Trouble with Harry
In 1924, Harry, and adventurous archeologist, uncovers his greatest find--the tomb of the daughter of Shah Azhi "the devil king", containing the magical stone of Azhi. Legend tells of the stone's great power to grant wishes. When Harry lays his hands on the prize, he's sucked into a bottle to sleep for over eighty years.In the twenty-first century, lonely museum worker, Edie Ragsdale, has been tasked with cataloging the contents of a sarcophagus. Among the mummified remains of a long-dead princess. Edie finds a bottle. When she brushes away the dust of a thousand years, a naked Harry appears out of thin air. Because she was the one to wake Harry from his long sleep, Edie is able to wish for anything her heart desires and Harry has to grant it! Only her wishes don't always turn out as she plans and Harry can't control all the outcomes. Come along for a rollicking romp and learn that wishes don't always come true, and maybe that's a good thing!
The mummified remains of the woman smelled like dust and old bones. Edie had seen her share of mummies, each telling a story of its own. Tucked next to the mummy’s feet was a bottle, coated in the dust of perhaps thousands of years.
Curious, Edie carefully lifted the bottle and rubbed the sides with the soft cloth she kept tucked in her pocket.
The floor shimmied and thunder rumbled outside.
Edie set the bottle back in the sarcophagus and strode to the dingy window. Was it going to rain? She hadn’t brought an umbrella and she’d be walking home soon. Damn. Why didn’t I bring an umbrella?
What little bit of sky she could see between the buildings looked as it had that morning, although the gloom of dusk cast long shadows into the alley. No clouds skittered by, no hint of rain. Then why had she heard thunder? Maybe it was a garbage truck dropping a dumpster onto the pavement. Sometimes they made enough noise she’d mistake it for thunder.
No matter. The skies were clear and, as soon as she cataloged the items, she could go home. With a shrug, she turned back to her work only to stop dead in her tracks.
A tall, naked man stood next to the ancient coffin, stretching as if he’d just woken from a long sleep.
Edie gasped, the only sound in an otherwise silent cavern. This man very much resembled the pirate in her daydream. Dark-haired, suntanned. Her heart skittered erratically, her pulse banging against her throat. He was naked. Totally naked. Her gaze skimmed—okay, slowly perused—from the top of his shiny black hair and over his angular face, continuing downward. She panned the wide expanse of his smooth brown chest tapering to narrow hips. Nestled in the dark shadow of curly hair, his penis hung flaccid, but still most impressive.
Ohmigod! Edie’s face heated. She’d been staring at his privates. She’d never stared at a man’s privates before. What would he think? Then again, what was a naked man doing in her warehouse? Perhaps he was crazy. Maybe he was a sexually perverted lunatic out to deflower lonely virgins. Edie sank to the floor and gathered up a loose slat from the crate she’d dismembered.
If he was going to rape her, she wasn’t going down without a fight. She stood, her hand gripping the splintered wood. “Who are you and what do you want?”
The man rubbed his eyes and blinked, before he straightened and looked directly at her. “Who are you? And where the hell am I?”
The woman standing before him brandished a wooden slat in his face. “I asked first.”
Harry stepped back and, for the first time, realized he was completely naked. “Holy Jesus.” He leaned over to grab a board but the sharp corner of a board poked his chest. Reflexively, he crossed his hands over his groin.
“Don’t move, or I’ll scream.” The woman poked him again. “What are you doing here? And more importantly, why aren’t you wearing any clothes?”
“Look, lady. I don’t know what’s going on here, but I do not have designs on your person.” He reached to push the point off his ribs, baring his groin, again. “If you’d quit jabbing me with that stick, I’ll cover myself.”
Edie tried really hard to keep her gaze above his shoulders, but some things were just too noticeable to be ignored from the corner of her eye. “Oh.” Her cheeks burned and she stepped back. “Yes, of course.”
He leaned down again to reach for a board.
“Not with that!” The sharp edge caught him in the throat this time, puncturing the skin. Warm liquid oozed down his neck.
He straightened, his hands rising to rest on his hips. “How am I supposed to cover myself with you trying to stab holes in me?”
“Here, use this.” She struggled with one hand to untie the strap around her neck and waist while maintaining her grip on the board. Then she tossed her canvas apron at him.
Harry deftly caught the apron in a single hand and held it like a fig leaf over the lower half of his torso. Had he drunk himself into a stupor last night? And where was he? Obviously, not in the desert. And why was this woman waving a stick at him. Had his performance in bed been that dismal?
“Go ahead, put it on,” she said, her face flaming, her voice shaking like dry leaves rattling in the wind.
“A lady would look away while a man dressed himself,” he grumbled.“Look, buster, I’m not turning away for a second, so don’t even think about jumping me.”
Other Authors Participating in Snippet Saturday: