Story Orgy Presents: Creature Feature: Mum's the Word #storyorgy #mummies #creaturefeature #malexmale

Good morning friends and readers!
Welcome back to Monday with Story Orgy. Ready to see what happens next?

Mum's the Word
Chapter Eight

Sept 21: "I would like to make an exchange, please."

“Perfect?” Izzy looked adorable staring at him as though he’d lost his mind.

“Yeah. For the first time we know exactly where the professor is not going to be. We can come back here tonight and continue the search for the collection.” Excitement bubbled up inside him, and Owen had a hard time not bouncing up and down like a kid on a trampoline.

“Uh… isn’t that what we’re going to do now?” Izzy shrugged. His confused frown melted into a heart-breaking smile as he seemed to catch Owen’s excitement.

“Yesh… but… Come on. Don’t you want to?”

“Sneak in after the professor thinks we’re gone? Sure… we can play Night at the Museum if you want, but how are we going to get back in after he locks the doors?” Izzy pointed out logically.

“I got this covered.” Owen headed down the hall to B wing. “I just need to get some tape when we go upstairs for lunch.” Izzy pattered after him, and Owen remembered that they were supposed to stick together.

“Tape?” Breathing heavily from his quick sprint to catch up, Izzy side bumped Owen as he turned the corner into B corridor.

“Yeah. I just need a little duct tape and we can get in here easy. I saw it on a television show when I was a kid. Used to do it at home. I lost my key and my mom swore she’d bust me if I lost it again, because the landlord made her pay a three hundred dollar deposit to replace the locks. So, of course--”

“You lost it again? After that? Man--”

“Yeah. And I couldn’t tell my mom because I knew she didn’t have the money to pay for another lock change. We ate nothing but eggs and ramen for a month to pay for that first lock change, and so… I MacGyvered it.”

“MacGyvered it? With tape?”

“Yeah. It worked too, until my mom found my key in the laundry, and I got busted anyway, but that’s not gonna happen here.”

“No? Okay.” They stood in corridor B, counting the doors. At the far end of the hall was a lumpy, shadowed collection of boxes and a tall metal filing cabinet. “Start at the end and work our way forward?” Izzy suggested, leaning into Owen a little.

Owen accepted that weight, welcomed it. “You think there might be something of interest in those big boxes? Surely if there were valuable Egyptian artifacts they’d be locked in a storage room securely somewhere?” He glanced at the junk at the end of the hall again. That box might be tall enough to hold something interesting…

“Well,” he acceded, “at least it will be a quick check.” Not like all those tiny shoe boxes and file folders in the previous rooms.

“Right.”

They’d just reached the end of the hall and those big boxes when Izzy grabbed his hand again.

“Sh.”

Owen paused, one hand on the flap of a box. “What is it?” He asked, looking at Izzy curiously.

“Did you hear that?” Izzy ducked close to him, glanced back over his shoulder. “I thought… It was a scratchy sound.”

Listening carefully, Owen shook his head. “No. I don’t hear anything. Maybe it was the professor moving something upstairs?” He turned back to the box, unable to suppress the excitement. This box… it might contain treasure… It was surely too big to contain more letters or financial documents. “Do you think a mummy would fit in this box?” He measured its height with a critical gaze. Mummies were short… right?

“Doubtful,” Izzy commented, pulling open one of the doors to the metal cupboard. “Wasn’t even locked. Probably a sure sign that there’s nothing good in here.” His voice grew muffled.

Curious, Owen glanced over at his friend. Izzy had brushed his hair back behind one ear, and bent forward into the depths of the cabinet. “Anything?”

“Uh…” Straightening so swiftly that he banged his elbow on the b=metal door, Izzy retreated from the cabinet into the shadows. “I’d like to make an exchange.”

“Huh?” Owen glanced back and forth between Izzy and the cupboard. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… Here. You take this. I’ll get the box.” Izzy’s pale face looked even paler in the dim hall light, and Owen grew concerned.

