“It is not our business and it is not anyone else’s business, Roger.” He nodded. “You will keep silent about what you see, no?” Roger nodded vigorously. “Good,” said Sandrine. She hugged him again.“Let us sit down and see what these two have left us to eat and drink.” She spread out luxuriously beside Amélie, her rear end pushing against Amélie, who remained wrapped in Gérard’s arms. “Kindly spare us some room, Mistress Amélie.” Amélie growled but she moved over and Sandrine and Roger reclined side by side. Sandrine grabbed a slice of meat and some bread and made it into an impromptu sandwich and offered it to Roger.Instead of taking the sandwich Roger drew close and kissed Sandrine. Her chuckle was garbled by the kiss. She did not draw away. Instead she put the sandwich down and put her hand on his neck. He felt warm to her touch but his skin was smooth. She did not resist the urge to move her fingers up to his hair and to comb them through his tresses. He had washed his hair only a. My 'expedition' had been a failure, though in truth it neverexisted. I had no funding. Only a fool's hope and a death wish.The locals had been polite, yet must have laughed at this silly foreignerbehind my back. "There's nothing there, sir. Just windswept rock andfaded spirits."Nevertheless, the desire for discovery --hope for connecting with thehoary past-- had burned in me, ever after I had pricked my hand on thesilver spike.I had been tasked to clean the artefact for display in a museum far awayfrom its home. I should have ignored the matter or taken the spike andran, but I had been a coward. Instead, I had wasted my savings on makinga perfect replica of the needle. The real one was heavy in my pocket.Venturing deep into a distant land with little money hadn't been easy,yet the generosity and pity of the locals had eventually taken me to thetown at the border of the endless desert.When the dreams started, I was sure my brains had cooked. When I began towish the visions were a sign.
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