "I'm sorry..."
"So am I. It's... a shame really. Part of me feels guilt for walking away, the other part feels as if a great weight has been lifted..."
"Good. But give yourself some time, baby, to get over this." he urged. "I'm a patient man, and I'm not going anywhere... trust me."
"Thank you..." she whispered, snuggling into the curve of his arm.
"Have you heard anything from your friend Sohkarra?" Paul asked her, to change the subject a bit.
"She had given her concerns to our friends," Mennehotep said a bit evasively. "And I just got an email from her that she arrived safely with Ace. Where she was, she would not tell even me..."
"Your friend keeps her secrets closely," Paul mused.
"As you must now keep ours, that you know more about us," Mennehotep glanced at him.
"No problem there," Paul said, stroking her hand as he kissed it. "You know you can count on the Starchild to keep secrets close..."
Menne smiled at this kind gesture, "How sweet...."
"Did she say anything about how Ace was doing?" Paul asked. "I haven't heard anything for the last three days. Peter was a little worried, and Gene was chomping at the bit hearing zip..."
Sighing, she imagined Gene pacing a tread in the floor of whatever phone he must be waiting by. "Where is Gene gone to anyway?"
"Producing our new record, no doubt. Or else writing new songs for it," Paul shrugged. "And Peter, he's gone off to New York to hobnob with some other jazz drummers at a convention. Said he'd meet up with your friend Tina soon, right? I take it you haven't heard from her either?"
"She's in San Fran," Menne laughed. "Doing a photoshoot for Vague Magazine. For a new brand of hair conditioner last I heard."
"A working vacation," Paul pursed his lips. "Not good. But I only hope that your friend will be able to get through to Ace... God knows we've all tried everything we can think of. But if anyone can help him, I've a feeling that it will be Sohkarra..."
"I'm glad that you trust her. Gene doesn't..."
"That's Gene," Paul smiled wryly. "If he can't sleep with it, or flirt with it... sometimes he gets a little unnerved..."
"He trusts me, does he not?"
Paul noticed the blush on her cheeks, smiling lightly, "Yeah, he does. So there is hope for him yet!"
Together they laughed at the shared joke. The limosine rambled to a stop at an intersection, lightly tossing him agianst her.
"Speaking of... I've rented a place on the shore... in LA. I was wondering if you'd be interested... in accompanying me there... for the next week. It's very quiet..."
Menne's mouth dropped open at the prospect. "You mean you want me... to join you on your vacation?"
"We could leave first thing from the hotel tomorrow morning..." Paul whispered.
"But I have no... appropriate garments for such... a trip..."
"Who says you need a swimsuit," Paul leaned close and whispered into her ear.
"Paul Stanley!" she shrieked in shock. "You are being quite lascivious..."
"You make that sound like a bad thing," he grinned. "But seriously don't worry. I thought we could do a little shopping on the way there... it's in LA, not far from Beverly Hills..."
"The place of royalty..." she muttered reverently.
"Some would say that," Paul chuckled. "Now relax and enjoy the ride..."
Just then there came a ringing sound at Paul's hip. Cursing under his breath, the Star Child depressed the talk button on the hands free phone, "Yes?"
"Hey, Paul! It's Gene! I was wondering when you wanted to meet to discuss that third track..."
"Gene?" Paul asked, a bit flummoxed. "Don't you know the meaning of the word Vacation?"
"This is coming from the guy who does charity benefits on his time off?" came Gene's sharp laugh.
"Hey can I help it if the kids need some money for cancer research?" Paul shrugged.
"Gene, maybe he has to spell it out for you?" Mennehotep giggled.
"Menne? Is she there with you?"
"Yes!" Menne called. "Hello Gene!"
"Hi Queenie. Look, can you tell Starchild to get his butt down here sometime next week? I'm having a little business meeting with Doc... and it's a little get together... a barbecue with some of the producers... you're invited too, gal!"
"I don't know... what can make it worth my while?" she chuckled.
"Damn Paul, you've got her too well trained," came a mutter. Paul and Menne exchanged glances, almost loosing their composure.
"Gene, can't it wait?"
"Well, think about it. I've got a lot riding on this..."
"We'll think about it... after vacation then," Paul said. "I've got a date with a bottle of Chardonnay. Ciao!"
"All right, have it your way, Casanova. But my invitation still stands. Try and twist his arm Menne. It's really important..."
"So's this business," Paul laughed. "Have a good vacation Gene! See you in two weeks!"
"Whoops," Paul laughed, leaning over to pick it up. Yet the platform boots he wore made it a bit difficult, and it was Menne who finally retrieved the notched bit of plastic from the plush nap of the hall carpet. For a moment she fingered it, keeping the bit of plastic just out of the reach of his grasping fingers.
"Come on now," he grinned, when she passed it playfully back and forth. "Fork it over..."
"Try coming over here and saying that," she found herself babbling. Was it the white zinfandel talking or her own mischievous streak surfacing? Raising an eyebrow Paul rested a hand on his hip. Two could play at this lighthearted game.