“Izzy…”

“Here…” Izzy pushed him toward the steel cabinet and reached for the flap of the box. “Go on.”

Having been pushed toward the cabinet, Owen stared at his friend, bewildered. “Izzy…”

A shower of dust flew into the air as Izzy jerked the box flaps apart. The tape ripped off with a dry, scratchy noise that sent a shiver down Owen’s spine. “Just… Check out the cabinet, please Owen.”

Shrugging, Owen turned back to the open cabinet. It was dark inside… and just as dusty as the boxes around it. Being closed hadn’t protected the contents from time. He wasn't sure what he expected to see after Izzy’s weird reaction, but it didn’t look like anything was out of order to him. Sighing, he reached for the first thing his fingers touched and pulled out a heavy block shaped object.

“Ugh.” Izzy had made short work of the big box, and sat with its contents around him on the floor.

“What is it?” Owen asked without giving his friend more than a cursory glance before turning his own mystery item over in his hands. It was… definitely strange. A block of some sort of heavy plastic, maybe glass… and inside it a … “Izzy, what does this look like to you?”

“It looked like a big fuckin’ spider, why do you think I switched places with you?”

Startled, Owen glanced back at the cabinet. Sure enough, on the bottom shelf amid a dusty tangle of web, was a big spider, black and multi-legged, but nothing to get hysterical over. “That? That’s just a garden variety daddy long legs. Eats other insects and minds its own business.”

“This isn’t a garden, and fuck that. It’s big and creepy and … What the hell is that?”

“A daddy long legs, doofus. I just told you.”

“No… that.” Izzy pointed at the thing in Owen’s hands.

“Oh… yeah I was wondering myself.” He held the thing out into the light, revealing a bit more detail.

“Is that… a man’s hand?” Izzy sounded appalled.

Owen studied the thing. “Yeah. It looks like one, but it can’t be real. Maybe it's from a movie set or something. Remember that book we read freshman year? The Monkey’s Paw? Artifacts like this were pretty common a hundred years ago.”

Izzy swallowed hard, his eyes widened. “Uh… Owen?” His voice had dropped to a whisper.

Owen tipped the object over. The skin was leathery, the bones cracked ivory. It might be a real human hand, or the best replication that could be made. “Huh?”

“Owen!” Izzy hissed.

“It would be awesome if there were provenance papers in here that could tell us more about this. Think about what a fabulous exhibit a human hand would make… Visitors would love the creep factor.”

“Owen!”

“What?” He focussed his attention on Izzy, and the things lying on the floor. “Did you find something great in that box?” Owen knelt, holding the plastic encased hand in one hand and bracing himself against the floor with the other. “It just looks like clothes to me, Izzy.” A filmy white heap of something that could be a wedding dress, some pointy toed shoes that looked fairly lethal, and a suit of black woolly fabric that looked like it had seen better days.

“Behind you.” Izzy shook, eyes wide pools of shock.

Heart hammering in instant terrified response to that expression, Owen spun around so fast he threw himself off balance and ended up falling awkwardly on his elbow. The block in his hand hit the floor and shattered.

A thin sliver of light, running floor to ceiling, brightened a crack in what had seemed to be a solid wall. Then vanished, as though a door had been closed securely.

If you enjoyed my post, click on over to the rest of the Orgiasts and read more! 

Hank Edwards

Havan Fellows 

EM WOODS

Story Orgy: Creature Feature Mum's the Word #storyorgy #malexmale #creaturefeature

Good morning friends and readers!
Welcome back to Monday with Story Orgy. Ready to see what happens next?

Mum's the Word

Chapter Seven
This Was Not About You

“Professor Gregoire?”

The dark haired man lifted his head from a notebook he was studying. “Yes?”

“Can we have a minute?” Izzy gestured to himself and Owen. “We… uh… found something.”

Interest flickered in the dark eyes. “What is it?”

