The Amorous Agatha Christie 05

Chapter Seven.

Lust on the Nile.

xxx

Egypt, 1924.

Agatha Christie stood on the foredeck of the narrow boat and looked up at the enormous yellow ball that was the sun shining from a cloudless sky. It had been a pleasant journey by sea from the port of Southampton to the port of Alexandria aboard the 525-foot steamship SS Heliopolis.

Passage to Egypt had cost her the princely sum of sixty pounds which since the publication of her best-selling novel was quite affordable. Egypt was, at the time, largely under British administration, and tours to the region were regularly organized by Thomas Cook & Son.

After arriving in Egypt, she had taken a smaller vessel down the Nile and she was now taking her view of the City of Cairo for the first time. Fresh from London, Agatha embraced the new sights and smells as Sir Charles Leonard Wooley and Lady Katherine joined her. She wore her floor-length one-piece dress in Tussah silk with shoulder plaits and a V-shaped neck and was wilting in the ninety-degree heat.

At the age of thirty-three, she had been delighted to join the British archaeologist on an intended three-month excavation of the ruins of the forgotten city of Meroe. On what was to be their second trip to Egypt the Lady Katherine had graciously invited her along as it was widely known that Christie had a passion for archaeology.

The young redhead had first visited Egypt at the tender age of seventeen, accompanying her mother who had been advised to spend the Winter months of 1918 in warmer climates after a bout of serious illness.

Christie, who considered herself shy and socially inept at the time, described her three months in Egypt as a 'dream of delight.' She went to five dances weekly (where her talent on the floor was often remarked upon) and enjoyed newfound attention from young men. Later in life, Christie would credit her time in Cairo as pivotal in overcoming her gaucherie.

Married in 1914 and divorced in 1916, Christie referred to the divorce as the moment she changed from an amateur writer to a professional one, as writing became a necessity to provide for herself. Within two years, she became disenchanted by the constant pressure to produce more novels.

Agatha Christie embraced the so-called 'Jazz Age' with relish, chasing a lifestyle that would have been unthinkable just twenty years before. She drank alcohol, smoked cigarettes, and dabbled in bohemianism. She cut her hair short, wore dresses that showed off her fashionably slender figure, used daring slang, and dated multiple men whilst single.

Sexual attitudes of the past changed as women gained more personal freedom.

Marriage was no longer necessary for one to have sex, and now women felt liberated. Free to love and indulge in affairs without guilt. And Christie had a desire to make the most of it.

x

In 1922, shortly after the beginning of Christie's writing career, the Tomb of Tutankhamun was discovered in the Valley of the Kings. The event gave rise to a new wave of Egyptomania that was fanned by the advent of mass media. Most notably, The Times of London paid £5,000 for exclusive access to news about the excavation, providing daily updates as objects were slowly removed from the tomb. Never before had archaeology captivated the public to this level of interest.

So when she received the invitation to visit Cairo again, she readily agreed. She had been enthralled by the stories Lady Katherine related to her of camel rides, exotic locations, and mouth-watering foods like no other in the world. She did however wrinkle her nose at the unpleasant odour of the Nile as she leaned over the hand rail of the steamer.

"Something we never get accustomed to my dear."

Sir Charles laughed as they disembarked and made their way through the bustling crowd to the lodging. They registered at the Hotel Egypt and Agatha made herself comfortable in her single room and awaited her trunk to be delivered.

x

Of course, the British had occupied the ancient country since 1882 and she felt relatively safe with the armed forces in attendance. However, Sir Charles had informed her of the current tensions in the city and growing opposition to the British presence. Indeed, before she had left England one of her dearest friends Major Trent had spoken to her of organised webs of bribery and corruption and the hideous crime of human trafficking in the country where women and even children were kidnapped and forced into labour and prostitution. Agatha had scoffed at the very notion of herself suffering such indignity and was not concerned in the least. How wrong was she?

As she lay under the mosquito netting on her single bed dreaming of the Pyramids and the Sphinx, she heard a loud knocking on the door. She opened it to see two swarthy men. Egyptian or Sudanese she knew not, but they pointed in silence to her trunk which they had conveniently carried from the boat. Had she not been lost in thought she may have saved herself a world of grief, but as she turned her back the next thing she knew was her mouth being smothered with a dirty rag and everything going dark.

x

Two days earlier.

