Isis had been playing games over the last few days, she seemed to have no time for him, but he knew she desired him. He yearned for her, but he would not force her. He was, in fact, furious with her. She said she loved him, but she flaunted herself and exposed herself to him, teasing him and caressing him before running off and leaving him unsatisfied. He couldn't bear to see her flirt with others any longer. She was young and reckless, he reasoned, and perhaps she wanted to withhold herself from him until their marriage, but it was too much.
So Djhutmose decided to take his sexual frustrations to the Dewdrop in the Lotus, his favoured brothel in Waset.
As soon as the sun had set on the House of Rejoicing he shut Ta Miu in his room, made his way to the palace dock and wordlessly boarded a barque, merely pointing across the Nile to direct his servants to carry him where he wanted.
As they sailed Djhutmose allowed himself to think in silence. He thought of what his mother had said, of his duty as Pharaoh, and of his future. He watched the feet of an ibis skim the water as it flew alongside the boat, meditating on what kind of ruler he wished to be. It would all be for nothing if he never sat the throne. Did Isis mean what she said? He pondered. It was one thing to wish to become Pharaoh, it was another to kill your own father. After all, he loved his father, the man who had held him up as his favourite child, who had let him walk beside him, who had taught him all he knew.
And now here I am, not following my Mother's advice. Doing the exact opposite of what I should. Curse Isis. Curse her for planting such seeds in my head. Seeds of deceit and longing. Seeds of depravity. An uncontrollable lust. The way she exposes herself to me... The sweet scent of her nectar, her heady musk, like the evening Kyphi. She has bewitched me... The force of her will, her desires... perhaps I am afraid of them. Her inner strength matches my own. No, in fact, if I am true of heart I know her strength to be greater than mine, or I would not bend to her will. Gods. That's why I can't help but want to cover her, smother her, make her bend to me. She does not even know her own power, all things come effortlessly to her. I am like the Pharoah suckling from the Goddess, drinking immortality from her breast. The Queen of Heaven granting me the crown, as Isis gives life to Osiris and the throne to Horus, my connection to the divine is through her.
My mother, she is the one who was born to rule, even without royal blood. There is so much of her in Isis. Mother is the djed pillar for Father, the one with her arm over his shoulder, the one he leans on, the true power behind the throne. I must not let my rule be so dominated by my wife. That is my father's weakness, he bends to her will all too easily, and I shall not do the same.
Djhutmose was frowning as they skimmed into the harbour. Like a ghost he wandered off the boat, shrouding himself with a cowl so he could pass undetected. He disappeared into the crowded market and chose a camel with no finery on the saddle and rode her to the Dewdrop in the Lotus. It was all too familiar for he had ridden this route many times. First as a boy, when he had snuck away from the palace. It had been the first time he had walked alone through the city, trying not to step in camel shit as they shovelled it off the road and into carts to sell as fuel to the people who lived in the slums. The smell of spiced meats cooked over open flames wafted into his nostrils, then as it was now. He remembered fondly his first night with a woman, and with equal fondness a few moons afterwards, his first night with a man. The Dewdrop was the perfect place for a prince to lose himself, for it was the kind of establishment not quite expensive enough to draw the kind of clientele who would recognise him in the palace, but elegant enough to find the whores beautiful and clean. It was even a place where he had been able to find the friendship of a few who would be deemed unsuitable as company for a God. An added benefit was that the owner had a creative streak, hosting performances and encouraging the pleasure-givers to delve into the hidden folds of their mind and express themselves as authentically as possible. As a result the Dewdrop was a place where one could sate any lust. Even the most curious of requests would not be judged.
As he approached the door he drew back his hood just a little to reveal his face to the doorman who pulled dark lips over yellow teeth wrapped with gold wires in a wide smile of recognition.
"Welcome back, Lord Ibis."
"Em hotep, Qas."
The man unbolted the door and swung it open wide for the young prince. Djhutmose stepped inside. There was a wall of masks. Black masks. White masks. Masks with horse teeth and shaggy black hair. Masks painted with zebra stripes. Masks of carved wood with uneven eyes. There was a crocodile mask, and a hippo mask. Djhutmose took down the ibis mask with the curved beak as was his custom and secured it around his head. His shoes were immediately removed by a slender young girl with wide antelope eyes, her braids fell down over her face as she slipped the sandals off his feet with cool gentle hands. Djhuti felt himself begin to relax as his bare feet touched the woven reed mats that led into the pleasure chambers. His clothes followed, as they were forbidden in the Dewdrop. The only thing that could be hidden were faces, to protect the privacy of the clientele, though many chose not to wear masks. It was rumoured that once a husband had discovered his lover was his own wife, after many months of lying together, but of course that was only a rumour.
"Lord Ibis," spoke a honeyed voice, emanating from an unmasked woman of great beauty, "my heart overflows with delight to see you again. My lotuses and sycamores have missed you."
"Neferu, you smell of sweet rushes," he removed his mask with a flourish and kissed the older woman's cheek, "and you taste of pomegranate." he added with a sly smile.
"You are always a delight, Lord Ibis. I hope we can delight you in turn. Are you here to see her? She has been waiting ever since your arrival in the Upper Kingdom."
"Yes."
"I shall take you to her."
"There is no need, I know the way." He said before placing the mask back over his face.
Neferu merely nodded. Djhutmose left her behind and parted the white linen drapes to enter the Dewdrop. He peeled back the folds of cloth, his fingers grazing the fine weave, as though pulling the petals from a lotus. Petal by petal, curtain by curtain, he spread them apart to enter the inner sanctum where the moans of ecstasy could be heard from within. His feet suddenly touched the cool petals of fresh marigolds strewn over the floor, he was suddenly swept into a sea of orange, wading through flowers up to his ankles. Djhutmose caught sight of a man with dark skin, naked and hard, lying down legs spread, as a handsome youth stood above him. The young man peeled pomegranate seeds from a ripe red fruit with nimble fingers and poured them into the older man's mouth. The older man looked at the youth with hungry eyes and pulled him down for a kiss, their lips meeting with passion as pomegranate juice flowed from the corner of his mouth like droplets of red rubies that spilled onto the floor. They were a tangle of limbs all of a sudden, the man's shaft sliding between the youth's thighs, grabbing a handful of his muscular buttock greedily. He caught Djhutmose's eye and smiled, a wicked glint in his eye; An invitation.
Djhutmose kept walking past them, past them and others. There were women lying together on animal skins, soft pale flesh rubbing itself over the coarse hairs of a leopard. One girl wearing a lion mask stood, legs spread, over another. She took the girl's head in her hands and fucked her face while standing, head thrown back, moaning as the girl's tongue lapped at her sex. She was drowning her in it. The one on her knees couldn't draw breath, could only smell juices and sweat and sex. Djhutmose was hard already. Surrounded by earthly delight. A girl passed by him carrying a tray laden with fruit. Cut figs, sweet dates, red grapes. Djhutmose smiled at her. The girl slipped a finger covered in honey through a gap under the mask over his lips and into his mouth, she looked at him with big brown eyes as he sucked the sweetness from her finger. He licked his lips. She smiled, dipped the finger into her pussy and placed it back in his mouth. He licked off the sweetness and sourness. She smiled again and walked away, hips swaying as she carried the fruit through the Dewdrop. As his eyes followed her he saw people in every room, bodies writhing around together in ecstasy like earthworms after rain.
Djhuti continued, there was plenty of pleasure to be had, and the most delightful of all was the one he sought - Seshen, the Blue Lotus.
And there he found her, at the center of the Lotus, through a door into a room under the open sky. Marigold petals blew through the door as he entered her inner sanctum, bright slips of orange blowing across the dark stone floor, as well as petals stuck to the soles of his feet. Seshenet stood illuminated only by the stars, her shaded face lit up with a smile like the crescent moon as he removed his mask and she saw his face. She was wearing a dress of blue linen, and under the warp and weft he could see her breasts hanging heavy and low and the softness of her belly, a belly which had lines left from carrying life. A softness which was so familiar. The nipples with thick nubs he had nibbled and rolled over his tongue so many times. The Blue Lotus had been his first, the one who had opened the way for him and shown him how to love and give pleasure. He wanted to sink into her, lose himself in her, seeing her again was like coming home after a long day. Seshen was older than him, and no longer a young woman, but her knowledge of pleasure was unsurpassed. Aged like a fine wine.
"Lord Ibis, iiti em hotep. Have you come to play the game of breeze and moonlight?" As she spoke she let her fingers skim the surface of the lily pond where blue lotuses emerged from black water, their petals closed tightly for the night. She took a lotus in her hand and gently pulled the bud from its root and stem, in her other hand was a cup of wine, which Djhutmose knew had been steeped with lilies and oils from the lotus. "Shall we savour the lily flower and meet the Gods in the Duat?"
He stepped towards her, "It's been many moons since we soared across the skies together." she responded to him by gripping his shaft, gently but firmly, and found him already erect.
