The Touch of Isis

The Touch of Isis
S. Wolf
Published by S. Wolf at Smashwords
# # #
Valley of the Queens, Egypt, 1904
Sarah squinted in the low light, generated only by the several gas lanterns spread
around the ancient room. Had she already inventoried this piece or not? She could
barely read her own writing, and a frustrated sigh escaped her lips.
“You ok Sarah?” asked Matt, her fellow intern and inventory partner. They were
both here after winning highly competitive summer college internships – her from
Vassar and him from Princeton, but their work turned out to be slightly less exotic
than they had expected. While the leader of their archeological expedition, Professor
Schiaparelli, discovered the tomb and received world-wide accolades, they were here
with the mundane task of writing down every single item found in the crypt.
Well, sitting in the lavish antechamber of the tomb of Nefertari, favorite wife of
Ramesses the Great, could ever be mundane. She realized she was lucky to be here,
being one of only a handful of people to enter these rooms in the last thousand years.
But the monotonous paperwork was finally getting to her.
“I’m fine Matt. My eyes are getting tired, that’s all.”
“Same here,” he said, “I’m seeing double. You want to take a break?”
“I’d love to,” she replied, and walked over to the small bench where their
knapsacks were sitting. Retrieving her canteen, she sat on one end of the bench.
After getting his water, Matt sat beside her, a bit closer than she would have
preferred. Not that she minded, but when he was close she found it hard to

concentrate on other things. He had a body built for this rugged life, and sometimes
her mind would wander, imagining what it looked like – thoughts a proper lady
shouldn’t be having.
Proper lady. Those words reminded her of her father, a wealthy Boston banker
who had been dead set against her coming here, claiming that proper ladies didn’t run
off to the desert, crawling through the dirt in men’s clothes. But for once, her mother
had stepped in and insisted she be allowed to go. Her mother and she were kindred
spirits, each sharing a natural curiosity about the world. And while the elder had
given up her dreams of adventure to have a family, she wanted her daughter to
experience the world before settling down and marrying.
“Ah,” said Matt, after taking a drink, “that hit the spot.” Although he attended a
big-city school, he was a farm boy at heart. Originally from Wyoming, he was the
first in his family to go to college, attending Princeton on a well-earned academic
scholarship. He had caught the Egyptologist bug when he was young, reading every
book he could find on the subject. Getting to know him this past month, she knew he
was destined for greatness in this field, and she sometimes fantasized about them
being married; a team of world-famous archeologist by day, and lovers by night. The
lovers part made her blush, and sometimes a warm feeling arose between her legs
when she thought of him that way.
He had obviously been raised to respect women, and it showed in how he treated
her with courtesy. They spent most of their time together, and he had always been
polite to her. There were a few times when she had turned quickly towards him and
thought she had caught him admiring her body, but his eyes would look at her with
open honesty, and she assumed she must have been imagining things. Wishful
thinking, probably.
“Hey, you want to do some exploring?”
She smiled. “Love to.” They weren’t supposed to be doing this. Their job was to
inventory, that’s all. The real archeologists would carefully search the tomb by day,
lay out what they found on canvas tarps, and Sarah and Matt would spend the night
cataloging it. But boredom sometimes overtook them, and they would spend a few
minutes inspecting the crypt. After all, they were explorers, weren’t they?
“Want to try the tomb this time?” he asked.
Her smile widened. “Lead the way,” she said. They hadn’t been down there yet,
but she had been looking forward to it for a while.
He grinned back and stood, taking one of the lanterns and heading for the dark
entrance leading to the tomb room. She followed closely behind.
The stairs leading to the burial chamber angled downward to the right, with
colorful paintings on the walls that seemed to come alive in the dancing light of the
lantern. The stairs were uneven, and Sarah lost her balance slightly, bumping into his
back. His hand took hold of hers for a moment, steadying her. Feeling his touch, she
found it difficult to focus on the ancient artwork surrounding her.