Izzy nudged Owen, who cast him a mutinous glare before dropping the shoebox on the professor’s desk. “This. Letters.”

“I’m afraid that letters aren’t going to be very helpful to me in creating any exhibits.” Thick lips curled in a sneer.

“These letters… We took them home. Read through them. I’m sorry, I know we shouldn’t have.”

“My dear boy, take as many musty letter boxes as you please home to look through. They hold no interest to me.”

“This one is about a collection that a man wanted to donate to the library. A collection of Egyptian artifacts.”

The professor’s thick black brows rose. “Does it say that the items were donated?”

“Not… exactly. This correspondence is inconclusive.” Owen interjected.

“Well, we don’t have time to waste on possibilities. Find me something concrete that I can use.” He didn’t hand back the box though, and Izzy couldn’t help but be a little disappointed by that.

“Yes, professor. We won’t let you down.” Izzy nodded, furiously, tugging on Owen’s arm. “Thank you for not…”

“Shut the door behind you.” The professor dismissed them quickly, returning to his ledgers.

In the hallway, Owen yanked his arm away from Izzy. “What the hell was that? You apologize for me like you’re my mother?”

Izzy stamped out the flame of anger. He knew about Owen’s pride, had stumbled over it often enough in the last few years. “This isn’t about you, Owen. It’s about keeping these jobs so I can quit cutting grass and still pay the rent.”

Owen frowned a little, then nodded abruptly. “I’m sorry. You’re right. But hey… he didn’t fire us. So let’s go see if we can find these things.”

“I thought it was inconclusive?”

“The arrangements were made. He was leaving the items in question to the museum in his will. There is no actual document in that box indicating that he ever really did so.”

“You lied to the professor?”

“Not at all. I just told him the strictest interpretation of the truth.” Owen ducked his head, as though acknowledging the truth of his lie, then muttered. “I just want to find this… We found those letters, he’s not even… trying to find anything.”

“He’s taking a different approach, going through the donation logs. Other stuff.” Izzy defended the professor, though to be honest he too felt the burden of their labor. “Anyway, he kept the letters, so there’s not much we can do.”

Owen glanced left and right down the hall, then grabbed Izzy’s hand and half pulled half dragged him to the stairwell that led to the musty, dusty basement storage rooms they’d been searching through diligently for the past week.

“That’s not strictly true, either.” He held the door open impatiently for Izzy to precede him.

“What did you do?” Izzy demanded, trepidation slowing his footsteps. It had been awful having to go confess their sins to the professor, to face the prospect of disappointing the man and losing their jobs. “So help me, Owen…” Unable to think of a threat or consequence to complete his sentence, his voice trailed away.

Their footsteps echoed eerily in the empty stairwell as they continued to descend, into the dimly lit basement. Ahead of them a single bulb, dusty and dim lit the central hall. Izzy shivered a little, fancying he saw a shadow flicker. Shaking off the hallucination, he picked up his pace a little. At the bottom of the stairs was a switch that would illuminate the hallway… most of it anyway.

“Hmph.” Owen walked so closely behind him that he could feel his friend’s breath on the top of his head. Some of his anger dissolved. Owen was a warm, reassuring presence that tempted Izzy to lean back and seek comfort. How could he be mad at Owen for wanting something he’d kill for himself? He just didn’t have the guts to break the rules, and that would probably hold him back his whole career.

Damned ethics and manners.

What a legacy his parents had left him.

Too bad they couldn’t have left him an adventurous spirit, or a taste for danger.

“I didn’t do anything. Just snapped some pics of some of those letters.”

Owen reached over his shoulder and hit the switch, exhaling loudly. Izzy smiled. He wasn’t the only one who found the basement and its warren of halls and tiny rooms creepy. “Good thinking.” For just second he let himself do it, sway back and rest against Owen’s sturdy frame- not long, just enough to warm himself in the fire of his friend’s spirit… and just enough to feel that unmistakable ridge hidden by Owen’s black athletic pants.

