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The project was the auction catalog. Justin's summer of slut and smut may have given him an inside track. Everything in the sale was sexually charged. It was all either erotic, sexually oriented, or associated with someone famous for sexual reasons; and expensive. The centerpiece of the sale was a collection of D/s wear, with related gear and implements, from a Hollywood brothel of the 1920s. The minimum bid on that item was $500,000, but it was expected to bring well over $2 Million. Justin was beside himself with excitement, as I would have been, except for two things.The first problem was Peter. He was an equipment nerd Charlie had hired for the road show. Peter and I disliked each other on sight. Within a week we had moved past not speaking to not even acknowledging each other. My duties did not require me to speak to him, so I didn't. Unfortunately, he and Justin got along fine.The other problem was the client, Sean Richards. As the man with the checkbook, what Mr. Richards. While she was searching the wall underneath the torch, Tamara was startled by the sound of the lid sliding open. Thinking it was the stone door, she spun around to check for pursuers, but as she did so, she struck her head on the stone torch holder and slid to the floor, stunned.The chanting outside of the room rose to a fever pitch, then ceased abruptly, leaving the chamber suffused with a deafening silence. Above the now partially opened coffin, a cloud of black dust arose, then began to swirl around, forming a pattern like a minor spiral galaxy.The dust started to coalesce into a tendril and began to spread out, seeking something in the tiny room. First, it found a small bowl of water left for it. Dipping an end into the water it quickly consumed the contents. Several more tendrils spread from the cloud, questing. As one of the tendrils moved through the air over Tamara's semi-prone body, it paused, as if sniffing the air. Sensing the moisture emitted with each of Tamara's breaths,.
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