At the bottom, the hallway opened up into the burial chamber. Here, the paintings
on the wall were even more brilliant, and the roof was painted a dark blue, with white
stars sprinkled across it. The floor at the center of the room was higher, with three
steps leading up to it, and in the middle was a platform where the sarcophagus had
sat.
Grave robbers had long ago stolen the body of the Queen from this room, along
with most of its golden treasures. But many artifacts remained, from statues to
personal effects of the Queen herself. It fascinated Sarah to think that Nefertari had
actually held the objects in this room in her hands. Examining an ivory comb, she
imagined it running through the Queen’s long dark hair.
Matt set the lantern in the middle of the room, and they began to look around,
each taking an opposite side of the chamber. Sarah was in the middle of examining
an ebony statuette, when Matt called to her.
“Sarah, bring the lantern over and take a look at this.”
She lifted the light and went to him, noticing he was peering intently into a shelf
built into the wall.
“Look at these things. What do you think they are?”
The shelf was chest high, and she set the lamp on the edge, giving her enough
light to examine the contents closely.
It was a collection of cylindrical items, with varying widths and lengths, rounded
at one end and flat at the other. Some were made out of smooth wood, others were
ivory, and a few smaller ones were jade. She furrowed her brow. What could they
be? She could feel an old memory trying to bubble up, and then finally it came to
her.
One day when she was twelve, her older sister Gretchen and she were trying on
their mother’s clothes, and she had discovered an object in the back of her mother’s
drawer. It was long and cylindrical, made out of smooth marble, and tapered to a
rounded point on one end. Her sister blushed when Sarah showed it to her, and the
curiosity that would eventually lead her to Egypt took over, and she badgered
Gretchen until she explained what it was.
Now she was looking at Nefertari’s collection of those same objects. And just as
she had done with the comb, she imagined how the Queen had used these items.
Her face turned a deep red, and even with the dim light from the lamp, Matt
noticed.
“What?” he asked.
“Um,” she said, not even close to finding the words.
He could tell there was something she wasn’t telling him. “Sarah, what is it?”
She tried to remember how her sister had explained it to her. “Um, you know
how sometimes women are alone?”
He looked at her as if she were speaking Chinese.

“They’re alone but they wish they weren’t,” she continued, “They wish there was
a man around?”
She could tell by his expression that she wasn’t getting through. She picked up
the nearest object and showed it to him, holding it in one hand and laying it across the
palm of her other, curling her fingers slightly around it. “They wish there was a man
around?” she repeated, this time emphasizing the word ‘man’.
He finally got it. His eyes opened wide and his mouth looked like it was saying
“oh” but no sound came out. The flush in his cheeks quickly matched hers.
But what he did next surprised her. Stepping close to her, he said, “Let me see
those again.” She moved to the side and stood there as he peered into the shelf, re-
examining the objects with his new perspective.
He was close to her, almost touching, and she could feel the heat coming off of
his body. She was still holding the object she had shown him, and she realized she
was gripping it with both hands, unconsciously running her fingers along its length.
Remembering that it was an ancient artifact that she was fondling, she gingerly
placed it back in its spot, and the two of them looked down on the collection together.
She wondered if he was doing the same thing she had done; allowing his
imagination to paint mental pictures of how the Queen had used these items.
“Hey, what’s that?” he said, interrupting her thoughts. She looked to where he
was pointing, and could make out a dark object lying against the back wall of the
shelf. Adjusting the position of the lantern, she could see that it had a thin wooden
handle, with some kind of shapeless mass on one end.
Matt reached in, stretched out his arm, and was barely able to get hold of it.
Pulling it out, they both saw what it was. On one end of the handle, a bundle of
feathers were attached, their soft ends gently swaying with each movement. If they
had found it anywhere else, they would have wondered what it had been used for, but
its location made it very clear what its purpose was. It was still in excellent shape for
how old it must have been, and Sarah wondered how it would feel caressing her skin.
Matt held the object between them, and they examined it closely. The wooden
handle was made of ebony, gleaming black in the flickering light. One end had a hole
where a leather strap may have once been, and the other flared out into a holder
where the feathers were embedded. The feathers themselves were an odd mixture of
red and black, and Sarah wondered what kind of bird they were from.
“Very nice,” said Matt, waving it gently, almost touching her bare arm. The skin
there became warm, and almost felt like it was rising up, searching for that touch, like
a dog or cat does when you hold your hand close to its head and it presses into you,
wanting to be petted.
“It’s beautiful,” she replied, trying to ignore the feeling in her arm, “and in perfect
condition.”
“You know,” said Matt, “something about this is familiar, but I can’t place it.”