The voyage had been splendid and Agatha had become smitten by one Woolley's assistants. A promising twenty-six-year-old archaeologist named Max Mallowan. He was quite the thin type, with dark hair and blue eyes. He seemed very quiet and seldom spoke, but she found him to be intriguing as well as handsome.

On the first night of the journey, they had been introduced to each other at the dinner table by Sir Charles. He had said hello and little else. The second meal time had seen the pair of them exchanging furtive glances as Wooley told endless stories of his past digs and discoveries.

Max had been born in Cardiff, and when he did speak, he had a typical Welsh sonorous voice that weaved a magical romantic web around the slightly older woman. After that first evening, Agatha had found him to be of some interest. After the second, the amorous crime writer had been captivated by his looks and wiry physique. By the third mealtime, the horny redhead had made up her mind to sleep with him.

Agatha shivered with a sense of trepidation mixed with butterflies as she sniffed the sea air. The faint taste of salt in the air made her wet her lips as she and Max leaned on the handrail of the ship. The young man stood beside her sucking in the dregs of his cigarette. He turned to the woman with the fashionable bob of wavy hair and glanced down at her breasts that were barely contained in her sequined low-cut dress.

"Cold?"

"Not too much."

She let out a sigh and looked into his eyes. There was no moon, just an immense black canopy dotted with stars. The ship chugged on and the water rippled about the hull.

"So, you're divorced?" Max tossed his cigarette stub into the sea as he felt the woman move closer.

"Yes. It's the old story. The husband falls for his younger secretary and makes her pregnant. No loss of mind. You?"

"Same old story. After I joined up in '17 my other half got lonely and left me for the local Bank Manager. Didn't see that coming."

"You poor dear," said Christie as she wrapped her arm around his, her silver-shod feet almost stepping on his shoes. "Do you get lonely at night?"

They looked into each other's eyes and read each other's minds. For the next ten minutes, they did not speak, both being fully occupied kissing each other's lips and tongue while their hands wandered here and there. The young Welshman was surprisingly rough in his necking and Agatha hissed as he used his teeth to bite into her neck and throat.

"Have a care, my man."

"You're good enough to eat. I want to lick you all over."

Agatha looked up and nodded. She had never denied the fact that she was an unashamed lover of sex who enjoyed every aspect of lovemaking and did not fight the impulse that urged her to acquiesce to the man's desires.

He placed a hand on her left breast and cupped it possessively. The trembling female gripped his shoulders and leaned into him.

She wanted him. Wanted to make long and passionate love all night.

"Let's go to my cabin."

Agatha led the way, entering her berth a little like a newlywed bride. Max pushed the door closed with a forceful shove and leaned against it as he began to unbutton his shirt. Their eyes remained locked as he undressed, revealing his hairy chest and flat stomach.

Christie shook herself free of her glittering gown until it crumpled at her feet. Proud of her figure, the wanton minx put her hands on her hips and let the younger fellow appreciate her lissome form.

"You have a most desirable body."

"Thank you."

Her eyes lowered as his trousers dropped around his ankles. As he tugged his underpants down, her eyes widened as she focused on his lean body. His naked form, something she had longed to view, was bared. He had a boyish torso and slender legs. His cock, now fully erect and ready for action, nearly touched his navel!

"And you have a most desirable dart."

His column of ivory white was thick and sturdy, all of eight inches long with a smooth glans that leaked pre-cum.

Now both in the raw they embraced and she let her tiny hands grip his taut buttocks

drawing him in closer so that his upstanding pole was all hard and pushy on the inside of her left thigh. Her cunt ached for attention as they wallowed in that exquisite flesh-on-flesh caress.

"Get on the bed."

Agatha slid onto her back and rested on her elbows with her legs apart.

"I should let you know that I have a certain tendency to be on the rough side when making love."

"Take what you need. I crave loving most fearsomely."

"Touch yourself."

He stared at her reddish-blonde cunt hair as he jerked his hard-on. She complied with his request and used her right hand to fondle her sex. Her eyelids fluttered as she twirled a finger in her downy pubes, her moisture there transferring to her fingertips. Max breathed through flared nostrils as she let her middle digit delve inside her fuck hole which she lightly frigged. Her bottom shifted as she raised herself a little to let the horny chap get a better view of both of her nether holes.

