A Dream Realized
by Nighthawk
Rating: R, eventually. This isn’t a PWP; you’ll have to persevere a bit to get to what earns the rating, but I hope you’ll find the journey worth the effort. I’ve tried to create an interesting story as the framework for the erotica. If you’re just interested in the steamy stuff, skip to the end. <g>
Disclaimer: I take no credit whatsoever for inventing the character Ardeth Bey, although I would like to convey my eternal gratitude to Steven Sommers and Universal Studios for providing him and fully acknowledge that they hold all rights and credits for his existence. No money was made from this story; I’m just playing. I hope any readers will forgive me for aging Ardeth a bit for the purpose of this story as well as for taking him out of the context of the “Mummy” movies. I promise he will be returned safe and sound, if somewhat exhausted.
Disclaimer, the Sequel: If I’ve committed any geographical, cultural or historical howlers, I apologize and hope that you’ll forgive me.
Chapter 1
“No! Wait! Don’t go . . . please! Wait . . . wait . . . ,” Jocelyn ran frantically across the sands which shifted beneath her feet as though they were deliberately, maliciously trying to keep her from her goal. A goal which moved steadily away from her, the dark riders mounting the distant swell of sand and disappearing over the horizon. It was hopeless now . . . hopeless. She collapsed, sobbing, the heat from the sun and sand making her head pound. They were gone . . . he was gone. She pulled herself into a ball and wept, her heart broken. Would he ever come back? Would she ever see him again?
With a gasp, Jocelyn jerked awake. She was curled up tightly in her bed, tears still sliding down her cheeks, and she could feel her heart thrumming wildly in her chest. For a moment she was disoriented. Looking around quickly, she realized she was not out in the desert somewhere, but safe in her hotel room. The gauzy curtains moved in and out with the currents of the night wind, their soft white billows soothing the frightened woman. Listening carefully, she heard nothing out of the ordinary. Jocelyn made herself lie quietly, consciously drawing slow, deep breaths and exhaling them fully to calm herself. Once her heart had settled back to a normal pace, she chided herself for her panic.
“Jocelyn Reese! Honestly—aren’t you a little old to be scared half to death by a bad dream?”
But this had been much worse than just a spooky nightmare . . . this had been heartbreaking. In her dream, she had been walking through a bazaar, but not one she’d ever seen. There were so many street markets here, and Jocelyn found them an endless source of amusement. Some consisted of nothing more than one family’s display where they sold such odds and ends as they could make or collect. Others were large, busy commercial centers made up of dozens of booths, carts and stands, where local merchants sold everything from figs to lamb and brass to silk. Jocelyn, or “Joss,” as her family and friends called her, loved these open-air bazaars; to her, they were a distillation of every exotic delight that was
Having spent her entire life in a flat, cold section of the Midwest, Jocelyn longed to visit the country which had fascinated her from childhood. She had happened upon a book about Egypt in the library when she was seven, and by the time it was due, she’d read it so many times that she could recite entire pages from memory. Her interest in the country never waned from that point on, and she read everything she could find about it. Joss clearly remembered . . . and still giggled over it . . . when her mother had gotten a very annoyed phone call from Jocelyn’s third grade teacher. Apparently, the detailed report she’d given in class that day on the mummification process had made two classmates complain of queasy tummies and another actually threw up. “But, Mom!” Joss had protested. “I told her not to put my report right after lunch period! She wouldn’t believe me!”
Her passion continued throughout high school and college, as she collected books, photographs and other items connected to the land she thought of as her “real” home. Even though her parents found her devotion to the land of pharaohs and mummies to be somewhat peculiar, they loved her enough to accept their daughter’s interest and never tried to discourage her. Her mother occasionally expressed a burning desire for Joss to make sure that her collection of models and figurines and such stayed in her room rather than finding its way into every nook and cranny of the house, but that was all the resistance she encountered. For her high school graduation gift, her mother and father asked a local jeweler to make her a very special pendant: a small, gold scarab which hung from a fine, braided chain. Jocelyn was never without the necklace; she considered it a token of her pledge to make the journey of her dreams and stand in person before the Sphinx and the pyramids.
Unfortunately, real life has a way of getting between us and our dreams, and years passed without Joss setting foot on Egyptian soil. Her parents were of limited means and could offer only a small amount of help with her education. She knew that she would have to choose a major which would virtually assure her a job once she graduated. After some research, she decided to pursue a Bachelor of Science in Nursing, and graduated with honors in that field after four years. While in college, she met Stephen Reese, a warm, easygoing young man who’d captured her heart in short order. They were married the summer after they graduated, and then settled down to married life in a small apartment.
