Edgar Aeternum
Book 1: Tales of Aeternal Love
By Jay W. Belle Isle
Copyright Information
Edgar Aeternum, Book 1: Tales of Aeternal Love
Copyright 2014 Jay W. Belle Isle
Cover art: Jimmy Gibbs
Smashwords Edition
No part of this work may be copied, reproduced, altered, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form, in any way, without prior, written permission from the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages within the review for publication in a newspaper, magazine, journal, or on a website.
This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and situations are the products of the author’s imagination and intended to be fictional. Any resemblances to actual events, situations, or persons, alive or dead, are entirely coincidental.
All musical and artistic references in this work are the property of the artist mentioned.
This book contains adult sexual situations and is intended for readers of legal age in the country in which they reside.
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite e-book retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Dedication
I dedicate this book to my mother for her patience and support; to my friend & fellow author, Alicia Quigley for helping me believe I could do it; and to N., always and forever.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Author’s Notes
Coming Soon
CHAPTER 1
Sometimes I miss the twentieth century. Especially the music! Ah gods, the 80's had the best music ever! Of course, that's when I 'came of age', as the saying goes. I hate that saying, by the way. Oh, I came a lot in the 80's, but it had nothing to do with age. It had everything to do with being sixteen and looking twenty-one.
Shit, where was I? Right! Music. There's something sexy, something primal in all that throbbing, pulsating bass. Depending on your mood, it's either pure rebellion, a la Billy Idol, a weird mix of angst and hope like Tears for Fears or pure, all out fucking like Prince. Sue me; I was 16, any song with the word 'fuck' in it made me horny. Of course, nobody these days would understand any of this except maybe an archaeosociologist and those dudes are batshit.
These were the thoughts running through Edgar's head as the magna-train zipped through the city taking him home from a disappointing orgy. Even in the twenty-fourth century, a room full of bottoms was no fun when you really wanted a good, hard fuck. Edgar always got nostalgic after an orgy for some reason, whether it was a good one or not. Even after getting a killer blow job, this orgy was not all that good. In fact, the best part of the night was the fact that the only other passenger on the magna had good hygiene. No matter what human perfections the sci-fi writers of the twentieth century conjured up, no shower equaled BO and BO made for an unpleasant magna ride.
Edgar turned away from the window, tired of watching the blur of the buildings whipping past. There wasn't much else to look at, save the other passenger and still horny, he didn't find the middle-aged woman particularly appealing. Tired, bored and frustrated, Edgar leaned his head against the window and closed his eyes.
Don't get me wrong; the twenty-fourth century has its advantages. Low pollution, near unlimited energy, space travel - yeah, we finally made it out of our solar system and we're not alone, but that's another story. Medical science made some incredible leaps, too. No more cancer, Alzheimer's or AIDS. In fact, no STDs at all; this is a godsend for those of us who hate condoms. I know, so not the politically-correct party line from the twentieth and twenty-first. But let's face it: Sometimes it doesn't feel the same. Fortunately for me, PC is also a thing of the past. It still gets the archaeosociologists hard, but I'm more than OK with it. Of course, condoms still get used as birth control, but I don't have to worry about that.
The smooth transition from motion to stillness, barely noticeable unless one looked out the window, wasn't what disturbed Edgar's nostalgia; it was the change in the hum. The higher-pitched tone gradually lowered to an almost growl. Edgar opened his eyes in time to see the magna come to a full stop at Altair Station, the one nearest Edgar's apartment building. After the chime and the automated voice announcing Altair, Edgar stood and stretched. At 6' 1", he had to bend his hands back, putting his palms against the smooth roof of the magna. Efficiency in design being the trademark of the time, no space was wasted; with a population of fourteen billion, there was no space on Earth to waste. Given that the average male peaked at 5' 6", anomalous gents like Edgar had to put up with certain inconveniences. Mostly minor, such as stretching in a magna; however, the limited leg room on hyper-lifts created more of a problem, making it an uncomfortable experience. Fortunately, the main benefit of hyper-lift travel was speed, so it was a short-lived inconvenience.
The middle-aged woman seated near the front of the train gave Edgar the once-over as he passed. It was something he'd become accustomed to without taking it for granted. His height notwithstanding, Edgar's looks made him noticeable; a tight, muscular build, slight tan and perpetually windblown sandy blonde hair combined with clear, ice-blue eyes to make him a memorable man. The wink he tossed at the woman brought a smile to her face which Edgar returned, showing his own pearly whites. He could almost feel her eyes following him as neared the magna exit. He knew from experience that the black leather-like pants he wore highlighted his tight ass perfectly. They also showcased his full package better than a twen-cen Madison Avenue marketing campaign. The firm grip they put on his cock kept it semi-hard when he wore them; they were the perfect get laid pants, especially paired with the skin-tight, white shirt of the same material. The short sleeves stopped just shy of the beginning of his biceps and the deep vee of the neck showed just enough skin to make even the shyest person steal a glance. The shirt looked like it was sprayed on, so tight that the even the divisions of Edgar's six-pack were easily seen. Once off the magna, Edgar stopped, turned and waved at the woman just before the train left the station. It never hurt to do a little harmless flirting when it made someone feel good.
