The window view is alarming as TAP Air Portugal flight 172 by way of Rio de Janeiro makes its final descent into Lisbon's international airport! We're skimming the apartments just below the plane, and passing much too close for comfort.
We jam our eyes shut and mumble silent prayers.
Several agonizing seconds later, the wheels bite into the runway and the roar of the reverse thrust jerks us forward. Reprieved! We taxi to a halt and then are transferred to the terminal building on a crowded bus. Elena and I have arrived in Portugal, the first time either of us has been here.
Before long, a taxi has taken us to a district of small, comfortable hotels along the eastern edge of downtown, in the shadow of old castle fortress Sao Jorge. This will be our home base as we delve deeper into the complex web of the syndicate smuggling ancient treasures out of Peru.
Elena is Head of Special Collections at the National Archaeological Museum in Lima, and knows Peruvian antiquities like the back of her hand. This is important to our investigation, and complementary to my experience as a private investigator.
We've worked together before, but this trip is different, now that we're lovers. Neither of us expected this to happen. The feeling is fantastic.
"Which side of the bed do you want, Carlos?" she asks me sweetly.
"Whatever one you're on, baby."
I hug her close. Elena pulls me tight and kisses me hard on the mouth with her succulent lips.
"Do you want to see which side we like best?" she whispers temptingly.
I respond quickly by releasing the zipper behind her top and unclasping her bra. I pull the garment forward and down her arms with no resistance. Two beautiful breasts demand my attention.
So, I bring my fingers to the big nipples that cap them. There's more kissing as I play, making them swell to mouthwatering size. Elena moans, loving this kind of stimulation.
Then her hands are at my trousers, unbuttoning them and releasing my zipper! My cock is hard and as it springs free she wraps one hand around it and strokes firmly. Now I'm groaning and can think of nothing but loving this adorable lady.
My Elena has changed my lonely life, and brought sunshine into dark places. I'm infatuated and can't make love with her enough!
Soon we're testing out the bed, giving it a real workout. The springs are squeaking, then the headboard begins to tap against the wall in time with my thrusts into her willing body.
Her strong legs circle my waist as I plunge and withdraw, drive forward and draw back. Elena literally hangs from me, arms around my back, driving her wet pussy against my cock. The squishing sounds add to our heavy breathing.
It's early afternoon. There's an investigation to start, but it will have to wait for now. The two of us can think of nothing other than our intense feelings for each other.
'Bang, bang, bang'. Oh, that damned headboard! But this feels too good to stop for anything. Elena is in a frenzy, heaving against me, urging me on.
"Harder, harder! More Carlos!"
She wants what I have to give to her, and I won't stop until she has all of it. We're
both losing control, almost at the crest. The ultimate moment is coming closer and closer as our eager bodies take over, driving for what they want. And then we're there!
"Carlos.... Carlos!... Oh.... Ohh.... Ohhhh!... Ughhhh!!"
Elena rides my pounding dick as a powerful orgasm overtakes her, milking me until I deliver... again and again and again. Streams of seed until there's simply nothing more left to give.
We lay together close- me still inside- as we come back down to Earth, our heavenly ride finished... for now. We both know that this bed will be sorely tested many times in the next week or so. After all, we're deeply in love. But now we need to shower together, then get to work on this case.
When my friend Jaguar and used an RTag to track a small artifact to Sao Paulo, we turned over another rock. Fernando Vila had agreed to be our agent to acquire Peruvian treasures for the National Museum. We hoped that he'd lead us closer to the top of the smuggling syndicate responsible for looting our national treasures.
Now, Elena and I are on the trail of a little Incan object tracked to nearby Cascais, an attractive oceanside resort suburb for commuters from the nearby capital city. The item turned up in an antiquities shop there. We intend to learn why it came from the office of the Peruvian trade envoy in Belem, Brazil.
"I suppose there's still time to get to that shop this afternoon, eh Carlos?" tells me it is time to get underway.
We take a taxi downtown almost to the bank of the broad Tagus River. Neither of us has been in Lisbon before and are surprised. We hadn't expected the grid of straight roads here, so different from other European capitals.
The talkative cabbie tells us about the infamous 1755 Lisbon earthquake which flattened, then burned much of the city. The Portuguese king worried so much about another one that he moved into an elaborate tent and stayed there for forty years. Meantime a brand new city was planned, surveyed and built from scratch.
We join the afternoon commuters on the Metro rail that runs west parallel to the river. About forty minutes later we're in Cascais, gawking like tourists at this pretty place, with its marina full of sailboats and expensive cruisers.
There are fine beaches lined with rental umbrellas and chairs, while trendy restaurants and shops line the streets. Among them is a brightly painted storefront simply called Coisas Antigas [Old Things]. It hardly looks like an important piece of a crime puzzle.
Inside we see an eclectic mix of old art, antique furniture, and other varied bits of the past. At first it seems that no-one is around, until a smiling saleswoman comes from the back. She certainly doesn't look like a criminal.
Her nametag says Portia, and she's a short, round woman with a big, open smile that says she likes people. Her style is Boho, with a long, print dress almost to the floor and Birkenstock sandals sticking out underneath. Long braided pigtails complete the look.
"If you see anything interesting just tell me. Everything here has a story, you know," she comments.
"Yes, I'm sure it does," Elena intones ironically.
No doubt she's thinking of P1, the small Incan piece which our GPS device traced to this address. We're both looking for it as we browse the cluttered shop. The place is a treasure trove, and had we been casual customers we might spend an hour looking at everything while Portia tells us about its provenance. But our focus is narrower than that.
"Have you anything here from the Americas?" I ask.
"That depends. Nothing English or French. Portuguese and Spanish- yes."
"Anything older? We like Indigenous art, especially pre-historical," Elena narrows it down.
"Just a few things, some of them very old. They're locked under glass over there," and she leads us toward the back of the shop.
Trailing behind her, we feel the anticipation of the hunt. Will there be an ancient Paracas burial shroud emblazoned with patterned images of the all-seeing Oculate Being? Will we see rare Nazca drinking vessels? Or will there only be the inferior quality Inca item that was tracked here?
We're both surprised and disappointed by what we see. The precious items we saw change hands at Antonio's bar in Manaus are not in the shop. Evidently they've gone someplace else. However, we spot item P1, and some other Inca bits and pieces.
