My Stilled Life: Chapter 8


     I woke early and enjoyed the sunrise from my balcony. After dressing, I checked my equipment making sure that everything was charged, that memory cards had been backed-up to my computer. I have a MacBook Pro 13 inch that I can normally fit into a hotel room safe. It takes a little maneuvering but I got it in. And with the rest of my cash, plane tickets and passport in the hotel's safety deposit, I felt pretty secure. 

     I had breakfast in the dining room and, like most smart travelers, I took advantage of the opportunity to fill-up since the meal was included in the price of the room. I lingered a little longer after I'd finished eating hoping to see Helen but unhappily she never appeared. 

     I walked out to the hotel's porte-cochère to wait for Mr. Gad. With a few minutes to spare the sun ravaged Land Cruiser pulled up and I jumped in.

     "Why aren't we taking the ferry this morning?" I asked.

     "I had some other business on this side of the Nile this morning. Also, after the incident with the tires, I just wanted my uncle to run a safety check to make sure that nothing else was done to our vehicle. Also, I must warn you that I've hired my nephew to stay with the car today. He'll meet us at the temple, and he’ll want to practice his English with you. He has a degree in engineering, but being an engineer in Egypt doesn't pay nearly as much as working in the tourist industry." 

     "Well, that's a damn shame. And I'm happy to speak English with him. Do you want me to correct his speech?”   I asked.

     “Surely, sir, it would be greatly appreciated.”

     The road to the Luxor bridge was crowded with large trucks and air-conditioned buses belching diesel fumes into the hot, and dusty atmosphere. Reminds me of L.A. when I was young and we used to have smog alerts. 

     At the military checkpoint on the far side of the bridge, they just waved through the big buses but they wanted a more intimate interview with us. Mr. Gad asked for the copy of my passport and told me to be quiet unless I was asked a direct question. There was a lot of jabbering back and forth, then the officer leaned into the car and pointed a finger at me, "back before sunset, you understand?"

     I nodded, smiled, saying, "Yeah, I got you, boss. Back before sunset. OK."

     Mr. Gad put the car in gear and accelerated away saying, "The security forces have been under a lot of pressure since the last incident involving those dead Swedish tourists.” 

     At the next intersection, unlike most of the other vehicles, we took a left towards Medinet Habu. For some reason that I don't understand, the Funerary Temple of Rameses III is viewed as a secondary attraction. Most tour group itineraries favor the more famous sites in the Valley of the Kings and Deir el Bahri. 

     We parked the car in the shade, near the guest house where Mr. Gad had arranged for us to spend the hours of midday out of the oppressive heat. Once parked a young man approached greeting Mr. Gad with the mandatory familial cheek kissing and hugs. Mr. Gad turned to me and introduced  Mohammed, his nephew, whose only duty today would be to make sure that no one molested the Land Cruiser.

     "Do you think it could happen again?" I asked.

     "Why take chances, tires are very expensive in Egypt. They have to be imported and the duty doubles the cost, so I prefer to be heedful." 

     minutes informing the individual behind the counter that I was a very important personage. I pushed a 100 Egyptian pound note through the window. The cashier tore a printed ticket from his book and handed it alone with my change back to me. I accepted the ticket but shunned the change, putting a knowing grin on the cashier's face. 

     We walked 100 yards further in, to where the Temple's gate keeper stood. Mr. Gad and the inspector spoke for several minutes, then he introduced me. I shook hands with the inspector and smiling he took the fifty-pound note that I palmed him, as I had been instructed. Mr. Gad said that it's always a good policy to engender good will among the site's guardians. And since Egyptian prefer not to be seen taking a tip, discretion is indicated especially when others are around.  

     I left, Mr. Gad and the guard still talking and walked into the temple complex proper. After examining a diagram of the temple in my guide book, I walked over to where the sacred lake used to be and got a shot of the temple's massive first pylon. At over 200 feet in height, it was glorious in the morning light. Still a very impressive statement of reverence and power after standing for over three thousand years. 

     I kept taking pictures until the shadows began to disappear. As we all know, the light between 10 am and 3 pm is never good for image creation, so I made my way back to the guest house.

     I spent the next five hours in the cool shade discussing the state of the world with several other patrons. Once the other guests found out I was American, they slowly began to enumerating the ways all the world's problems could be laid at my doorstep or that of the United States. 

     "The problem with the States is that it’s not the US of World War II. It's become greedy and fat, both its people and corporations. Where's the altruistic America of yesteryear?" one Australian gentleman said as his wife guzzled Egyptian beer while nodding her head. 

     A German lady added, "How could any sane nation elect such a buffoon as president. It is beyond understanding."

     This went on for a while. My fellow guests were having a rollicking good time at my expense. I was good natured about it but finally injected, "The last time I was in Vietnam, I met an Indian professor from Hong Kong. We were discussing the state of world politics and I was a little negative about some of the recent American actions when he shook his head saying, "The world would rue the day that the United States loses its world leadership position and is replaced by China. No matter what flaws America has, at least it puts up with unwarranted dissent. Once China is in charge, not going along with governmental pronouncements will be a thing of the past. You can see it in what's happened in Hong Kong since the British were forced out. It's subtle but believe me, opposition is not tolerated. Many of us are just waiting for that late night knock on the door." 

     Around 3 pm, I picked up my camera bag, bid my fair weather companions goodbye and made my way back inside the temple. The shadows had returned and I began to see interesting compositions and a way to convey the peaceful beauty of Rameses III funerary statement. 