Owen’s breathing hitched, and Izzy knew that spontaneous reaction wasn’t about the creepy hallway, and his insides went all soft and warm as his blood thickened, and arousal threatened.

“Well,” Owen sounded a little breathless. “We finished the first hall last night.” He pointed to a dingy brown plaque on the wall that indicated the hall they’d finished was A 1-12. “Should we tackle B?”

Izzy glanced down the long hall. There were at least six more wings, each containing who knew how many rooms, closets, and cubby holes. “Maybe we should split up.” He offered reluctantly. The last thing he wanted was to be alone down here. The place had serial killer written all over it. As soon as they split up they became targets. He shoved his hand in his pocket and closed it around his phone. Targets without cell service.

“Nah. It’s boring enough as it is, without you I’d go nuts down here.”

Stupid. Stupid to feel so happy about such an awkward, back-handed, not quite compliment. “Okay, so we stick together.”

Owen’s blues flicked over him, his gaze almost a tangible caress, rough and hungry. “Always.”

Izzy blushed… which given how long he and Owen had known each other… been intimate with each other, was kind of … well, he wasn’t embarrassed but that glance made him think longingly of their upcoming lunch break. “Okay. So B wing it is.” He started forward, but Owen caught his shoulder, spinning him around. Heart tripping, Izzy glanced up at his friend, curious. “What?”

“This.” Owen muttered, glowering a little. Then he lowered his head, blocking out the dim overhead light.

Instinctively Izzy’s eyes closed, throwing him into darkness. Owen’s cologne… some cheap Axe or Old Spice variety he bought at Walmart teased his nostrils. He didn't  have time to think before Owen’s mouth settled over his, as hard and stubborn as Owen himself, unyielding, insisting on having this kiss his way, sucking Izzy;s lower lip, biting down, stealing his breath and giving it back.

Izzy clutched at Owen’s shoulder with one hand, grabbed for his ass with the other.

Yeah. Owen had a great ass, firm and muscular…

“Ahem.”

The loud cough startled Izzy, and he jerked away from Owen to lean dazedly against the wall and hope that his erection wasn’t visible through his chinos. “Professor.” He managed to acknowledge the man’s presence but his voice was horribly husky and that one word was the most he could compel his scrambled senses to produce. He flicked a desperate glance at Owen.

“Can we help you?” Owen seemed to recover himself much more quickly, and didn’t even seem to care that his athletic pants clung to the outline of his cock as though they were made of latex.

“That is what you’re being paid to do, isn’t it?” The professor’s thick black brows scrunched down over his nose, becoming an almost solid disapproving line. “Do I have to separate you?”

“No!” Izzy found his voice. His chest was tight and tension made his stomach churn. “It won’t happen again. Sorry, Professor.” Somehow, the professor, whom he’d found quite handsome and attractive in an urbane, sophisticated way, made the threat sound not just punitive but downright dangerous.

“I will be locking the doors at five, as I have an important engagement with the dean. Please make certain that you are out of the building. That is all.”

His footsteps going up the stairs were so loud, Izzy wondered how he’d managed to not hear them coming down. When the professor was out of sight he sagged into the wall, shaking a little.

"This is perfect."

If you enjoyed my post, click on over to the rest of the Orgiasts and read more! 

Hank Edwards

Havan Fellows 

EM WOODS

Story Orgy Presents: Creature Feature Mum's the Word #malexmale #storyorgy #serial

Good morning friends and readers!
Sorry for the posting delay! Labor Day knocked me off track. Ready to see what's up with those letters? Me too!

Mum's the Word

Chapter Six

Sept 7: There were sirens.

There were sirens, loud and obnoxious blaring anxiously, coming closer. When the noise didn’t stop or fade, Owen guiltily shoved the letters back into their box and glanced around the room for a place to stash the box itself. Maybe Gregoire had realized what he’d done… that he’d taken the letters. Maybe he, like Izzy and Owen, knew that a collection of authentic, never before displayed Egyptian artifacts, with the letters proving provenance, would be a huge draw for the museum. 