"Be careful what you wish for, sweetness..." he quipped, putting both hands behind his back when Menne held the card to her side. It seemed the elusive plastic had strayed just beyond his reach, yet there was something else he had his eye on that wasn't. He preoccupied himself with slipping the guitar to his back while he messed with the strap. Menne's eyes fell on the glitter of the rhinestones on his tensed shoulder for that moment.
"Aha!" Paul laughed, and pinned her between the door and his own sweating body. "Gotcha!"
Playfully his hand grabbed her wrist with the key card; his other pressed flat against the door when he leaned his weight on her chest. "No fair!" Menne squealed with surprise. "You rotten sneak..."
"I've been called worse then that by ones far less lovely then you," he teased, and slipped his hand down around her waist. "Now..."
"You still don't have it," she grinned, straining as she held the card high up. Yet Paul didn't seem the least bit interested in plucking it from her grasp, as his other hand gripped her side. Another loud shriek of laughter bubbled from her throat when he grinned, "No, but I have you!"
"No...fair....no...fair!" She laughed as his fingers assaulted her ribs. There was nowhere for her to go, with her wrist pinioned in his left hand and his chest pressing her up against the door. Loosing all control of her muscles she leaned over into his arms, then plunged her hand onto his exposed stomach to his own ribs.
"Yikes!" he choked out when she retaliated.
"That's what you get for wearing a costume like this, Star Child!" she laughed, continuing her assault. Menne poked just between his jacket on a spot below his left armpit. Paul's gurgling laugh was priceless as he doubled over in her arms.
"Now you're really playing dirty," he panted, getting control of his hiccuping pant. "That's my spot! But I know where yours is..."
Still his fingers continued their attack on her hip eliciting another
shrieking wave of mirth. Menne writhed in his arms playfully.
"Hey, shut up!" there came a noisy complaint from someone down the
hall. A door slammed, and they both fell silent. Paul and Menne
hid laughs behind pursed lips till they could no longer contain them, and
the resulting sound was a collective snort.
"I think we'd better adjourn somewhere more private," Menne grinned.
"Now you're talking," Paul smiled. He pushed Menne's wrist down to the
door slot, waiting for the card to click into place. Menne almost
fell over backwards when the door gave way.
Inside it was quiet and blessedly cool compared to the hot San Francisco night. It was the middle of summer, and the makeup was well and truly running down his face when he sang his number of Love Gun, and Do You Love Me for the charity auction.
"Man it was... hot!" Paul dabbed sweat from under his hair. That last word he added an extra snap to.
"You don't have to tell me," Menne smiled, her shoulder tucked under his armpit when they wandered in. Paul seemed to be half leaning on her, as he still wore the platform boots in black and silver. He slung his Washburn down onto its stand, shuffling oddly. Menne moved to stop him from toppling over.
"You're limping," she said, turning to look up at him. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"The adrenaline, doll," he said, pulling a wet lock of her hair from her brow. "Plus other... distractions...."
"Great Isis, all these... flowers..." she gasped as her mouth dropped open. No less then five dozen roses in lovely crystal vases stood by her suitcase and vanity table where her belongings sat.
"What was that about distractions?" he smiled, pushing her towards the table, while he still leaned on her heavily. "For a concerned technical advisor... and a very special woman who has taken the next step towards freedom... and following her heart..."
"Paul you didn't have to..." she stammered realizing these were hers! Reaching amidst the vases, he pulled out a flat box wrapped in gold foil.
"Chocolate... for a lady who's truly sweet," he smiled, pushing it into her hands. "Go on, try one! This is a night for celebrating..."
"You didn't... you... oh no," Menne stammered out, when he helped her rip off the foiled paper to a box of Godiva chocolates. She had heard these were the most expensive of treats. He reached into the box, extracting a piece of chocolate which he held up to her lips. Menne took a sniff of the rich aroma. They did not have chocolate in ancient Egypt, and she soon came to like and love this delicacy of the modern world.
"I couldn't..." she sighed, still overwhelmed by it all. Even with the air conditioning the thought of chocolate after such a hot night didn't' seem the most appealing. "It's so hot here... and chocolate doesn't seem like the best thing to cool me down..."
"What a shame, you don't know what you're missing," Paul sighed back. Tentatively he took a bite, and a look of absolute bliss filled his face. Slowly, deliberately he finished the piece of chocolate before her in long delicate nibbles. Still he wore the Starchild makeup, which beaded with perspiration.
"To die for," he hummed with delight. "You sure you don't want just a little taste... these are for you... after all..."
"You're totally rotten," Menne groaned. "A guilt trip is a nasty trick..."
"How can I spoil you rotten when you won't let me?" Paul asked, his lips drawing into a mock pout.
"Er... maybe I'll try some later. I'll settle for a kiss now, instead," She licked her lips. Paul smiled as he leaned over to brush his lips to her mouth. The taste of smooth milky chocolate was thick on his lips and tongue that caressed hers.
"Mm!" she gasped at the flavor. Gently his tongue slipped into her mouth, still imbued with the sweetness. It transferred from his to hers with slow deliberate strokes.
