Eddie kept up a steady tattoo of spanks on her bottom, and it was hot and throbbing. Other parts of her were throbbing as she thought about how they must look together, Eddie with his stern, rugged face, and she with her bottom on display in the back of a late model 1950 something-or-other. She didn't even know what color her underwear was! She'd not had a chance to look. The garter belt around her waist tugged with every blow, owing mainly to her struggles, and she could feel the garters pulling at her stockings. Fortunately, Eddie confined his spanks to her rear and didn't travel down her thighs, or those garters really would have dug in.
"Come on, Eddie! I'm sorry! I'm sorry about the drink!" June's eyes began to tear, even while her pussy throbbed in counterpoint to the slaps on her behind. Why would she find this sexually exciting? Was it only the mental image? Or was this something specific to the RAVE? Could Romantek rewire her for their own purposes in this dream? What if immersion in the nanite gel changed her proclivities forever!
"The drink was the last straw, June," Eddie told her. "Your flirting with those finks was what started this off. You can't do that while you're with me. It's insulting and makes me sore as hell."
June was the one who was sore, but she took his reference to mean "angry." The pain of his swats was overwhelming her ability to hold tears back and a sob erupted.
"Please, Eddie! I won't flirt with other m…finks. I won't. I promise!"
He didn't let up until she sobbed a few more times. By then, tears were falling and hitting the vinyl and cloth seat cushions. Eventually, when she was gasping with each new strike, when her body was totally confused by the sensation between her legs versus the burn of her butt, he stopped.
Pulling her up into his lap, Eddie held her close and stroked her hair. "Stop bawling, kid. It's over."
But the sensations weren't over. Her bottom still burned like a furnace on high, and her pussy felt sloppy and tingly. There was something wrong with her. Romantek had changed her somehow. June had never had this happen in real life. And Eddie smelled so exotic, like the Manhattan she'd thrown plus an underlying scent of clean man. His coat and shirt were damp and a little sticky under her fingers, and she could see the edge of the rind of the cocktail's orange slice peeking out from his breast pocket, sticking to his white pocket square. Although she was crying freely, she was also comforted by being in his arms. How he could make her miserable and happy all at the same time, she couldn't understand. June had a sudden urge to pull his head down to hers and kiss him deeply; probably she'd smear blood-red lipstick all over his face. It would serve him right. Eddie didn't seem like the kind of guy who'd be happy with an aggressive woman, however. And it was satisfying enough to be where she was, curled up against Eddie's big, warm chest, with his arms around her, in 1950. The rest would sort itself out in time.
* * * * *
As with his two days prior to June's entrance, Eddie enjoyed driving the car. He spent time tooling around Los Angeles in those first days, finding out where things were and getting the lay of the land. It was a wide-open place, just learning how to be a metropolis, and held very little in common with the Los Angeles of Eddie's time.
While getting acclimated, he met his secretary and took some routine phone calls. No clients had come forward. June's case was the first he'd encountered, and the one he thought he was supposed to focus on in the RAVE. But first, he had a temper tantrum to squash. That drink toss had really made his temper spike beyond the simple irritation he felt for her flirting, winking at other men. Fortunately, he got it under control before he spanked her.
He didn’t know why Romantek had put a June Tarryton in his dream—he’d have thought Fran was to be his love interest—but she intrigued him. Unlike Fran, she was unpredictable—not always in the most convenient ways, but interesting, nonetheless. He was drawn to her, and he hadn’t been bored a single minute since starting this RAVE, meeting his purpose perfectly.
June's apartment wasn't too far from the alley they'd paused in. She lived in West Los Angeles, not far from Melrose Avenue and Paramount Pictures. Even while driving was pleasant and so technically satisfying, the smog was not. It was ugly. Eddie knew that a certain amount was background haze, a natural phenomenon in Los Angeles, but on top of that was industrial and automotive smog. It scented the air with chemicals and made Eddie's eyes sensitive. He supposed if he'd had enhanced eyes, it wouldn't be a problem, but even in his real life in the twenty-second century, he hadn't gone for that. His eyesight was excellent on its own, and he wasn't a guy who put a lot of store in personal vanity. He knew he had a rough appearance, looked a little like a bruiser—like that Charles Bronson guy from the old vids. Edward Reston would never be considered traditionally handsome, but women seemed to be attracted to him enough anyway. His opportunities weren't particularly limited.
