Incest/Taboo Pharaoh’s Curse

Andrew McCain stood in the airport with his father and his new wife who were taking a very long summer honeymoon. They had been dating for the past three years of his eighteen-year-old life. Not that he didn't like the woman that his father had married, Wilma was quite the lovely lady. She brought happiness to his father. Andrew couldn't ask for more. After his own mother left them for some high fancy museum job eight years ago he had hated her for it as he always saw the sadness in his father's eyes.

So, when Wilma came along he was the first one to congratulate his father on finding the woman that brought joy back into his life; and in time Wilma started to feel like a mother to him. So, when they told him that they were going to take a world cruse he was elated for them. Not so much when his father told him he would have to stay with his mother while they were gone. Not that his father didn't trust him to be on his own for a weekend, which had happen a number of times. His father wasn't about to leave his teenage son in a house all alone for two and a half months.

"Come on Dad, I don't want to go to Egypt," Andrew groaned as the overhead lights played along his dark red hair that he had inherited from his mother.

"It'll be over before you know it," Wilma said, flashing him that motherly smile, which she had honed to perfection. Her grey eyes peered at him through her frameless glasses, her light brown hair bounced softly on her shoulders. Andrew knew; while yes, she did wear the minimal amount of makeup, Wilma never needed too. She was just that beautiful. He wouldn't openly admit it to anyone, but he did masturbate to her on a semi-regular basis as her perky right 36B breast pressed against his father's left arm. Her slender arms rested in the nook of his elbow, the light glinting off the ten-carat diamond of her engagement ring. Andrew knew being a kindergarten teacher she had married up due to his father running one of the top advertisement firms in New York. Not that Andrew held that against her. He was glad they had found each other.

He just didn't want to spend his summer with his mother; a mother, he might add, he hadn't spoken to for eight long years. After he failed to respond to the letters she would write during the first year her letters stopped altogether. Which he was glad for, he didn't have a thing to say to her. His mother cared more about three-thousand-year-old bones than she did about her own son, how she nearly destroyed his father.

"Andrew," Julián said, in a stern fatherly voice as he placed his strong meaty hand on Andrew's right shoulder. "I understand your feelings regarding your... mother," he said, with the hint of bitterness in his voice. His light green eyes softening as the wrinkles formed by laughs and mirth, not by sadness, lined the sides of his eyes as he stared at his son. His trim salt and pepper beard sat close to his face. His strong jaw held aloof his high cheekbones as he lightly squeezed his shoulder. "I know you can take care of yourself, but I'm not leaving my million-dollar penthouse condo in your care for two months," Julián said, his lips curved into a warm smile. Knowing they'd had this talk serval times that week.

"But does it have to be her?!" Andrew pleaded with his father. "Why can't I stay with Aunt Candis and Uncle Peter?"

"You know why," Julián said, patting his son's shoulder. "They have enough on their hands than to deal with you under foot as well," he said, referring to their new twins they had just given birth to thanks to the advancements in science.

"That's our flight," Wilma said, lightly patting her husband's bicep. "Now Andy," only Wilma called him that, "you behave yourself during the flight, and when you get back we'll all go out to celebrate our reunion," she said, slyly winking at him as she moved past him as they left him at his gate.

His cheeks heated recounting the time when she abruptly walked into his room when he was going to town on himself, and to his horror she had heard him moan out her name. So, every so often she would tease him with scantily clad photos of herself in various displays of erotism.

"Andy, I know this will be hard on you." Wilma's text vibrated his phone in his pocket as he waited for his flight to board. Andrew swallowed hard as he stared at the two naked photos of his new step-mother. He could feel his cock growing as he zoomed in on her bare 36B breasts then to that bright pink cunt she held open for the camera. "I know these aren't much, but I hope they will take your mind off of things while you're there. Worry not..." A devious little devil emoji appeared on his screen. "You're sweet adoring mother wouldn't leave you with two, oh no, you shall see much more over the months we are away from one another. Your father is returning, we'll see you soon." Andrew felt his face heat all over again as she sent another one of her blowing him a kiss with those sweet supple lips of hers.

As the speakers overhead blared announcing the boarding of his flight. With a reluctant sigh, Andrew lifted himself out of his seat. Pulling out his plane ticket from his back pocket and handing it to the man at the podium. At least he knew he wouldn't be flying coach; Andrew could at least take comfort in that.

"Fuck it's hot," Andrew groaned in annoyance as he felt the heat burning through the airport's windows. Even with the air-cooled interior the late Egyptian summer sun was winning against the machines. "I bet they didn't think of this in Terminator, the machines would melt!" he muttered to himself as he walked through the busy airport in Cairo. Once he retrieved his bags, he sucked up his courage to go face the woman that had left him behind... at least that was what he thought. "Really?!" Andrew loudly groaned as he saw a woman, not his mother, holding a sign with his full name on it.

"You look so much like what your mother told me," her slight English accent seemed odd due to her Egyptian decent.

"Where is she?" Andrew asked, his temper rising. He was sure the twenty something woman was pleasant, but his father had told him his mother had assured him that she would be here.

"She's on a dig, she sent me in her place to fetch you," the woman said, wondering why he sounded angry. "Come, we have a long drive ahead of us."

"Wait... I'm not staying in the city?" Andrew asked, perplexed.

"No, Professor Sanders is in charge of the dig, it would be irresponsible of her to leave the site," she said, as the desert wind lifted her ebony hair off her shoulders. "Especially since we found something big," she said, ominously. Not that Andrew cared, he already missed his air-conditioned high-rise bedroom.

"Just great, just what I wanted to do with my summer," Andrew sighed as he tossed his bags into the back of the range rover.

Andrew had stared uninterestedly out on the sand dunes as they sped down the desert highway. When the woman beside him learned that he wasn't in the mood to talk she had quickly turned on the radio. Slyly pulling out his phone, gazing at the nude photo of Wilma. He still couldn't believe she actually sent that to him. Sending his father a quick text telling him that he had landed and on his way to meet his... mother. How he hated typing that word.

"Glad you're safe son. I know it's hard, but I know you can get through this." His father sent back along with a selfie of him and Wilma at the bow of the ship as the glaciers of Alaska appeared in the background. His fingers trailed down his father's smiling face. Knowing it was going to be two long months before he could see it again in person.

"We'll be at the dig site soon." Andrew's eyes glanced to his left as she spoke over the sound of the radio. He honestly couldn't see anything other than mounds and mounds of sand that stretched as far as the eye could see.

"How can you tell?" Andrew asked, after they been on the road for the past four hours.

"GPS," she said, smiling at him pointing at the device.

As they passed what Andrew thought were nothing more than more sand dunes like he had been staring aimlessly at for the past four hours until the top of the buried temple came into view. The thirty-foot-tall statue of Bast stood in the center of the complex. What he found surprising was the statue looked like it was painted yesterday. Which he knew was impossible, given that the religion died out around 300 to 500 AD. His history books were never that clear on the subject, nor did he take to it given that it reminded him of his mother and all those books that cluttered the house before she ran off. Groaning as he opened the door, wishing he could just live inside the interior of the Range Rover for the next two months. Already feeling his sweat beading along his brow as he grabbed his bags.

The canvas tent flaps fluttered in the dessert wind. A neat row of ten greeted him as he walked towards them. Seeing a red cross above on of the tents' openings due to the dig site being four hours away from any form of civilized life. Chatter filled the air as he followed after the woman that drove him there.

"Professor Sanders!" The woman called out leaving Andrew behind as a late twenties, olive tone skinned man stepped out of the larger of the ten tents. Andrew ignored them as the woman wrapped her arms around his neck. Waving him in without losing a beat as she and whomever the guy was kissed like they haven't seen each other in years.

And so, as Andrew stood in the entrance to the tent. After eight long years he saw the first image of his mother. Her long, dark red, thick hair was held up by a hair band that strained under the pressure. Her army green shirt sat lightly on her chest, letting everyone know she wasn't wearing a bra underneath given how the cotton detailed the shape of her breasts and her nipples. Her once alabaster skin now held a healthy tan due to her years beneath the blazing sun. Her tan cargo shorts fell a few inches above her knees. Her muscular calves flexed as she shifted her feet, another hard-earned perk due to her years traversing tombs, temples, and more importantly giant sand dunes.

"Hello Andrew," his mother said, without bothering to look at him as she studied the artifacts they had just unearthed.