"One way or another I thought you'd enjoy them," he smiled mischievously when they parted. Menne continued to lick her lips when he offered her another piece. This time she took a bite, her tongue licking the melting chocolate from his fingers. They ended up on the sofa together with the box balanced across their laps. Feeding each other piece by piece while washing it down with Evian and club soda. He hit the remote for the television, which flickered on before them. Late night with Conan O'Brian had just started. Cuddled together, they watched for a time while sharing the box of chocolates.
"No champagne?" Menne joked when she took another sip of chilled water. "Or cold gin?"
"Argh," Paul groaned, and beaned her playfully with the sofa pillow. "Considering how hot it is... water's really better anyway. I want to enjoy every minute of this night tonight..."
"Ah, you are quite the silver tongued one?" Menne shook her head. She put the chocolates to one side while she pulled Paul's legs onto her lap.
"Isn't this supposed to be the other way around?" he laughed when she caressed his thighs.
"You're in more need of it then I... Isis your legs are all knotted! Must you wear those blasted boots? They're killing your knees..."
Paul gave little protest when she pulled the boots off and began to knead the flesh around his sore knee. He gritted his teeth at her firm fingers working the swelling tissue he had ignored for so long on stage. It was beginning to ache. "Oh baby..." he sighed deeply as he lay back and let her fingers continued down his legs to the throbbing feet now liberated from their platform confinement. "That's magic..."
Practiced motions kneaded along the bridge and arches of his feet through white sport socks. She pushed up his leggings to get better access. Each toe she rolled between thumb and forefinger, giving gentle firm pressures in the spaces between. That modern fad reflexology had its roots in her ancient massage. Through the fingertips she imbued her amethyst energy mentally. It helped to focus the therapeutic powers. Menne wasn't an empathic healer, yet she had the technical know-how with powders and fire magic to provide a gentle warm touch when needed. However small she thought it was, to Paul it was clearly having a major effect. His eyes fluttered shut, as his head tossed in ecstasy against the couch pillow. Toes curled under her fingers when she ran her thumb along the meridian of his foot.
"Ohhh God, that's awesome! What are you doing to me... Menne... that's incredible..."
"Just... a little massage is all," she shrugged, and Paul straightened up.
"Why did you stop?" he asked, taking her hand and guiding it to his thigh again.
"I... don't know," she glanced shyly at him. "I didn't realize the effect I was having on you, to tell the truth."
"Maybe you'd like to sit on my lap for a change, eh?" he winked, and sat upright. So saying he pulled her legs across his.
"But it's a large sofa you don't have to..."
"That's not the point," he grunted, and drew her onto his lap squarely.
His thighs were muscular firm under hers, and oh so solid. A shiver
shot up from her belly that made her wince and thrill simultaneously.
Hot breath wafted into her face, as it was only inches from his.
It did do away with the discrepancy in height, and let him tilt her head
back while he gazed deep into her eyes. Fingers kneaded up her legs
and knees, with firm strokes like hers. It was cool yet extremely
warm there
betwixt the two.
"The point is, having you close to me... and I love it... every... minute..." With each word he traced her lips with his moist ones. Their makeup merged into a common oily mass, when warm lips combined. Menne lost herself in the shivering tingle of delight that suddenly erupted all over her body. An amethyst light spread from the core of her being outwards towards Paul. Over his own skin it seeped its own magic, making his heart pound ever faster. That energy mirrored his own, it seemed.
"Perfect," Paul breathed, his lips parting from hers for a panted breath. "You see what I mean?"
"Yes..." Menne glanced up at him again. "That's the strange thing. I hardly know anything about you, and yet that purple light..."
"Purple light?" Paul repeated.
"Well, it's that... no you wouldn't understand..."
"Wouldn't understand what?" Paul asked, lifting a dark eyebrow. The star mark shifted slightly.
"I don't know how much you believe in body energy...." Menne qualified her last statement.
"I've seen some weird stuff over the years, and you can't help but read about chi in the tabloids and magazines. Oriental medicine goes into it in great detail. So yeah, I believe in it," Paul nodded.
"Sorry, didn't mean to be patronizing."
"You mean like a kind of purple light whenever I do... this..." His hand slipped up her hip, caressing. Menne's own hand slipped between her leg and his, dancing down his exposed stomach.
"Or you do... that..." Paul moaned with pleasure. Slowly she moaned when his hands brushed over a sensitive spot. Paul's hand shifted higher, and she yelped with suddenly ecstasy. Tuthmosis had never touched her there with such a gentle caress. Not for years.
"Yes," she breathed, as his hand continued its work. "That... is it... yes... right... there!"
"Mmm hmm," Paul hummed, continuing his ministrations on her sensitive places. "You like that, don't you...."
"Ah," she gasped, his fingers working past her clothing now. Her sweat lay moist on his hands, drenching them when he finally reached fevered pitch. Violet energy surged and cascaded behind her eyes. Blood pulsed in her veins in throbbing surges. A low moaning gasp erupted from her throat, when he increased pressure. Paul's other hand slipped under her back when he drowned her cries in a firm kiss. He swallowed her last cry of pent-up release, only parting when her whimpers dissolved into a rasping gasp.
