Chapter One
641 BCE

Pincus was a legend as much as a name. As a child, he could not stand to have anyone call him by his birth name, Mahtbub, Adorable. So, he cobbled together the Sumerian expression for whispering, pes-pes along with the Nabataean word for hustler or quick one, incus during his childhood and brawled and pummeled naysayers until everyone in his life called him by his chosen name, Pincus.

Growing to be big, barrel-chested with powerful arms and an iron grip, he was a fighter in Petra’s defensive war against the Assyrians. Known for being fearless in battle, having saved countless men in action and for returning the personal effects of the fallen to parents and wives without ever taking so much as a bauble for himself, after the conquest the victors continued to respect the legend that was Pincus.

Retired and placed in charge of the Counting Office, he was to ensure that cistern levels and water usage, crop and livestock production and other numbers and statistics were dutifully reported back to Nimrud, the Assyrian capital at that time. Ironically, for all his bravery and valor, Pincus could neither read nor discern mathematics. Instead, he treated his ‘smart boys’ well and told each that he would be tied and left to die in the desert if ever his numbers or reports were found to be un-truthful. Pincus had five sons, and the two who had survived the war were now serving at outposts across the Assyrian empire. Both of his daughters were married and produced lovely grandchildren. Then his wife died, and he was alone.

Some months later a girl began following as he walked. She waved and smiled but remained at a respectful distance and this went on for several weeks. Older and unable to see well enough to tell if she was an orphan or possibly the setup for robbers hiding further in the distance, he came to enjoy the attention and began leaving olives and dates on stones for her to find as he collected the straw and weedy material that blew about in the desert and tied it off onto his pack ass. One afternoon he found a bit of shade and sat on a rock, waving for the girl to join him. Slowly she came closer and sat on another stone close by. He looked more carefully now and saw that she was grown up.

“You are young and pretty. I am old. Why do you seek my company?” he asked.

“My Father served under you. He said that you were the finest man he had ever known,” she told him. “I will be a good wife to you.” His first thought was to tell her to find a younger man, but there was a shortage now. Many had died fighting and more still had been impressed to serve the conqueror. So, he thought about taking another wife and it was pleasant to think of not being alone any more.

Pincus married her and she sang to him and prepared delicious meals. They kept lots of houseplants and two cats that were excellent mousers. His new wife had plenty of friends, and it was wonderful to come home and have people laughing and talking in the house again. The couple produced only one child; a daughter they named Leila.

Chapter Two
May 1986

High school girls in halter tops and short-shorts sip bubble teas and iced lattes as they giggle and saunter along a beach path. Young men and small boys stare openly as wives express annoyance each time their husbands steal a glance. A group of seniors are having a picnic further on, and at the water’s edge parents and other caregivers are tending to screaming children. Further down the beach are bungalows, and further still begins upscale homes with tall decks and rooms featuring panoramic picture windows looking out over the Pacific Ocean.

Coming up the stairs around the side of one of these posh homes is a lean, statuesque woman in a floppy hat, sunglasses and long cloak. As she strides, for just an instant a good bit of leg is exposed especially toned upper thigh, and these gams are fabulous. An older man calls down from the deck. The woman does not respond, and he yields to her preference to wait until they are closer before speaking.

As she ascends to the deck, he says, “Dalia, I am so glad you have come.” “Du bist mir vikhtik, Avrum, you are important to me, Avrum,” she responds almost in a whisper as the gap between them closes. He opens one of two French doors to let her inside, and enjoys the heels she wears that accentuate her hip movements as well as increasing their height differential.

Inside she removes her cape, sunglasses and hat allowing blonde curls to roll down her toned neck and muscled shoulders. She bends to fuss with the straps securing her heels knowing that he is taking in her long legs and firm buttocks as it protrudes against her skirt.

“Would you like a drink?”

“Seltzer would be joyous,” Dalia purrs back.

She switches on the radio, tuning to a light jazz station, knowing that Avrum played the clarinet in a jazz quartet back during his college days many years ago.

He brings a strawberry seltzer and a beer for himself, explaining, “It’s non-alcohol.”

