Hi reader, welcome to my new series, where I'll be publishing three new chapters each week. This is a steamy romance, driven by a thrilling plot. If the series proves to be popular, I’ll carry it on into a long-term project, keeping it free to all.
This won’t affect my publishing of “I’ll Do Better.”
I strolled along the train compartment, my eyes keenly scanning for the perfect place to sit. Each table seated four passengers, two on either side facing one another, and so it went on both sides of the aisle, back-to-back chairs in groups of four along the eighty-four-seater carriage until the end, where there were two chairs pressed up against the bulkhead.
There were forty-two seats around tables on each side.
42. That’s nice—a significant number.
In every situation, be it at work or in my private life, I looked for numbers that were important to me, in this case, two chairs in a row, four around a table, and forty-two on each side of the aisle. I had a fascination with specific numbers and their connection to ancient cultures and languages, especially Egypt, and in particular, their hieroglyphs. My area of expertise was ancient languages in the general field of archaeology.
I didn’t want to join a crowded table of three, nor one that was all men, even if that was two guys who were strangers, so I scanned the whole length of the compartment, looking for my ideal spot.
There are so many men on the train today.
Men didn’t particularly worry me. Some were better behaved than others, but on a half-full train, if any bad boys misbehaved, the good guys would step in. They always did. I needed to avoid men right now because I wanted one so badly, having gotten none during a long, six-month drought while digging in the desert.
“Would you like a window seat, Miss?”
A handsome young man with sparkling blue eyes and a thick blonde mop of hair surprised me. He sat at the window seat opposite his girlfriend. He smiled politely, stood up, shuffled sideways out of the seat row into the aisle beside me, and waved inside for me to pass.
“Pick a seat, aisle, or window. I have no preference.”
He’s too handsome for my liking—a total distraction at my weakest moment.
He’s too young as well.
But he has a girlfriend, so I am safe from him and myself.
“Thank you.”
I sat down in the window seat, smiled at the girl opposite me, then reached into my immense shoulder bag for my Kindle e-reader. I’d started reading a new book last night, against my better judgment, because now I was hooked.
My screen flashed on, the words on my page appeared dimly, then backlight sensors kicked in, adjusting the screen brightness and hue until it was optimized for the reading environment.
“Fourth Wing, Rebecca Yarros.”
My head spun sideways on a swivel, and I stared at the man in disbelief, undecided if I was offended that he had glanced over my shoulder to read my book or thrilled to meet a fellow bookworm and especially one who loved my genre, romantic fantasy fiction.
My eyes narrowed as I studied him carefully, trying to figure out why he said what he did, how he knew what I was reading, and what his endgame was.
Please don’t hit on me in front of your girlfriend.
I’m worth more than that.
I thought you were too.
“How did you know that? The title doesn’t show at the top of the page.”
“‘Hopefully Nolon’s around tonight, since he’s been mending me for the last five years.’ That’s written in Chapter six, on the second page, which I think is about page one-hundred and one in the book overall.”
“Jesus… how did you know?”
The man tapped his temple and grinned.
“Eidetic memory. A curse and a gift. I could recite the entire book to you.”
“Wow. I am impressed.”
“I enjoyed reading Rebecca’s entire series. I won’t spoil it for you by exposing the plot, but the lovemaking scenes are exceptional and deliciously steamy.”
“I see.”
My cheeks flushed brightly, my body tingled excitedly. I was in between relationships and desperate for companionship, flirting, sexual, and friendship. He was a handsome and interesting guy, but he was also taken. I eyed his girlfriend, feeling slightly jealous of her catch. She smiled back, shrugging as though she had no control over her eccentric boyfriend.
“I am on the spectrum. Autism spectrum, that is, high functioning, another gift and a curse.”
“Do you have a high IQ?”
“167.”
“Aha, you are a genius then?”
“Genius runs in the IQ range from 145 to 160. Above 160 is considered an exceptional genius.”
“Wow.”
“I am a Math savant. Savant syndrome is my-”
“Gift and curse?”
“Yes. You got it.”
He chuckled at my interruption, coy smile, and comedic delivery of the line. The young man didn’t appear to be conceited or in the slightest bit a braggart - just a mildly odd guy with a strange sense of self in a crowd, awkwardly fumbling through conversations with strangers, trying to fit in. He was like anyone else, to be honest, only a little more challenged and far more intelligent.