"Paul," she whispered between tears. Gently he kissed her, ever so slightly.
"Feel better Menne? More relaxed I hope..."
"Oh yes," she nodded, stretching in his lap. Beneath her she felt the evidence of his own excitement, as his breath came in ragged gasps now.
"Good," Paul breathed. "I only want you to be happy..."
"Hmm," Menne smiled, and slipped a hand between his knees. Paul
let out a low groan between
clenched teeth. Moving out of his lap, she let him stand shakily,
and pull her to a standing position next to him.
"Shall we continue here... or... somewhere else more comfortable?" he
asked her, controlling his own desire that surged through his veins.
Their clothing made an interesting pile on the floor beside the large double bed. Menne's fingers traced up the inner recesses of Paul's thigh, feeling the softness of the skin there. Higher and higher her hand traveled along his hot skin till Paul's groan increased as hers had done before. Teasingly she pulled her fingers back at the last moment, and Paul grasped her wrist, whispering, "You're driving me crazy!"
"That's the idea," Menne grinned.
Paul's fingers numbly reached at the bedside table, almost dropping the slick wrapped packets he dug from the box. Between their shaking fingers they extracted slick latex, guiding it down to the right place. As he placed her hand around him, Menne hesitated.
"Is this all you desire?" she asked him. Gritting his teeth he begged for release with a nod.
"Isn't it what you want, to pleasure me as I have you? Like we've done before?" Paul asked, his breathing now almost out of his control. He could not restrain his passion for but another moment, and closed his hand around hers. Yet he secretly hoped she would want more, his desire almost consuming him now. How he fought against pulling her down to make love fully then and there.
"I don't know... I wish I could stop at just this," Menne leaned up beside him, gently kissing him as he guided her hand with his. "But it's not enough, is it, Paul? Both of us want so much more then just this..."
"But you.... only just got out of the one relationship...."
"I know... but I thirst for this, here with you now, tonight," Menne peered into his face, voice choked off with emotion. She positioned her legs on either side of his hips, stroking his chest with her hair. Ever so slowly she lowered herself to his waiting passion.
"You don't... have to... when there are other ways... after all if you need time..." Paul gasped, when he felt her ever so gently hesitate above. It was a strain for her to wait there, crouched over him as an expectant mother.
"Yes, I do. It is not out of duty that I have chosen you, Paul Stanley. Nor is it out of obligation... but out of my own desire... to love you, and make you mine if even for a short time..." Menne nodded, wiping sweat from his face as she took him inside, a little at a time. Slowly filling herself with his firmness as he threw his head back on the pillow. Till her knees were flush with his hips and she felt the warm slickness deep in the core of her being. Paul reared upwards into her heat, moving against her with a slow deliberate motion that seemed all too easy, too rehearsed.
"I never thought... I'd feel you from within," he sighed deeply. "I've wanted you for so long. This is incredible..."
She gasped, shifting him in her thighs as she urged him to roll over atop her. "Don't be afraid of what I have to offer you..."
"Menne," he groaned, shifting more firmly inside her now as she moved in unison with his rhythm. "I might... loose control..."
"Shh," she whispered. "Don't be scared.... just relax... as you have told me often enough. Let go..."
The amethyst light erupted from her amulet, spreading its soothing fire over them both. Paul moaned as he moved within and without Menne, each thrust becoming less and less restrained. Each thundering crash of the tide surged harder, and harder when it rose with the irresistible gravitational pull of Moon to Earth. He was caught hopelessly in its depths now, unable to surface to breathe if he had wanted to. An ocean of chartreuse sensation gurgled over his head in a massive rush.
Paul cried out, as the purple light surged into the core of his own being. "Oh God! Tonight I am yours, you belong to me! My love..."
"Paul!" she shrieked, her legs splaying out to let him in further. A loud cry came from his own throat, exploding into a hoarse shout that matched the intensity of his on-stage. Menne's screech sounded like the cry of the ibis around his. Her bones quaked and shifted under his slender muscled frame.
"You don't have to be afraid!" Menne screamed, heedless of who might hear. "Oh beloved, don't stop!"
Paul's back tensed as hers did, his cry drowning out her encouragement.
From within his heart exploded a brilliant violet supernova that flared
away all reason, all sensation. Along all his nerves, his muscles
the purple radiance seethed and simmered into a soothing warm tingle.
The tide washed them both ashore in its salty fingers that licked away
from their bare bodies and left them cold in the night air. Still
the warmth surged in little finger touches along bare skin till Paul found
his senses
again.
Menne felt his well-muscled figure laying as warm weight across her
body. The adrift one had been beached onto safe shores. She
liked the feel of his weight pressing her down, for it was not much more
then her own. Still a portion of him was within her, and she barely
minded. Gingerly she pulled a fold of rumpled sheet up around them
both in the night conditioned air. They lay in a moist pool of their
own sweat, their passions abated for now.