She smiles and insists him in for an embrace and kiss. “Gut,” she says, and he feels proud to have stayed within his paramour’s rules. Looking out at the surf and all the people, they sit and Dalia puts an arm around Avrum. Stroking at what remains of his hair whilst whispering how good he has been, she places her other hand on his crotch and tells him how much she enjoys his erections and their time together. Avrum is supremely pleased, as prior to knowing Dalia he had not been able to achieve erections for decades.

He touches Dalia’s curls, and pulls one across his face. She giggles while tilting her head to accommodate more of this play. A bit of wheezing and a sour face come over him, and she moves a hand to his chest to monitor. Dalia bares a breast and guides Avrum closer, whispering, “Opruen, meyn zis. Relax, my sweet.”

Firm and full breasted with large areolas and significant nipples, he adores and makes childlike noises before nestling and then suckling. Though further aroused, his heart rate settles.

Opening his trousers to caress testicles, Dalia pauses. Ever so gently she lifts him off the couch and places the old man across her lap while staring into his eyes. Baring both breasts now he takes the second as eagerly as the first.

With an enduring erection, a pair of breasts to nuzzle, a beautiful woman cuddling him while whispering seductive Yiddishisms into his ears, Avrum feels like a child again and even hears his own giggling and cooing. Erect and so close, his paramour is skilled at delaying climaxes. For more than an hour they canoodle and exchange an intimacy that he has never known before. This magnificent woman continues to whisper sweet nothings in the language of his parents and grandparents, sounds that further transport Avrum back to younger days.

Over the moon with ecstasy, none of his three marriages came close to Dalia, and this woman returns to him.

She rises from the couch and carries Avrum to his bedroom. The old boy loves this part, and after she seats him on the edge of his bed he watches and wants to touch himself as she strips out of her clothes and strikes poses. Then, inviting him to join her, this tall, strong femme caresses him ever so firmly, kneading and releasing old injuries and aches. Somehow her strength makes his erection even more sublime and fulfilling. “Yo, meyn zis. Yes, my sweet,” she purrs, and Avrum begins to lick and move down until he rubs his cheek across her washboard abdomen before moving down to taste labia and clitoris. Trembling on his knees, Avrum still does not climax, and the old man adores this fantastic woman who is able to perform such magic.

Dalia has an orgasm, or at least is able to release in a manner that conveys orgasm. She commends her stallion before telling him to rise. Putting her arms around the old boy, she whispers more praise before leading him to the bathroom. Then she carefully lays Avrum down in the bathtub before squatting over him. As he looks up at lady parts and coos like a child, she slowly begins to urinate down his left cheek and neck. The cool of the porcelain underneath contrasting with the warm spray above takes away his fears. At his chest she passes more voluminously, and the scent of the asparagus she’d recently consumed dredges up adolescent sexual fantasies. Never having shared an intimacy like this before, the sensations and closeness between them fill him with virility and pride. Grinning like a Cheshire cat as she raises him to his feet, Avrum starts the shower. Dalia takes infinite time to bathe and rinse her man. Then just as carefully dries him and allows Avrum to watch as she dries herself and flexes a few more times.

She carries him from the bathroom and lifts him over her head before gently placing the old boy onto his bed. Positioning her body beside his she puts a condom on him before beckoning Avrum to mount. Then she helps him to thrust inside of her several times before a lone, significant release. Avrum breathes hard and manages a few kisses and chuckles before settling down and nodding off into a deep sleep.

She is gone when he wakes, but he is delighted to know that this woman of his dreams will return.

Chapter Three
November 1986

The sports complex stayed open late on Friday nights. Most everyone was off campus, and that made the weight room a more appealing place for solitude. Marjorie preferred to do reps alone, and the absence of people also made this the best time to try upping the weight. A blonde woman entered and went over to a bar already loaded with multiple weights. Still, she hiked it up more than twenty times like it was nothing. Marjorie tried not to stare, but this woman had rippling muscles and a physique to die for. She was clearly not a student, and did not care when Marjorie watched her lift.

Then the blonde stopped and waved a finger, saying, “Your turn. Let me see how you’re doing.”

Four good hoists before the added weight caused Marjorie’s arms to tremble and stall.