"Oooh, mmm!"

He approached the bed and yanked her down three inches to the edge of the bed. His hands slid up and down her milky white thighs, making her sigh with an insatiable delight from the welcome physical contact.

"Goodness!"

He pushed his tongue out and began to lash out at her juicy slit. The hairy bush became dappled with spit as he lapped her cunt with sensual pleasure. The pinkish vulva became moistened as he aroused her even more. Christie groaned loudly as he slobbered over the insides of her thighs and cooze in an almost fanatical manner. His nostrils flared as he inhaled her feminine scent which permeated her tingling muff.

"Yes, there."

As he widened her legs almost horizontally, he saw her clitoris peeking out from the hood like a tiny pearl. He instantly latched onto it and sucked hard, teasing the sensitive button with dribble and spit. Agatha grabbed the sheets in her fists as he licked her from anus to clit with long strokes of his tongue. As he reached the top of her quim he nibbled her clit with buzzing teeth.

The redhead's moans grew ever louder as her naked body thrashed on the bed. Max moved his hands under her bottom and raised her lower body off the mattress. His pointed tongue delved inside her as he held her fast to his face. Suddenly, she cried out as spasm after spasm coursed through her body. He kept his mouth clamped to her cunny as she climaxed and he savoured every last drop of her cum juices that flowed from within.

Agatha Christie was more of a woman than he had ever known as she shoved him onto his back and rubbed his throbbing member in one fist. He groaned in heated passion as the thirty-three-year-old sat in his lap and swiped his bell end along her sopping slit. Once his swollen cock head became trapped against her vulva she crashed down and consumed the entire length of his pulsating prick in her hot box.

"Heavens! Get in there you beast."

With his cock fully buried up to the hilt in the shameless female Max watched avidly as she began to bob up and down, stroking his hairy chest as she rammed down into his sweaty groin.

There was no doubt that the famous author was well-practiced in the ways of making love, and he grit his teeth as she moved her hips and undulated on his lower body. Her tits jiggled on her chest as she tightened her legs to the outside of his thighs.

"I do so love a man inside me. It makes me feel liberated."

Max agreed as he worked in concert with her, pushing up into her as she sank down all the way. They found an ideal rhythm as he gripped her waist. heaving up hard against her soft. Faster and faster they fucked and the single bed shook beneath them.

As she dipped forward her tits came close to his face and he took advantage and raised his head so that he could take one hard nipple between his teeth.

"Ooh, nice."

She slowed up her wanton strokes as he smothered her boob in his ravenous mouth. Her hands came around the back of his head and brought him fully into her bosom.

His fingers ran a trail down her spine, sending divine shivers through her quivering body. She pressed her legs harder against his thighs as they gazed into each other's faces. She saw a gleam in his eye and before she could react, he spun their bodies through 360 degrees so that he was now on top of her.

"Take me, Max. Fuck me hard."

Christie moaned loudly as he started to penetrate her with deeper and more probing thrusts. His hips and pelvis rotated as he fucked her with gusto. As he filled her with cock, the muscles in his biceps flexed as he found the perfect balance. The brute force of his stroking pinned the insatiable minx to the mattress and her nails dug into his shoulders as he impaled her on his sizeable log.

"Oohhh, Max! Max!"

She raised her hips further up to meet his every thrust, meeting his mighty rod with an audible squelching. Max slammed into her until his cock was completely buried.

In and out, in and out at a furious rate inevitably brought the appreciative redhead to a wonderful climax. She purred sweet nothings in his ear and rocked her hips up in grateful adoration.

Max snorted as he picked up the pace, each deep thrust harder than the one before. He pushed until he was flat against her chest to breast, belly to belly. His body hair tickled her sensitive nipples thus heightening her ardour even more. He rammed into her over and over, with an almost brutal manner and he smiled as he saw her jaw open wide in a silent scream.

His turgid cock slid in and out of her in a frenzy of fucking, and if the bed hadn't screwed to the cabin floor they might well have burst out into the passageway of the ship.

"Yes Cum in me Max. Do it."

"Are you certain?"

He was pounding in and out of her, spearing her on his length, his end was nigh.