"Mm..." he murmured, burying his head on her shoulder. Still he pressed her to the bed with his weight halfway. They were caught in a honeymoon cradle, front to front with his arms wrapped tightly around her.
"You awake?"
"Man, what a ride," Paul murmured, lifting his head as he glanced down at her. A smile creased his lips, slowly warming her inside.
"I half wondered if I had killed you," Menne grinned.
"Never," Paul sighed deeply, a look of contentment on his face. "That was truly amazing...."
"And you were worried about loosing control?" Menne asked, as he reached across to the box of facial tissue. Tenderly he wiped the makeup from her face as she did from his own. They realized they were still very close and personal in ways that made them both blush. Menne was all set to disentangle herself from him when he stopped her.
"Not yet," he pleaded, and moved within her again. "It's my turn
to make the first move, to love you this time..."
He began to shift his hips slowly, much like the gentle strumming intro
of Dark Light on his guitar. The volume would rise, and the other
parts would surge into being till the crescendo reached its climax.
In much the same way the violet radiance surged from him this time to her,
and Menne's breath escaped her.
"Paul!" she gasped when the pitch built to something far greater then she herself seemed to contain. Was it her imagination or did the odd radiance from within suddenly float as a purple mist around his sweating skin? Memory opened a door in her mind, and she suddenly remembered the events of a few weeks past that had been denied her. Chontra, who foolishly wished to bend the ancient powers to her, had awakened the Four Who Were One for her own needs. By controlling Gene, the Demon, she thought perhaps she could reach the others eventually. Yet this was a terrible mistake, for Paul's essence had exacted the awful price for her manipulations. Against the Star Bearer's stare of pain and pleasure she had fallen prey. It was a mere fraction of his full potential, yet enough to burn the lesson deep.
"Ah yes!" he cried out, his eyes flaring open. Indeed they flashed with inner fire much the amethyst brilliance of the stone in her amulet, which wailed in alarm. Menne felt herself carried along on the energy that surged into her. More and more till she thought her senses would scream. The full force of surging passion lapped at her a hundred times more intense then the night before, Paul's eyes flaring ever brighter. She was drowning, drowning in sensation that threatened to blacken her out.
"I cannot contain this," she moaned. "Starchild!"
"No, it is too much for the mortal," came a voice of many that echoed in her ears. "We must had control of our desires, even if the need is so great. Oh little one we must have control.... Yes..."
"What... who are you..." Menne glanced up into his eyes, which were bottomless pools of amethyst before her. Within the realm of strange phantasmal dreams she found herself sheathed in the Ibis armor that was her avatar.
"The forge of reality, in which all things are possible, where all dreams arise," he said, gently stroking her cheek as his lips soothed a strange icy kiss to hers. The shivers of ice tingled from her loins all over her body with a stinging yet soothing fire, but he was not inside her but drifting before her. A spectral form of energy and light that seemed solid one moment and hazy the next.
"Paul?" Menne stammered out, suddenly feeling the weight of full sadness and deep passion choking the breath from her.
"Not fully Paul, yet Paul Stanley is here with me, one holding me back with his mortality, forgetting that for you to behold my true nature would surely destroy you. So most of I am here, somewhere in the mists of dreams," the Star Bearer smiled patiently. The unbearable flood of emotion lapped her as gentle waves of sheer pleasure through the deep void.
"Where are we?"
"Do not be afraid, little one. Your essence is ever so sweet to this one... I have not tasted its passion and fire for centuries. I give you but a small sliver of my essence for you to savor... as my desires are still that of my host..."
"Starbearer," she said in wonder, basking in the glow of his warmth and coolness. "I didn't mean to awaken you with my powers I just..."
"Shh," he whispered, pressing warm fingertips to silence her. "You must understand one's heart is not given so easily. For that I apologize... my sweet one. But accept my gratitude for your love's warmth. And feel it returned a hundred fold. That was my wish to return to you. But you are only mortal, and I must be restrained in how much I give... lest you be harmed..."
"That... was why you wouldn't make love to me... before, as Paul?" she glanced up at him. Now she could stare into those depths of his eyes without their radiance burning holes into her soul.
"As ever you guess the true nature, Mennehotep," came the smile. "You carry a portion of Starchild Essence in you, which resonated in us when first we met. As Paul I would loose control, for fear of drowning you. As Sohkarra carries the Celestial touch in her, and Nefertina the King of Beasts'. But also a duality of Demon haunts you, and can burn. That part of you was what I feared..."
"Fire and air," Menne glanced up at him.
"A touch of water, my sweet precious one," he smiled remotely, and sent tongues of purple energy that precipitated into spasms of sheer pleasure. When her cries died down to a level where she could move again, he moved up beside her, kissing her lightly. The tingling depths of coolness caressed like the embrace of the deep sea.
"I enjoy the radiance of your avatar," he nodded. "Thoth and I are known of ancient times...."
"Starchild, you must know what is going on... the last thing I want is to hurt Paul, hurt you... but I am so lost and confused..."
