Time apart

by May Johnson

  TITLE: Time Apart

  GENRE: Victorian Time Travel Romance

  BLURB: Augustus Johnson’s peaceful life as a scholar in Victorian London is turned upside down when he chances upon Alissa, a beautiful stranger from the twenty-first century whom he falls deeply in love with. Their time together moves like a pleasant dream, slow and delightful, but when she disappears one day as suddenly as she arrived, Augustus is heartbroken. When she doesn’t return, Augustus resigns himself to his lonely fate, distracting himself with his work and isolating himself from the world by locking himself up in his study. But when Alissa makes a re-appearance at long last, he tries to keep his distance, fearing that she will break his heart once more when she inevitably leaves him in favor of her own time. However, try as he might, Augustus finds that the attraction between them is far too strong for him to resist as he falls in love with his time traveler all over again.

  CHAPTER ONE

  "Mr. Johnson. I think you probably remember me even though it’s been two years since we last met."

  Augustus Johnson lowered his newspaper to stare at the person who had just taken the seat across from him, who had just reached over to draw his paper veil down with one finger and meet his surprised gaze. What he saw caused him to lay down the newspaper and assume a more neutral expression.

  "Ms. Morgan," he said cautiously, the names sounding uncomfortable on his tongue as if he wished to throw the formality away and call her Alissa again. "And I recall that you did not intend to return to my time after you left me alone here."

  "I didn’t," Alissa Morgan said. "I had to leave. Victorian London has its charms but I didn’t want to be stuck here forever, so I left."

  "Well, then," said Johnson. "You have returned, and looked. I congratulate you, madam. Now, if you will excuse me, I am merely pausing for refreshment while working on a case, and so I must…"

  He rose from the table, but she interrupted him. He could never get over how peculiar her garments were. Blue trousers that fit her very snugly, particularly around the swell of her hips and buttocks, and a bright blouse that would stand out in the dirt and grime of the city.

  "Do you have to? I’m here again. The portal brought me here and I wanted to talk about how we left things the last time I visited. Besides, I don’t know when I’ll be transported back again and there is so much I need to tell you...”

  "Alas! I must disappoint you," Johnson replied. "I must be getting on."

  "Maybe I can visit you in your office. If it would be more convenient," said the young lady calmly.

  "Pardon me, but that would also not avail you," said Johnson. "I am impossibly tied up at the moment. My sympathies on your bereavement, by the way, but I see that you've done well by it. Good day."

  He left the tea establishment and Alissa simply smiled. When she had been suddenly transported to a time so far from her own two years ago, she had stumbled right out of the portal and into the arms of the straight-laced and studious man. However, she had soon learned that what he truly desired in his life was to surrender control and she had given him what he wanted. Her departure had been unexpected and she had been sorry to leave him, but it didn’t matter anymore. She was back.

  ***

  He sat up, smoking steadily and reading sporadically until midnight, thinking about Alissa Morgan, of dubious and questionable memory. The painting of Alissa, which he had commissioned during her time, hung on the wall. It had tormented him daily over the past two years. It had gathered dust but taking it down and cleaning it would have been an acknowledgment that he had actually thought of her since their encounter.

  He had. For all that he boasted of his knowledge and breeding, she had bent him to submission so easily. He had had his fair share of the whores and debutantes of London and though he kept his reserve, he was not immune to a pretty face or form, or even physical enticement, but what she offered was far more than that.

  The truth was that Augustus Johnson craved to submit to her in every way possible, and she constantly haunted his thoughts — and even his dreams. He had spent hours gazing at her and he could confirm that she was indeed a beauty, confident of that knowledge but not boastful, and a woman of discernment and decision as evidenced by her actions thereafter. He could admire such a woman even if she had the morals of a different time.

  Johnson argued with himself for some time and came to the conclusion that he was not, and would refuse to be, interested in anything that Alissa had to propose, but was unable to explain to himself why it should matter to him in the least. When she did come, her words were hurried.

