On a cold and stormy night Mrs Emily Featherbone stood at the edge of her bedroom balcony overlooking the sea. Goosebumps licked her porcelain skin beneath a translucent pearl slip and the wind danced in her long red hair. She felt a sudden rush as the waves crashed beneath her, spraying a fine mist into the air, soaking her right through.
“Emily, what are you doing out there? Are you trying to catch a cold?” asked Maria, a young Spanish maid.
“Of course not, I’m thinking about Richard. It’s rough out there.”
“Only one more night and he’ll be home. Hopefully with the treasure he’s been desparately seeking.”
“There’s something about the raging thrust of the sea and the full roundness of the moon that takes over me like an irresistible pull.”
Maria rolled her eyes. “Have you been reading that erotic fiction again? I thought I put those Steele & Hardwood books in the bin. You know how jealous Dick gets. If you keep talking like that he’s liable to stuff a big sock in your mouth.”
Emily looked down at the floor, guilty as sin.
“Let me get you a subscription to science weekly instead. That way I don’t have to find you exposed like this. I can see right through your nightie. Jesus Emily put a robe on.” As Maria entered the bedroom en suite she stepped over a pile of wet pearl panties and beige velvet robes. A half-eaten cucumber sat on the basin sink. “Silly woman,” she mumbled. “There are no dry robes left on the rack Emily. You can wear one of my grandma suits. It’ll keep you dry. How would you like that?”

There was no answer so Maria returned to the balcony. “Emily?” Tied to the railing, a bed sheet led down into the shallow water. Footprints trailed off over the sand hill and into the darkness. “Emily,” shouted Maria. “Make sure you’re home before dawn, before Dick gets in…and leave the sea cucumbers alone for Christ sake!”

Guided by the light of the moon, Emily ran along the water line, one foot in front of the other through a blanket of sea foam, slow and deliberate, her heaving bosom forward bound. But then her toes tumbled in the sand and she fell delicately into the soft marshmallow embrace of the swaying tide. Upon rising to her knees, she flicked her hair back and wiped the mass of bubbles from her eyes, down her cheeks and over her full gaping pout. She continued on further up until a light caught her attention. It was coming from the barn house at the eastern end of her estate. Mr Joseph Wolf was in tonight.

She approached the barn house gate and heard the smooth sound of a saxophone. It lured her closer and closer. The howling wind blew open the front door and Emily stepped in. Through his heavy golden perm, Joseph recognised her silhouette.
“Emily you came. I’m so glad.”
“I wasn’t going to miss this for anything. Tonight we make magic.”
“Does Maria suspect anything?”
“She doesn’t have a clue. My husband can never know either. He’d kill us both – tear us limb from limb if he knew what we shared.”
“Are you ready?”
“I am.”
Emily unbuttoned Joseph’s blue denim shirt, revealing a field of caramel curls, silky to the touch. Digging her nails in, she quickly ripped out a fist full of hair. “Be gently,” Joseph flinched.
“My turn now,” he returned, tearing the pearl garment away from her body.
“Did you bring the marble mortar and pestle?”
“Yes, I’ve got it in the kitchen.”
“Can I see the list again?”
Joseph retrieved a piece of leather cloth from under his matching denim jeans. “I’m certain we’ve got everything we need to make it happen.”
“Moon in full – check,” confirmed Emily, “wind in the East – check, storm tide – check, hair of a brute – check, pearl dress of the sea – check, 50 Acacia hay bales dried under the September sun – check.”
“I hope size doesn’t matter,” said Joseph. “Acacia grass is rare in these parts. I had to make them small.”
“All we need is a light from a long thick burning ember,” added Emily.
“It’s resting in the fireplace. I‘ll get the mortar.”
Collecting all the ingredients into the marble bowl, Joseph began pounding away with the pestle until all was pulverised into a white sizzling liquid ash.
“I think it’s ready for the egg now,” said Emily, dipping her finger in. “It’s the right colour and temperature.”
From a box under his bed, Joseph lifted up a heavy grey egg about the size of his hand. It had remained unchanged in the state they found it – cold, dull and seemingly barren.
Carefully lowering it into the steaming liquid, Joseph grabbed Emily’s hand. “This just might work.”
“Now we wait.”

A minute of awkward silence passed…

“Here have my shirt. You’re still naked Emily.”
“You’re right. Sorry.”
As Emily buttoned up the denim shirt, a rumble stirred the surface of the mortar.
“It can’t be that quick, surely!”
“We should move back just in case,” insisted Joseph. “It might explode.”
The egg rose and turned over a few times. Red and purple veins appeared and pulsated like a blood fever and then a single distinct slit broke the egg in half. Before their eyes, snapped the jaws of the lost double-headed dragon of Deep Throne.