"It's only a transition, as changing as the landscape of the ocean," he nodded. "But we each have something to offer the other now. In your search I trust you will find your true dreams. And that is all I can offer or will expect from you... or what he will..."
"I was married..."
"I am married to dreams, and can never give my heart fully," the Star Bearer shook his head sadly. "I have sung that song before. Paul loves you. Take heart in that. And know my love is more then just mere romance, but a deep ocean of the sensations that all long for. And in that I am the fool..."
"So am I," Menne glanced up at him. The arms of light folded her
flesh to his energy.
"This is definitely getting interesting," he breathed, and glanced at her.
"Did you remember?" she asked him.
"Yes... in a strange way... oh God this is weird," Paul sighed, shaking his head. "Like a piece of me and a part that wasn't... but its' fading..."
Slowly his voice trailed off when he realized he was firmly inside her, and a red flush came over his face. "What a way to wake up," he sighed, his face contorting in that characteristic pained look. "Ohhhh baby..."
"Paul," she giggled, and kissed him gently on the forehead when he collapsed to the side, gently disengaging from her.
"Mmm, I don't want to get out of this bed..." Paul shook his head, cuddling against her. "But... nature calls... and I must answer... and... we have a trip ahead of us..."
Mennehotep waited as he heaved himself out of the bed, and disappeared,
leaving a feather kiss on her forehead. Drawing her knees into her
chest, she felt a warm smile cross her face. Slowly she stretched,
the rigors of last night aching sweetly in her live body. Disturbing
dreams faded from her vision which slowly was beginning to cloud in a purple
haze.
Beside her, Paul adjusted his sunglasses as he kept an eye on the road, another glancing sidelong at her. She gripped the flapping map, trying to make sense of the spaghetti tangle of roads that so resembled the hieroglyphs of her time. At last a sign of intelligence, she giggled.
Glancing in the rear view mirror she saw the stacks of suitcases piled into the back seat of the Camaro convertible. Black, with pale lavender seats, this sporty roadster rumbled and vibrated with 250 horsepower. At least that was what Paul had told her, and she still wondered how they could fit so many horses under a small hood. Till she scolded herself for such archaic thoughts.
His own tangle of dark brown curls whipped free in the warm California wind. In a silky lavender shirt and leather vest, with matching leather pants, he was quite a vision. Menne's eyes couldn't help but stray from the map towards his thighs, which were occupied with the shifting of clutch and break. Or how nicely he filled out those tight clothes, only the shirt loose and only part way buttoned over his hairy chest. A shyness overcame her, and she peered back at the map quickly when she felt his eyes on hers, behind those shades.
"You've been quiet, are you all right?" he asked.
"I was just thinking about last night," she whispered.
"You don't regret what happened, do you?"
"Not for a minute," she said quickly. "But you were talking in your sleep..."
"Talking in my sleep?" he laughed nervously.
"Yes," Menne said. "Something about a chasm... and you were tossing and turning.... sweating..."
"Believe me, it was nothing to do with you... baby..." he said, catching her hand.
"Paul, please tell me what you were dreaming about..." Menne said.
"Just a silly nightmare that's all... nothing to worry about..."
"In ancient Khemet, dreams were vitally important. Please... tell me... if not to put your mind at ease, then to ally my fears..."
"All right," Paul relented. "I can see it's the only way I can get you to snap out of the silence..."
"You know you can tell me anything. Remember what I said only a little while ago..." Menne reminded him.
"Right," Paul nodded. "It's silly. But I've been having these dreams... about us... about the guys. Gene, Ace, and Peter and I... were standing face to face. Then this huge earthquake split the earth into a chasm... with Gene and I on one side, Peter and Ace on the other... and we were all yelling and cursing each other out."
Menne's eyes widened behind her glasses. Slowly she cleared her throat as he continued to describe the dream, "There was another part that made even less sense... you were there..."
"What..."
"Yes. In another version of that same dream... I saw you..."
"What side of the chasm was I on?"
"You were with me and Gene... and it was funny but I could swear I saw Jaime and Tina over on the other side with Ace and Peter..."
"Paul, why didn't' you tell me this dream before?" Menne asked.
"Is it important?"
"Yes," she said, slowly gripping his hand which was enclosed in a leather driving glove. "You are the Starchild... the master of dreams..."
"That's just a gimmick, a persona for the fans," PAul shook his head.
"No. I believe you are partly psychic. That dream foretold a very disturbing situation that has been present in your band..."
"Me, psychic?" Paul laughed, a bit nervously.
"Yes. You have abilities that you are not aware of... I know this to be true... for my amulet. It was flashing wildly last night when you were muttering... and there was that purple energy. Don't you remember..."
"Yes... but... I thought it was your powers..."
"Paul, It's not just me. I am going to say something that you might find disturbing. But it must be said...."
"What?" he asked, gripping her hand, as if fearing a horrible revelation.
"You have powers, Paul. As a sorceress and alchemist I know the signs. And you are only now beginning to be aware of them.... You really are the Starchild..."