  "The portal is still open and I want to talk," she said. "I didn’t want to leave things between us the way they are."

  "I fail to see why," said Johnson, trying not to sound flattered.

  "You mean a lot to me, Augustus," Alissa explained. "I left because I was afraid of being trapped in a time that’s not mine, even though I was so happy with you."

  "And that has what to do with me, precisely?"

  "You can’t deny that you enjoyed our time together and I’d want to make it up to you. You were always so eager."

  "Madam," said her host. "I am certainly not eager. I can have as many women as I want."

  "I know," she went on smoothly. "But maybe you should just accept my offer. I have traveled over a hundred years to be here."

  For a moment, Johnson stared at her and thought furiously. What could she want him back?

  "Why?" he asked, still puzzled.

  The lady stood and calmly went to stand by the dying fire.

  "I wanted to make you feel good again," she said, not quite looking at him. When he did not speak, she did look up, and added, "I want you to be mine."

  "I ‘m certain that’s what you want," said Johnson, moving to stand opposite her near the fireplace. "I fail to fathom the motivation behind it."

  "So you’re interested?" she said softly. She had hit on his fatal flaw — he was mesmerized by her. He made a business of rifling through his papers, finally looking up at her as he threw a crumpled ball of paper into the fireplace.

  "I am only curious as to why you, a woman who is from a future where sexuality is liberated, should require further enlightenment," he told her.

  "That’s a fair question," she said. "People may be more open-minded but there are still only a few who are accepting of my tastes. You know what they are so I’m sure you understand."

  "I understand very well," he retorted.

  "Then you know just how much I need you."

  Johnson's eyebrows rose alarmingly.

  "You appear out of thin air after a two-year absence," he muttered. "And you tell me that you desire me more than any other man. Surely, madam, you know the position this puts me in."

  "I have seen you in that position many times," said Alissa coyly. "And I would like to see you in it again."

  "As would I, Miss Morgan."

  "I would like it if you called me Alissa."

  "I am not inclined to use such familiarity again, quite yet."

  "Then shall we become familiar again quickly?" She looked up at him out of mischievous eyes.

  "Why me?" he parried.

  "You’re the man I always come back to," she said.

  "Surely," said Johnson levelly, "you cannot expect me to believe that you have sought me out solely for the purpose of initiating you, so to speak."

  Alissa considered this statement for a minute, then sighed and turned away.

  "I had to come back to London," she admitted. "If you don’t want me anymore, I’ll leave."

  Johnson forestalled her with a raised palm.

  "Let us be clear," he said, even more quietly. "Even if I do not grant this request, I do not wish you to com
e to harm."

  Alissa stared at him.

  "Does that mean …" she began. Johnson gestured impatiently.

  "Yes," he said.

  "You’re the only man I want," she said with dignity. “But I won’t cry over you if you reject me. I’ll be alright.”

  As she turned to go, he moved swiftly to her side, not touching her, but bringing his lips close to her ear. She stopped halfway out the door.

  "On the contrary," he murmured. "I do want you. The man next who takes you to his bed had better be worthy of you, Miss Morgan."

  "There is only one man I know, Mr. Johnson," she murmured back and looked him in the eyes, then turned and made her way down the stairs and into the night.

  CHAPTER TWO

  She had left a note, he discovered the next morning, with the name of a hotel and a room number on the back. It meant that she was still in London. He spent the morning in his usual pursuits, composing letters to his acquaintances, lunching at a restaurant with a colleague, and coming home a little drunk off the wine he had one too many glasses of. He sat on his chair and contemplated the note.

  After nearly an hour of near-immobile cogitation, Johnson roused himself, stripped, bathed rather more thoroughly than usual, and even cleaned his teeth and his nails. He refused, however, to dress for the occasion and donned his usual comfortably mismatched garments.

