"Why shouldn't I go jet-setting with him around the globe?” Shelby countered. “I've got the money and the time to do it. Remember, you said I needed to take a vacation and unwind. After chatting with Quentin I'm definitely feeling ... unwound."
Mel arched a black eyebrow and licked the crumbs off her fingers. “Yeah, I noticed you seemed to be wound a little less tight when you came in the room. Something's different about your walk today, too. He's a real good old friend, I take it?"
Shelby felt her cheeks reddening. She turned away to look at her cousin's paintings that leaned against the wall, most of which were nudes. “Well, yes, we are ‘good friends’ you could say. He's a fun-loving guy and has a quirky sense of humor."
"I bet he does. Anyone who can get you to wear a pair of faded jeans and a T-shirt on a weekday is my type of guy.” Melynda picked up her paintbrush. “So, what's this Quentin person's last name?"
Shelby froze. Hell! She'd gone to bed with him but she never even asked him his full name!
"His name? Why, it's..."
Think! What could Quentin's last name be? He appeared to be part Asian and part European in ancestry, but which part got which name? She had to come up with something quickly because Mel would continue to stare with those big green eyes of hers until she broke down and confessed the whole story of how they met. And then she'd be locked up in a psycho ward and she'd never see the light of day ever again—nor her mysterious lover.
"Wells,” she blurted at last. “His name is Quentin Wells."
"Hmm, that's an interesting name for a sci-fi lover. You've got Orson Welles and H.G. Wells who are both famous for their versions of War of the Worlds."
"Yes, isn't that a cool coincidence,” Shelby replied, a satisfied grin on her lips. Actually she had been thinking of H.G. Wells and his classic novel The Time Machine. The name seemed fitting somehow.
"And where exactly are you two jet-setting to?"
"I don't know yet. It's a surprise destination. But Quentin told me to pack light and casual. I think it's somewhere in the tropics."
Melynda laughed and slapped her paint-covered hands against her ragged jeans. “Tropics? Pack light? I bet he's taking you to a nudist colony or a swingers’ club or something.” She put down her brush and held her sides as she shook with mirth. “Woo-wee! I can't wait to see my straight-laced cousin with a sunburn across her butt cheeks!"
Shelby opened her mouth to repudiate the insidious comment leveled at her character, but thought better of it. Let Mel think what she wanted. For all anyone knew, it could very well be the truth. It certainly sounded appealing. Hanging out at a nudist colony with Quentin on some sandy beach, splashing in the surf, rolling across a beach blanket, making love under a clear blue sky ... It didn't seem too farfetched of an idea at all.
"Yeah, we're going surfing. I'm hangin’ with a surfer who loves to use his boogie board. Are you jealous Elvira, mistress of the night?"
Melynda bit the end of her paintbrush and grinned. “No, I'm not jealous at all. I've got my unusual guy and you've got yours. I just want you to have a good time and be careful. Don't forget to drop us a post card from time to time if you can't call to tell us how you're doing."
"Will do. I better go now and talk to Sara at the office. I'll come by your place later with my key, okay?"
Shelby kissed her cousin good-bye on the cheek and dashed out of the studio. If there was anything she'd learned from telling Melynda first was that she'd better have something more definite to tell her business partner about her trip.
* * * *
"You're practically giving me the business, Shelby. Are you sure you want to do this? What will people think?"
Sara Shaw stood tall behind the desk in her typical gray business ensemble and spoke in her typical, blunt manner. No surprises here. Shelby sighed. Just a few weeks ago she herself had acted pretty much the same—rigid, business-like and ruthlessly competitive. She had to close the deal; she had to impress the hell out of the client; she had to make them sign on the dotted line and leave her with a whopping commission. There were no other options in life. But ever since Graham had walked out, leveling her with the comment, “You were never there for me emotionally,” her Donald Trump complex had evaporated.
"Yes, I'm sure. You've got a terrific head for the business, Sara. I have no doubt that you'll take Schwartz Properties to the top of the field. I'm at a point in my life where I can sit back and play the silent partner. At least for a while. I need a break from the rat race. Hell, I've earned it."
