Chapter 2: The Offer

The photocopy

Sahara’s desk lamp bathed her dorm room in a soft glow, the only light in the otherwise dark space. Before her lay printed pages from her mother’s journal, each covered in Christy’s meticulous handwriting and sketches of ancient carvings. Sahara had been working for hours, her laptop open to a digital archive of cuneiform texts, her fingers flying across the keyboard as she cross-referenced symbols and translations.

The photocopy Elias had given her lay to one side, its lines of text matching those in her mother’s journal almost exactly. It was a breakthrough—one that confirmed her suspicions about the temple of Ishtar and its connection to the ritual Christy had been investigating. But it also raised more questions than it answered. What had her mother discovered? And what had it cost her?

Sahara leaned back in her chair, rubbing her temples as she tried to piece it all together. The journal entries were cryptic, filled with references to “the duality of Ishtar” and “the power of surrender.” One passage in particular stood out:

“The ritual is not for the faint of heart. It demands total submission—body and soul. Only then can one glimpse the divine.”

Total submission. The phrase sent a shiver down Sahara’s spine, though she couldn’t tell if it was from excitement or apprehension. The idea of surrendering control never attracted her—in bed, in life, or even in her research. But this was different. This wasn’t just about pleasure or power; it was about something deeper, something sacred.

A Late-Night Visit

Sahara’s phone buzzed on the desk, pulling her from her thoughts. She glanced at the screen and saw a text from Chantal.

Girlfriend! I’ve been out partying and saw your light on. Working through the night again? You want me to come up to your room for a glass of wine?

Sahara smiled faintly and typed a quick reply: Sure. Bring the wine.

A few minutes later, there was a soft knock at the door. Sahara opened it to find Chantal standing there, a bottle of red wine in one hand and a mischievous grin on her face. Stunning as ever, her dark skin shone under the hallway’s glow, her curves highlighted by a dress that hugged her body.

“Hey, workaholic,” Chantal said, stepping inside and closing the door behind her. “You know, most people sleep at this hour.”

“Most people aren’t trying to solve ancient mysteries,” Sahara replied dryly.

Chantal laughed—a rich, melodic sound that filled the room. “Fair enough,” she said, setting the wine on the desk and grabbing two glasses from the shelf. “But even geniuses need to unwind.”

Sahara sank back into her chair as Chantal poured the wine, her movements graceful and unhurried. She handed Sahara a glass and perched on the edge of the desk, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

“So,” Chantal said, taking a sip of her wine, “what’s got you so worked up this time?”

Sahara sighed and gestured to the mess of papers on her desk. “Just trying to figure out what my mother was working on before she disappeared.”

Chantal’s expression softened. “Still no luck?”

“Not yet,” Sahara admitted. “But I’m getting closer.”

Chantal nodded sympathetically before setting her glass down and standing up. “You know what you need?” she said, stepping behind Sahara’s chair.

“What?” Sahara asked, though she already had an idea.

“A back rub,” Chantal replied with a grin. “You’re so tense you could crack a walnut.”

Sahara laughed despite herself. “Fine,” she said, standing up and pulling off her crop top. She tossed it onto the bed and sat back down, her bare back exposed to the cool air.

Chantal’s hands were warm and firm as they began kneading the knots in Sahara’s shoulders. She worked in silence for a few minutes, her touch easing the tension from Sahara’s muscles.

“Better?” Chantal asked softly.

“Much,” Sahara murmured, leaning into the touch.

Chantal chuckled, her hands drifting lower down Sahara’s back. “You know,” she said playfully, “I could give you a happy ending.”

Sahara raised an eyebrow but didn’t protest as Chantal’s hands moved to her hips, pulling her gently toward the edge of the chair. She stood up slowly, letting Chantal guide her to the bed.

“Lie down,” Chantal said softly.