  It was nearly a full minute before a response came to his knock; a breathless voice called, "Hold on a minute," and ten seconds later, enough time for him to wonder at the novelty of her turns of phrase, the door was opened by his hostess, bright-eyed and pink-cheeked, covered in a mauve wrapper and with slippers on her feet. Delightedly, she opened the door to let him in, and Johnson slipped in quietly, having neither seen nor heard anyone in the hall. When she closed the door, he set his back against it and before she could speak, he did so.

  'I am not giving in," he said. "You proposed an arrangement; I insist that the exchange of mutual pleasure will be what this hour is about."

  "That’s what I thought you’d say so alright, I agree," said Alissa evenly. Johnson nodded and went on.

  "Have you given thought to the consequences of what we may do today? You may conceive a child. We have not performed this particular act together before."

  She laughed but spoke once more in a level tone. "I have," she said. "And don’t worry, I’m on the pill. It’s a form of birth control we use."

  "I should be very interested to know how it works," said Johnson, momentarily distracted, and Alissa laughed.

  He studied her for a moment.

  "I'm not sure whether to be affronted by your assumption that I would agree to this tryst," he said, "indicated by your preparations."

  She laughed again and came to stand close to him.

  "Can you blame me for hoping?" she said. "I’ve waited so long to have you like this."

  Johnson took in her mischievous expression and was satisfied. She seemed to sense this, moving to pour wine for both of them.

  "We have pleasured each other in many ways before," he said as she handed him a glass. "But never this. Why I wonder."

  "Maybe it was because we had so little time together," she replied. "But we can make up for it now."

  That gave him pause.

  "Your former lovers did not bring you to climax?"

  Alissa shook her head. "I only orgasm when I touch myself," she said in a low voice, and now her cheeks evinced a rosy blush.

  "Brutes," said Johnson. "Selfish brutes."

  "Well," said Alissa softly and stepped close, slid her hands up his front and lifted her face to him, waiting.

  Even had he wanted to, Johnson could not back down now. Her lips were soft and warm, yielding; he spent some time kissing them as well as her cheeks and brow. He had nearly forgotten the scent of a woman's skin, the flavor of it; she obviously wore no paint, and indeed needed none. He allowed his eyelids to drift half closed, concentrating on his other senses.

  He returned to her lips, this time opening his slightly, inviting her to follow suit. She did so with enthusiasm, her little tongue teasing into his mouth, her breath on his lips, her arms stealing around his neck. His eyes closed entirely and he drank of her; with a great effort, he refrained from bruising her mouth with his hunger, which had suddenly become a force to be reckoned with.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Her mouth was sealed to his for some time before he thought of anything else. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he lifted her off her feet and over to the side of the bed, setting her gently to sit on the edge, where her face was on a level with his own. She drew back to look at him and he held her face in his hands and murmured, "But this much is not new to you, Alissa, is it? We’ve done it a hundred times before."

  Her laugh was soft and brief.

  "Of course not. But it’s one of the things I enjoy the most."

  "Oh, yes," he mumbled into her neck, his mouth tasting its way down to her shoulder. He felt her lift his hand to her lips; she kissed his fingers and traced between them with her tongue as he kissed her throat and reached up to run his fingers through her hair, loosening an elastic band that kept her curls in place. Her hair tumbled down in a tail, smelling as sweet as the rest of her, and he buried his nose in it. When she released his hand, he spread both hands across her back and leaned her backward so his mouth could continue nuzzling down to the neckline of her dress.

  Between kisses, he told her, "I am the leader in this dance, Alissa, do you understand? I yielded to you two years ago and now you will yield to my attention. You will not direct me unless I cause you pain or fear."

  "Yes," she breathed.

  "If you wish me to stop …"

  "I won't."

  "…in the unlikely event," he pressed on, lifting his head to stare at her, "that you wish to halt any proceedings, feel free to use any means necessary to make your wishes clear to me. Short of drawing blood, that is."