He offered me a hand to shake, which I did.
“I’m Robert.”
“Kathy.”
“Nice to meet you, Kathy.”
“You too.”
I stared across the table at the man’s girlfriend, who smiled back again, raising an eyebrow, indicating she was proud. I expected her to introduce herself, but she didn’t, almost immediately averting her gaze through the windows to watch the prairie fly by outside.
I settled back in my chair, reading my book from page one hundred and one forward. I desperately needed to delve deeper into the story to engage with the characters fully and understand their world. It had been a slow, interesting start, but I still hadn’t weighed who I liked and whom I didn’t.
I glanced infrequently at Robert, noticing his powerful, athletic physique. He worked out, something I also did daily. When I looked at his pretty girlfriend, she smiled again, a warning, or at least a kindly ask from one female to another that I acknowledge and abide by the girl code.
I always do.
No need to remind me.
Although I do get it, he’s cute as hell.
After about ten minutes, the girlfriend excused herself, heading for the bathroom or buffet car, leaving me alone with her genius boyfriend.
Robert was hyperactive, but in a very subtle way; he fidgeted just enough for you to know he was restless, yet not enough to be annoying. I glanced at him, judging his age. I figured he was around twenty-five, as I had initially estimated, which made him ten years my junior. His girlfriend was younger than him, perhaps a year, maybe two, his junior.
I imagined that had Robert been on my dig site in Egypt, something would have happened as long as he was unattached. Maybe we would fall in love, or perhaps we’d be lovers, shacking up in the same tent for six months at the site, a temporary husband and wife until a final fond farewell at dig season’s end.
He strained, bursting at the emotional seams to talk, desperately trying not to look at me, making it apparent that his aim was politeness. I set my Kindle down and tapped the standby button, then smiled at him.
“What do you do, Robert?”
“I teach Math at college, and I help the FBI catch crooks as a side hustle.”
“Wow… that’s a bit… unusual.”
“I use statistical models to assess the likelihood of whether a crime was committed and by whom - numbers are revealing and can provide empirical evidence that leads to case clues. I search for anomalies in money transfers and other means where math can identify illegal activity.”
“That’s impressive. And you teach Math as well.”
“Well… I teach cryptography at Carnegie Mellon University, to be exact. My role exists within the math and computer science department, but… oh sorry, I am wittering.”
“I see.”
“What do you do, Kathy?”
“I am an archaeologist, specialising in ancient Egyptian languages. I have time off during the winter because it’s far too crowded with tourists in the cooler season to work in the desert.”
“Wow… that’s amazing.”
“It’s fun, and it pays the bills.”
“Math and languages are closely linked.”
“I know. Language and math both engage the left inferior frontal gyrus in the brain, otherwise called Broca’s area.”
“Precisely that. You are wise, Kathy.”
“I’ve been doing this quite a while. You pick things up.”
“Well, you may not know that symbolic number manipulation, like algebra, activates areas of the brain involved in syntax and grammar. Also, studies show bilingual individuals often perform calculations differently depending on which language they learned math in. That means, your use of math in ancient languages is very fascinating.”
“I did not know that.”
Although mildly odd, he was damn cute, very self-assured, and funny too. I felt mildly jealous of his girlfriend.
“You must travel widely, Kathy.”
“To and from Egypt mostly. I spend six months on site, six months back here at the University of Chicago in what was once called the Oriental Institute but is now the Institute for the Study of Ancient Cultures. I run the museum laboratory.”
“So, did you notice any interesting numbers on this train?”
“Two, which denotes duality and balance, and four, which relates to Earth, completeness, and cardinal directions. They are common everywhere.”
“And forty-two? Did you notice?”
“The total number of chairs running along one side of the aisle.”
“Yes, the number forty-two holds deep symbolic and religious significance in ancient Egyptian culture, especially in the context of judgment, morality, and cosmic order. I’m not sure exactly why it’s important.”
“The soul, or ba of the deceased, stands before Osiris, god of the afterlife. The deceased recites a list of 42 negative confessions, each addressed to one of 42 gods, known as the Assessors of Ma’at. These declarations affirm that the person has not committed various sins, such as stealing, lying, murder, or blasphemy.”
“Wow… are you tenured at Chicago, Kathy?”
“Yes. Are you tenured?”
“Too young and not trusted.”