Even when he’d swiped the box earlier that evening Owen had known that what he was doing was wrong. He didn’t trust the professor though. The discovery belonged to him, and to Izzy. Gregoire had made it clear he planned to take credit for any and all museum work. To him, Owen and Izzy were lackies… laborers. He had no respect for the fact that they were both trained scholars with hundreds of credit hours under their belts, months away from perfecting their dissertations. 

“It’s not stealing.” His conscience raised its invisible, snarky brow, prodding at him. “Okay, it is… but just temporary and only to make sure we get the credit we deserve.”

The sirens finally faded as he shoved the box under a UNC Wolves blanket that Izzy must have bought at some time in a fit of school spirit. Maybe one of the previous boyfriends had left it behind. 

Owen checked his watch at the thought of Izzy. He was supposed to have quit the lawn work at the nursing home by eight, and yet when Owen arrived home from his pizza delivery job- with an anchovy and mushroom pizza in hand- well past midnight, Izzy hadn’t been there. 

Thinking Izzy had stopped by the library to work on his dissertation, Owen had cued up The Walking Dead on Netflix and settled down to assiduously pluck salty fish bits off one half of the pizza. All the while, he’d been conscious of the box of letters, and the waiting for Izzy to get back had been killing him. 

The sirens were finally gone, but still Izzy hadn’t returned. The library was long closed. Where was Izzy? Maybe he’d gone for a drink? Met someone? 

Pushing away the thought that Izzy might not return home alone, Owen reached for the box again, and extracted the letters. He began arranging them in order by postage date, snapping shots with his tablet’s camera as he went. 

Finally a key scraped in the door lock. His head snapped up, tracking every movement of the door. Waiting…

It rocked open slowly, telegraphing Izzy’s tiredness before Owen caught a glimpse of his face. “Owen?” Izzy dropped a leather back pack on the floor and kicked the door shut behind him. “What are you doing still up?” HIs glance fell on the letters, the half empty pizza box, and the gory television show in rapid succession. “Uh…” 

“I wasn’t waiting up for you.” Owen defended himself swiftly. “I was just… documenting these letters.”

Izzy’s blue eyes widened. “Are those the letters?” He advanced into the room, threw himself onto the sofa. He seemed to shed tiredness like a snake does its skin, eyes sparkling, shoulders straightening. “And anchovies on the pizza? Awesome.” Izzy reached for a letter with one hand and a slice of pizza with the other. 

Owen snatched the letter back. “No. Eat first, then wash your hands. This paper… it’s old and …”

Izzy nodded. “I know. Sorry. Just forgot in all the excitement.” A cloud passed through his eyes. “How’d these get here?”

“I brought them, how’d you think?” Owen’s voice was harsher than he intended. 

Izzy stopped chewing pizza and stared at him, swallowing. “Professor Gregoire doesn’t know about this, does he?”

“No.” Owen lifted his chin, squared his jaw. “I didn’t tell him. I don’t want him taking credit for the discovery when we find it.”

“It’s not exactly fieldwork,” Izzy’s glance slid away, over Owen’s left shoulder, an expression on his face that was hard to read. “There is no “credit” involved except in the design and presentation of the displays.”

An inkling of something wrong snaked through Owen’s consciousness. “Izzy? Where have you been?”

“I met someone at the library. We went for a drink.”

“Did you tell them about the letters?” Owen demanded anxiously. 

“I may have,” Izzy drawled timidly. 

“Who?” The inkling became a tidal wave drowning Owen in emotions- anger, disappointment, fear. “Who did you tell, Izzy?”