Away from a Romantek RAVE, Eddie met a lot of women. They made up about fifty percent of the aerospace workforce, which meant that they often worked for him. His company held patents to some pretty important technologies used on North American space missions. It was lucrative, but not particularly exciting. He longed for a few moments of danger, of intrigue, a taste of the film noire private detective novels he read in his off hours. He wanted to be Mike Hammer, Philip Marlowe, Jeff Bailey and others. If he met a tasty “dame” while dreaming, Eddie wasn’t above enjoying it.
He spared a glance at June, who sat primly, perhaps a little gingerly, in the seat next to him. She knew she was beautiful; he could tell that from her carriage and her smile. But she wasn't conceited about it. She didn't look down her nose at Eddie Strong, instead, she looked at him with a little flame in her blue eyes. That told Eddie that she was interested. Maybe he personified danger to her, and some women definitely went for the bad-boy, dangerous type.
June probably thought he was dangerous because he spanked her. Actually, he was usually very gentle with women, even when the situation called for stern treatment. He'd spanked his ex-wife, the tart, but it had made no difference in her behavior. Eddie looked at that relationship as a personal failure. He knew he could have tried harder, or at least paid better attention to Lacey. Perhaps if he had, she'd not have wandered. Or perhaps she would have. It was hard to know for sure. In any case, she had, and there hadn't been enough left of their relationship to darn together and make it whole once again. The divorce had been amicable—Eddie had given her pretty much everything she asked for—but she was still greedy. She had a new boyfriend, and that was enough of a distraction to keep her out of Eddie's hair for a while.
Driving took a modest amount of Eddie’s concentration, even without much previous direct experience. As an engineer who liked to tinker, he understood how the machine worked, and he'd had time to study the laws that pertained to driving. It wasn't hard.
Not as hard as dealing with his attraction to June. He let a lot of it show—this was make-believe, after all, and she was overwhelmingly likely to be a computer-generated avatar—but, even playing his wolfish part, it was only slightly exaggerated. He really wanted what he saw in a physical sense. Her long red hair was incredibly appealing, and soft when he'd smoothed it over her shoulder blades after the spanking. Her figure was exactly the kind he liked best, tall, slim, and gently rounded in the proper places. Her bottom, outlined by her garter belt, was nearly impossible to resist. Eddie wanted to hold her by that bottom and shove himself…well, it didn't bear thinking about at the moment, while he sat there, the Manhattan clinging to his clothes like an alcoholic fruit punch.
She'd fumbled with her handkerchief a moment, rummaging in her purse and checking for her driver's license, but when he asked the second time, June provided him with her address. Lost in their individual thoughts, the ride to her apartment building was silent.
Little tingles told Eddie where to turn, what streets to look for, like tiny reminders in his synapses. They were all part of the RAVE; Romantek was doing its job. Eddie hadn’t been sure how much info they’d feed to him along the way, as he’d r
ead that it was different for each person. Fortunately, they were giving him just enough to not feel like he had amnesia, and not so much that it wasn’t a fun challenge.
Eddie wasn't quite sure how to deal with June once they'd arrived at her place. He opened the car door for her and she got out gracefully. She dug the key out of her purse, and he took it from her in the fashion he remembered from detective novels of the time. He'd figured out keys when he had to enter his office at the first moments of his RAVE. Smoothly, he unlocked the lobby door for her and followed her up the stairs to 2B. Again, he unlocked the door, but this time he handed the keys back to her.
June entered the apartment and didn't invite him in. She gave him an enigmatic look, as though her thoughts were conflicted.
He smiled, hoping to smooth the waters that had gotten stirred up by the spanking followed by cuddling. Eddie would have liked to kiss her, pull her in hard against his chest and ravage her perfect rosy lips. But it seemed like the wrong time. Besides, even in a dream, Eddie wanted to be a gentleman, as much as a rough 1950s private investigator could be. He was supposed to be hard-boiled, but it was not in his nature to be a total brute.