It struck no familiar chords with Sarah, other than looking like the feather duster
their maid had used. But she knew this had a much more sensual purpose.
“And look at the feathers,” he added. “Thousands of years old and they still look
as soft as new. Do they feel soft to you?” And with that, he drew them lightly over
the skin of her arm, the contact lasting just for a moment.
The burst of sensation bolted through her, lasting only a second but breathtaking
in its intensity. For that moment, it felt like her body was being held in a warm strong
embrace, and she could feel the muscles of whoever was holding her taut beneath the
skin. Strong hands pulled her close, and she could smell his scent, a heady musky
aroma of maleness, a mixture of sweat and passion that filled her mind. Something
moved between her legs, and she could swear she felt something wet and forceful,
like a tongue, sliding between her labia and slithering over her clitoris.
Then it was gone. Completely and without a trace. The only remaining evidence
was the wetness between her legs.
She must have had an odd expression, because Matt looked at her and asked,
“Are you ok?”
Her eyes took a second to focus on him, but she said, “Sure. I’m fine.” Had she
just imagined that? Was it even possible to imagine something like that?
She wanted to try something. “Can I see it?”
“Here you go,” he said, and turned back towards the shelf. “I wonder if there’s
anything else like that here.”
He leaned into the opening, looking around intently, his hands resting on the
ledge and his elbows back. “Wonder if we’ll ever see this kind of stuff in a
museum?” he said, still rambling on. She looked at the skin of his exposed arm,
deciding if she should try it. Making her choice, she brushed the feathers softly
against him, just as he had touched her with it.
His head lifted up, and he became silent, as if he had lost track of what he was
saying. He turned to face her, wearing an odd look.
“Matt, you ok?”
He blinked and said, “Yeah, just got disoriented there for a moment.” Seeming to
come to his senses, he added, “We better get back, our shift is just about over.” As he
turned to get the lantern, she quickly glanced down, and could make out the large
bulge tenting out the front of his pants.
They were halfway to the steps, when she remembered she was still holding the
feathered wand. “Oh, I forgot about this.”
“Here, I’ll return it,” he said, taking it from her. She noticed he was very careful
not to touch any of the feathers.
After a few moments, he returned to her and they headed back up the stairs.
They collected their journals in the antechamber, then took the stairs that led up to
the outside, feeling the cool morning air as the early light of dawn filled the sky. A