“Not trusted, why?”
“Too young.”
Robert laughed riotously, far more than his joke warranted, but I giggled too, enjoying his fun and the warm kindness that danced in his eyes.
“Are you single, Kathy?”
“Wow… what now?”
My heart quickened, and my eyes bulged at his question.
“I just wondered whether you are single?”
“No… I’m, err, not. I’m on my way to see my boyfriend now, actually.”
“Sorry. I know it’s very forward of me, but I am deeply attracted to you, and I wondered if you were single. I know I am a great deal younger than you, but I am attracted to older, intelligent women.”
“Fuck!”
“Maybe I should have said you are beautiful too.”
“Stop!”
I squealed, glancing in all directions, terrified someone had heard what Robert said, but I needn’t have worried because other passengers nearby were engrossed in their own lives or preparing to disembark at the next stop, which wasn’t far away.
I was stunned that Robert had hit on me while his girlfriend was away from her seat. He noticed my unease and held up his hands in an apology. He actually looked sincere. The train slowed, and I considered making a run for it so I could wait for the next one to take me the rest of the way to Chicago.
Robert smiled awkwardly and pointed to the platform on which we were arriving.
“Sorry, Kathy. Fortunately, this is my stop, so I can retreat from my mortal embarrassment and live to fight another day.”
“Okay… goodbye, Robert. It was nice meeting you.”
There was no need for me to register a protest at being hit on. Robert had been polite, straightforward, and honest, except that he hit on me while his girlfriend was gone. I saw her standing at the end of the compartment, where Robert had now shuffled to join her.
Thank Christ they have gone.
I returned to my book, shaking my head, laughing ironically at the sass of a guy hitting on me while his girlfriend went to the bathroom. My head was spinning, and then when another passenger sat down opposite me, it almost spun off.
I pointed at the girl, then at the platform outside that was disappearing fast as our train gathered speed, leaving the station.
“What’s going on?”
“What do you mean?”
“Your boyfriend… he just disembarked the train.”
“Who? The guy sitting beside you?”
“Yes.”
“I never met him before today. He seemed very nice, though.”
I reared up in my seat, staring at the girl, feeling utterly horrified. She smiled back sweetly, seemingly sure that she wasn’t Robert’s girlfriend.
“Are you sure?”
“Sure about what?”
“Are you sure that you aren’t Robert’s girlfriend?”
“Of course I am. I didn’t even know his name before he introduced himself to you. I was half hoping he might start a conversation with me earlier on, but he didn’t. I suspect he likes you, though.”
“He hit on me while you were gone.”
“Nice… what did you do?”
“I treated him like he was a cheating rat. I thought he was with you.”
“I wish. Dating is such a nightmare these days. Robert was nice and might have been a great catch. Seems we both missed out there.”
There was nothing left to say, so the girl, who wasn’t a girlfriend, or if she was, she wasn’t Robert’s, stared out of the window. I glanced around the carriage, checking if anyone was laughing at my ironic, comedic situation. But I was safe from embarrassment, so I went back to reading my book.
We arrived in Chicago three hours later, where I disembarked. My friend Claire was there to meet me, and she helped load my luggage into her SUV trunk. When she leaped into the driver’s seat, my best friend stared at me, grinning madly.
“It’s great to see you again, Kathy.”
“You too.”
“How was Egypt?”
“Still hot as hell when I left two weeks ago after we closed the dig site. It reached over 50 °C for weeks.”
“And how are your folks?”
“The usual… Mom asked me when I’ll marry, while Dad wanted to know everything about the dig. I spent more time with Dad than Mom.”
“Obviously. And the train ride?”
“Weird… but I’ll explain more about that later. Are we making love while I bunk with you, or do you have someone?”
“I have nobody, darling, and I planned for you to sleep in my bed for the next six months. Our friends with benefits tawdry affair can continue guilt-free.”
“That’s great… I need a damn good f-. Sorry… It’s been a long, hard dig without any affection or company in the sack. I got terribly lonely this time around.”
“You need a husband, Kathy. Preferably one who works the same dig site you do.”
“It would have to be thus. I can’t do cheating once I’m married or dating.”
“What about us?”
“We’ll discuss that with our husbands when… or if the time ever comes. For now, I need some sleazy, hot loving honey.”
“I can give you that, and a whole lot more tonight, the next, and the next… You get the picture, right?”