"Shall I come pick you up in the morning? Or do you have a car?"
June bit her lower lip, deciding. "Yes, pick me up. You drive." She began to close the door, but paused. "Do you want to…do you want to come in? Maybe I've got coffee."
So, it appeared that the attraction was mutual. He'd hoped as much, since she'd cuddled up next to him like he was her favorite Teddy bear after the spanking, and that little spark in her eyes when she looked at him was undeniable. His pants shifted slightly as he considered the erotic possibilities that simple invitation to come into her apartment presented.
"Sure. Coffee would be swell."
June hadn't smiled for a while. He wondered if she was reconsidering a hasty invitation, but her voice was soft and certain when she said, "Come in."
The apartment was small, but well-appointed. Things weren't exactly new, but they were color coordinated, and the woods were the blond, Scandinavian kind that added a modern touch to period furniture. It looked like something out of an old architectural magazine.
June paused in the middle of the room, but not for long. She put down her purse and gestured to the cream-colored sofa. It had cushioned armrests and a firm, comfortable seat. Another chair sat nearby, with a curved back and early "space age" kind of feel. The beige shag carpet was cushy under his wingtips. It was the first 1950s living room he'd seen besides his own. So far, he liked what he'd experienced. The RAVE was going along well.
There was a small bar cabinet sitting against one wall, and while June looked for something in one room and then the next, he got up and made himself a drink. He went for scotch, this time, mostly because he recognized the label. Some things never changed. There was no ice, so he poured it neat.
"Can I get you a drink?" he called to her. She went into a room that looked like it ought to be a bedroom.
"Okay."
"Scotch okay?"
"Do I have any vodka…left?"
Eddie looked over the offerings. There was a bottle of imported, clear stuff. He opened it and sniffed. It smelled like pure ethanol. That would be the stuff.
"Ice?" he called.
"In the…usual place."
Eddie knew there was no auto-cook to ask for ice, but he knew that kitchens had cooling devices. He looked at the dinette set and the opening near it. A few steps past the chairs and table, he was in a linoleum-floored room, all done in shades of pink and bright white. There was a tall box with a handle, and a short box with a handle. His own RAVE kitchen had the same, though he hadn’t made the time to explore them yet. The short box had something that looked like fire rings. Ice was unlikely to be there. That left the tall two-part box. He pulled on the top handle, and cool air wafted over him. A refrigerator. Bending slightly, he looked inside. It held a tall carton of something, and a canister marked “coffee,” but that was all.
No ice. Perhaps the bottom part of the box was where the ice was kept. However, there was no handle. He tugged on the corners gently, but it didn't yield. It really made him want to find some tools and take the thing apart to see how it worked, and he made a mental plan to do that to his own refrigerator when he got back to his place. There was so much to explore, and only a few days in which to do it.
Just as he was about to give up on the lower box, he spotted a foot pedal at one corner on the floor. He toed the pedal and the box slid out slightly, enough so that he could see that the air inside was much colder. Everything inside was covered with a layer of frosty ice. There were some rectangular trays with a handle on them, and frozen water inside. Ice!
He took out a tray and closed the freezer. It took several tries for him to figure out the lever arm that released the cubes from the metal tray. But he got the cracked ice out and put it in a rocks glass for June, adding a few cubes to his own glass of scotch.
What a lot of work for a few ice cubes! Eddie hoped everything wouldn't be quite such a puzzle, but the engineer in him also reveled in the old tech as though he was reading a history textbook.
He found June in the living room when he re-entered. She had her shoes and hat off and was curled into the corner of her sofa, playing with a cigarette lighter. On, off, on, off. Her gaze was focused, as though totally fascinated.
Eddie rattled the ice in the glasses, and stepped forward to offer her the vodka.
She looked up and put the lighter down. "Thank you."
"It's your booze, kid. I'm just the waiter."
That got a grin out of her. "I suppose I'll have to tip you."