"Hello Alexandria," Andrew said, with cold indifference. Why his grandparents named her that he had no clue, nor did he have one for the guy who conquered the known world at the time couldn't be better at -- naming things! Her sky-blue eyes flickered over to him at the sound of his bags hitting the tent floor.

"I told your father that I wouldn't be able to look after you until next month, yet he sends you here anyway," Alexandria sighed shaking her head.

"Not that I need looking after, I am eighteen. I've taken care of myself so far," Andrew said, coldly.

"I don't have time to have this discussion with you..."

"No, of course not, you never did when dead people were involved. Shall I go bury myself and get mummified, would you then have time for your own son," Andrew said, his anger rising as he crossed his arms.

"No, even then you wouldn't be that interesting," Alexandria (or as she liked to be called Alex), said as she studied the piece of shattered pottery, returning his own coldness back to him. "Shouldn't you people be doing something?" Alex scolded her undergraduates as they just stood there listening in stunned shock.

"Just tell me where I can sleep and an outlet and we can go on ignoring each other like we've done for the past eight years," Andrew huffed.

"Where do you think we are? Do you see any power lines?" Alex asked, arching an eyebrow at her son.

"You have generators, right?"

"Only used when they are needed, not to charge your little toys," Alex said, returning to her cataloging the relics. "If you need to charge it use the one in the Rover, but it's going have to last a few days. I can't have you wasting gas just so you can chat with your little Facebook people," she said, not hiding her smirk at the horrified look on her son's face. "As for where you'll sleep..." She lowered her yellow pad, sighing in her mind knowing it's going to be two long months. An equally three long weeks since she hadn't been with anyone for the last eight years. Her career came first, it was the reason she lost her family in the first place. "You'll have to bunk with me," Alex said, turning to look at her son seeing the equally horrified look on his face at the thought of it. "Or you can sleep in the sand with the scorpions and camel spiders, your choice," she said, shrugging her shoulders. Her thin lips curved into a smile as she heard her son's sigh. "I'll take that as you choose not to sleep with the scorpions and the camel spiders," Alex said, setting down her pad and pen. "Like I said, I told your father as such given this is a working dig. Not some vacation spot for him to send his son to. The limited space we have has been allotted to those that want to be here. Who want to make history."

"Is that so," Andrew said, narrowing his eyes. "So, dried up bodies, powdered organs in canopic jars, rotten linen wraps were worth everything?"

"I don't expect you to understand," Alex sighed. She had tried to get her son to understand why she left, but he never wrote her back. He probably never read her letters in the first place. Not that she could blame him, her son was entitled to be angry with her. She did after all choose dead people over her own living son.

"Whatever just show me the way already," Andrew said, growing tired of the conversation already.

"I can show him to your tent Professor Sanders." Andrew turned to look at the unknown speaker only to see that same guy who nearly sucked the face off the woman that drove him there.

"Thank you Abasi, make sure he doesn't touch anything," Alex said, returning to her work. She had to get what was on the table cataloged before nightfall. There was much, much more work to do before the site was shut down. The Egyptian government only gave them a month to do a preliminary study of the site to see if it was worth it to fund a more thorough one after the winter. That month started a week ago once they had finally got all the sand carted out. She just couldn't understand why they would build such a grand complex temple only to bury it once it had been completed. Had a sand storm buried it? Did they purposely do it, to hide it... Shaking her head at the thought. "No, that can't be right," Alex muttered to herself.

"Of course, Professor," Abasi said, bowing his head slightly. "Follow me," he said, while shyly checking Alex out. "So, you're the Professor's son..."

"Listen, can we not talk about that?" Andrew asked, as one of his bags rested against his back while the other hung from his left hand.

"Sure, whatever you want," Abasi nodded. Glad he didn't have to play nice with a spoiled little rich kid, or that's what he took Andrew as. Little did he know what Andrew did to comfort his father when his mother shattered his heart, of all the little things only he could do being a ten-year-old child. Just so he could see his father smile at least once a day. So, he wouldn't think about how his mother left their lives in shambles. "Obviously, you can tell where the med tent is. If you have to go... you know," Abasi said, peering over his shoulder. "They're behind the water truck," he said, pointing in the general direction. "Just follow the smell. Shouldn't be hard to miss.