few of the archeologists were heading their way, getting an early start on their
workday as Sarah and Matt ended theirs.
An hour later she was lying in her small bed, reading a book and hoping sleep
would come. She and Matt had eaten quietly together, and then she had taken a
shower before returning to her tent. The spray of tepid water had cooled the
smoldering between her legs, but hadn’t extinguished it entirely.
The tinkling of the little bell by her tent entrance startled her.
“Yes?” she said, not used to people visiting her here.
“Sarah, it’s me.”
“Matt? What are you doing here?” In all the time they had been here, he had
never once tried to visit her tent. It would be considered improper for a man to do so.
“I have to show you something, can I come in?”
“Matt!” she said, shock in her voice. “I’m not dressed.” She was wearing a white,
full length cotton nightgown that left too much of her cleavage visible.
“Well put something on Sarah, this is important.”
She had never seen him this forward. “One minute,” she replied.
Taking her robe from the bottom of her bed, she wrapped it around herself as best
she could. Still not attire a lady should be wearing around a man who’s not her
husband, but it would have to do for now.
She opened her tent flap, and Matt entered, carrying his knapsack and a book.
Sarah poked her head out of the opening and looked around; making sure no one had
seen him come in. Matt, usually the epitome of courtesy, no longer seemed to care
about her reputation.
“What’s so important?” She turned around and was shocked to find he was sitting
on her bed, and thinking nothing of it.
“I told you that thing seemed familiar.” He held up the book he had brought.
“This book is about mythological artifacts – artifacts that have never been found, but
are rumored to exist, based on ancient writings. Here it is. Mri’Qina Isis–”
She interrupted him. “Did you say Mri’Qina Isis?” Ancient Egyptian was her
specialty, and she knew exactly what that meant: The touch of Isis. The ancient
Egyptians had many words for the concept of touching, and ‘Mri’ was best translated
as ‘to touch the soul.’ Most of the time it carried a sexual connotation. She sat down
on the bed, a safe distance from him.
“Yes,” he replied, “the Touch of Isis. And listen to this. Although no one knows
what the Touch of Isis looked like, it was said to contain the feathers of a scarlet ibis,
and would bring sensual ecstasy to anyone it touches. According to legend, it was
owned by a queen who was so enamored of its powers, she had it entombed with her
so that she could enjoy it in the afterlife.”
Sarah just stared at the wall of her tent. She remembered the intensity she had
experienced when it touched her.
“Sarah?” he said.

Her eyes moved back to him. He was looking at her intently. “Yes?” she replied.
“Did you feel anything when it touched you?” he asked.
Her face flushed hot and the blush rose in her cheeks. “What do you mean?”
He stared at her a moment longer, and then broke eye contact. “I’m sorry,” he
said, “that was too presumptuous of me.” Then he paused and added, “I felt
something.”
“You did?”
“Yes,” he said, “but it’s much too personal to share. I’d be embarrassed, for both
of us.”
She was silent for a moment, understanding what he meant.
“Perhaps,” she said, “we could share our experiences, and that way it wouldn’t be
as embarrassing?”
He looked at her, his eyes widening. “You did feel it, didn’t you?”
She nodded.
“Wasn’t it incredible?” he said, his eyes searching her face for confirmation.
“It was,” she replied, “and a bit scary too.”
“Did you feel the woman?” he asked.
She looked confused. “No, I felt a man. A very strong man.”
He thought for a moment, and then said, “Maybe it’s different for men and
women. Because I definitely felt a woman, and she had her arms and legs wrapped
around me and–” He paused as he saw the shocked look on Sarah’s face. “I’m sorry,”
he said, “that was wrong of me to say.”
She was quiet, trying to gather her composure. Finally, she said, “It’s ok. We said
we were going to share, and that’s what you were doing. I felt a man holding me. I
could feel his muscles and smell his scent.”
“Yes!” said Matt. “I could smell her too. It was the aroma of flowers.”
“The scent I smelled was more masculine, very musky.”
“And I felt something – something touching me…” His voice trailed off.
“Yes, I felt that also,” she said. She could feel herself becoming damp just from
thinking about it. “It was almost like a – like a tongue,” she said, and it was almost a
whisper. She looked down, not able to meet his eyes.
“With me it was like a mouth, taking me inside…”
They were silent for a few moments, lost in thought, and then he said with a trace
of awe, “The Touch of Isis.”
“It has to be,” she agreed.
After a bit more silence, she added, “Matt, tonight when we go back down, could
we try it again?” She then seemed to realize what she was saying, and she put her
face in her hands and said, “I’m sorry. Oh, what you must think of me.”
She heard him open his knapsack, and then say, “Probably the same as you must
think of me.”