He took off his hat and sat next to her on the couch. "I can think of a reward I'd like."
June's cheeks got slightly pink, and she took a gulp of her vodka. Tears sprouted in her eyes and she gasped. "What did you put in here?"
"Vodka. It's what you had."
"Oh. Of course. It always hits me like a ton of bricks. I don't drink very much."
He slid closer to her and put his arm over her shoulders. "What do you do very much?"
"Er…"
"Mind if I take off my tie? It's a little sticky because of some temperamental lady I know."
"I'm sorry about that. Here, I'll get your tie."
It brought them in very close proximity, face to face as she knelt on the sofa and unworked the knot of his tie. Their eyes caught and her breath stilled. Those gorgeous blue lights roved over his ugly mug and settled on his lips. June's hands left his tie and fisted in his jacket lapels. She pulled him toward her and attacked his mouth with hers. There was no other word to describe it; she was ravening. She kissed him like she was a natural aggressor. This was so not 1950. But…Eddie didn't want to resist.
They kissed for long minutes, and he held her steady, pulling her into his lap to press their bodies tightly together. The tie was forgotten, the tossed cocktail forgotten; the world revolved around Eddie and June. Eddie's pants were way too tight with June rubbing against him. Her pointed nipples poked at his shirt as she opened his suit coat. Eddie took the lead with his tongue against hers, and moved them into a prone position on the couch with Eddie on top.
June's breasts became toys for his hands. They were small, but firm and responsive.
Eddie ground his hips against June's pelvis, finally reaching between them to ruck her skirt up.
"This is it, kid," he growled against her mouth. "Tell me yes or no, but don't make it maybe."
June's head was thrown back, her throat exposed and her back arched. "Yes," she said on a sigh.
Eddie reached under her skirt, his fingers sliding up her smooth thighs to the juncture between her legs. Her panties were silky soft, like her warm skin, and he kneaded her mound roughly. Her groans of pleasure were music for him, and he slid his fingers into the top of her panties into the folds of her pussy. She was wet. So deliciously wet. His cock was raging with need, but he wanted to savor her and for her to savor
him.
June's clit was swollen and hot, but he didn't manipulate it for long. Instead, he slid two fingers into her and fucked her forcefully. His fingers curled upward to the bumpy top of her canal, where he rubbed firmly at her G-spot. She appeared to love it, writhing and moaning beneath him. He still had his suit jacket on, and it was too restrictive and hot. It was time to hit the sack.
If June was a dream, she was the best erotic dream he could ever remember having. As a possible Romantek construct, she was one hell of a construct!
Still kissing her, he muttered against her lips. "Bedroom. Now."
"Yes." Languidly, she pointed to a doorway near the end of the sofa.
Eddie pulled her off of the couch, his wet fingers around her wrist. They practically ran into the small bedroom, where the bed took up most of the space. It smelled of a light gardenia perfume, subtle and sweet, like June. Eddie peeled off his jacket, then, while June reached under her skirt to fiddle with herself, eyes closed in ecstasy; he unbuttoned and removed her blouse. She wore no bra, just a little, lacy chemisette that enhanced her beauty even while it hid her charms. He encouraged June to lift her arms so he could pull it off her.
Without her hand between her legs, June was eager to get Eddie naked, too, and yanked on his tie, his shirt, his belt, unzipping his pants. He wore boxers, but they were no barrier to her explorations. It was agony, but he paused long enough to pull off her skirt and pull her panties off her, leaving her in her garter belt and flesh-colored stockings.
Their mouths merged again, and Eddie pushed her down onto the bed. His cock sprang free when he lowered his pants and undershorts to his knees. Trailing his mouth down her throat, Eddie reached a tender breast and suckled it. He was not gentle, and couldn't help it. June arched her back, offering more, her head swiveling back and forth as she writhed beneath him. It encouraged him to apply his lips and tongue to her other breast.
"Don't tell me no, baby," he said against her breath. "Tell me yes."
"Don't stop, Eddie," she moaned. "Yes!"
Eddie, My Love Page 3
