10. Alistair

10

ALISTAIR

“ T he pyramids of Dahshur, the Fifth Dynasty…the priestess and royal burial site.” I reread my findings regarding religious artifacts found and cross-checked the latest information, noting political shifts to nonroyal leadership due to drought and financial hardship during that time.

Fascinating stuff, I mused, plucking my glasses off my nose and staring into space as I pictured men with kohl-lined eyes decked in gold and priceless gems, jockeying for clout and influence in changing times. Like ancient versions of ruthless tycoons. Nothing ever really changed. Fashions and ideologies rode waves of popularity, but the fundamentals were the same. Humans organized systems of cooperation to advance their causes…the price varied.

If I closed my eyes I could travel through time. I could be there. I could feel the blistering hot sun on my skin, hear the hum of conversation in a language long dead, and I could see the great pyramids on the horizon.

When I was a younger man, I’d imagine a constant companion with hazy features and no name who traveled with me up and down the Nile. I’d discuss the finer points of what I’d learned that day, and he’d listen. Silly, I know. We all had ways of coping with loneliness.

It wasn’t that I was a shut-in. I’d had my share of lovers over the years, but the only one I’d ever confided in was Colin, and that relationship had exploded in my face quite spectacularly. If anyone had asked me a month ago, I’d have sworn I was content to be alone.

Hell, I preferred solitude to anxious dating games. I didn’t want to “get to know” a new man. I didn’t care about anyone else’s favorite song, the name of their first pet, or their worst experience with alcohol. I’d heard all the stories, done the phony laugh bit, and had clandestinely checked my watch, wondering if the possibility of sex was worth another hour with someone I’d never see again.

News flash: it wasn’t fun. I’d rather be in ancient Egypt…if only in my head.

But now I wanted Winnie.

All the bloody time.

I wanted his constant chatter, his curious mind, and his beautiful smile.

And yes, I wanted his body. I couldn’t get enough of him.

Three weeks of traipsing around Paris and playing tourist with Winnie had opened a portal that had always been there but somehow seemed so…new. I loved Paris. I’d just gotten into the habit of thinking of it as work.

I only went to museums with archives that were useful to my research. I stayed at a hotel near the Louvre for the sake of convenience. I liked French food, but I could get by with room service.

Winnie wouldn’t hear of any of that. He’d bulldozed his way into my quiet world and turned it upside down.

Look at me. I’d gone for daily walks in the park, eaten croissants by the dozen, and had visited fancy boutiques on the Rue Saint-Honoré with a wide-eyed lover who’d sighed with pleasure as he’d snapped photographs of designer storefronts. I’d taken him on a tour of the opera, stood in a bloody long queue to see Napoleon’s tomb, and had walked along the river so often that the vendors greeted us now with a friendly “ Bonjour .”

Who was I?

I couldn’t answer that one, but I knew this was a dream. Better than my imaginary travels with the faceless man by far. Still, I knew I’d wake up one day and it would be over. Winnie would be gone, back to his fabulous life in Los Angeles. I had no doubt he’d return with a renewed sense of purpose, ready to tackle his goals, even if that meant a change of employment. Whatever had to be done, he’d do it. Winnie was fearless.

And I was…lucky to know him.

I swiveled my chair toward the figure lounging on the sofa, my heart thumping wildly in my chest. Winnie was terribly distracting.

The hem of the deep purple ensemble he called “jajas” rode high on his leg. It was actually a caftan, the type of garment I associated with retirees who played bridge whilst smoking cigarettes and swigging martinis poolside. It shouldn’t have been sexy in the slightest, but the silky fabric draped enticingly over his sharper edges and lithe curves. Winnie looked more like a model posing on a chaise than a fledgling student of Egyptology.

I brushed off the twinge of guilt that he wasn’t out exploring the city, but I was selfishly pleased he wanted to be with me. Besides, it was bloody wicked out there.

