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By ellbee
"No, the other one." "Yes, of course, miss. Jewelry, miss?" "Just the pearls." She surveyed herself critically in the ornate mirror. A small smile played around her lips; satisfaction was evident in her pose. This would do nicely. A knock on the door was followed by a booming "Everyone decent in there?" "Yes, Uncle, come in," she called. As soon as he saw her, he beamed and lumbered over to give her a kiss on the cheek and an jolly, "My, my, don't you look lovely." She gave him her brightest smile as her maid draped her wrap over her shoulders. "Shall we go?"
Mary Sue Pettigrew was used to the good things in life. An orphan since infancy, she had lived with her aunt and uncle all her life. She herself was penniless, but her aunt and uncle were quite wealthy and most highly regarded. She was like a tomboy sister to her big, burly cousins, who had taught her to shoot and fight, cuss and play poker like a man. They taught her to swim, ride and climb trees when she was a child. As she grew older, they showed her the proper way to skin a deer and fix a car. Her doting aunt, God rest her soul, had taught her all the requirements of being a proper lady, from meeting royalty to painting a landscape to making a nice pot of tea. Her performances in charades had prompted many people to remark that she could be a world-famous actress, if such a thing were heard of for a lady. She could sing like an angel, played several musical instruments, and was kind to children and animals. In addition, a succession of under-gardeners and grooms, as well as the occasional schoolmate of her cousin's, had taught her everything she needed to know about being an improper lady, and she knew if she ever got a man in bed he would be her slave. Such was her regal bearing and her exquisite face and form, no man had dared to impugn her purity. Now at the ripe old age of 19, she was a vision of loveliness. Her hair was long and lustrous, falling in cascading waves to her knees. She was tall enough, but not too tall. Her figure was the picture of feminine grace and symmetry. She was, indeed, a most magnificent young woman.
When her uncle informed her that he would fund an exploration by a good friend, Sir Walter Whatnot, of certain Egyptian burial sites, Mary Sue decided she would like to see Egypt. It was the work of mere moments to convince her uncle that he should go to Egypt as well, which he had had no intention of doing. Hot and dirty, he said, and all those natives. But Mary Sue was determined, and of course he agreed to go, and to take her with him, because he could deny her nothing. So that was how she found herself in Cairo, on her uncle's arm, entering the Museum of Antiquities for an opening show of new artifacts which her uncle had sponsored. As they entered the candlelit building, Mary saw a man she simply had to have. Medium height, medium build, brown hair and eyes. At first glance, completely average. But a closer look showed a gleam of humor and fun in his eyes. To her discerning eye, he was slightly drunk, but he carried it well. He was standing with a rather mousy, shy-looking woman, who was nervously fingering a necklace and apparently lecturing the man. No fun at all, Mary Sue thought, as she looked the woman up and down. We'll soon be rid of you.
She had instructed Jonathan on how to sneak into her room from the balcony. She lit the candle that would signal the departure of her maid, and struck a pose. As he opened the door, he caught sight of her, half-reclining in what was a very fine, very transparent bit of nothing made out of finest linen. He stood transfixed, wordlessly opening and closing his mouth, rather in the manner of a fish. Mary Sue was delighted at his reaction. "Pour me some champagne," she purred, patting the bed, "and bring it over here." Once she had him next to her, she twisted around to put a hand on his shoulder, pressing her breast into his arm. "Now, isn't this more cozy?" she whispered. He turned his head and there were her lips, full and inviting. A wave of glorious red hair fell over one sapphire-blue eye. What could he do? He could deny her nothing. Jonathan of course told her all about their trip to Hamunaptra, and of the store of riches buried beneath the sand. The thirst for wealth and adventure was upon her. She tried to talk him into taking her, but it seemed he could not find the way by himself. "So, what did you say was the name of this friend of yours?" "Um, O'Connell. Rick O'Connell. But I don't think he'll want to go back." I'll bet I can convince him, she thought to herself.
She was able to find him at, of all places, the museum, in conversation with a dowdy little bird she recognized from the party. He was trying to talk her into something, apparently, but she kept shaking her head. Finally, he threw up his arms and turned away. That was when he saw Mary Sue. He simply stared. She walked up to him slowly, tantalizingly. "You must be Rick O'Connell," she murmured. "I've heard so much about you. You are a hero in this country, I understand." He smiled, seemed to expand. He was quite handsome, good, regular features, and very tall and muscular. Mary Sue decided to go straight to the point. "There's a map in the office upstairs, I'd adore for you to show me how to get to Hamunaptra," she said, softly, so the librarian person wouldn't hear. "It's not all that easy to get to, " he said, falling instantly under her spell. "I know. I may need some help." She smiled up at him with a naughty little smile, as if to say, "You and I, we understand each other." Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the mousy little librarian fuming. She laughed to herself as she took his arm and pulled him toward the stairs. He never even glanced back, but looked into those clear emerald eyes, grinned, and said, "Sure. Anything the lady says." He stroked her gleaming blonde hair as he followed her up. Once she got him into the office, they were a tangle of lips and arms and bodies. He cleared off the desk with one wide stroke of his arm, and she pulled him down, delighted at his reaction. Of course, he could deny her nothing.
It was several days ride out to the buried city, but since Mary Sue had been riding all her life, and since she was too much of a lady to perspire, the trip passed easily. On the way, he told her about the Med-jai, who were duty-bound to protect Hamunaptra. She fingered her many weapons, all of which she could use with great skill, and smiled. She didn't think she would have any trouble. It was morning when they arrived, and they began immediately looking for a way in. They dug and dug, all day long. When night fell, Rick was exhausted, and immediately fell asleep. Mary Sue, however, felt as fresh as a daisy, and decided to take a midnight stroll. She was standing near a tumbled--down pillar when her ultra-receptive senses told her someone was near. She saw him clearly in the moonlight, tall and dark, the tattoos on his face barely visible. She leaned against the pillar, well aware of how she looked in the moonlight. He came closer slowly, as if unwilling to admit her power. But she knew he could not resist her allure. He did not stop until he was crushed up against her, forcing her to gasp for breath, the hilt of his scimitar pressing into her belly. He thrust his hands into her luscious lavender locks, gazed with passion into her sparkling black eyes, then without warning, began devouring her mouth. She was delighted by his reaction. She knew he would deny her nothing.
Three days later, she was back in the house her uncle had rented for their stay in Cairo, staring into her mirror with a self-satisfied expression on her face, while her maid dressed her gorgeous hair. Piled on the bed were expensive gifts, pleading letters, even a tortured poem in Arabic, which she could, of course, read perfectly. She scooped them all up and tossed them in a laundry bag, the only bag left open, for she was leaving today on a ship back to England. Her trip had certainly been an eventful one. "Everyone decent?" came the booming voice. "Come in, Uncle." She smiled warmly as he kissed her cheek. "Shall we go?"
Epilogue: Several days later, Jonathan sat pretending to read the newspaper, trying to choke down some breakfast after a night of trying to drown his sorrow over losing the most perfect of women. He was too bleary-eyed to notice the paragraph reporting the destruction in a storm of H.M.S. Purgatory, and the tragic loss of many of England's finest lights. And so ends the reign of Mary Sue, may she rest in peace FOREVER.
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