"Say what?" Paul asked, almost veering off the road. In the nick of time he veered back, over steering. Quickly he pulled over to the side of the highway.
"What the hell does that mean?" he asked, pushing his sunglasses up to his forehead. Those brown eyes flashed with fear into hers.
"Paul... calm down. I am simply saying..."
"That's crazy...."
"No," Menne said, griping his shoulders. "Don't you trust me? As I trust you, I swear by Isis and Osiris you are the Starchild... the Starbearer. Ever since I first met you I had a feeling you were something far different and more then the average man. Now I know you are far more then even you realize."
"What are you saying?" Paul stammered. "That I'm some kind of... of..."
"I can sense what you're thinking. Freak, mutant? YOu are as I am, special. And Ra only knows what that purpose is. And I could swear last night I saw a dream where you... oh Ra it's so hard to remember... but I saw the Starchild... speaking to me... telling me... that each of us were with you for a reason not yet revealed...."
Her face contorted with the pain of the memory that slipped away as moonbeams. Just as elusive. Paul felt her body shaking, and his own as well. There was no joking twinkle in the onyx gaze which stared at him with awe.
"You're serious, aren't you?" Paul said quietly, looking down at the steering wheel of the car.
"Yes. I can only remember mere pieces of my dream. But I know what my amulet tells me... and every time you've been under stress... the amethyst has sparkled..." she whispered. Slowly she reached for her ibis amulet under her dress, and pulled it out to set it on Paul's palm.
"I know that thing gives you special powers..." he whispered.
"Put it in your hand..." Menne said, slipping it off her neck. She placed it in his hand, and closed his around it. Paul felt a strange energy seething there, just beyond his reach.
"It amplifies the power within," she whispered, closing her hand around his. "Can't you feel it, flowing in your body?"
Paul opened his hand, and glanced down. The ibis glowed silver, against his palm, as the purple amethyst glowed and surged with inner fire. If he peered closely he could glimpse his reflection within. Not as he was, but in whiteface, his trademark star black upon white.
"This is too heavy," he whispered.
"You are more then you seem, Paul Stanley. But you don't have to be afraid. Whatever you are to face, know that you are not alone..." she said, as he handed the amulet back to her.
"Is this some... ancient Egyptian Legend?"
"As an alchemist I studied the ancient texts... that were ancient in my time. That spoke of four individuals with special abilities that embodied the four elements. That was what made me a little wary when I saw Gene and you at first in your makeup. That symbol he wears is the ancient Demon, the devourer of fire, the Khaibit. And the Star... is a symbol of the soul in Khemet... Egypt. It has five points always. When I saw it painted upon your face, it was an eerie resonance indeed. And Peter... wearing the image of Bastet/Sekhment.. the goddess of warmth and sunshine...."
"Ace?"
"I am still trying to figure that one out. But you all have your own destinies I think, as my friends and I have ours... and I think the road ahead is not clear..."
"This road is," Paul said, taking her hand. "Tell me more about this ancient legend..."
"It's complicated to explain..."
"We have a four hour drive to LA," Paul smiled slowly, taking her hand in his. Gently he pressed a kiss to her wrist.
"So... you are not angry... that I have told you these things..."
"Angry, maybe. Wierded out is more as I am feeling now. Damn... it's all so surreal..."
Menne nodded, knowing that he was but taking the first tiny step to understanding his true aspect. So was she for that matter. Where it would lead, who could say? Still when they finally reached the beach house, she had a feeling that she would soon come to know the answers.
From behind an invisible force shoved a gentle push of salt water, which sent her forwards. She relaxed, then let the advancing lines of tide propel her towards the beach. A line of lights rimmed the stretch of golden sand which faded into dull hues of gray. Just how long they had been swimming she could not say. Slowly she stood up, water dripping off her shoulders, then her chest and waist as she tripped into the shallows. A cold wind whipped against her bare skin, and she hugged herself. Swimming in the Nile was one of her favorite activities, and already a slew of memories came cascading back. The waiting women with their sheets held up around, while the garments were cast aside, and the two golden skinned figures paddled their way into the shallows.
Green eyes that mirrored hers laughed their challenge. Laughing she set off behind her sister, only an arm's breadth away from her. Always a bit behind, yet never did Karahammon swim so far ahead that Mennehotep couldn't eventually catch up. Before she would leap on her unsuspecting sister, coming up to feel the brassy sun on her copper shoulders, to plunge her into the chilly Nile waters. Both laughed and screamed as they flicked water in each other's faces, acting very un royal and undignified.
"Those were the happiest times, my sister," she whispered, turning to face the setting sun.
So caught up was she in the memories of hot brass sunbeams on warm skin, that she failed to notice a small line of bubbles encroaching ever closer. Again she rubbed hands over her shoulders, feeling the straps of those absurd pieces of cloth they called a bathing suit in this time. Surges of tide lapped her thighs, ever slightly increasing in their vigor. Menne's eyes widened at a particularly high swell that seemed to come out of the ranks of advancing ocean. Fear did not fill her face, but rather excitement, for as the breaker crested into a foamy swirl, she leapt up into its force. Feet left the sandy bottoms as she was momentarily suspended in is cresting might.
Something gripped her tightly, slipping out of nowhere. With a shriek she kicked and flailed as strong arms plucked her from the foaming surf and cradled under her hands and knees. "Gotcha!" came an exultant laugh. Menne gasped and shivered as she glanced up into a beaming face, the wet ringlets of curly hair plastered over his eyes. He flipped his head back, tossing the hair from graceful arching eyebrows. Against her bronzed skin, his seemed creamy white and pale.
"You sneak!" Menne spluttered, stopping her shock. "No fair coming up behind me like that!"
"You should have seen the expression on your face! It was priceless," Paul laughed, his chest heaving against her side. Muscular arms held her strongly as he strode towards the shore.
"If I did, I'd have to be you," she countered, pushing a strand of hair out of his face.
"I see you're logging in some miles in that new bathing suit," he commented, holding her close as he brushed his cheek to hers. "You like?"
"I only wish I didn't have to wear these absurd pieces of cloth. In ancient Egypt we hardly needed swim wear..."
"Sounds very intriguing," Paul chuckled. Playfully he pulled at the straps on her halter top. It was what they called a bikini, regular cut that was low across her hips and chest. IT was one piece of swim wear she could stand having on, as the one piece suits that she had tried were uncomfortably confining.
"Somehow I don't think your country is ready for that... as I have seen the sign, no topless bathing," Menne scolded him gently. "I doubt you want to get us arrested, do you?"
"No way," Paul shook his head. "Not when I finally have you all to myself... Feel like going back for some dinner? I totally lost track of the time."
Menne nodded, shivering slightly. Paul walked out of the crashing surf onto the sandy beach. Just up the rise a bit stood the cabana, its sliding glass doors up on the upper level above the boathouse where a few water craft were housed. Further up the beach she could see one or two docks that stretched into the water, where other private houses were situated.
"Er Paul, you can put me down..." she said as he stepped up to the back verandah, still carrying her in his arms.
"What, and spoil my chance to keep spoiling you?" he chuckled. "Sit back and enjoy the ride. It's not far back to the house..."
Gently he sat her down on one of the patio chairs just before the sliding glass doors. Picking up a towel he wrapped it around her shivering shoulders. Getting one for himself he vigorously rubbed it over his sopping hair. Green had faded to faint blue, and stars were peeking through the striated clouds just over the red glow of the dying sun. Ra had placed quite a show this evening, and for a moment Menne could almost imagine she was back in ancient Egypt again, on the back steps of the Palace along the riverbanks.
"IT is breathtaking," she breathed in the salty air, still shivering at the residual ocean chill on her skin. Paul sat next to her, his hip close as he put hands on the towel on her shoulders and started to rub.
"Mmm, yes," he agreed. "The sunsets on the beach are always the best... and the stars... they look so close and yet are so far away..."
One bright star, the evening star winked on suddenly through the crimson mist. As if in a chorus the others suddenly were visible, and Menne could not tell why she had not noticed them before. Further along the stretch of beach she saw the twinkling of other beach houses, the radiance of the sitting room behind them glowing warmly. She helped Paul rub the sand off his feet with the extra towels as they watched the last dying rays.
"It should be ready by now," he whispered into her ear. She looked at him quizzically, till he took her hand softly and raised her to her feet. He slipped the sliding door open part way, and a waft of fine roasted smell drifted out. Again she shot him a questioning glance.
"Been roasting slowly all afternoon. Best way to evenly heat a roast beef," he explained. "A little trick of the trade. You want to eat dinner out here on the patio, or inside? We could built a fire... if you like..."
"Will wonders never cease," she muttered to herself, a bit surprised that the responsibility of food preparation fell upon him. Yet why should she be that surprised, when upon arriving here he whipped up a quick pasta salad for a late lunch? They had eaten in silence, still reflecting over their conversation on the drive down. Menne had not spent so long in the company of a man alone for so long. Even in ancient Egypt there was always a bodyguard or lady in waiting present. Just to be alone was a treasure, a treat to be savored.
"What about the sand..." she asked, as small bits tumbled off his legs still when they stepped into the house.
"Something to worry about later," he whispered into her ear, moving her hair aside. "I hope you're famished from all that swimming... there's a roast, potatoes au gratin... and with it a nice Chardonnay..."
"You seem to take the greatest pleasure in the simplest things... for one so privileged..." Menne said as she followed him into the kitchen of the rented beach house. "That is something to be treasured..."
"Sometimes it's nicer just to do things for myself. I have every minute of my day plotted out on tour, my food cooked, my every move watched. There has to be something left for me to do besides performing..."
"I well know what you mean. You truly are the new royalty of this time. Which is why I so value this... the time... alone..."
"Alone, and yet not alone," he nodded, kissing her cheek. "Now... dinner?"
"Yes, dinner," she said, casting a glance back towards the waves lapping
under starlight.