“Good. I’ll reciprocate.”
Claire and I were casual lovers. Both of us were bisexual, ordinarily romantically inclined towards men while sexually needing one another to satisfy a lesbian alter-ego that wouldn’t go away any time soon, if ever. We were one another’s safe place, not in love, but familiar lovers who knew each other well enough to wine, dine, and 69, night after night, with no strings attached.
But we didn’t play together while either of us was in a relationship.
We were strictly friends with benefits.
And boy… I needed some profound benefits tonight.
While I bathed after a long journey on the train, Claire cooked a piquant gorgonzola cheese sauce with tagliatelle pasta, freshly picked and shelled garden peas, and fried bacon lardons.
It was a favorite meal of ours - quick and easy to cook and eat, flushed down with a zingy Chardonnay, so we could retire quickly to the bedroom where passionate lesbian lovemaking could ensue, which it did, for many, many hours, until we were both exhausted and fell asleep in each other’s arms.
In the morning, I woke before Claire, feeling grounded and happy. I needed to make love to scratch an itch, and we had. A beautiful, experienced boy or a girl would have been fine, but I desperately needed to emotionally connect with someone I had feelings for, even if those weren’t deep, everlasting love. My best friend and part-time lover had needed affection too, because I noticed she’d been an enthusiastic lover once we got going.
It was my first day back at the Institute, so I showered, dressed, and left before Claire woke, needing to settle into my study and the laboratory before a mad rush of staff ensued. I was also expecting a very important delivery, my share of the artifacts from our dig allocated by the Egyptian government.
They were on loan for research and study, on the proviso that the Egyptian government had oversight and access to all my research materials. It was a tiny price to pay for such an enormous privilege.
Victor had arrived early, grinning from ear to ear when he saw me. No sooner had I set up my laptop in my study than my former lover and great friend entered my private sanctuary, sitting opposite me.
“How is the Amarna Project going?”
“It will take a long time, but everything is progressing well.”
“You have the best job of any of us, Kathy. Investigating the city of Akhenaten is the prime archaeological research program in the world now.”
“I love it.”
He smiled wistfully, caught in a dilemma that occurred every time we met between my visits to Egypt. I sighed inside, steeling myself for mild discomfort.
“Did you find a dig site husband for the six months you were away?”
“Nope.”
It’s really none of your business.
You chose.
“I’m sure Claire was busy last night then.”
“She was.”
“If you need a fill-in for Claire, maybe if she’s too busy, tired, or has her period, call me.”
Oh, please… back off.
I sighed and stared at Victor, who, to his credit, looked mildly ashamed by his coarse approach. We remained friends after being a couple, and that friendship was worth preserving, so I needed to tread carefully to avoid stepping on his ego.
“We had our day, Victor, and now you are married to Heather.”
“Yes… well. That’s not going so great.”
“I don’t want to be involved in anyone’s tragedy, honey. I feel for you, and I hope you can fix things, but I need an uncomplicated love life… sorry. ”
“I get it, Kathy… clean relationships with rules and no strings attached.”
“You understand me well.”
“I wish.”
I ignored his last comment. Victor knew all about me and Claire and understood our relationship. I was seeing her when Victor and I met, then again after we broke up because he cheated on me with Heather.
But while I was with Victor, I never cheated, not even with Claire.
Victor looked unhappy when he left my study, but there was little I could do about that. I didn’t want to become embroiled in his or anyone’s messy love life, even if it were a marriage that might end soon. I wasn’t against indulging in an exclusive romance, with the potential for soulmate love, and an honest commitment to fidelity, but now was not the right time for me to start anything new with an old flame on the rebound - hence Claire was my safest bet for no strings emotional engagement.
My work was important to me and to others in my field since our research was connected throughout a global academic network. As Victor had alluded to, I had secured the prime research grant program available to any Egyptologist. We investigated the City of Aten, built by Pharaoh Akhenaten. Excavations had ended for the year, to resume next year, with our team of archaeologists focusing on residential architecture, workshops, cemeteries, and the Great Aten Temple.
We also had two mummies to study.
Aside from overall site and program coordination, my specialist role was to translate cuneiform, hieroglyphs, and other forms of language that might be found on relics, whether they were Egyptian or owned by the foreign worker labor force used to construct the great monuments. I would tell the story of one of the greatest Pharaohs who ever lived, so I couldn’t mire the program in a scandal by sleeping with a married man.