Her marriage had been a happy one, for Stephen loved her dearly and was a kind, thoughtful husband. Their relationship was unforced and genuinely close, if not wildly romantic. Joss used to smile to herself when people talked about what a good, solid, dependable man Stephen was, for she knew that what they were trying not to say was that they found him nice but dull. She realized that he was not very dashing or dramatic, but she loved him and was grateful to have a husband who treated her with respect and whom she could trust. Their life together was good, and made more so by the addition of two sons, born one and three years after their wedding.
Life had flowed along on a normal course, with Jocelyn advancing from rookie R.N. to Director of Nursing at the small hospital in their home town. Stephen taught math at the high school and after obtaining his master’s in administration was promoted to principal. Mark and Brian grew up, and in what seemed like no time at all to Joss, both had graduated and were off to college themselves. She and Stephen settled easily into what he described as their “semi-empty” nest, reveling in having the house to themselves (except for term breaks and weekend visits, of course). Joss told her friends who still had children living at home that it was like being newlyweds without having to get the “how to be married” part of it worked out. She decided that she had never been happier in her life. And then . . . everything had changed. Her easy, ordinary life was destroyed..
Joss would never, ever forget that phone call. It was summer, and they’d celebrated their twenty-first anniversary a few weeks before. Stephen and the boys were out shopping for some new fishing tackle in preparation for a trip to a nearby lake the next day. The phone rang, and Joss answered it. It was Dave Loeffler, one of the ER nurses, and she knew—instantly—that something was very wrong. Dave was one of the calmest people she’d ever met, and he was barely able to speak, his voice shaking as he told her, “Joss . . . you need to get someone to drive you down here . . . right away.” Jocelyn grew cold. She’d worked ER, and she knew that they only told people to not to drive when the news was so bad that driving themselves was likely to be unsafe. She also knew that people weren’t always told that someone was already dead, only that “there’s been an accident.” None of that—she wanted the truth.
Sliding to the floor, she gripped the receiver until she thought it might snap in her hand. Somehow, she kept her voice low and steady: “Dave? Please . . . no ER bullshit. Tell me what’s happened. What’s really happened.”
There was a long pause, and when Dave spoke again, Jocelyn could tell he was crying. “Joss, I wish . . . oh, God, Joss, I’m so sorry. There was a crash . . . someone clipped the rear corner of your car on highway 59, and . . . it went into oncoming traffic . . . ,” his voice dropped to a whisper. “They were knocked right into the path of a semi, Joss. It . . . it was all over in an instant. The squad brought the bodies . . . them . . . here.” It was at that moment that Jocelyn felt herself sliding into unconsciousness.
Somehow, she got through what happened next. Dave, reacting to the sudden silence on the other end of the phone, sent a police car to go to Joss’s house where the officers found her on the kitchen floor in a dead faint. After she regained consciousness, she entered into a nightmare so grim that she only managed to survive it by telling herself, “This isn’t real. This isn’t real!” Her husband and sons had, indeed, died instantaneously from massive trauma suffered when the semi plowed over their car. Jocelyn went through the funerals mercifully numb, and the numbness continued through the rest of it: settling the will, dealing with the sympathy cards and letters, figuring out what to do with the boys’ cars and all the other miserable details that attend a death. Several friends—real friends who didn’t pat her shoulder (she HATED being patted) or tell her stupid platitudes and who let her be as sad or angry or helpless or frantic as she needed to—helped her with each step as she was ready for it.
The worst had been packing up Stephen’s and the boys’ things; Joss had felt like she was burying them all over again as they loaded boxes with clothing, books, media and other possessions. Most of it she gave away, keeping a few things that were so essentially a part of their former owners that she knew she could never them go. For the whole first year after their deaths, she moved in a fog, not really caring what happened to her. Jocelyn took six weeks of leave and when she returned she asked to be moved back to floor nursing. There was no way she could handle the pressures of her old position. She had enough nursing experience to provide good, safe care, even though she functioned like an automaton. By half-way through the second year, she began to come back to life a little, but it was a slow process consisting of one small step ahead followed by hard tumbles backward. One part of her stayed numb: her heart. She couldn’t imagine ever feeling anything approaching love again, much less desire.
After getting through the third anniversary of the crash, Joss realized she needed a change. She had to get away from everything and everyone and lose herself somewhere new. Where to go was never in question: she had the time, she had the money, and, sadly, she had the freedom. It was time to make her lifelong dream come true and travel to
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A Dream Realized – Chapter 2