"I'm so close. So close."

"I have a Dutch Cap. Cum in me, my darling."

Muscles tensed in his buttocks as his loins spasmed and his seed rippled along his pulsing shaft. He exploded like a ship cannon shell as he filled her with his thick goo.

He jerked in her arms several times before he exhaled deeply and collapsed in her arms.

Their bodies heaved together as he gulped for air.

"Fuck! But you were good."

"Thank you. You too."

He stayed inside her as they kissed. Christie was delighted and satiated. Yes. Sex is good. No disrespect to Max but she had no love for him, no romance simmered between them. He had just been a good hard shag when she needed it. Now, women were free to love and live how they pleased. Before the Great War, one had to marry for sexual relations. Things had changed for the better since, and the oversexed Christie had welcomed the thrilling new era with open arms and open legs.

She smiled to herself as she rolled on top of him and draped him with her sticky body.

x

Two days earlier.

"I say old thing. The Captain wishes to speak with you most urgently. Something about a missing passenger."

Once Agatha had dressed she accompanied a concerned Sir Charles to cabin 26 where they found Captain Pugh and the first class steward.

"I say, Mrs. Agatha Christie in person. Delighted to make your acquaintance. Your book The Mysterious Affair At Styles was a jolly good read."

"Thank you Captain."

"I wondered if we might pick your brain as it were. We seem to have a bit of a quandary. Dashed if I can figure it out."

"I shall help you as best I can."

"Well, it seems that one of our passengers, one Mister Raymond Gibson has vanished. The steward took him his morning tea only to find the cabin empty and the door unlocked. Not only that, but the bedclothes had been pulled back to the foot of the bed, and the porthole latched fully open. His suit is hanging on the wall hanger where he presumably left it before retiring to bed. He bade the steward goodnight at nine the previous night when he was seen smoking a cigarette alone on deck. As to what took place between then and the discovery of the empty cabin is a mystery. The alarm was raised as the grisly possibility of a man overboard became likely. The crew have spent a good hour scanning the sea but there is no sign of a body."

Agatha had listened to the Captain intently as she scoured the cabin and checked out the 17-inch porthole. She turned over a few pages on the small desk and rubbed her chin.

"Any suicide note?"

"None whatsoever. Nor is there any sign of a struggle with another. Is the fact the door was unlocked significant?"

"It is rather curious. What do we know of Mister Gibson?" She asked as she tipped out a number of cigarette butts from the ashtray into the palm of her hand.

"Only that he is married and that he is a speculator in the Stock Market."

"It's rather a high-risk occupation dabbling in speculative stocks. Speculative stocks offer potentially high returns to compensate for the high risk associated with them. Penny stocks with very low share prices are a good example."

"Quite, Sir Charles. Do we know why he is sailing to Egypt?"

"His wife is there already awaiting her husband for a respite. It will be a terrible shock when she finds out he may well have drowned. Have you any idea of what may have occurred?"

Agatha brushed the dusty palm of her hand and stood tall.

"I am not one to rely upon the expert procedure. It is the psychology I seek, not the fingerprint or the cigarette ash. Order and method and the little grey cells are all I need. In my view, I believe people will quite often do anything for money. I think coffee would be most welcome at this moment, I need some stimulant. Do forgive me."

Leaving the others, she hurried away to the cabin of Max Mallowan. She found him in his pajamas and munching on a slice of buttered toast.

"I hear there's some sort of flap on." He said as Agatha nodded to him.

She shed her clothing and laid back on the bed in the buff.

"Yes. Not much of a brain teaser. I think I already have the solution. I have studied the facts placed before me and everything is clear. I just need a little inducement. The body is an extraordinary vessel. Sex stimulates me physically and as a result my brain. It's the little grey cells I rely on. I shall sleuth, deduce, hypothesize, and shag my way to find any solution. Now come here and kiss me."

An hour later, after a most satisfactory shag, Christie instructed the Captain to search all the ship lifeboats rather than fret about a man overboard. To Pugh's astonishment, Raymond Gibson was discovered hiding in one of the boats. Agatha informed the Captain and Sir Charles of the copy of a month-old life insurance policy taken out by Mrs. Gibson on her husband. She had found this amongst some other documents in Gibson's cabin.