Rain slashed the sky diagonally and blew orange and red leaves along the street at the Jardin des Tuileries as afternoon gave way to evening. All that was missing was a roaring fire and a dog at the hearth.

Winnie seemed cozy enough, a computer balanced on his knee, his eyes glued to his screen. He occasionally hummed and made a production of stretching his long limbs across the cushions like a femme fatale in a Hitchcock film, but otherwise, he was engrossed.

I opened my mouth to ask what he was reading just as a message flashed on my computer.

Gerard: Have you discovered anything new? I have a theory I’d like to discuss with you. Are you free to talk?

Yes, but Gerard was the last person I wanted to talk to at the moment. I’d text him later and let him know that his project would have to wait until after the conference. I simply didn’t have the time.

I closed my laptop, stretching my arms above my head as I wandered to the sofa. “Did you find anything interesting?”

Winnie glanced up with a jolt. “You scared me.”

“Sorry.” I sat on the opposite end and pulled his feet across my lap, arranging the silky fabric to cover his ankles. “Are you cold?”

“No. In fact, I’m hot and bothered.” He fanned his face theatrically and scooted closer to me, his legs hooked over my knee. “Look at this. I found the gay couple in Gerard’s naughty pottery piece. They were buried together in a loving embrace with their noses touching. According to my research, that was usually reserved for husbands and wives. And get this…their epilogue says, ‘Joined in life, joined in death.’”

“It’s not an epilogue, it’s an epitaph.”

“Yeah, yeah. This article says homosexuality wasn’t uncommon in the ancient world, and their relationship must have been approved by the pharaoh. I even got their names for you, so ta-da …research complete!” He smacked his hand on my knee and grinned. “Tell Gerard to suck it!”

“Well done. Unfortunately, that’s not the same couple.”

He frowned. “How do you know? ”

“Different timeline.” I gestured at the screen. “Khnumhotep and Niankhkhnum are thought to be the first recorded homosexual couple in history. They shared the title of overseer of the manicurists. The hieroglyphs and painting in the tomb tell their story. They were each married to women, had many children, and worked for the king as trusted servants. Some historians have said they’re brothers, perhaps even twins, but the art and text suggest something undeniably more intimate. And yes, they must have had royal support and lived in a time where sexual fluidity was accepted. The writing on the one Gerard showed us is more like a receipt.”

“A receipt? For sex?”

“Yes, an ostracon is a notepad. A postcard of sorts for making lists, tallying grievances. Ancient Greeks and Romans used them to vote on individuals to be exiled. It’s where we get the word ostracize.”

Winnie gasped. “You mean…their gayness might have been used against these men?”

“There’s no way of knowing for sure, but yes, it’s a possibility.”

“That’s…depressing.” He set his laptop on the coffee table with a sigh. “So the love story in the gay tomb is an anomaly.”

“I’m afraid so.”

“I was hoping there were others like them.” Winnie slumped theatrically. “It sucks being on the outs throughout all of fucking history. I know it, I’ve lived it. I wish there was more.”

“More…what?”

“Love. I love love stories. I love romance.” He threw his hands in the air. “There, I admit it. I love candlelit dinners, long walks, sexy music, and rom-coms where the underdog gets the guy or the girl. I mean, c’mon, is it too much to ask for a damn happily ever after? ”

I widened my eyes and nudged his arm playfully. “Are we still talking about ancient Egyptians?”

“Yes, ’cause those manicurists have a damn cool story and they shared it with the world in pictures and words and…” Winnie sighed. “It’s amazing. I was hoping there were more stories like theirs. It’s nice to think that love like this has existed for thousands of years, and that it was celebrated. We all want a taste of that…or at least, we’d like to feel less alone.”

I nodded. “I suppose that’s true.”

“Does Gerard know what it says?”

“I’m sure he has an idea. He wants to link the newer ostracon to the one at the British Museum and present it at the conference next week. He texted me earlier to discuss it.”

“Have you done any research for Gerard’s project?”

“No, I have my own work to do,” I replied.