That's the mess hall, and this," Abasi said, stopping in front of the second to largest tent there. "Is the Professor's tent," he said holding the flap to the side. The front of the tent was filled with reference books: a folding desk littered with small pieces of a statue, a leather-bound journal, a small laptop, and his eyes narrowed at the picture that sat on the desk. It was of when he had just turned ten, a few months before his mother fled from their home. Taken in central park, his mother holding him close as her chin rested on his right shoulder her arms around his waist hugging him close as his father took the picture. It was the last time he had happy thoughts about the park and that warm spring afternoon. "Just past the insect netting is her sleeping quarters," Abasi said. Wondering how he was going to worm his way into her bed now. "I'll leave you to it," he said, sharing a slight nod with Andrew.

Andrew's bags thumped on the tent floor as he dropped them beside the wall. Arching an eyebrow at the hammock and the ingenious fan attachment that hung over it. Yawning as the jet lag was catching up with him. Pulling out his phone, texting his father that due to the lack of power, he'll have to text him every few days to save his phone's battery.

"Okay son. I'll text to you in a few days." Julián texted back.

"Miss you Dad," Andrew texted back, smiling warmly at his phone when the words 'I love you too' appeared on his screen before he powered off his phone. Tucking it into the pocket of his bag so sand wouldn't creep into the case. Pulling his sweat soaked shirt off, tossing it onto the top of his bag. Kicking off his tennis shoes and stuffing his soaks into them. Hoping the netting would keep all those nasty scorpions and camel spiders out. Sighing as he laid on the cool sheets that covered the hammock as he gently swung side to side. Before he knew it Andrew was drifting off to sleep.

He didn't know how long he slept for, the sound of water dripping into a pail gradually brought him to the surface of his waking mind. As he slowly opened his eyes, his breath was caught in his chest. There his mother stood in the weak light of the LED lantern the large yellow sponge ran along her arm. A single droplet of water hung on her light pink nipple as she ran the sponge along the top of her chest. He didn't know why he kept on looking as his mother tilted her head back, running the sponge down the valley of her 32C breasts. Down her flat stomach and in-between her legs. Biting his lower lip as his mother bent over, the stubble of her formerly shaven mound could be seen as his eyes were glued to it.

Andrew had to admit for a woman in her early forties her cunt almost looked virginal in all its neat, tight packaging. Quickly shutting his eyes, he could almost feel his mother's eyes on him as he heard her movements still. He dared not look fearing that she would know he had spied on her bathing. Andrew felt something light and soft lowering on his body. The shifting of the hammock nearly made him clutch to the side of it. Then he felt something very odd and very, very familiar. The brushing of the back of her fingers along his cheek sent him back to his childhood when he would climb into bed with his mother. The way she would do that very thing, then he felt her lips on his forehead which would always end the gesture before he would fall asleep.

"I am sorry, Andrew. I know how angry you are with me. But I had to follow my dream. I hope you can come to understand that someday," Alex whispered. Andrew totally wasn't expecting his mother to say that, nor was he expecting to hear her soft sobs as she rolled to her right. God. He felt like an ass.

"But couldn't you do that in New York?!" He wanted to ask but he was a coward and simply fall back asleep.

Andrew awoke with his mother's face less than two inches away from his. Her arm was draped along his chest. His heart instantly leapt to his throat as he felt his mother's bare breasts pressed against his arm and chest. Her right leg was wrapped around his. His eyes darted down to her lips as she lightly smacked and gently rubbed her cheek against shoulder. Then his mother's eyes shot open darting to his face then down to his body.

"Oh God! I'm so sorry Andrew!" Alex said, clutching the blanket to her chest as she nearly flew off the hammock. Her eyes fell on the bulge in his shorts. Instantly she felt her face reddening at the sight of her son's morning wood. "Well... you definitely aren't the little boy I once knew," she said to herself. Watching how he swung his legs off the side of the hammock. Knowing he was probably as embarrassed as she was. "Give me a few minutes to get dressed then you can wash yourself... i-i-if you have to... do it in the pail and toss it out," Alex said, unable to bring herself to say masturbate to her son.

Andrew could only nod as he sat with his back to her. The image of her naked body flashed in his mind as his cheeks heated. No matter what he thought about, the image of his mother's cunt would always make its way back into the fold. This so wasn't like him, he totally wasn't attracted to his mother, yet apparently his cock didn't get the message. What felt like eternity, to him, passed as he sat there waiting for her to get dressed.