  She threw her head back and laughed, and Johnson let her fall back onto the bed, leaning over her on one arm and with the other pulling off his jacket and throwing it on the floor. She lay watching him as he went on to kick off his boots, remove his waistcoat and slide his braces down off his shoulders, then climbed up to join her on the bed.

  "I trust you have no qualms about seeing me unclothed again," he said, bending his head to kiss her some more. "Not that that would stop me from exposing it to you. If you wish to travel the ways of pleasure, you must have a decent map."

  "Yes," she said and nibbled on his ear, then gasped slightly as his hand insinuated under the folds of her dressing gown, moving smoothly over the skin between her hips and her bosom, pushing the gown open as his arm proceeded to wind around her waist. His lips continued busy on hers and he was pleased to feel her pulling open the other side of the gown so that she lay exposed before him, no underthings, not so much as a garter.

  Johnson leaned up to let his eyes feast upon her white skin and dainty limbs, finally meeting her gaze. She was blushing, but her expression was one of arousal and fascination.

  "You have been told by others, I am sure, of your beauty," he said. "I must concur, in a strictly objective sense, of course."

  Alissa just smiled. Johnson applied his mouth to her bare skin, moving now from her shoulders to her clavicle and feeling her heart beat faster; his arm around her waist pulled her to lie on her side, facing him, and his hand slid lower, to lie warm on her firm posterior. Alissa's smile faded into a blank expression of bliss and she stroked her fingers through his hair as he explored her front and back simultaneously. When his lips reached the swell of her breast she arched her back slightly, grazing the nipple against his mouth, and he opened willingly to take it in. He had pleasured eager women before, but none so dainty and refined; it was unheard of for a woman of any breeding to behave in such a way, and his infrequent recreation had taken place among his female contacts of the working classes.

  Johnson ind
ulged himself at Alissa's breasts for some time as she trembled in his grasp; his fingers danced over her spine, down over her sweet derriere again, to caress her flank. He hooked her knee up as far as his own hip and she gasped again, feeling herself opened slightly to the air — and to his touch. He stayed his hand from her body momentarily in order to pull at the buttons of his shirt; Alissa reached up to assist and between them, he was stripped to the waist. Her little hands swept eagerly over his shoulders and chest and she kissed him everywhere she could reach.

  She murmured, "You’re more handsome than I remember."

  "So glad you approve," he said with a grin and rolled off the bed to stand before her, swiftly divesting himself of the rest of his garments until he was complete, luxuriously nude, a state he rarely got to enjoy. Alissa giggled as her lover sprang back up on the bed and said in a conversational tone, "Now, where were we? Ah, yes."

  He pressed his body right up against her, opening her dressing gown to partly cover him, as though he could crawl inside; she laughed as he kissed her neck and shoulders, while his hands were busy below. This time, he tipped her gently on her back and lay his palm on her silken mound.

  "Has anyone else touched you here?"

  "Yes, of course, my ex-boyfriend," she breathed. "With hands, only. He would put his finger inside …"

  "As you have done, yourself, with more satisfactory results, I'll wager."

  "Yes," she moaned as her eyes closed; his fingers had begun to press gently against her sex, touching and circling on just the surface. Johnson watched his hand as it moved, thinking, then abruptly kissed her mouth hard and shifted his body downward, his lips tracing a line down between her breasts to her navel, ending with his face hovering over the apex of her closed thighs.

  Alissa was leaning up on her elbows, the wrapper and her hair loose around her shoulders, her eyes wide as she looked down at him.

  "Are you sure?"

  "Yes," said Johnson as he parted her legs with gentle hands and began kissing every fold and curve he could find. Her scent was heavenly and he breathed deeply of her, spreading her soft flesh with his fingers, before opening his mouth to apply a long wet kiss to her womanhood. Alissa cried out and her body went stiff, but he knew she had not reached her end yet. He held his position for a minute, caressing her thighs and hips, soothing her, and when her breathing resumed a regular but rapid rate, he let his tongue and lips sink into her moist depths, stroking softly against anything he encountered.