Sahara obeyed, stretching out on the bed as Chantal climbed on top of her. She kissed Sahara deeply before moving lower, her lips trailing down Sahara’s neck and across her chest. Her hands roamed freely—caressing, teasing—until they reached the waistband of Sahara’s cargo pants.

“You sure about this?” Chantal asked, pausing for a moment.

Sahara nodded, her breath already coming faster. “Yes.”

Chantal smiled and slid Sahara’s pants off slowly before moving between her legs. Her tongue was warm and insistent as it found its target—flicking lightly at first before diving deeper into Sahara’s folds until she gasped aloud.

Sahara arched her back as Chantal’s tongue flicked lightly at first, teasing her in a way that made her toes curl. But then Chantal dove deeper, her tongue exploring Sahara’s folds with a skill that left her gasping aloud. Sahara’s hands gripped the sheets, her breath hitching as waves of pleasure built.

“God, Chantal,” Sahara murmured, her voice trembling. “You’re too good at this.”

Chantal lifted her head just enough to smirk up at Sahara, her lips glistening. “You say that every time,” she teased, her voice low and playful. “You’d think you’d be used to it by now.”

Sahara laughed breathlessly, her hips lifting instinctively toward Chantal’s mouth. “Maybe I just like seeing you do it.”

Chantal chuckled, the sound vibrating against Sahara’s skin in a way that made her shiver. “Oh, I know you do,” she said before diving back in, her tongue circling Sahara’s clit with deliberate precision.

Sahara moaned softly, her mind drifting as the pleasure intensified. This is what I needed, she thought, her fingers tangling in Chantal’s curls. Not just the release—though God knows that’s amazing—but this. The warmth. The laughter. The way she knows exactly what I need without me having to say a word.

Chantal’s fingers joined her tongue, sliding inside Sahara with ease. She curled them just so, hitting that spot that made Sahara’s vision blur. “Fuck,” Sahara gasped, her hips bucking against Chantal’s hand. “Right there—don’t stop.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Chantal replied, her voice muffled but still teasing. She added a second finger, stretching Sahara in the most delicious way. “You’re so wet,” she murmured, pulling back slightly to look up at Sahara. “You always are for me.”

Sahara groaned, half in pleasure and half in exasperation. “Are you seriously going to talk now?”

Chantal grinned, her fingers still moving rhythmically inside Sahara. “What? You don’t like my commentary?”

“I’d like it more if you shut up and kept going,” Sahara shot back, though there was no real bite to her words.

Chantal laughed—a rich, throaty sound that sent another wave of heat through Sahara—before obliging. She leaned back in, her tongue working in tandem with her fingers as she brought Sahara closer and closer to the edge.

Sahara’s mind was a haze of sensation now—the slick heat of Chantal’s tongue, the steady pressure of her fingers, the way her free hand gripped Sahara’s thigh to keep her in place. It was overwhelming in the best way, like being caught in a storm she never wanted to end.

This is what I love about her, Sahara thought hazily as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter inside her. She knows how to make me laugh even when I’m falling apart.

“You close?” Chantal asked, pulling back just enough to speak.

Sahara nodded frantically, her breath coming in shallow gasps. “So close,” she managed to say. “Don’t stop—please.”

Chantal didn’t respond with words, but the way she doubled down on her efforts was answer enough. Her tongue circled Sahara’s clit faster now, her fingers curling just right as she pushed Sahara over the edge.

The orgasm hit her like a tidal wave, washing over her in relentless waves that left her trembling and breathless. She cried out softly, her back arching off the bed as pleasure consumed her entirely.

When it finally subsided, Sahara collapsed back onto the bed, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. Chantal didn’t pull away immediately. Instead, she lingered, her fingers still buried deep inside Sahara as she watched her come undone. The sight of Sahara trembling beneath her, her thighs slick with arousal and her chest rising and falling with ragged breaths, was intoxicating. Chantal’s own body responded, a rush of heat pooling between her legs as she felt Sahara’s climax ripple around her fingers.