"A-Andrew, meal time is normally in an hour, then we'll talk," Alex said, her voice stammering a little. Seeing him nod, "Maybe it was just as weird for him as well?" she asked herself as she pushed passed the insect netting. Her eyes widened as she peered back one last time as she stood in the tent's entrance only to see that proud tent sticking out before him. Quickly hurrying to the main tent that served as their command center so she could assign whomever to whichever grid for the day.

Andrew stared down at his image in the pail. Knowing how weird this morning already was. Shaking of the feeling, he so didn't want to be caught standing nude and looking dumbfounded into a pail of water. Washing the salty residue off his body, and still his cock had yet to return to his slumber. Looking to the front of the tent, watching the flaps wave slightly, his ears strained to hear any noise. He so wasn't about to be caught red handed stroking his meat, especially by his mother. Angling his rod downward, listening to the sound of his jizz striking the side of the pail. Sighing in relief that no one had barged into the tent.

Sending his father a silent thank you for all the linen clothes he had bought for him. Andrew hoped at least with these he wouldn't be so damn hot. His body was frozen as the imagine of his mother's right breast appeared in his head. The way the light played along its curvature, how that single water droplet hung off of her... Shaking his head rapidly to dislodge those thoughts. "What the hell is wrong with me?!" Andrew asked himself. He never once thought of his mother that way. He could understand with Wilma since technically she wasn't even related to him, but his own mother?! It wasn't like he had these thoughts beforehand, so why now? Why now does his mind picture her naked body, the shape of her womanhood, the... "Stop it!" he growled smacking his forehead trying to reassert his dominance over his mind.

"Andrew?" Alex called out to him as she stood out of sight. "Are you decent?"

"Yeah," Andrew said, quickly pulling up his white linen shorts. Praying his little monster wouldn't return for quite some time.

"Have you taken..." Alex's eyes glanced to the pail then to her son as she stepped inside the tent. Watching how his shirt slid down his bare chest.

"Not yet, just finishing getting dressed," Andrew said, digging in his bag for a pair of clean socks.

"I'll take care of it then," Alex said, hurriedly pushing through the insect netting. The water sloshed in the pail. Her eyes were glued to those white gooey streaks on its side. Her nostrils flared as the scent of her own son's cum filled them.

Andrew arched an eyebrow at his mother's odd actions as she walked hurriedly out of the tent. No matter how hard he tried he just couldn't keep his eyes off of her ass as she left. God! He wished there was a door, a wall, a giant boulder where he could bash his head against to try to return his mind back to a normalized state. For this was so not normal, not in the slightest.

Alex's eyes fluttered as she sucked her fingers clean. Her eyes flew open, the pail fell from her grip. Horror laced her gaze as she tasted her son's semen on her tongue. "What have I done!" she roared into her mind. Yet as her eyes fell upon the spot that her son had soaked in his cum she wanted more. She needed to taste it when it was nice and hot straight from the source. How she had missed that taste. She had put everything on hold for her career, to her family, dating, and yes, even sex. This was where she wanted to be, to be the one that unearthed treasures that hadn't seen the light of day for thousands of years. Nonetheless, she couldn't help herself, the scent of her own son's cum was driving her mad with lust. Her breathing quickened, her mound heated, her nipples... "Stop it!" slapping herself across her right cheek to break her train of thought. "That's Andrew you're thinking about!" Alex berated herself. Her head turned at the sound of the dinner bell, sighing hoping those thoughts were only because of her lack of male companionship and not that she wanted to bed her son.

"So... am I to hang out in your tent for the next three weeks?" Andrew asked, as he sat across from his mother as breakfast got under way.

"No," Alex shook her head. "You'll be helping out around here. You do want to eat, don't you?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Like what, digging up the dead, finding long lost jewelry?"

"No," Alex said, suppressing her chuckle. "You don't have the skill or the expertise for that," she said, feeling twelve eyes on her and her son. "You'll be helping me most of the day so I can get what we have unearthed packed and shipped to the museum so the pieces can go through better scientific testing than we can do from here," Alex said. "Is my own son blushing?" Shaking the thought from her mind. She would have thought he would have put up more of a fit, yet Andrew only mumbled an alright. "Bill I want you and Anta to finish with the east wing so we can get the 3D mapper in there without destroying anything we missed. Carla you and Haas will be translating the hieroglyphs in the western wing then when the mapping is done in the eastern wing work on those. Even with the mapper I'd rather have a hard copy before we are forced out of here. Abasi you'll be transporting the crates back into the city. Make sure you aren't too reckless in your driving. Take Akila with you that way I know the pieces will get there safely, and pick up the supplies we need," Alex said, dolling out her orders.

