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“I am,” I admit, pressing my lips tight.

“Don’t come yet,” she insists. "I'm not done.”

“I’m listening, baby.”

“I've got my head thrown back, and my hair is hanging down my back. Your hands are on my ass, and you're helping me move on top of you. Your mouth is on my breasts, and your teeth and tongue are on my nipples, and it's so good, it's almost enough, but I want more. I want you, more than this, and I want it to never end.”

“Never,” I tell her, stroking faster and faster. The sound of my hand on my flesh is audible, and I know she hears it.

Hannah’s words are coming in short, breathy huffs. “Your hand moves between my legs, and your fingers start rubbing, and you're whispering in my ear.”

“What am I saying?”

She takes her sweet time to answer, and the silence is killing me. “Hannah? What am I saying?” I repeat.

“That you can’t believe how lucky you are,” she finally blurts out. “That I'm the most beautiful woman you've ever seen, and Ifeel so good. That you’ve never met anyone like me.” I close my eyes, and the picture in my mind becomes more vivid. “And then it's not long before I'm coming. God, you make me come so hard, Johan, and it's like nothing else in the world.”

“Fuck,” I gasp, and there's no way I can stop. My body arches, and my legs spasm as the orgasm washes over me, and I come all over my hand and stomach in thick milky ropes.

Neither of us speak for a moment, awash in the afterglow. Then, my sweet Hannah asks, “Did you…?”

“Yeah,” I sigh, grabbing a tissue from the box on the bedside table. “Yeah, I did.”

I hear her chuckling on the other side. “Well, glad I could help.”

“Thanks, love. I needed this tonight. Let’s catch up once Lady Margaret arrives, and we can finalize our strategy.”

“Of course," she replies warmly. “Sleep well, baby. We’ll sort everything out.”

We say our goodnights, and I hang up the phone, a sense of calm settling over me. The night's earlier events recede into the background as I turn off the bedside lamp and slip under the covers. With the comfort of our conversation wrapping around me like a blanket, I drift off to sleep, the troubles of the day easing into the shadows for now.

6

Johan

It’s Friday morning,and the soft buzz of my office seems more pronounced as I anticipate Ludovic’s arrival. The clock ticks steadily, each second drawing closer to the inevitable discussion about the expedition to Ubar. I try to concentrate on my work, papers, and maps spread across my desk, but my thoughts are repeatedly pulled toward the upcoming conversation and the intricate dance it will require.

The door to my office eventually opens, and Ludovic steps in, his presence commanding as always. He’s impeccably dressed, his suit sharp, and his demeanor confident. He greets me with a firm handshake, his grip strong, conveying both power and assurance.

Ludovic strides into my office with his characteristic confidence, taking a moment to survey the array of books and artifacts that line my shelves. “You've got quite the collection here, Johan,” he remarks casually, his eyes scanning the titles and objects that reflect my years of fieldwork and research.

“Thanks,” I respond, rising from my desk to greet him properly. “Can I get you something to drink? Coffee, perhaps?”

“A coffee sounds great, thank you,” he accepts with a nod. While I prepare two cups from the small machine in the corner, Ludovic takes a seat, his gaze still roaming curiously over the details of my workspace.

Once we're both settled with our drinks, Ludovic leans forward, his demeanor shifting to one of excitement mixed with a hint of secrecy. “Johan, have you ever heard about the lost city of Ubar in Oman?”

I pause, feigning ignorance to gauge his intentions. “Ubar? Can’t say that I have. What about it?”

Ludovic reaches into his briefcase, pulling out a rolled-up map, which he spreads across my desk with a flourish. “The Rub’ al Khali desert,” he begins, pointing to a vast, empty space on the map, “is closely linked to the ancient civilization of Ubar, sometimes referred to as the 'Atlantis of the Sands.' The city, mentioned in Islamic and ancient texts, was believed to have flourished around the 1st century CE before its collapse.”

He traces a line with his finger across the desert depicted on the map. “It's hypothesized that Ubar eventually became buried under the sands of the Rub' al Khali desert, possibly due to the collapse of an underground water source that caused the ground to give way.”

“And what about it?”

“Well, recent archaeological findings suggest that the lost city of Ubar may have existed in some form, with remnants found at the site of Shisr right there,” he adds, pointing at the map, his eyes alight with the thrill of the chase.

Intrigued despite myself, I lean over the map, examining the details. “Okay, and what do you want to do with this information?” I ask, looking up at him.

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