The blonde came over to assist, placing the bar back into its brackets. Then she asked how long Marjorie had been training? “Almost a year, but I haven’t anything to show for it.” “Do you have a goal?”

“Yes. Perhaps not as big as you, but I would like some definition,” Marjorie answered before apologizing if her comment was a slight. “I’m Dalia, no offense taken.”

“Marjorie, second year Biology major,” she said with a smile as she accepted a handshake from this beautiful lady.

Some talk about form, lifting and nutrition transpired before Dalia excused herself and left the weight room.

Five months later, over the Easter recess at a friend’s place in Palm Springs, Dalia asked Marjorie how her training regime and the plankton, baobab, arctic moss and supplements were working for her? “Great! Look at me,” and she couldn’t stop grinning while displaying the definition and musculature of her arms, shoulders and midsection. “I’ve never been comfortable wearing belly shirts before.” “Yes, I’ve noticed,” Dalia responded. “He’s noticing, too,” and she did not have to gesture to the fellow on the other side of the pool to be understood. Dalia answered a phone call, and got up to find some privacy. The gent started to walk over.

Training had turned Marjorie’s mousy-brown hair a fiery brown-red. Then a stylist asked, “Why hide such a sensual neck?” So, Marjorie got a bob-cut that framed her face as well as providing a new attitude. Taking the supplements and nutrients in coordination with her workouts made her breasts more pronounced and firmer and her nipples prominent. Her lips also seemed fuller and she took some moments in front of a mirror to practice pouting and doing looks before launching into a fit of laughter. Two proms, a backseat, a dorky boyfriend through most of her junior year of high school and a few guys met at off campus parties was the extent of Marjorie’s romantic experience. But in short order all of this awkward, uncomfortable stuff fell away. Now study, workouts and orgasms ruled her life and Marjorie felt comfortable being naked even bending over to display and let this new boyfriend know that she wanted sex.

Chapter Four
June 1987

As the semester ended a flight home to visit her parents and maternal grandmother in Ashtabula proved revelatory. Everyone was impressed with her new physique, hairstyle and attitude but Marjorie used the time to come to two decisions: First, she would change her major to pre-med, and second, she would accept her boyfriend’s invitation to move in together. These were bold moves, particularly as the money she’d inherited for schooling was still under her grandmother’s control and ladies of that generation did not look kindly upon a young woman living with a man unless they were married.

After working through half a dozen scenarios in her mind, Marjorie decided on an unusual way to approach this thorny subject. First, she told her grandmother that she was going to switch to pre-med and pursue a career in medicine. She paused to allow Grandma to praise this effort. Marjorie then shifted to, “You know it’s the workouts that give me mental focus and clarity,” before allowing Grandma to say a few more nice things. “But working out also makes me quite amorous.”

Now Grandma looked at her differently and asked what she meant? “I rub up against my guy, put his hand on my cheek, not this one,” she said with a smile. “When he gives me a little squeeze I start to bend. Do you remember this feeling?”

Grandma was aghast but Marjorie continued. “I like to take him into the shower. Touching a man does something to me, and a hard penis draws me closer. I mount and he can take it when I thrust and insist him to please me.” She continued to describe intimate details and accompany each with movements and faces noticing that she was succeeding at titillating her grandmother.

“My studies don’t leave time for television but Lewis likes to watch ball games. I’ve trained him to not wear pants just a light blanket so that I can take a break and come to visit him on the couch. I put my face in his lap and enjoy rubbing against his privates; this is called ‘kittening.’ He doesn’t always get aroused but when he does, I can’t help but put his penis into my mouth. This is always joyous and not every time but often enough I am able to break the sound barrier. Do you remember how good it is to cause a man to moan? And I don’t know what’s happened to me, I like to smear his ejaculate across my face and body. Ya know?”

Grandma sat silently for some time, the sternness of their Scots Presbyterian heritage on her face. Then she shared, “I was 15 when our parson’s wife kissed me on the mouth. She reached under my skirt and touched me. That was my first orgasm.”

Now it was Marjorie’s turn to be shocked and she looked quizzically at her grandmother for a long moment before asking, “Just that one time?” Grandma laughed. “I accompanied Arlene to a church conference in Columbus that summer and again the next.”

“Didn’t it bother you to do that with a woman?”