"Yes Professor," all six said in unison.

"You done eating?" Alex asked, watching how her son was pushing around the date on his plate. It seemed Egyptian food didn't sit well with her son.

"Yeah," Andrew muttered. Leaning back as his mother reached across the table. Taking a dry swallow as his mother's shirt allowed him to gaze down the opening. He would like to say that he didn't ogle the top of his mother's braless breasts but that would be a lie.

"Come on Andrew, we have a lot of work to do," Alex said, nudging his shoulder with the butt end of a cold-water bottle once she had placed their plates in the plastic tub allowing the two cooks the museum hired to clean up. It was the same with the nurse. While they didn't interact with them Alex knew they were good people, just desperately in need of the paycheck that came along with such digs. What they were paid for a month of work would in most cases be a year's pay for them. She was acutely aware of her son at her back as she led him towards the main tent. While she was always aware of men's eyes on her, yet she never actually paid attention to them. Although, that didn't seem to be the case where her son was involved. "Stop it Alexandria!" she growled to herself while mentally smacking herself.

"Be sure you put enough straw between the two layers," Alex said, as she worked to catalog what she failed to get to last night. Feeling her lips form into a smile at Andrew's 'Yes mother' as he knelt over the crate he was currently packing. Her head shot up, turning her head as she heard something that she thought she would never hear again. "You remember your hieroglyphics?!" Alex asked in wonder, as Andrew peered up from the small jar in his hand.

"Yeah," Andrew said, diverting his gaze to the tent floor. It wasn't like he didn't try to forget the lessons his mother taught him; however, it appeared every time he went to the museums in New York when his father was out with Wilma those lessons kept coming back as he walked around the exhibits. "I wonder what this guy did though?" Andrew stated to no one in particular.

"What do you mean?" Alex asked, curious. While she couldn't repair the hurt she had caused eight years ago, she hoped they could at least be cordial.

"Here," Andrew said, gingerly holding the small jar towards his mother.

"I see what you mean," Alex muttered as she stared at the space where a name once had been.

"Didn't you tell me they only did that like in the worst-case scenarios. Like that guy -- whomever he was -- that instated that Aten god?" Andrew asked, looking up to the tent's ceiling trying to remember the pharaoh's name.

"Akhenaten," Alex said, she couldn't help but feel some sense of pride that their little lessons she would give him had stuck. "Do you remember his name before he became Akhenaten?"

"Amenhotep... something," Andrew said, shrugging his shoulders.

"Close enough," Alex mused. All the while her heart was elated, wondering what else her son remembered from the time they would hide away in his sheet forts. Her reading to him as he sat in her lap as she taught him the ways of the ancient Egyptians. "I don't know why his name was obliterated... maybe we can find out together?" She prayed that was true as she sat the jar back into his hand.

"Got it all packed up..."

"Professor Sanders!" Anta shouted as she raced towards the main tent.

"What is it?" Alex asked, stepping out into the sun. Listening to the hammer as Andrew nailed the lid closed.

"I think you will want to see this," Anta panted. Her ebony hair glistened in the sunlight.

"Very well, Andrew are the crates ready?" Alex asked, turning to look at her son.

"Yeah," Andrew nodded, wiping his brow, even in the shade it was hot. He couldn't understand how his mother and the others weren't sweating as much as he was.

"Anta go and inform Abasi that the shipment is ready then join us in the eastern wing. Come along Andrew, you might just find this... enlightening," Alex said, the desert wind softly lifted her dark red hair. Her sky-blue eyes followed the movement of his hand as he laid the hammer gently on the table.

"Yes Professor," Anta nodded. Sand billowed up as she turned to run towards Abasi's tent where he had been sleeping off the heat of the day.

"And make sure he knows to check everything on the supply list I sent over!" Alex called out to her as she led Andrew down the sand embankment.

"Okay!" Anta called back.

