Epic erotica. From the devilish imagination of the best-selling Tiggy Mills come a truly ambitious sprawling epic of erotic passions, sexually explicit depravity and the power of a ring upon the women who in turn possess it…
After lying lost for so many Millennia, a ring is fatefully discovered by Gabrielle, a shy, young archaeologist, in Greece, under the very shadows of the Acropolis itself. It sets in motion incredible, debauched escapades for both Gabrielle and the women who come after her, those who temporarily possess the fateful golden band. One by one they all become embroiled in the ethereal game of love, lust and life that mix earthly, immoral, carnal passions and divinity together.
The ring was cast many eons ago in the fires of Hades and the cool of Mount Olympus; it was a bequest from the goddess Aphrodite to mortal women, for their delectation, education and of course the amusement of the Gods.
It was to prove a divisive gift whose purpose was to reveal the true, inner sexual desires and aspirations of any woman that but placed it upon her finger; however it carried an eternal warning inscribed upon it ‘… be sure that you wish to know!’ Because sometimes true longings, dark, hidden, suppressed, physical desire, sexual yearnings and female cravings are dangerous and best kept dormant or hidden!
The line between legend and fact can be so faint it is almost indefinable and invisible. In the search for spirituality and satisfaction, is religion and mythology so different?
A fantastical journey or sex, erotic passion and the power of a rin
Ring of Aphrodite
Gabrielle wiped her brow; the sun was hot and she could feel a swathe of sweat starting at her neck and running down her back and spine like a warm, trickle of running water.
She had not known what to expect on the small archaeological expedition, but the searing midday heat of the early Greek summer sun was a far cry from the cold austere, stuffy rooms at Oxbridge.
Although she was the youngest ever doctor of her chosen profession of archaeology she knew that she was extremely fortunate to have been selected for this 6 month dig here, on the hallowed grounds of antiquity and in the very shadows of the Acropolis.
She raised her head from the unrelenting, scorched, dusty, red earth and watched her colleagues toiling; every handful and grain of soil and sand painstakingly, carefully, removed and sifted.
It was hard work, but for all of them, a labour of love and passion that held and maintained them through all the monotony of the actual digging.
There were 8 of them in the team, Professor James Thomas was in charge; he was a rotund bull of a man with a large, bulbous face and a thick, ginger beard.
He was amiable enough though and extremely friendly, and within a few days of arriving on the site had organised the other five men and the two women into a slow, methodical, digging and exploration machine.
The only person Gabrielle knew before she arrived was Doctor Frank, a German specialist in pottery and mythology and she had attended many lectures of his when he visited her university campus for tours.
Gabrielle had always loved Greek and Roman mythology and as she gazed around and admired the crumbled, marble pillars, still towering resplendently and resolutely so many years after they had been erected, it made all the mundane work on broken plates and small pieces of various, questionable relics from the distant past, worthwhile.
She enjoyed the fantasy of Zeus and all the Greek Gods of wonder; she always had from being a small, so eager to learn, little girl.
Being here and sensing Greece; actually seeing and admiring the spectacular Acropolis, it was not hard for her to understand how the Greeks had believed their gods were real, indeed was it really such a leap of faith from some of the modern religions and theories?
Karen was the only other female member of the group; she was much older than Gabrielle and the two of them shared a tent in the makeshift camp at the side of the dig, in the shade from the nearby olive trees and just beside the fabled, Hill of Nymphs.
There was a shower and some basic amenities but the academic world in which they inhabited was not one of luxury.
Karen was nearly 40, married, with a grown up child and she had abandoned her, obviously forgotten, husband for the summer.
Gabrielle did not like her much, or get on with her from the outset, the woman seemed more interested in the local men that helped dispose of the residue of earth, than she seemed to be with the cultural and historic importance of what they were doing.
She tried to be cordial but each night she would refuse her invitation to join her at the local taverna, where no doubt her flighty appeal and talents, questionable appetites and desires would be suitably entertained.