At this time of night, Altair was quiet. A slight breeze ruffled Edgar's hair as he stood enjoying the peace. Normally, the station was a hive of activity, located as it was close to a prime residential area. During rush hours, the professionals who made up the bulk of the neighborhood swarmed like frantic bees. Whenever possible, Edgar avoided the station when it was that busy.
Eyes closed, he let the breeze wash over him, enjoying the gentle caress. After a few seconds, Edgar inhaled de
eply, savoring the clean, cool air. He opened his eyes on exhaling and started off toward his apartment, a few blocks away. Despite the fact that he only occasionally freelanced as a writer for something to do, Edgar enjoyed living in Altair, a neighborhood primarily composed of career-oriented young professionals. They were often not home which allowed Edgar a great deal of privacy, a precious commodity in an over-populated world.
Edgar took his time walking home. Street crime wasn't really a big issue in the 2-4. There was the occasional mentally imbalanced person prone to violent acts, but they were usually quickly apprehended and taken for psy treatments. The treatments were 92% effective and the other 8% were never permitted daylight again. They were sent to sen-depots, well-kept facilities at which they were put into chemically-induced comas while the depot's computer fed their minds a scripted life story. In essence, they lived out the rest of their lives in a fantasy; it was considered the most humane means of managing those whom psy-science couldn't save.
Edgar shuddered at the thought. He'd visited a sen-depot once, more out of curiosity than anything else. It might have been humane treatment to the ones in coma, but walking down row upon row of bio-beds on which the bald, sensor-studded residents lay, was reminiscent of a horror flick. However, the resulting article he freelanced as a means of getting access to the depot didn't mention that bit. The familiar lights of Highland House chased away the chilling memory as soon as they came into view.
He paused at the main entrance, the canopy rustling in the breeze. The retina scan required for after-hours entry was over in a couple heartbeats and the door swished open, admitting Edgar to the well-appointed lobby. It was second, only to privacy, on his list of favorite things that the building afforded. The designer went for a retro feel and the result was perfect 2014: Shiny marble-esque floors, a waterfall wall, gilt-edged mirrors and statues of various Buddhas, ornate Persian rugs and heavily-brocaded upholstery. The moment he'd seen it, Edgar felt at home before even touring the apartment.
Edgar took the elevator up to the 21st floor. He had the resources to have taken one of the available top-floor penthouse suites, but such a home might draw more attention than he wanted. He walked down the quiet hall to his corner unit and put his palm flat against the door sensor. The door whisked open. Third favorite: No more keys to lose. The door shut once Edgar was safely inside the apartment.
"Lights," he said into the darkness and the home computer responded by turning on the foyer and living room lights. Edgar kicked off his shoes, wriggled his toes and walked from the cool tile to the plush white carpet, sighing as his feet sank into the deep pile.
Never thought I'd have white carpet. So glad the home computer takes care of all the cleaning. I could walk in here covered in mud and the HC would have my tracks cleaned the minute I left the room. Very convenient since I'm a shit housekeeper. Man, am I tired, but I'm too wired to sleep. Time for a glass of good red, a little toke and a nut; the trifecta of relaxation. Ah, shit! There's a message on the comm. Gotta check it or I won't relax. First, the red, though. And shucking these clothes.
Edgar thumbed the zipseam on his shirt and, like magic, the fabric separated at the hidden front seam. He tossed the shirt on the black leather sofa and opened the zipseam at his fly. He peeled down his pants and they joined the shirt on the sofa. Edgar sighed as his semi-hard cock and pendulous balls were freed from the skin-tight pants. He turned down a short hallway to the right and padded into the kitchen, the lights coming on as he entered. He crossed the glossy black tile and pulled a bottle of Cabernet from the counter rack.
2230, a very good - and expensive - year. Fuck it; it's only money, right? A hundred ten year old bottle for $3,500 is a steal. And it didn't even put a dent in my wine budget, what's not to like? Just a glass for tonight; I'll save the rest to go with a meal.
Glass in hand, Edgar headed back to the living room straight to the bamboo desk in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows. He settled into the softness of his desk chair and gazed out at the lights of Altair, the brighter nimbus of Navea in the distance. Fourth favorite thing: The amazing view as well as being able to be naked without peeping Toms.
"Messages," he called out. A second later, a man's voice filled the room. "Hello, Mr. Aeternum. Pardon the late hour of the call, but it's a fairly urgent matter."
Dammit! Evans never says 'urgent matter' unless shit's about to hit the fan. Guess my toke 'n' tug are gonna have to wait.