Sara shrugged and sat back down, steepling her café-au-lait colored fingers tipped with stiletto red nails thoughtfully. Shelby could read the look in her eyes. It said, “I seriously think you've gone off the deep end.” But the younger woman with steely nerves only smiled and nodded her consent.
"Very well. Brian will draw up the proper documents for you to sign before you leave town. It's best if we're both on the same page ... in case you have a change of heart later."
"I don't think I will, but I know you're not a fan of the ‘handshake contract'. I'll give him a buzz here from my office in a moment.” Shelby headed for the door then paused. “There's one other thing, Sara."
The tall beauty raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow. “Yes?"
"Don't allow work to take over your life. All the money in the world isn't worth the heartache you'll experience further down the road."
"Work is my life, Shelby. The money is immaterial to me, really. I just can't stand to be bored, and the world of business definitely keeps me entertained. I doubt I'll ever find a certain someone who will bring me half as much joy.” Sara's polished smile faded for a fraction of an instant then quickly reconstituted itself. “Have a great time on the round-the-world cruise. It sounds ... fascinating."
Shelby entered her office, suddenly heartsick. This could be the last time for a very long while that she'd see it. She'd practically lived in it for the last couple of years. It was home—even though it wasn't home—like her renovated brownstone was home. She sat down at the computer and dashed off several emails to various clients informing them of her imminent vacation and uncertain return schedule.
After a quick call to Brian, their attorney, Shelby began clearing off her desk and filing away important documents where Sara would be able to easily locate them. A sense of melancholy overcame her. Was she really crazy enough to give all this up, even for a little while, to go gallivanting about the planet with a complete stranger?
"Nice office. You tell all your workers you're heading off on an exciting adventure holiday?"
Shelby gasped and dropped the file she was holding, spilling its contents about the room. “Quentin! Sheesh, you about gave me a heart attack sneaking up on me like that."
He frowned. “Are you prone to heart trouble? I thought coronary disease was under control by this century."
"What?” She knelt to gather the papers and stack them into a neat pile once more. “Oh, sure, ‘this century'. Quentin, I hate to tell you this, but you're going to have to can the sci-fi geek act once we get on the road. It unnerves people—myself included."
"Sci-fi geek. I looked that expression up in my electronic guide to the twenty-first century. A ‘sci-fi con’ was a gathering of enthusiasts of speculative fiction novels, television programs and films. A ‘geek’ was a term that labeled an individual who possessed intelligence in the field of computers and technology but generally was thought as being socially inept."
He came up behind her, wrapping his arms about her as Shelby stood, placed the file into the drawer, and closed it. “Am I socially inept?” he asked.
Shelby sighed, arching her back toward him and reaching with her hands to stroke his face. “No, not entirely. But the stuff about being from the future ... Well, that makes people think you're either mentally challenged or insane. Speaking of which,” she quickly scanned his outfit of floral board shorts and bright orange T-shirt and flip-flops, “however, did you get into this building d
ress liked that?"
"Dressed like what?” He playfully nibbled on her earlobes.
"Dressed like a surfer from Malibu or something. There's a dress code in this office—suit and ties for males and dresses and hose for women. Our clients tend to dress even more formally. I'm surprised the security guard downstairs let you into the building.” She glanced toward the door and breathed a sigh of relief when she noticed he had locked it after he'd entered the room. “Did anyone happen to see you out front?"
"You're not wearing a dress.” He slipped a hand under her top and began to caress her nipples through her bra until they stood proudly at attention. “You are wearing casual clothes, aren't you?"
"You're right. Today I am. But I own this business and the security guard knows me. In fact, he's never seen me in anything less than proper business attire, but he still recognized me and didn't make mention of it. Weird."
"Yeah, weird.” Quentin slipped a hand down the front of her pants and began rubbing her pussy. “You wanna know the real reason they let me in the building?"
Shelby arched toward her lover. Luckily she had thought to ask for privacy while she was making her phone calls earlier. She moaned as he increased the pressure on her clit.