"Watch your step Andrew," Alex warned as she carefully walked down the thirty-foot embankment.

"Why?"

"Snakes like to hide underneath the sand along with the scorpions to escape the heat," Alex said, peering over her shoulder watching how her son tentatively tested his footing with every step. "Come on slowpoke!" she teased as she stood at the entrance gate to the temple.

"I think you are enjoying this far too much mother," Andrew said, feeling his cheeks heat at his mother's soft giggle.

"I'm not telling," Alex mused, a smirk graced her lips. Her eyes lustered in mischievousness as she led Andrew into the temple proper.

Andrew's eyes widened at the sight before him. The legendary Egyptian blue was so... vibrant, so spectacular, it was breath taking to behold. His mother's hand shot out stopping him from touching it. Fearing that the oils in his skin would damage the paint.

"Look, but don't touch," Alex said, in a stern motherly voice.

Andrew glanced down at his hand as his mother held on to it. Even in all this sand and heat it still felt as soft as he remembered it. It appeared to him that his mother was blushing as she held his hand like she once did when she would take him on what she would call 'mini-expeditions' but in reality they were just to whichever museum caught her fancy. It was only when they reached the entrance of the eastern wing that she let go of his hand.

"Watch were you walk," Alex muttered low. Non-UV lights shone along the walls to help keep the paint as vibrant as they could before the oxidation sat in. When that happened she knew they would have to rely on the photos they had taken to reference what it and many of the other temples, palaces, and monuments must have looked like in ages past. Her eyes flickered down when Bill called to her.

"Professor what do you make of it?" Bill asked, gesturing to the newly uncovered wall.

"Hmm," Alex hummed as she stared up at the image of Bast overseeing the sexual actives of her followers. It wasn't the same Bast everyone knew of. This temple must be far older than she originally thought.

"Man, who would have thought the ancient Egyptians were perverts," Andrew said, peering up at the other wall with his back to his mother. Alex bit down on her lip to keep her mirth contained. "Really?! The guy needed servants to hold his schlong? I mean come on that's just ridiculous. If it was that big wouldn't he like die from blood loss trying to fill... What?" Andrew asked, perplexed as to why they were laughing.

"Bill said almost the same thing," Anta said, flashing Andrew a smile as she entered.

"Great minds think alike, huh?" Bill asked, in a friendly manner.

"Bill don't encourage the boy," Alex said, taking on her teacher persona.

"Boy?! By their standards I'm a middle-aged man," Andrew said, turning his nose up at his mother.

"Oh?" Alex cooed turned to her right. "What kind of middle-age man blushes in a temple, hmm?"

"One that's covered from floor to ceiling in porn!" Andrew said, lifting his arms up mimicking paying homage to the gods.

"Oh, I like the way you think," Bill chuckled.

"Although, who's this Onouphrios?" Andrew muttered. He knew it was a pharaoh's name given the cartouche. He just never heard of the name before.

"Andrew what do you mean?" Alex asked, curious.

"Can I touch?" Andrew asked, peering over his shoulder.

"This one time," Alex relented. Since obviously her own students and herself had missed that very important piece of information. She was just going to chalk that up to their neck break pace to get everything done.

Lowering himself to his knees, feeling his mother standing over him as he gently and ever so carefully brush some of the remaining sand off the wall. "Here," Andrew said, his cheeks heated as his mother lowered her face an inch away from his as her eyes studied the cartouche. He started to rise to get out of her way, yet his mother's hand covered his on the sand covered stone as she lightly ran her brush along the cartouche. Which kept him rooted in place, when he needed the distance especially with what was going on in his head.

"I might just make an archeologist out of you yet," Alex said, her voice full of pride as her eyes glanced over at her son.

"Nah, I like the modern world," Andrew said, looking away.

"Hey," squeezing his hand forcing him to look at her, "I like the modern world too, you know," Alex whispered, her eyes softening as her son looked at her. Now it was her turn to blush, rising to her feet, returning to her students trying to keep her mind off of... things.

"Umm... Alexandria?!" Andrew called out after an awkward thirty minutes of him and his mother avoiding each other.

"You know mother would be the more proper usage," Alex said, as she and Bill translated the wall while Anta wrote down each section. She couldn't look at her son. There was something about him that tugged her into very, very untested waters. Waters that no mother should ever wade into. She just couldn't understand why her mind took her to that place. She couldn't hold back the smile as her son stumbled over his words.

