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From: Yotna El'toub <yotna_eltoub@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Repost [edited 2007]   Vampyre Nights 1/12 {Yotna El'toub}
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Date: Thu, 30 Aug 2007 12:10:03 -0400
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Story attached :)
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Feel like a local wherever you go.
http://www.backofmyhand.com
<1st attachment, "Vampy Nights 1 of 12.txt" begin>

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{ASSM) Repost [edited 2007]   Vampyre Nights 1/12 {Yotna El'toub} 
(Slow F/F F/f MC WS Tg)
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WARNING: This story will contain situations and explicit
language of an adult nature and should be read only by those of
a legal age to do so. If you are a minor or object to stories of
an adult nature, LEAVE HERE IMMEDIATELY. Legal age local to the
author is 18+ please abide to your own local laws. Please note
and understand the content codes for this story.
 
The characters portrayed in this story are just that,
characters in my story.  Any similarities to real people are
purely coincidental and unintentional. The characters and
situations portrayed are pure fantasy; the author is keen to
state that in reality adult sexuality should remain only in the
adult world. Please do not allow or cause this story to fall in
to the hands of minors.
(C) Yotna El'toub 2007
______________________________________________________________________




Vampyre nights

By Yotna El'toub


Written in 2005, revised and edited August 2007.

(c) Yotna El'toub 2007.


Chapter One: The auction room.
Joyce relaxed, taking her customary seat in the crowded room. It was
so good to get some time alone and leave the 'dig' to its own devices.
The last couple of months had been a constant battle against time and
the ham fisted construction crews.

The auctioneer walked in and the murmur in the salesroom reduced to a
polite whisper. Joyce shifted slightly in her seat and was finally
able to get a clear view. She hoped the substantial man in front of
her would stay put for the next hour or so. On the whole Joyce
enjoyed being what the polite would call "petite" and the more direct
"damn short", but it did present a few problems from time to time.

The heavily bearded auctioneer began his deep practiced singsong
chant.

"Item one, a highly desirable fine oaken chest..."

Joyce's attention drifted; she had always had a fascination for sales,
ever since her daddy had taken her to her first one at the age of
four. Although he had passed over two years back, she still liked to
keep up the tradition. 

Just like her father before her she seldom bought, but loved to watch
the buying and buyers, for no real reason. It seemed that for both of
them that the pleasure was mainly 'people watching' with a rare
purchase. 

She remained in this blissful dream state for some minutes, until the
large man in front of her realigned his buttocks on the thinly padded
seat to ease the numbness. Joyce tutted quietly and squirmed her
slight form, moving to the right to regain her view.

"Item fifteen, an exciting one this, ladies and gentlemen!"

The auctioneer fabricated, desperately trying to generate some
excitement for an item that had no pre-sale bids.

"Reputed to be from the beautiful, but dangerous home of the Countess
Bathory; an ebony handled letter opener."

"Who will start the bidding at $50 for this slice of macabre, unique
European history?"

His greedy eyes scanned the room eagerly looking for a bid.

"Come now, at $20; this implement surely sat in that wicked palm."

Again with the greedy stare.

"Twenty dollars I am bid, any increase on twenty, going once, twice!
Sold to the little lady in the forth row." The bearded man grinned
directly at Joyce.

"Number?" he queried.

"I'm, sorry?" Joyce replied in confusion.

"Your bidding number, for the opener." He eyed her in a distinctly
old-fashioned way.

Suddenly it came to her; for some unknown reason she had raised her
right hand without even thinking. An embarrassed Joyce replied.

"Sorry, 378"

Quickly the impatient man noted the number and moved on smoothly to
the next item.

Joyce waited patiently in line to collect her unintended purchase.
Finally it was her turn.

"378, lot 15" the thin blond teenager called to his unseen
colleague.

A second later a "Jiffy" bag was passed to the disinterested lad.

"Twenty bucks, Ma'am" he uttered sliding the packet toward Joyce. In
return she placed a crisp bill in his waiting hand.

"Enjoy your purchase" the boy attempted to smile, but failed sadly.

Joyce walked in sunshine back to her downtown apartment, her handbag
weighted down an unwanted purchase. She silently mused over her
bid, maybe her daddy was still close after all. This is just the sort
of oddity he would have purchased. 

She scurried up the steps of the brownstone, found her key and slipped
in through the door. Finally, in her own space she sighed. Then Joyce
shook her head at her annoyed reflection in the hall mirror, dropping
the jiffy bag unopened on to the untidy table. 

