Led_Astray
Literotica Guru
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- Feb 6, 2008
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Amazing Tales: The Tablets of Xiuhcoatl. (Closed for Lexavier and IvoryValentine)
A pulp adventure tale somewhat inspired by the likes of Indiana Jones and others
Professor Albert Wilson Wickliffe sipped nervously at the warm gin-and-tonic, looking over the top of his glass at the elegantly dressed young lady on the other side of the table. He slipped a finger into the collar of his white shirt, trying to let in some cool air, but the air in the hotel bar was just as hot and sticky as the flesh inside his garment.
"She's late." he opined irritably to his young companion. The heat was making him extremely uncomfortable - as were the bold and to his mind inappropriate looks Miss Bedloe seemed to delight in teasing him with. He was a creature of England, of dull summers and dreary winters, and the tropical heat of Manaus, Brazil, was worse than anything he had experienced before. His carefully cut jet black hair was plastered to his skull with sweat and his handsome if bookish face was flushed.
He tried to avert his gaze from Miss Bedloe's beautiful, impish face, to read the newspaper in front of him, but he was unable to focus, his heat-addled wits barely taking in the story about some giant new airship those blasted Germans were showing off. "First flight of the Hindenberg!" declared the headline, brashly, but then what could one expect from a colonial paper? Exasperated, he tossed the New York Times onto the white linen tablecloth and gave voice to his concern.
"Are you sure this... person... is reliable?"
A pulp adventure tale somewhat inspired by the likes of Indiana Jones and others
Professor Albert Wilson Wickliffe sipped nervously at the warm gin-and-tonic, looking over the top of his glass at the elegantly dressed young lady on the other side of the table. He slipped a finger into the collar of his white shirt, trying to let in some cool air, but the air in the hotel bar was just as hot and sticky as the flesh inside his garment.
"She's late." he opined irritably to his young companion. The heat was making him extremely uncomfortable - as were the bold and to his mind inappropriate looks Miss Bedloe seemed to delight in teasing him with. He was a creature of England, of dull summers and dreary winters, and the tropical heat of Manaus, Brazil, was worse than anything he had experienced before. His carefully cut jet black hair was plastered to his skull with sweat and his handsome if bookish face was flushed.
He tried to avert his gaze from Miss Bedloe's beautiful, impish face, to read the newspaper in front of him, but he was unable to focus, his heat-addled wits barely taking in the story about some giant new airship those blasted Germans were showing off. "First flight of the Hindenberg!" declared the headline, brashly, but then what could one expect from a colonial paper? Exasperated, he tossed the New York Times onto the white linen tablecloth and gave voice to his concern.
"Are you sure this... person... is reliable?"
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