"Well... anyway... just what exactly is this place?" Andrew asked, as he read the hieroglyphs that lined the upper part of the wall. He must be rusty because it certainly couldn't be what he just read. It... just seemed ridiculous.

"A temple, you sure you're the professor's son?" Bill asked, ragging on the boy.

"No, not really, there never was a birth certificate, for all I know I was found in a cabbage patch," Andrew shot back. Anta giggled as Bill's jaw dropped at Andrew's quick retort.

"Just look at him go, I'm so proud," Bill said, wiping away a nonexistent tear. "They grow up so fast."

"You trying to welsh out of that child support?" Andrew asked, getting another jab in.

"Was he always like that?" Anta whispered to her professor.

"The wit? Yes," Alex nodded, causing her dark red hair to bounce. "The sarcasm is new though."

"See, what you miss when you run off for eight years."

"Andrew! Don't!" Alex snapped.

"Yeah, yeah," Andrew said, rolling his eyes.

"So, what is it that you have to interrupt our work?" Alex said, feeling her cheeks heat in her anger.

"Well, I might be rusty, this possibly can't mean what this wall says," Andrew said, hearing his mother sigh.

"Andrew we are busy here, we haven't had time to translate everything."

"Fine. I'll just read it to you then."

"You sure he can read hieroglyphs?" Bill asked, looking over at his professor.

"Since I was seven," Andrew muttered. "The stork has a sh or a ch sound?"

"You've been neglecting your studies," Alex said, in a disapproving teacherly voice. Andrew held his tongue at that. "It's sh by the way."

"Well here goes: From the throne the seated god gazed out upon the lustful masses. From the three hundred and sixty-five wives the god-king shall know joy for each day. Each harvest he shall reap, each sunrise a new woman shall line his bed. Bringing pleasure to his royal body until Apep rises up and swallows the sun regaining his seat in the heavens," Andrew said, he so didn't understand. Especially with the part he left out, he was in no way going to repeat that to his mother.

"You must have read it wrong, there's no..." Bill's voice grew still he read the hieroglyphs that Andrew were pointing at. "So... umm..." clearing his throat returning back to his work.

"That's what I said, but some big important Professor won't listen," Andrew said, peering over his shoulder as Bill whispered the whole translation to his mother. "Better him than me," he muttered to himself. Chuckling aloud as he watch his mother and Anta become red faced.

"Well..." Andrew tried not to notice how hard his mother's nipples were as she walked over to his side. "Here, since you don't have trouble with translating," Alex said, handing her son a large pad of grid paper. Rows of letters ran vertical while numbers ran horizontal along the sides of the drawn grid. "A1 is that corner," pointing to the top left corner of the wall, "I think you can figure out the rest. If there's a carving leave it blank," she said, seeing a slight bulge in her son's shorts when Andrew didn't noticed her looking. She was thankful for that; she so couldn't deal with that at the moment.

"Well, it's better than being out in the sun," Andrew sighed, clicking the pen getting to work.

"That will free one of us up," Anta said, looking over at Andrew as she watched his hand moving along the paper.

"Bill, I want you to check his work," Alex said, offhandedly.

"Yes Professor," Bill nodded.

Two weeks had pasted since Andrew's arrival. He didn't know if his mother was being vindictive or what. It sure did feel that way as he dug out the new pit for the latrine.

"God. What do these people eat," Andrew groaned as he shoveled the sand into the old pit. So far, he hasn't thrown up once, came close a number of times. He had no idea how he kept his churning stomach down. "She's definitely doing this to get back at me for some reason," he muttered as he shoveled as fast as he could so he could escape the smell. For the past week they had pretty much avoided each other. Himself so he could try to keep those thoughts he had from resurfacing, his mother he had no clue why. They each had fallen into a routine his mother would wake before he would and do what she needed to do. Not that he didn't catch her bathing in the early morning a few times. It was weird watching the progress of his mother's brush as it grew. What was the weird part was his mother walked in on him taking care of his morning wood a few times too. She would always feign shock and quickly leave, yet Andrew got a feeling that wasn't before she got an eyeful. He wasn't sure why though. And yes, his mother still slept in the nude, regardless if she was sharing a bed, or in this case a hammock, with him.​