Joyce walked to the kitchen to make an espresso; she obviously needed
something to kick her into reality.


Chapter Two: Serendipity.

Joyce sat bolt upright in bed and gaped at the sunshine streaming in
though the green curtains. She'd forgotten to set the alarm! Glancing
at the clock only confirmed her suspicion, shit - it was 10 O'clock!

She vaulted from under the covers and dashed to the bathroom. As the
hot water streamed down her body she wondered how she had slept so
long? She mentally retraced the previous evening as she washed.

After drinking her coffee she had walked to the bedroom; that's right.

She had been ready to change clothes for her customary Sunday night
stroll in Central Park. Once stripped she had rested on the bed for
a second, just to clear her head - and awoken a full eighteen hours
later! 

Mind you, she did feel great this morning. The stinging sports
showerhead had certainly worked its magic today. She just wished her
thighs didn't ache so much; damn those salesroom chairs!


Wearing only her damp white bathrobe she headed out of the steaming
room and made for the kitchen. Two strong coffees later she was ready
to meet the world, and returned to her bedroom to dress. On the way
she noticed the pile of mail, wincing she sauntered along the hallway
and soon stood shuffling the pack of letters in her hands. 

All but one she placed in the "later" rack on the hall table, one
unstamped, handwritten letter intrigued her in its thickness. She
dragged her nail ineffectively along the sealed edge; great! The
senders habit of sealing letters with scotch tape had just torn her
remaining long nail. It was hard enough to get her hands to look
feminine with all the archaeological work, now due to some fool her
'prize' nail was split.

Her hand reached for the jiffy bag and slid out her previous days
purchase, she truly loved serendipity. In a flash the contents of the
offending envelope sat in her hands. Joyce read the flowing script
with some difficulty. 

"Contained within provenance for lot fifteen; due to a staff oversight
this was not supplied with your purchase, sincere apologies, Franklin
Howard".

Serendipity wasn't that great after all! She dropped the now
uninteresting wad of papers with the rest. Joyce then went to put down
the opener, but her hand just wouldn't let go! Furrows of genuine fear
creased her face, as she fought against her obstinate muscles.

In an instant the temperature of the hall to plummetted, Joyce's
breath condensed, billowing before her eyes. Then just as quickly,
everything was back to normal. The opener clattered to the table
unnoticed, as Joyce rubbed her goose-pimpled arms aggressively. 

She felt as if someone had just walked across her grave, shivering
she fled to the bedroom to dress. Slipping off her robe she caught
sight of herself in the wardrobes mirror, her nipples stood ridgedly
erect, larger than she ever remembered seeing them. A cold flush hit
her again; quickly she pulled her sweatshirt over her head. Joyce made
a mental note to get someone in to check the heating.


Chapter Three: Monday blues.

Claudia watched as a beat up Ford swung in through the chain-link
gates and parked up. She then straightened up and gently massaged the
over-tired muscles of her lower back. Claudia was glad to see her boss
making a relaxed start to the week, Joyce had been driving herself too
hard recently. 'All work and no play' she mused. Brushing the mud from
her hands she walked over to the car.

"Sorry Lady, no part-time positions going" she joked.

"Something wrong with my heating; I'll need to get the plumbers in,"
Joyce replied smiling broadly, "any developments in my absence?"
 
"Nothing major. Oh, Kirk was looking for you earlier!" Claudia winked
"I think he's taken a shine to you."

Joyce grimaced.

"He just wants our sorry asses out of way of his diggers I expect"
Joyce made her sullen way to the site office.
 
"Hey Claudie, put some coffee on! I'll need it by the time I get out."

She rapped her knuckles on the green door, a small white sign started
swinging jauntily "Dan Kirk - Site Manager" it read. Without pausing
Joyce strode confidently in. A blond suntanned man wearing a loud
check shirt and jeans looked up from the complex drawing on his desk.

"Hi Joy, good weekend? Does this late start mean you guys are nearly
done?"

"Its Joyce, yeah the weekend was fine, and no. We need two more weeks
to complete the far side - over by the brook".

"I'm sorry!" Dan sheepishly extended his hand, "arrived first post."

She took the letter, read the first paragraph and a half and then
sat down heavily on one of the grubby chairs.

"Wednesday, this Wednesday - its not possible"

Dan eyed her closely trying to decide the best tack.

"Why not look on it as a holiday, you've put a whole lot in!"

Joyce scoffed.
 
"Unlike you guys, I can't afford to just jet off, so then mid-October
in New York - how could I resist a holiday? Anyway you miss the point.
After three months of digging we are close to the Nave; and you want
me to stop and walk away!"

"Calm down! You need to forget going any further. It'll take you all
the time you've got left just to tidy the site. We start seven AM
sharp on Wednesday, come hell or high archaeologist!" Dan paused, and
checked his temper, "you know, I'm just doing my job."

"So was Josepth Stalin!" She replied, before throwing the door open
and
bursting through the frame into the cold muddy yard.

Over an agonised half hour she poured out her venom to Claudia, who
nodded, sympathised and worried with her. Finally Joyce admitted
defeat, turning to her friend she said.

"Let's face it, we're finished here, like it or not!"

Claudia asked a gentle question.

"Can you cast your expert eye over one more find before we tell the
others, and start to pack?"

"Why not," she sighed, "what have you got?"

Claudia led Joyce to a shallow trench.

"Just there."

She pointed. Joyce squinted, she could just make out a curved edge
in the yellow-brown mud.

"I thought it was another Altar plate but it looks to thick."

Joyce nodded, then she clambered down into the hollow and crouched.
Using a cotton bud she carefully cleaned a small section of the find.
It was gold - a thick decorative gold frame. A few  more minutes
careful work and the hand-sized fragment of what was now clearly a
mirror came free. Joyce talked excitedly as she ran a little water
onto the dull surface and cleaned away the grime.

"Hungarian, or somewhere close. Looks to be carved with symbols to
ward off evil, mid 16th to 17th Century."

Claudia squatted, hurriedly she jotted notes.

"That has to be the oldest relic we've found here" she commented.

"By far!" replied Joyce carefully examining the dull mirrors pitted
surface.

Before her eyes the mirror regained its former reflective silvering.
Suddenly its surface was filled by the image of her crouched
colleagues groin. She could clearly see the fabric hugging the full
outer lips,and make out the deep valley dividing them. At the very
core was a darker hued patch. Joyce's eyes glistened and drank in the
seductive sight. At the very edges of Claudie's shorts dark puffy skin
emerged, lightly dusted with fine blonde hairs. Joyce swallowed, but
she had no spittle.

Her heart beat slowed, just as the pulse in her temples; she seemed to
be floating in a sea of what? Indecision? Desire? Or fear of the
unknown? Her life seemed to be suspended by a thread. Thump, thump,
thump. time stood still. Joyce's heart paused in reverence. 

From nowhere an arm slipped around her shoulders. Shocked she jumped
from back into the present from her dream state. Claudia's familiar
voice sounded in her ear.

"Are you O.K.?"

Her friends voice was heavy with concern. Joyce however, recoiled from
the close contact. It felt too intimate. Too strong. Wrong!

"I'm fine," laughed the academic uncertainly.

"Well you look as if you've just seen a ghost. Look, Joyce take a
break; I can organise the breakdown over the next couple of days, no
sweat!"

Joyce still looked shaken.

"Maybe you're right, this has taken more out of me than I thought."

Without any further comment Joyce slipped the now dull artifact into
her pocket. She headed towards the sanctuary of her car, once there,
she sat dazed for a couple of moments before she started the jalopy.
Stirred into action she sped away. 

It was only as the dust plume rose Claudia realised the find was
missing; Joyce must have taken it with her! Claudia instantly decided
not to stop her friend. In her current state of mind Joyce needed a
time out. Recovery of the find could easily wait until Wednesday. It
wasn't until then that the catalogue finally closed for the site.

Claudia would call around to Joyce's apartment and retrieve the mirror
at some point. 'I'll give her some space - she needs it, bastard
Kirk!' Claudia fumed, and marched off towards the Site Office.

______________________________________________________________________

Foot Notes (C)Yotna El'toub 2007
______________________________________________________________________
I hope you have enjoyed reading this story as much as I enjoyed
writing it.  As always, feedback is appreciated, since it is my
only payment for my work. Please address comments to
Yotna_eltoub@hotmail.com
 
This story is copyrighted by the author and as such may not be
published, posted or archived on any newsgroup, website, or
server, other than ASSM and ASSTR, without the EXPRESS PERMISSION
of the author. Any reader may archive a copy of this story,
provided the warnings and copyright information are attached in
full.
_____________________________________________________________________
__

Interested in writing, or commenting on stories?
Then pop along to Writer's BLock at http://yotnasden.co.uk/Forum/
_____________________________________________________________________
__

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