She opened her eyes, and saw him holding the wand, its red and black feathers
swaying gently.
Surprise covered her face. “You took it?”
He grinned. “I borrowed it. When I went to put it back, I decided I wanted to
research it further. I mean, that’s what we’re here to do, right? Research?”
She looked at it with fascination. “Have you tried it again?”
“No, I mean yes, but no. I didn’t intend to, but when I got back to my tent and
reached in my knapsack to get it, my hand brushed against the feathers.”
“And? Did you feel it?”
“No, it seems you can’t do it to yourself. See?” He drew the feathers over his
other arm. “Nothing,” he said.
“Maybe it doesn’t work anymore. Maybe it only had enough, um, magic or
whatever, to only work twice?”
“There’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?” he said with a slight smile,
waving the end in the air. “You want to go first, or me?”
“You first this time,” she said, a mischievous gleam coming to her eyes.
“Ok,” he said, handing it to her. “But real short, just like last time. We have to be
careful.” He closed his eyes and sat there, his arms relaxed in his lap.
“Ready?”
“Yes, go ahead.”
She ran the feathers over his arm, light and quick, and saw his body react. His
eyes opened wide, and his breathing was deep.
“Oh my,” he said, “It’s definitely still working.” She noticed his hands move to
his crotch, covering an obvious bulge there.
“What did you feel?”
“The same as last time,” he said, “her body was sliding against mine, and she felt
so warm, and I could feel her mouth on my–” he paused.
“Tell me Matt,” she said in a whisper, “I want to hear everything.”
“On my penis,” he said, “So warm and tight sliding up and down on me. I
became erect so quickly.”
Sarah’s mind swam from his words. She never believed she would ask a man to
talk to her like this, but not only did she want him to, she could feel the effects of his
words between her legs, creating a pleasurable tightening sensation.
“Are you ready?” he said, taking it from her.
“Yes,” she replied, her breath hitching as she closed her eyes. She was still fully
covered by the robe, with only the skin of her face and hands exposed to him. He let
the feathers brush slightly over her hands, which were resting together in her lap.
She inhaled a sharp intake of breath, and opened her eyes.
“Oh,” she said, in an audible exhale. “That was – that was amazing.”
“Tell me,” he said, leaning towards her.

“He was holding me in his embrace, our bodies were so close, and I felt like I
belonged there with him.”
“Did he touch you again, down there?”
“Oh yes,” she breathed, “his tongue pressed between my lips and flicked against
my spot of pleasure. It felt so good. I’m still tingling down there from it.” She
pressed her bottom against the bed, moving it in small circles, creating a pleasant
sensation.
“Your turn,” she said. “Would you like it longer this time?”
“Slightly,” he said, “but hold on a moment.” He quickly unbuttoned the front of
his shirt and removed it. “Touch me here,” he said, rubbing his fingertips over his
chest.
She took in the sight of him, and almost swooned. Not only was she captivated
by his bare chest, he was also no longer concerned about hiding his obvious arousal
from her. She looked intently at the bulge there, her imagination creating pictures in
her mind again.
“Sarah?” he said, interrupting her reverie. She smiled and refocused on him,
waiting for him to close his eyes before dragging the feathers across his chest, from
nipple to nipple.
“Gaaah,” he groaned, his eyes springing open. It took him a moment to catch his
breath before he could speak.
“How marvelous,” he moaned.
“I want to hear.”
“She was there again, her mouth taking me deep into her, all the way to the base,
her lips tight around me, sliding up and down.”
Sarah’s insides churned, and she could feel the wetness seeping from between her
lips, soaking the crotch of her panties.
“And then,” he gasped, “my head was between her legs, and she was pressing
down onto my mouth, her scent filling my senses.”
Sarah let out an audible moan, as her mind raced to take all this in. “And what
did you do?”
“I kissed her there and let my tongue slide inside of her, licking along her slippery
cleft. She tasted so good, and I pulled her down against me, trying to press my
tongue deep.”
She had her eyes closed, trying to picture what Matt had experienced. She
squeezed her legs together, moaning gently from the additional pressure on her
clitoris.
They just sat in silence for a few moments, letting it all soak in. Finally, he took
the wand from her hand. “Ready?”
“One moment,” she said, and then stood. She removed the robe, tossing it to the
end of the bed. His eyes widened to take her in. He could make out the shape of her
body through the thin white material of her nightgown. She was wearing panties but