“Micahn… uh Professor Gregoire. He was in the library…” Izzy trailed into silence, finally turning his head to meet Owen’s gaze again. “He asked if we’d found anything new today. I’m sorry, Owen. I didn’t know you wanted to…”

Gulping, stomach tensing painfully, Owen shook off the emotions stalling him. “Yeah… sorry. No. I didn’t say. Don’t worry about it.”

“Worry?” Now Izzy sounded angry. His eyes snapped, his body stiffened. “What if he fires us for stealing from the museum, Owen? You didn’t think of that did you?” 

Blinking furiously, taken off guard, Owen sat upright. “What?”

“You put our jobs at risk, Owen. We get our first paycheck next week, and now it just might be our last!” Izzy shoved the pizza box violently, sending it tumbling to the floor. 

“We have other jobs,” Owen protested feebly. 

“It’s not the same and you know it. Classroom experience, museum experience… these are things that will get us employed doing… archeology things.” He sputtered wordlessly for a moment. “I don’t want to prune shrubs and cut grass while elderly people of both genders ogle me for the rest of my life. Get real, Owen. This could get us kicked out of school, get our dissertations flunked…” He gave a frustrated humph, blowing thin locks of dark hair off his brow. 

Owen stood frozen, unable to answer because he had no answer. Not that Izzy gave him time to come up with one. His roommate stormed off down the hall to his bedroom. The slamming door left Owen in no doubt that his presence would not be welcome tonight. He sank back into the couch cushions and grimly picked up his tablet and began snapping shots of  each letter. 

If you enjoyed my post, click on over to the rest of the Orgiasts and read more! 

Hank Edwards

Havan Fellows 

EM WOODS

Story Orgy Creature Feature: Mum's the Word Part 5 #malexmale #creaturefeature #storyorgy

Good morning friends and readers! Today I have a special post for you- the third episode of my new Story Orgy story! Just one more "catch up" post this week, and I'll be on track next Monday. Now that we've met both Izzy and Owen, it's time to meet the professor.

Mum's the Word

Chapter Five

Aug 31: "Open the box!"

“Well, here we are again.” Owen frowned, staring  glumly into yet another dark, dusty, musty storage room lit by a single dust covered yellow overhead bulb.

Izzy couldn’t blame him. It was their third room of the day, and the fifth one of the week. The museum had turned out to be two floors of dull exhibits, offices and work rooms and two floors of cubicle sized storage rooms, some of which hadn’t seen the light of day in decades.

“I’m sure we’ll find something this time.” Izzy had to fight to keep his voice light. In truth, he’d given up hope on their second day of work, when they’d discovered that Gregoire intended to deal with the files and offices, and expected Owen and Izzy to tackle the storage rooms blind.

“Oh sure, we will. Maybe another collection of squirrel skulls… or a few more mummified rats. We can put together a super exhibit on mammals of the suburbs.” Owen was bitter, and he wasn’t even bothering to hide it anymore.

Izzy rose on his tiptoes to peer over Owen’s shoulder. It didn’t look all that promising, but unlike some of the other rooms they’d been in, this one had shelves, and the shelves were lined with shoebox size containers. He hefted his broom in one hand and a bucket of rags in the other. “Right. Let’s get through it.”

“It’s a lot of boxes.” Owen entered the room and set down his notebook and tablet to pull the first box from the shelf. “This is going to take forever.”

Izzy skimmed the shelves rapidly. “Depends. Don’t know what’s in the boxes. If it’s one artifact per box, it’ll go quick.”

Grunting, Owen tipped the box in his hand toward the light and brushed the dust off it. “It’s labeled.”

“What’s it say?” Izzy crowded up close to his roommate and tried to get a good look. “Is it labelled?”

“Hold your horses.” Owen shook the box, eliciting a muffled thump. “It’s not going to be anything. Maybe a packet of Dear John letters from the Civil War.”

They’d found enough of those types of things to create a dismal exhibit on the futility of war. Not exactly the sort of thing to make donors open their pockets or write big checks.

