ONE
Neither the heat, the dust,
nor even the leers and occasional pawing of the ignorant Latin peasant men could break
Stacie O'Connor's good mood. After months of research and more months of
begging, wheedling, and conniving, she was finally in Peru, on her way to the
lost tombs of the Mayan King Koo Lan and his family.
The fact that nearly everybody
dismissed her chances of finding anything did nothing to dissuade her. If
anything, it made her even more determined to prove them wrong.
She knew her odds, but knew what she
stood to gain, instant prestige.
A doctorate in Ancient South American
cultures meant nothing to the fuddy, creaking, grey haired old boys network
that ran every museum and gallery, and every archaeological dig in the world.
Newly graduated doctors, no matter
what their grades or intelligence, were little more than fodder for the wheel,
used as servants and labourers, digging, cleaning, dusting, washing and note
taking.
If she was lucky, she would be able to
attach herself as a very junior assistant on one of the least important digs
somewhere, and spend years and years gaining the confidence and recognition
that would allow her greater projects.
It would take ten or twenty years
before she stopped being instantly dismissed as a flighty, ignorant little
girl. The old boys were as sexist as they came, and though they would never of
course, admit it, most thought the archaeological world was no place for women,
let alone young and pretty ones.
She had tried to disguise herself in
order to be taken seriously. She'd purchased glasses. She didn't need them of
course, but they were carefully chosen so as to make her look both intelligent
and sophisticated.
Her beautiful blonde hair was died
brown, cut short and pulled back tightly against her head in a small bun. Her
body itself was concealed, as best she could, in loose shirts, sweaters and
pants that concealed the smooth roundness of her hips and buttocks, the slim
flatness of her belly, and above all, the high, firm roundness of her oversized
breasts.
Even so, when she had approached
Professor Schultz to join his expedition to explore the Incan ruins in Sar
Elwin his eyes had not left her chest as he had smirked all through her
proposal.
"I'm sorry," he'd said, in a
voice oozing contempt. "You haven't the experience we need... at least not
in most positions."
"Is there some other position I
might take?" she asked in confusion.
"On your back with your legs
spread."
His hands had risen to squeeze her
breasts as he had leered down at her. "I usually get some native woman to
mind my tent, do my laundry and, er, take care of my needs," he said,
"but you could do the job almost as well."
She had been so shocked she had done
nothing more than twist free and stalk out, accompanied by his laughter.
She wouldn't, she simply WOULD NOT be
dismissed as a sex object without a brain! Not by anyone!
This dig would make headlines around
the world and give her work for years to come, cataloguing, deciphering, then
explaining and lecturing on her find. By then she'd be famous and could get her
pick of digs anywhere in the world.
She strode arrogantly through the
lobby of the hotel, the bell boys carting her things along behind, stopped at
the counter and in a carefully cultivated voice of authority, proclaimed herself and her reservation.
The clerk hurriedly signed her in and
gave her key to one of the bell boys, who hurried to the ramshackle old
elevator with her bags. She stood, ramrod straight in the elevator, looking
straight ahead as it slowly ascended to the top floor.
Then she moved quickly ahead, almost
marching forward until she stopped before her door. The bell boys caught up,
unlocked it and hurried through. She dismissed them firmly and then she was alone, and finally beginning her first real dig.
She allowed some of her excitement to
appear on her face then, finally alone. She moved to the window and looked out
on the city, such as it was, thinking of how things looked here a thousand years
ago.
Tomorrow morning, she would leave it
behind, and with her assistant and labourers, head into the jungle towards
Munga mountain and make her name.
Of course there were a thousand
details to take care of first, and of course, her assistant hadn't shown up
yet. She didn't even know who he was! All daddy, this was, Professor O'Connor,
had promised was that he'd find someone competent.
Well, that was all she needed, just so
long as they knew who was in charge.
The phone rang.
She moved over and picked it up.
"Stacie O'Connor," she said.
"Miss O'Connor? There is a man
here to see you. An American. His name is
Blackthorne."
"Blackthorne," she
whispered. "Jack Blackthorne?"
"Yes, Miss O'Connor. Shall I send
him up?"
She stared at the wall, her eyes closed.
"Miss O'Connor?"
"Yes?"
"Shall I send him up?"
"... Yes. Yes. Send him up,"
she said, slowly putting down the phone.
Her mind was in turmoil. How could he?
How could this have happened? Of all the people her father could have hired,
how could he have settled on that drunken, lazy sonofabitch?!
"Oh God!" she moaned,
covering her face with her hands.
Not only was Jack Blackthorne a lazy
miserable bastard, he was also a stinking pervert. The last time they'd met had
been on a dig in central Asia. They were both working as assistants, she during
her summer holidays.
He'd gotten her drunk, taunting her in
order to make her prove that she could drink, that any
woman could, and not lose control. Then what he'd done to her...
She blushed every time she thought of
it, which was not often. It was one of the most humiliating events in her life
and one she tried desperately to forget. Unfortunately it invaded her dreams
regularly, and always in erotic tones that made her heart race and her loins
yearn for a man's touch.
Stacie had had only two men in her
life. One, her first was in her freshman year. She'd allowed it merely to show
herself that it meant nothing, and it hadn't. The boy was clumsy, fast and hurt
her. Jack though, was entirely different.
She'd never felt like that before, and
never wanted to again. It wasn't that it wasn't.... incredible. But she'd been
totally under his control, almost his plaything. She never wanted to be used
like that again, no matter how pleasurable.
There was a knock at the door. She
took several moments to fix her face firmly in place, then strode to the door.
She opened it and stared arrogantly into Jack Blackthorne's chest. She cursed
herself and raised her eyes, instantly recollecting the somewhat condescending
smile as he looked back.
"Mister Blackthorne," she
said, tonelessly.
"Hey there,
Stace."
"Miss O'Connor, please. Come
in." She held the door and stood aside, back, ramrod straight.
He shrugged, gave her that patient
little smile and swaggered through the door and over to the bed, where he
turned and dropped down, propping himself up on his hands as he continued to
smile, or was it smirk, at her.
"Let me get things straight from
the start, Mister Blackthorne," she said. "You were not my choice for
this assignment, and in fact, had I been consulted, you would not now be here.
But since you are here, I want there to be no misunderstandings about who is
the boss here."
"You're payin' the bills, honey.
You can be boss if you like," he said with a smile.
"The bills are being footed by
the Belmont Research Institute."
"Your daddy's place, isn't
it?"
"My father is a member of the
board but... "
"Isn't he the chairman?"
"Will you shut up!" she
snapped, stomping her foot.
"Anything you say, baby."
"I will thank you to address me
as Ms. O'Connor!"
"Ms. O'Connor, huh? You were singing a
different tune last year, Mizz O'Connor." He sniffed disdainfully.
"Seems to me it was... OH FUCK ME HARDER JACK! FUCK ME HARDER!" he
cried the words in a high pitched excited tone as he smirked at her.
Stacie turned a deep shade of red and
her breath momentarily left her as she froze in humiliation. She started to
talk, then stopped, unable to get the words out.
"Or was it something like...
OHHHH! YOUR COCK! GIVE ME YOUR COCK!..."
"Shut up!" she screamed.
Her skin was fiery hot as she scowled
furiously at him.