     Near sunset I happened upon Helen in a back corner of the Great Hypostyle Hall tucked away behind her easel. 

     "Helen, I see you found your way here. How do you like Medinet Habu?"

     "It's really peaceful here and I only had to tip the guard a few pounds to let me set up my easel."

     "I wish you'd stopped by the guest house outside the entrance. I was verbally getting my ass kicked by a group of disgruntled Europeans and Australians dissatisfied with U.S. policies. I could have used a little help. 

     "What makes you think I would have been on your side?” She said laughing 

     "Thanks for your support; I'll be here until closing. If you need a ride back to the hotel we had room in the car, just let me know," I said moving away.


     Around 3:30 a tour bus pulled up and off-loaded a horde of Russian tourist. The tour guides did their best to keep them orderly but the Russians were an unruly bunch. I was waiting patiently for them to move out of frame when two inappropriately dressed Russian ladies accosted me. They held out their battered silver flask offering me the opportunity to partake of their magic elixir. I gracefully declined with a flourish of regret and they reluctantly left after placing vodka soaked smooches on my face. Once they were out of sight, Helen walked out of the shadows laughing. She took out her handkerchief, wet it with a bit of her saliva, and scrubbing the bright red lipstick from my face.

     “They seemed to like you. Did they invite you back to their place?” she asked mockingly.

     "You could have come out and shooed them away."

     "I just wanted to see you squirm a little. No harm done. They were really pretty cute in their matronly ways."

     "I'm beginning to see a very merciless side to your cruelty," I said with a mocking smile. 

     "Oh, poor baby. Have you had a hard day picture taking? Why don't we head back to the hotel where you can relax after your arduous day? “At this point, she switched from her English accent to a syrupy sweet southern drawl. "And please, kind sir, can this damsel get a lift back to the Palace?”


     I had just finished plugging in everything to recharge overnight when there was a knock at my door. I got up and peeped through the tiny viewport, then unlocked and opened the door. 

     "Hi Helen, is something wrong?" I stood aside. "Come, in please, no need to stand in the hall."

     She plunked herself down in the room's only lounge chair, looking at me coyly, "Look, Ford, we both seem to be plain spoken citizens of the world with little use for convention. I find you attractive and if I haven't misread your body language, you don't find me too repulsive. I haven't had sex for a while and I'm in need of a  quick meaningless fuck. You appear to be unattached, unencumbered, and with a demeanor that I find appealing. Feel like doing me a ‘solid’ as they say on American television?

     I was stunned. "Are you sure? You've seen me. I'm middle-aged, not in that greatest of shape, have a tiny dick and like to do weird things. I'm not sure that you'll get what you need from me. I'd be more than happy to do you a solid, but it's up to you, I'm completely at your service, but if you have regrets tomorrow, remember, you asked me." 

     I added, "Oh, one other thing, I don't have any protection. What about you?” 

     "I got a new life insurance policy three months ago and had to have a physical. They found that I was in good health, free of disease, including STDs. I'm still fertile, but if worse comes to worst I can always, make arrangements to correct the problem. From what I've observed, you don't seem to be amoral, so if you can vouch for your wellness, I don't see why we can't enjoy a vigorous evening of mutual exploration… What do you say?” 

     "Well, I can vouch for my health. And as far as pregnancy goes, you don't have to worry, I had a vasectomy in my early twenties.”

     "Why a vasectomy?"

     "Let's just say that mine was not the most enjoyable childhood and I didn't want to be responsible for inflicting the same kind of torment on a new generation.”

     "Shall we start?" she hungrily asked.

     I stood there just sort of dumbstruck. But then Helen looked at me for a minute, laughed, stood and unbuttoned her blouse. She wasn't wearing a bra and her tits were beautiful. Not overly full but pert and erect, the kind that makes my mouth water. I walked over to the door, put out the Do Not Disturb sign and double locked it. 

     I grabbed the bedspread from the bed, whipping it onto the floor. I turned and Helen was standing in front of me with just her cotton panties on. I picked her up and delivered her to the bed and began struggling to get my boots off as she pounced. 


     I always try to follow Ron Jeremy's first commandment: Your partner always needs to cum at least twice before you begin intercourse in earnest.


     Once I was naked, her every touch became electric as we rolled around on the bed making out. I'd had a long dry spell and had to concentrate on not becoming too excited. She was completely at ease without any judgment or restraint. I teased and sucked her erect nipples while allowing my baby finger to move down her body and delve into the fleshy lips that guard her sex. It's like connecting the two poles of a battery and allowing the current to flow uninterrupted between the two clusters of pleasure receptors. I flattened my tongue, using it to compress her nipple and aureola into a single erogenous zone where I could use my tongue's natural roughness in a short stroke sawing motion to heighten her sensation. She began to make little mewing sounds as my hand traced and stretched out each fold of her labia majora and minora. Making sure that my touch is just rough enough to fully stimulate without crossing the threshold into pain. Within minutes she arched her back and began to squirm, which encouraged me into working hard. After several hard shudders, she signaled that she'd had enough. 

     She lay still for a while but when she began to stir, I moved down to explore, kissing and teasing her clitoris as she wrapped her legs around my head. I began to slowly recite the alphabet, making sure that I used my tongue, lips, and an occasional finger to enunciate every syllable, making sure that her "little bump" understood my meaning. After she reached orgasm again, she fell into a deep sleep which I felt was a little unfair. 

     After an hour of trying to gently wake her, I gave up. Well, just another example of my sexual prowess or lack of it.

All materials copyright Ronald Gary Dunlap
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