This choice: Are you a female succubus? • Go Back...Chapter #5Are you a female succubus? by: Mr. George   Your insomnia ensures that you're up before the Sun. That combined with your dislike for sleeping in tents. The archaeological dig site looks almost mystical with a low hazy mist covering the first open pits. As the lead archaeologist, you take this as a chance to inspect the progress the team has made.
Your current position feels more administrative, rather than practical. A quick, guilty inspection confirms there's no dirt ingrained beneath your fingernails, the outline of the ancient Roman temple clear through the remains of the walls. However, you don't know the actual state of things, instead your spreadsheet tells you exactly how the finances stand, how long you have left, and how much money you have.
The dew glistens, transferring to your hiking boots as you walk around the site. The hints of fragments visible on the surface confirm the period of the site. Your smile beams, as you find a mosaic floor with only a few cracks spoiling it's perfection. A soft grunt of surprise slipping out, it's almost too perfect. Normally, you'd expect the walls to be re-used over time, stolen to build homes and other buildings over the centuries between then and now.
Perhaps there were more worshippers here, or the locals were more kindly treated by the Romans here. Either respect or fear, you decide. One or the other would be good reasons for the good condition of the site. Thinking over the papers you'll be able to write about this, you smile to yourself, inhaling the streaming coffee vapour curling up from your tin cup.
It's then that you take a second more intense look at the mosaic. It looks as if one of the figures is pointing oddly. A Roman noblewoman, whose attention is in the opposite direction from everyone else in the design. Following her outstretched hand, you find the edge of the pattern. The tessellation just a little thicker than elsewhere. Plucking your brush from your tool belt, you kneel down and go to work. A guilty thrill as you clear away the dirt from area. An irregular outline is revealed, briefly you consider calling Jack,or waking one of the rest of the team to share.
But the orange Sun streams through the branches of the nearby copse, reminding you how early it is. Dismissing it as nerves, you see your fingers are now dirty, and you do now have dirt beneath your fingernails. Carefully with your trowel, you lever the section of mosaic up and away. You've found it, a hidden compartment. Giddy as a child with his first taste of wine, you see a stone flask inside. The seal on the hidden chamber so good, that the flask is pristine, it simply lies there unsullied by dirt, even the stopper: a stone marble held in place with a red wax seal.
Cautiously, you pick it up, turning it over and over admiring the glazing, and the design. It looks out of place, the figures dancing round and around. The tallest one, obviously intended as a God. But, it's none of the pantheon of Roman Gods. A soft moan slipping out, as you realise that's why it's hidden. It's heretical, a throw back to some other worship. Turning it one last time you see the final face of the 'dance', the figures entwined in passion.
Nodding at your own speculation, this is dedicated to a more hedonistic God, to a more pleasure oriented life, one dedicated to Pan... or Bacchus. Or maybe one of the tricksters, amusing themselves by tormenting mortals.
Despite your caution and gentleness, the wax seal crumbles at your touch, and the marble stopper falls with a crack to the mosaic. A thin tendril of green smoke snakes out of the flask.
Corrosion?, Copper?, desiccated wine?
It's not scientific, but you lean closer and take an sniff. As if responding to an invitation, as if triggering a conscious reaction, the green vapour moves with unnatural speed towards your nostrils. Blinking rapidly, your eyes are filled with hypnotic visions of wanton, lusty behaviour. Oddly, unsettlingly, arousingly, you see yourself from the female perspective, her passion mounting, her body alert and pleasure filled. You don't notice as your body slips backwards, you sprawl across the mosaic your body twitching, as your skin ripples and transforms.
An unfamiliar voice haunts you, mocks you. "Time to leave those dull books behind you, and restore your passion for life, your passion for adventure and excitement."
The sentiment chimes with your own thoughts, about leaving the administrative side of things, returning to getting your hands dirty.
"Oh, you'll be dirty." the voice confirmed with amusement.
"Dirty girl..."
Snapping upright, as if waking from a dream, or surfacing from a deep dive. You awake with a heaving gasp. Looking around you see the walls of hotel room, one you wish you could have used for the dig. But financial restraint meant that staying in tents bought you another day of digging. However, you barely noticed the room, barely questioned your presence there. A more immediate, more pressing problem demanded answers.
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Your body, your voluptuous Succubus-sweet body. Your hands roamed over your new curves, every caressing touch confirming it was too real to be a dream, to sensitive to be imagined.
"My first convert." that teasing male voice making you feel vulnerable and naked. You know it's inside your head, even as your eyes dart around for an intruder, a face at the window....   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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