Barrister Garrett Evans handled all of Edgar's legal affairs, including management of the trust Edgar lived on in this lifetime. Evans was one of the best and asked few questions, concerned only with what he needed to accomplish the task at hand. He also, apparently, worked around the clock which is why Edgar had no worry about returning the call at such a late hour.
Evans answered immediately, voice as crisp and professional as it would be at nine in the morning. "Mr. Aeternum. Thank you for your prompt response. I trust you're well?"
"So far, so good, Evans," Edgar replied. "Though I suspect that hinges on what you're about to tell me. What's going on?"
"A complaint has been filed with Altair Central, sir. A woman by the name of Serina Jarvis claims you," here Evans paused, a tell that Edgar knew from experience meant the item in question had to do with sex, Evans' least favorite topic, "violated her most indecently." Knowing Evans, "most indecently" could be anything from a kiss on the nose to the kinkiest role play.
Edgar chuckled. "Evans, as much as you don't like to hear about my sex life, you know I don't play that way. First off, no women; second, never by force. It's all consensual, every time."
"Yes, sir, I know. Nevertheless, the complaint has been filed and requires a response." This was why Edgar employed him; the man took his job seriously, even when Edgar found the issue at hand ridiculous. Altair Legal also took complaints seriously and if a response wasn't filed within 48 hours, they sent agents to retrieve the defendant, hence Evans' sense of urgency.
"True enough, Evans. What's your plan?" Edgar asked.
"The best response possible is proving you were nowhere near the young lady at the time of the alleged incident. Failing that, the next best strategy is a psy-test to prove you're 100% Androphile," said Evans. "They would accept that as a defense. No pure Andro would attempt to rape a female."
"I'd prefer the former to the latter," Edgar said. "I don't like psy'ers playing around in my head. So let's start with the when and go from there."
"Very good, sir," replied Evans. "The when is Tuesday last, the 14th, at seven p.m. The where-"
"Stop right there," Edgar interrupted. "I was nowhere near any female at that time, not even a house pet."
"Sir?" asked Evans.
"Grab a glass of wine, Evans, you're not going to like what I'm about to tell you," Edgar said, knowing full well that Evans never drank on the job and that Evans was always on the job. "I was entertaining at that time."
"Would the gentleman in question be willing to sign an affidavit to that effect?" queried the barrister.
"Yes, they would, Evans; though the security footage from Highland House will clearly show their entrance and exit times as well as the fact that I made no exit that day. This is preferable to the affidavit, but you know the law better than I do," replied Edgar.
The connection was silent for a moment as Evans processed Edgar's statement. "So you had a dinner party, sir?" the hope in Evans' voice almost made Edgar laugh.
"Not exactly, Evans. Though a fair amount of meat was involved. Dessert, by the way, was splendid," Edgar said. The silence this time was even longer. "My apologies, Evans. I couldn't resist."
"No need, sir" the barrister said. "I've long since grown accustomed to your particular sense of humor. Even when it's at my expense."
"Fair enough," said Edgar. "So you'll subpoena the security records in the morning. Who is my accuser, by the way?"
"A n'er-do-well records clerk from your bank. Once we prove your innocence, I intend to speak to the bank Presi
dent about her continued employment. She's an opportunist, sir, nothing more. Fabricated a story about a chance meeting on the magna that resulted in dinner and a post-meal assault in the lavatory," the distaste in Evans' voice was palpable.
"She must've seen the trust balance and thought she had a ticket to an easier life," Edgar said. "I've seen it happen. Fortunately, she's too amateurish to be much of a problem; if she'd done her homework, she could have found a better angle to use. Most guys would settle just to keep away from the legal system. Then again, most aren't lucky enough to have a barrister as good as you, Evans."
"Thank you, sir. As always, it's my pleasure to be of assistance. I believe that the matter will be resolved by late afternoon. Once I finish preparing our answer, I'll fast track it through one of my connections at Legal. After it's done, I'll deal with Miss Jarvis," Evans said. Edgar swore he caught a hint of predatory pleasure in Evans' voice.
"Thank you, Evans; I appreciate it. The less scrutiny I'm under the better. As for Miss Jarvis... Enjoy yourself." At some superficial level, Edgar almost felt sorry for the woman. Evans was thorough and merciless in his work and Miss Jarvis would likely regret the day she was born by the time the barrister was finished with her. All through backdoor channels, of course.
"You're most welcome, sir," replied the barrister. "Unless you have further questions, I'll leave you to what's left of your night."
"Nothing I can think of, Evans. Let me know when Altair Legal closes the matter. Have a good night. Off." The comm line gave a slight chime to signify the end of the call. Edgar stretched and swallowed the last of the Cabernet. He rose from his seat and went to the sofa. Edgar sat down at one end of the sofa and reached for a small jade box on the glass-topped end table.
Now that's out of the way, time for some fun. Ya gotta love agricultural science these days. The weed in the twentieth century was good, especially when medicinal use hit its stride, but this? This shit beats even the best Maui or Purple Kush. And it's legal in the 2-4.
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