“Yes, but I got over it quick enough. Arlene made me feel special, grown up. Anyways, we continued until I turned 19, and had to go take care of my Grandpa Hank in Dayton.”

“Did you tell this to Grandpa?”

“No. I’ve kept it to myself all these years. But I visited Arlene before she passed and we reminisced. Neither of us was ashamed, and what was the harm?”

Then Grandma asked if Marjorie was going to marry and have a baby with this man inquiring further, “What does he do for a living?” “Lewis has a daughter and son in Vancouver, that’s where he’s from,” Marjorie confided. “So, he had a vasectomy after his divorce. He makes good money working in management for retirement and assisted living centers.”

Grandma smiled and took Marjorie’s hand before telling her, “You’re a woman now and quite a dishy bit of pulchritude. I won’t stand in your way if you want to leave the dormitory and share the bills with your fellow.” Marjorie hugged her Granny and told her that she loved her. “You were always such a kind and caring child; you’ll be a fine doctor.” Then Grandma added, “You lead a life I could only have dreamed about. So tell me, what do you fantasize about, Dearie?”

Marjorie blushed and fumbled for words.

Grinning more broadly Grandma told her, “Well, perhaps when you come home for Christmas, you’ll be ready to share your fantasies. I’m more than eager to listen.”

Chapter Five
626 BCE

“Well, I have to go look in on my smart boys, be back before sunset,” Pincus said before kissing his wife.

After accepting the affection, she stared back at him without speaking. Leila was not so quiet and moaned audibly as her father knew how she looked forward to accompanying him on these visits. Finally, Pincus laughed and told her, “I was just having fun with you. How could I inspect anything without the smartest girl in Petra?” and he reached into his pocket to pull out a bunch of dates for her to enjoy along the way. Leila rushed over to hug her father and accept the gift. After months of practice and recitations of Assyrian poetry one of her Father’s ‘smart boys’ began to teach Leila how to write in this language. Each lesson opened doors in her mind, and then some months later another of the ‘smart boys’ began instructing her on mathematics and calculations. Strong like her father, Leila eventually began to participate in the construction and repair of cisterns gaining competence in measuring the size and depth to calculate how much water a finished cistern would hold. As her teen years approached, she was able to commit to memory acceptable usage parameters, evaporation rates and formulas to manage grain consumption and other aspects of community life. Soon Leila began speaking, writing and composing poetry in Assyrian and her Nabataean parents continued to actively encourage these skills as she interacted with civil servants and other officials sent by the new rulers.

With Leila accompanying him they now took two pack asses into the desert and Pincus further fostered his daughter’s questioning nature. “Why is this patch of ground blue?” she asked.

“I don’t know but I have seen all sorts of colors and textures out here,” he answered. “You should bring some home to see what will grow in it.” Fumbling for a container Leila found a sausage. She asked her father to eat it a bit early so that she could use the casing to carry back some of the soil.

At home she placed the blue dirt into a jar before gathering a few more casings to collect more samples.

Some months later Leila had dozens of hanging bits of dirt filled intestine above jars containing blue, yellow, orange, gray, black, green, speckled and even a peculiarly transparent soil. Having thought about the issue further she subdivided each sample into a small bit of colored, speckled or uncolored soil and then an identical sample half mixed with regular soil. She prepared a third experiment consisting of the mixtures and some nutrients. Then Leila began placing seeds into soils to see what would germinate and what would not.

Mother and Father were pleased to see their daughter work so diligently and did what they could to support her efforts. As quality paper was expensive, Papa was only able to provide his daughter with the coarse paper made from the straw and weeds that they and others collected. Still, Leila kept copious notes and drawings of her experimental garden. A thorny plant with an unpleasant aroma came up in some green soil but grew less thorny in the mixed and not at all in the fertilized soil. Leila tried to eat a bit of the plant and it tasted as bad as it looked and smelled. Then her mother suggested boiling a few stems and seeing if the resulting liquid was more palatable.

Surprisingly, the drink from these stems was not bad. In fact, Leila took to drinking this concoction regularly and felt that the beverage somehow focused her mind. She also began to run and lift rocks to look underneath them not initially realizing that it was the exertion that had become appealing.