"Yeah, tell me why they let you in.” The security guard downstairs may not have seen him, but how did he sneak into her office without her hearing him? Quentin was as stealthy as a cat burglar. Those skills might land him into trouble some day.
"I'll tell you the reason—they don't know I'm here."
"Hmm ... You didn't go through the front door? Did you break in through a back entrance?"
"Back entrance?” A deep, low chuckle escaped from throat. That gave her the cue he was up to something not quite business related. “What a good idea."
Gently, he bent Shelby over and indicated for her to place her hands on the edge of her desk. Shelby complied without complaint, mesmerized by his expert attention on her clit and the thrill of doing something wild and uninhibited in her uptight office. Why hadn't she and Graham ever thought of doing the nasty on her desk?
Quentin tugged down her pants and help her to step out of them, then quickly removed his own. He rubbed his erection against her buttocks, slipping a finger into her. She gasped and tightened her muscles about it. “You're really turned on by doing it in your office, aren't you, Ms. Schwartz?"
"Uh-huh.” She slowly ground her hips against his finger and tossed her head back to receive his kiss. “This boring place needs a little life in it."
"I'm all for livening it up. Allow me to demonstrate."
He pushed his cock into her in one single thrust. Shelby gasped leaning lower across her now practically empty desk to allow him deeper access. The pleasure-pain of his hard strokes drove her fast toward the precipice ... She felt cries of delight building in the back of her throat, but she dare not even whisper his name in fear she'd shriek it, bringing the entire office rushing in to see what was the matter.
"It's all right, Shelby. Scream all you want, as loud as you want. No one can hear you. I promise you."
"S-say w-what?” she stammered, panting under the exertion of holding back her impending climax. Her lover couldn't be that cold-blooded, could he? “D-did you bump everyone off?"
He momentarily slowed his intimate assault. “Not really. Let's just say they're all out to a mental lunch. They can't hear a thing. It's how I got into the building. I temporarily froze them in time."
"Froze them in time?” The languid corkscrew motion of his hips was driving her completely mad. “They're not dead?"
"No, they're fine. It's like sleeping, only better. They don't age."
"Oh.” None of it made sense to her. But then again, nothing could make sense to her this close to what promised to be a mind-numbing orgasm. “Fuck me a little harder and keep doing your hips all wiggly like ... Ah, ah—yes!"
The first wave shook her lithe frame until she swore the whole earth was trembling. She raked her fingernails across the smooth surface of the desk looking for purchase, sending a paperweight, an in-basket and her huge pencil mug crashing to the floor in the process. The screams tore forth from her lips and filled the air, bouncing hard off the walls of her small room, multiplying their intensity and causing her pussy muscles to contract even tighter as she climaxed over and over again.
With her shouts fading in her ears, she wondered. Why wasn't anyone banging on the door of her office to see what all the commotion was about? Seriously weird.
"I can tell you liked that,” Quentin purred. “Come here."
He slowly pulled out and scooped the quivering mass of Jell-O that was her body from the surface of the desk. “I've always wanted to do it in the boss's chair.” He sat down and tugged her into his lap. With hands firmly planted on her hips, he motioned for her to stand up and straddle his cock, facing him. He speared her again with one swift stroke. Gasping, she knelt in the chair that had always been too big for her and bounced joyfully up and down on his firm erection.
"This thing has got to come off.” She quickly removed her plum colored, scooped neck T-shirt and tossed it aside. She thrust her breasts forward, nipples straining against the thin fabric of her bra. “Get me out of this contraption."
He winked. “Yes, ma'am. Far be it from me to disobey an order from the boss.” Releasing the catch, he took each rosy point into his mouth and suckled until Shelby felt her toes curl.
"Yee-haw! Ride'em cowgirl!"
Quentin laughed, obliging her with several hard thrusts. Shelby had ridden a mechanical bull once in a nightclub while in college, but nothing could prepare her for riding a well-endowed man with a playful streak a mile wide. She grasped the arms of the chair tightly, threw back her head and shrieked her pleasure.