Therefore Gabrielle preferred to spend her evenings with her male colleagues, drinking wine and discussing the importance of one small object or another and dreaming about the world changing discovery they were about to make in the morning.
It had been a month since the dig had begun and although no one mentioned anything, the actual pieces they had unearthed were unfortunately, inconsequential at best.
Indeed, being so very close to civilisation it could be assumed that the well trodden and, already thoroughly investigated ground, had nothing further to reveal, but as the learned professor always told them, there was always that chance!
Gabrielle lay in her bed, Karen, as normal was not yet home and in the quiet of the late evening and in her solitude she quietly thought about her life and questioned herself.
She was only 24 but her short, dark hair and stern manner made her seem somewhat older than she actually was.
Her tendency was to hide her pretty face behind small, rounded spectacles that made her seem even more academic, geeky and insular than she actually was.
There were times just like this tonight however, when the air was so still and breathless that she could feel herself long for something, but it was unrecognisable and ethereal.
She always accepted and received comfort from the fact, when she became so introspective and melancholy, that her love and her life were the work and career she had chosen.
It was more than just a job or occupation; it was a calling!
A time ago she had nearly married, once, at university, but her love interest had proved unfaithful and the experience was buried deeply within her never to be brought to the surface.
She remembered the man occasionally and tried to forget the fleeting almost intangible, transient, physical pleasure shared so briefly.
These regrets and emotions seemed so pointless and trivial compared to the ancient objects and mysteries that were always, just tantalisingly waiting to be discovered each and every day.
Karen bustled suddenly into the tent, disturbing her peace and contemplation; she was mildly drunk and instantly broke Gabrielle’s train of thought.
Her older colleague let her inappropriately youthful, provocative clothes slip off onto the floor, threw herself heavily onto the bed and mumbled tiredly, but happily.
“Oh goodness what a night I have had!”
Gabrielle’s patience snapped momentarily and spoke with a cutting, dry edge to her tone.
“We’re here to work Karen!”
The obviously, inebriated woman slurred her words and laughed at her tent mate’s demonstrably, childish irritation, and show of pique.
The young girl’s patience seemed but a distant memory to her; a month was a long time to endure this almost nightly charade.
“You’re married Karen…for God’s sake…I might be naive but I’m not stupid…I know what you’re doing!”
Her companion just settled languidly and firmly into her bed and whispered softly.
“What is that Gabrielle? What am I doing?”
The conversation had been started and Gabrielle was in no mood to acquiesce, as she normally did for a quiet life, and not to rock their female, less than harmonious, boat!
“You’re letting those local men use you…it’s so undignified and disgusting!”
The older lady just laughed and breathed in deeply the life giving, warm, aromatic air.
“Mmmm… I’m letting them buy me wine…dance with me…make me feel like…a woman…is that so terrible Gabrielle?”
The young girl could not believe that she would have the effrontery or dare try to justify her nefarious and outrageous actions and could not understand her associate’s attitude or take on her life at all.
“It’s so immoral and disgraceful Karen…what you are doing…just so utterly demeaning!”
She responded without the slightest anger but tiredly; it had been a long, enjoyable and intoxicating night for her.
“Each to her own… Girl…”
Karen giggled like a teenager to Gabrielle and, in spite of her sensing she was on the high principled ground of respectability, the young girl felt naïve and belittled.
“…But after the treat I’ve had tonight… it’s going to be me resting and sleeping well…not you Young Lady!”
Her body curled up onto her bed and almost instantly was snoring softly and quietly, as if not to disturb the gentle, faint, night breeze as it whispered through the lightly covered, swaying olive trees just nearby.
Gabrielle was so angry and annoyed with her companion’s assumed promiscuity and lack of morality, and wondered momentarily what her treat was that she had referred to so markedly and pointedly?
No doubt some cheap, tawdry, unworthy, sexual act!