Grant funding is often like that, although many don’t realize it. Government money comes from the taxpayer, who expects, and rightly so, their ambassadors abroad to hold themselves to high standards. I never drank alcohol while on a dig, I didn’t party, and behaved appropriately within the norms of local culture and tradition.
So, after six months of near nightly use of my vibrator in my tent, I nearly broke it and wore my right hand index fingertip down to a wrinkled raisin. I was a highly sexualised woman, but very particular about mating behavior. I never slept with married or attached men or anyone who might become a compromising lover.
Victor and I had our day.
It was nice, but he chose Heather over me.
I heard noises of roller doors being raised in my laboratory next door, so I went out there, donning my long white coat, bringing latex gloves, and my safety glasses on the way.
The University Vice Chancellor was inside my lab as a truck backed into our loading bay at the far end. Our laboratory looked as close as you could get to the fictional one at the Smithsonian Institute, where Bones, otherwise known as Dr. Temperance Brennan, worked.
My sprawling laboratory was the size of a football field, air-conditioned, dust-filtered, and highly secure with swipe key cards for entry and exit. It looked ultra-modern, a contrast to the artifacts studied there. In the center was a raised platform with ten large steel beds at waist height spaced equidistantly, five on each side of a wide aisle. They were my workstations. Once the secure boxes transported from Egypt were unloaded, I would have each hoisted onto a workstation where I would spend the next week unpacking them before assigning post-grads their work assignments.
I had a world-class museum conservation lab equipped with the latest modern technology, enabling non-invasive examination of everything from the smallest artifacts to full-blown mummies. I had X-ray machines – to see inside coffins and wrapped mummies, CT scanners, portable and full-body, to generate 3D images of skeletal remains and identify artifacts inside wrappings. There were Infrared and ultraviolet cameras to reveal hidden texts, paint layers, or restorations, and digital microscopy and 3D scanning to document inscriptions and textures in detail.
I smiled at Gerald, our Vice Chancellor, who was an old friend and trusted colleague, but never a lover.
“Welcome home, Kathy.”
“Thank you… It’s good to be back.”
“It’s great to have you here.”
“You mean it’s great to have so many cool relics here.”
“Something must pay for your excellent laboratory. I have a visitor’s schedule to run through with you at your convenience. They are the usual government types, politicians, academics, wealthy benefactors, and assorted media.”
“I’ll play along.”
“Thank you, Kathy.”
In the early days, Gerald and I fought frequently. I wanted to do research in private, whereas he needed immense publicity and a constant stream of happy visitors and donors. It came to a head one day when he sat me down and showed me invoices for the thirty million dollars it cost to set up my laboratory, which didn’t include staff and other running costs, or my salary.
When I understood that annual running costs for my lab, including staff, consumables, calibration, licensing, and sample transport, added 20–30% annually to the initial setup, and my presence in Egypt added 5% more, I stopped quarreling with him and started working with Gerald to achieve our common goals.
When the unloading of our relics began, he placed a hand on my shoulder, squeezing excitedly.
“I feel very proud of you and our University, Kathy.”
“It wouldn’t happen without you, Gerald.”
“We’re a great team.”
“Yes, we are.”
Gerald turned to face me, his expression looking somewhat like a concerned father.
“Victor is having some domestic issues.”
“I know, he mentioned it.”
“Should I back him off or have him reassigned?”
“I can handle Victor… I did already. He won’t be a problem.”
“I hired all of your usual team for the full six months.”
“Thank you, Gerald.”
He patted me on the shoulder and took a last look at the unloading team carefully working on and off the truck. It would take four hours to get everything off at a cautious snail’s pace, then another four to hoist the sealed wooden boxes onto my prep workstations. The University Vice Chancellor couldn’t hang around all day, so he smiled one last time with fatherly affection, then turned to walk away.
“Please update me, Kathy.”
“Daily… I promise. Do you have my tea leaves?”
“Assam, first flush. It’s ready and waiting for you.”
“Every day at 4.30 pm suit you, Gerald?”
“Perfect.”
Next Chapter:
Interesting start, but I have to admit that ancient cultures was not where my mind went with the number 42! 😁😁
Great start. This seems like a story with legs, I'm interested where you take us. And I suspect we are going to learn a lot about Egypt along the way.😁