Fireworks exploded before her eyes as the familiar tremors beginning low in her belly engulfed her form. Her cunt squeezed her lover's shaft until it was all he could do but scream along with her as his cock shuddered, erupting deep within her. He slumped in the chair and gathered her against his chest.
"That was phenomenal.” She sighed and laid her head on his shoulder. “I wonder why nobody came pounding on the door to see what I was up to in here. As far as they know, I'm alone. Right?"
"Yeah, I froze them in time. I froze them before I entered the building and came upstairs. They have no clue what we've been up to—unless you give them a play-by-play description.” He chuckled and squeezed her buttocks. “You want me to unfreeze them and then fuck you again on the desk? Fuck you hard, then slow and wiggly-like until you sing like an opera singer?"
Shelby giggled. It sounded like a good plan, but they couldn't spend the entire day making love in her office. They had to get ready to go on the road. “Maybe later. Actually, I want to see how being ‘frozen in time’ looks like. Let's get dressed and quietly sneak out and..."
"Why bother to dress? They can't see us or know we're even in the same room with them when they're frozen. Speaking of which,” Quentin looked at his wristwatch and smiled, “we've got about a half hour before they'll snap out of it, unless you want me to release them early. I'll do that, but we'd better be dressed by then if they're not used to seeing you parade about the office in your birthday suit."
"You're such a joker.” Shelby stood and gathered up her clothes, quickly slipping into her bra and panties. “There's no way I'm walking about outside the door here with nothing on. I don't want them to think I've gone completely bonkers.
He sprang to his feet and crossed to the door. “Aren't you?"
"Quentin! Get your hand off the doorknob this instant. I'm not dressed yet. No—don't!"
Too late. He pushed the door open wide and blithely strolled out in the buff into the front office area. Stunned, Shelby dropped the remainder of her clothes on the floor and rushed out to corral her exhibitionist lover. Not a sound, not a movement came from anywhere. Quentin sat cross-legged on the edge of the receptionist's desk and grinned.
"LaDonna, don't mind him he's a
harmless nutcase, he's a ... LaDonna?"
Headset on her ears, mouth parted as if in mid-sentence, the young receptionist's hands hung in space over the keyboard. Not even the cursor moved on the screen where LaDonna appeared to have been inputting a new seller's information into their standardized application form.
"She's not breathing!” Shelby dropped to her knees and began to shake the girl by the shoulders. “Wake up! Snap out of it, LaDonna. Please?"
"She's fine. Don't worry.” Quentin took Shelby by the hand and gazed deeply into her eyes. He spoke slowly and calmly, as if explaining why the sun doesn't shine at night to a toddler. “The reason your receptionist isn't breathing is because she isn't living. Well, not in the sense she's living in time. When you're out of the timeline, you simply don't age or exist, so you don't breathe or have a pulse."
Shelby slowly stood and scanned the room. Sara Shaw stood like a carved piece of brown-gold marble in the corner beside Gordon, one of their newest agents and a first rate klutz. A folder in Gordon's outstretched hand looked as if it would fall to the floor any second. Somehow it remained as it was, suspended in mid-air, dangling from the tips of his fingers. What the hell was happening?
She backed away from Quentin. “They're frozen. They really are frozen—in time?” He nodded. “We can't leave them like this much longer. Won't people wonder what's happening here when they try to contact the office?"
"Yes and no. Someone phoning the office will get a busy signal, and if I hadn't locked the suite door and someone did walk in here, things would look a bit odd to them like it does to you. Usually I can only freeze a room full of people at a time, but I had a friend tinker with my time device so it has a bit more range."
He chuckled. “Too bad I can't time freeze the entire planet. Then no one would be the wiser to what we got up to on your desk!"
The enormity of Quentin's power shot icy shivers up her spine. He really did tell her the truth when he said he came from the future. He came from a future where time travel and even time manipulation was possible. What evil could be wrought from having such God-like powers?
Hanging With A Time Surfer Page 4