“Open the box!” Impatience overtook him, and Izzy snatched the box from Owen’s hands and pulled the lid off. He hadn’t been aware of how much hope he’d had, how the organized interior of this room had affected him. It looked like someone with purpose had spent time here, it had held promise that his soul had responded to without his awareness. Not until he saw that bundle of letters wrapped with a faded blue ribbon. “Damn.” He shoved box and lid back at Owen, who took them.

“Yeah.” Owen stared down at the letters, a bitter twist to his lush mouth. “Blue. Bet it’s a Confederate war widow’s collection.” Pink ribbon, red ribbon, plain brown twine, they’d seen it all.

Sighing, Izzy went to the opposite wall and grabbed the first box he saw. “I have to leave in an hour to go trim hedges at the nursing home.” It was a good thing he’d kept the other jobs. He had the feeling that if their searches didn’t come up with something soon Gregoire would have no qualms about firing them.

Gregoire. The man was an enigma. He seemed interested in Izzy. More than once, Izzy had caught him staring… but he was completely impervious to flirting and seemed blind to every overture Izzy had made.

“Better move fast then.” Owen set down the first box and started pulling others from the shelf, stripping the lids off efficiently and revealing the contents. Izzy followed suit with the boxes from his own shelf.

Soon they had two neat lines of boxes ready to be photographed and cataloged. Izzy picked up the notebook and pencil ready to write. Owen adjusted his tablet and zoomed in to photograph the contents of the first box.

Izzy waited. And waited. “What?”

Owen lowered the tablet. “Those letters… look at the postage.”

Izzy picked up the packet gently. Paper this old was fragile. “Egypt?” He sat down, cross-legged on the floor. “World War II, maybe?”

“Maybe…” Owen joined him. “Let’s…” His words trailed off. A single tug released the ribbon. Owen took half the stack of letters and put them on the floor.

“What are we doing?” Izzy held the other half, bemused by Owen’s actions.

“Looking for something that museum patrons would like to see.”

“They’re just letters.” Izzy watched Owen open the first envelope and extract a single sheet of yellow paper, covered with bold strokes of thick black ink, fountain pen no doubt. Definitely more than seventy-five years old.

Unfolding the paper, Owen whistled softly. “1898.” He skimmed the page.

“Egypt in 1898?” Izzy felt a spark of renewed excitement. “Lots of expeditions going on then.” He slid a finger into the first envelope in his stack and withdrew the paper.

“Izzy…”

He glanced up from the spidery script. Owen had sounded… like he had when Izzy gave him his birthday present last February. Cautiously excited. “What is it?”

“This letter is from Harold J. Fordham, Esquire. It’s not to his wife, either. It’s to the museum director, and it’s about donating his collection.”

“Augh.” Izzy dropped the envelope and let his head dip, clenching his fists in his hair. “Another stupid arrowhead collection. Great.” They’d found a whole room full of them, mounted on velvet backgrounds, under glass, dumped in piles in boxes, most unlabeled. Gregoire had declared them all fit only for the gift shop.

“Yeehaw!” Izzy startled as Owen leaned forward, bumping their heads together and stealing a quick kiss. “No.” Owen’s voice shook with his emotion. “He was a scholar… a gentleman. He made six excursions to Cairo.”

“Cairo?” His head snapped up so quickly his neck cracked. “It’s a collection of Egyptian artifacts?”

“I assume so. This letter doesn’t list anything, it’s just an inquiry asking if the museum would be interested in his collection.”

“You think it’s here somewhere?” His heart beat rapidly. They might not have discovered it themselves, but rediscovering it… “If we find it…”

“It would make a great display.” Owen cast a significant glance at the pile of letters. 

“Only one way to find out if it’s here.”

“It’s here, I know it is. I can feel it.” The prickle of certainty spurred him on, and Izzy picked up the letter again.

If you enjoyed my post, click on over to the rest of the Orgiasts and read more! 

Hank Edwards

Havan Fellows 

EM WOODS