He raised a brow and snapped his fingers. “Just like that?”

“I don’t work for Gerard. I translated the passage for him as promised, and whilst I admit there’s some interesting crossover, I don’t have the time or resources to delve deeper. He’ll have to wait.”

“Wow. You’re kind of a badass.”

I snorted. “That’s right, and I have better things to do than have a natter with my ex’s husband.”

Winnie’s eyes sparked with renewed humor. “Oh? Like what?”

“You.”

He barked a laugh and beamed at me. “My naughty professor.”

I kissed his forehead, nose, and lips. “Come. I want to show you something.”

I pulled the curtain open wider, motioning to the light display out the window.

Winnie pressed a hand to his heart in delight as he gazed at the Eiffel Tower sparkling and glittering in the indigo sky. “It’s so beautiful.”

“It’s very pretty,” I agreed.

“Pretty? It’s incondolent!”

I pursed my lips in amusement. “I believe you mean incandescent.”

“Yes! Incandescent.” He hummed reverently. “I’ve seen it every night, but never in a storm.”

I unlatched the door to the balcony and stepped outside, lifting a palm to the sky. “It’s wet, but it’s stopped raining. Come join me.”

Winnie leaned his back against my chest, tilting his chin as I set my hands on his hips and breathed in his scent.

“It’s bejeweled to the nines…like every inch of it is covered in diamonds. This is magic. When I’m sweeping up hair and mixing dyes, I’m going to remember this moment.”

So would I.

Neither of us spoke for a minute or two. This was usually where I’d share a few interesting facts about the Eiffel Tower. It was the tallest structure in Paris, it was built in two years, it was once painted yellow. I had twenty more tidbits, but I kept them to myself and nuzzled his ear.

“You’ll find your happily ever after someday, Win—the right job, the right person. You’re too extraordinary to accept anything less. And thousands of years from now, perhaps some intrepid archeologist will unearth your story and be inspired.”

He turned in my arms, his eyes shiny and bright. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

I wanted to assure him that I meant every word, but my tongue felt too heavy and I didn’t trust my ability to form coherent sentences. So I captured his mouth in a searing kiss, the glow from the Eiffel Tower shimmering like a halo around him .

Winnie was far from angelic, but he was pure in his own way…solid and real. When he was home again, thinking of Paris, I’d be thinking of him.

But he was here now, and I wasn’t going to waste a precious second on work.

We headed inside, shedding clothing as we moved into the bedroom. Sensual kisses accompanied low moans and wanton writhing. Winnie bent between my legs and sucked me to near oblivion. I kneeled behind him, entering him with care—my hands on his hips, my lips hovering near his ear.

We were good at this already. The heady give-and-take, the slide of skin. I’d learned to read his body. I knew he liked it hard and dirty. I knew that he loved praise…any kind—his eyes, his arse, his cock. And I knew which whimpering sound meant he was close.

I flattened him against the mattress and rolled sideways, lifting his left leg as I pumped my hips double time. Winnie stroked himself and my God, with his sex-drunk half-hooded gaze and dark hair strewn across the white pillow, he was a devil and an angel. Dark and light, sin and heaven all at once.

And I fell. So far, so deep.

I came, gasping for air, holding him as if I’d never let go.

In the morning, I awoke with Winnie sprawled over me with one arm flung across his face, looking somehow even more beautiful than ever. My heart swelled till it felt too big for my chest. Bloody hell, this couldn’t be good for me.

I had to snap out of it. I needed coffee and there were things to be done, damn it—calls to return, emails to write, and important research regarding four-thousand-year-old relics. I needed a little separation, a little time to myself. I was usually so good at being alone, but now…all I wanted was Winnie, and this had to stop.

Winnie’s eyes fluttered open, a smile ghosted the corner of his mouth. “G’morning.”

“Good morning.” I swept hair from his forehead, a speech about my busy day on the tip of my tongue. Instead, a voice that sounded remarkably like mine said, “Let’s get out of town, shall we?”