Another plant that grew in the speckled soil had similar albeit stronger effects when eaten directly and Leila struggled to describe how this felt. The clear soil was useless but a chance spilling of some blue into the clear resulted in a fast-growing plant that flowered beautifully. Insects buzzed to service the flowers and then a nut-like fruit ripened. Again, it proved palatable and seemed to enhance but Leila was not sure in specifically which manner.

Her interest in lifting rocks shifted to a more regimented exercise and Leila asked a pair of workers from the cistern construction crew about the best way to carve hand grips into smaller stones. One of the men began a detailed description of rock types and hardnesses before finding some suitable stones and starting to chisel out the desired place to insert a hand. Leila got the idea and thanked the man for his instruction. She took the stones home and carefully finished the work.

After exercising with her weights and some improvised equipment and running for a few months, Leila began to see results. Taller and bigger than most girls her age, Leila felt good about taking after her father in this manner. Now her fleshiness became musculature and her voice lowered. She was certain that the plants and tinctures were responsible and determined to conduct more research.

Her new physique did not go unnoticed particularly among her peers and even a few older girls. They started to come to her home to learn how to lift and run with her. Leila cooperated and enjoyed the attention but she did not tell any about the soils or plants. As a consequence, none of the girls and young ladies showed any development and most soon moved on to other activities. Leila was selective of those she shared knowledge of the soils and plants with but these young women began to grow muscles and curves. In the middle of a desert Petra was an important outpost. Proximity to the incense and spice trade brought prosperity but it was the water, dammed and channeled from the hills into cisterns and holding ponds that made life in such an inhospitable place possible. Accordingly, residents were allotted specific quantities of water and not just anyone was allowed to call Petra home.

So, it was special when Hamala’s family was permitted to settle. Her Father had been a trader who spoke languages and had visited Petra many times. As he enjoyed significant relationships among influential people when he became lame these friends came forward to obtain permission for him to take up residence and Leila counted their younger daughter, Hamala as a friend.

Then twin tragedies struck as Leila’s Mother took ill with fever. Although she worked day and night on tinctures and mixtures of leaves, berries and nuts, Leila was not able to cure her mother’s malady. She never recovered and died after two weeks of struggle and pain.

Her Father was inconsolable constantly apologizing to his daughter and explaining that he had counted on his wife to survive after he was gone so that she could take care of their daughter until Leila was old enough to get along without them.

On top of her Father’s sadness and concerns about his own approaching frailty, her new physique coupled with coming-of-age complicated Leila’s life. Going from a pudgy, fleshy girl to a trim and muscled young woman was fulfilling but turning men’s heads was a double-edged sword. Interactions with the men at the Counting Office became unpleasant. The ‘smart-boys’ were no longer her friends. Now they openly asked to marry her and a few began to touch her in inappropriate ways until she had to seize one by the throat and lift him off his feet. The man wet himself before passing out and gossip about this incident grew into outlandish stories of mayhem and an out-of-control muscle woman.

It was the community’s reaction to Leila and her group of young women becoming strong not her father’s failing health that proved to be the second tragedy. While a woman’s fitness was desirable for marriage and childbirth, it was threatening to have a band of young women who were more physically powerful than men.

Wives who had greeted her with smiles as they offered sweet fruits now shunned her. Peers avoided her and men looked at her and said rude things while maintaining a safe distance.

Leila knew that it was her Father’s position in charge of the Counting Office that allowed her extra water for her plants. Now it was his status and station that protected her from being ostracized. She was certain that as soon as her father died, she would be exiled from Petra, and now was the time to take preemptive action.

She began to run more and longer as this helped her to think. Then she spoke with Hamala.

“Your Father’s cart, is it in working condition?” Hamala looked confused.

“Can I borrow the cart?”

“Yes, and yes,” Hamala responded. “Where are you going?” “South,” Leila told her friend.

“Why? What is there?”

“I will find a mountain suitable for dams and cisterns.” Now Hamala was concerned. She knew that her friend was not flippant, and would not undertake such a difficult journey if it were not necessary.

So, she appealed to Leila to allow her to accompany, saying, “It will be easier to get Father’s permission to borrow his cart if I am going with you.”