no bra, and her hardened nipples pressed out firmly through the cloth, and he couldn’t
take his eyes off of them.
She sat back down, and to his amazement, took hold of the top of her gown and
pulled it down, revealing the tops of her breasts, and allowing her rosy areolas to
peek out from under the edge of the cloth. He could feel the lump in his pants twitch,
and a spasm of pleasure tightened through his stomach.
Her eyes were closed, awaiting the touch of the feathers. He ran them across her
chest, dipping down into the valley between her breasts and then up onto the other
side.
“Uhhhhhhh,” she moaned, keeping her eyes closed and leaning into him for
support. He held her in his arms as she recovered, acutely aware of the thin layer of
cloth separating her warm breasts from his bare chest, feeling her hard nipples
denting his skin.
Finally she spoke. “He was holding me, his strong hands on my hips keeping me
pressed against his face. His tongue was sliding inside of me, reaching places I never
knew existed.” She breathed. “I’ve never felt anything like that.”
Matt’s breath quickened, the hardness in his pants aching from the need to be
touched. She was so soft and warm against him, smelling like flowers.
“I opened my eyes and his erection was right in front of me, so hard and smooth,
with a little trickle of liquid coming from the tip. I knew I had to have it in my
mouth.”
She pressed her face against his chest, feeling his skin against hers, breathing
deep and taking his scent into her lungs. He smelled so masculine.
“I reached out and pulled him to me, opening my mouth and taking him inside.
My tongue licked over the smooth head, loving the musky taste of his fluids. Then I
slid my lips down over him, feeling him press into the back of my throat, my tongue
working on him as he entered.”
She stopped talking and they just sat there in silence, enjoying the closeness and
warmth of each other. His hands were at the small of her back, caressing her softly.
Hers were in her lap, and she watched them, noticing how close they were to where
his erection was pushing out the front of his pants. A small wet spot was darkening
the tan material at the most extended point. Shifting her hand, she pressed her thumb
against that spot, and moved it in slow circles. He groaned softly into her ear.
Taking this as a sign of approval, she began working at the buttons of his pants,
finally freeing them and pushing them down. His hardness arched up towards her, a
solid bar of rigid flesh. Leaning down, she softly kissed the head, her tongue flicking
out to taste the clear drop of fluid gathered at the tip. She could hear him gasping in
response to her touch, his hands now entwined in her hair.
Accepting him into her mouth, she slid tightly down around him, feeling his
familiar hardness filling her, his taste the same as she remembered. She began to

move on him, taking him deep and then back out, kissing the tip of it before plunging
back downward.
Twisting his body, he turned on the bed, lying opposite of her. Pulling her gown
up to her waist, he revealed her white panties. The material stretched tightly over her
swollen mound, translucent in its saturated state. As her mouth regained its rhythm
on him, he pressed his face between her legs, kissing her through the wet fabric,
deeply inhaling her scent. Pulling the cloth to the side, he exposed her to his gaze,
the pink wet flesh peeking from between her outer lips. Taking her hips firmly in his
hands, he pulled her to him. He kissed her, feeling her wetness coating his lips, her
inner heat warm against his skin. Exploring with his tongue, he probed between her
labia, tasting her again, feeling the familiar reaction of her body pressing back into
him, just as she had done in his dream.
This time their pleasure continued, unbroken by a parting of feather and skin, and
soon they reached their pinnacles together, groaning out their pleasures
simultaneously as their bodies locked in spasms of ecstasy.
* * *
Sarah opened her eyes, and saw the handsome and famous face of her husband
peering intently at her.
“Tell me,” he said.
“Oh, darling. It took me back to the Valley of the Queens, twenty-three years
ago, where we shared our first time. I felt and saw everything. It was wonderful.”
He smiled. “I remember.”
After a few moments, she took the Touch of Isis from his hand, and said, “Your
turn.”
# # #

This entry was posted in Romantic Adventure Novel. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s