Essence of Time (2 page)

“More than okay,” she whispered, biting on his earlobe. “But I’m about to be better, I think.” Rob nodded, lifted her and held her up with his arms as she wrapped her lean legs around him. He slid into her with one long wet stroke, making them both moan. It didn’t take long. When he was in this frame of mind, he came fast and could do it five or six times a day. Besides, it was her idea… “Jesus!” He grunted and felt his whole body tingle as the orgasm gripped him.

            “Yes!” The girl cried out as Rob pounded into her up against the wall, his body pinning hers, forcing both of her legs up and around his waist. She gripped his shoulders, crying his name, and held him tight as the blessed release of orgasm blinded him for a few seconds.

“Make it quick partner.” Jack yelled over the girl’s loud squeals of ecstasy. Rob kissed her again, lifted her up and off him, then wandered into the bathroom to clean up and gather the rest of his shit for their trip north. He walked out, duffle bag over his shoulder.

“Later, babe,” he patted her ass as she re-adjusted her skirt. “We’ll call ya.”

The girl stuck her tongue out at him, making him smile. Yeah, she knew the code.
“We’ll call ya,”
from the Rob and Jack tag team meant,
“have a great life and thanks for your time.”

Jack chuckled and pulled on a pair of jeans draped over a nearby chair, gave the girl a wholehearted kiss good-bye.  “Dude,” He grabbed water bottles and fruit as they watched the girl wander out onto the street to her car. “You are gonna kill me.”

Rob smirked. “But you’ll die happy, won’t you, asshole?”

Jack roared with laughter and tossed the keys to his truck to Rob who caught them mid air. “Yeah. You speak the truth my friend.”

“So, can we please go now that you’ve gotten off?”

“Me?” Jack tried to look shocked. Rob flipped him off as they pounded down the narrow, smelly stairway to the garage beneath the building. By the time they pulled out onto the street and parked behind a beat up van, the sun was high in the sky.

“God dammit,” Rob grumbled as he shoved his sunglasses up his nose. “I’m gonna miss a whole day of powder, you dick.”

Jack downed an entire bottle of water before answering. “Hey,” he pointed toward the group gathered by the van. “Who the hell is that?” Rob glared at him a minute before peering out at the group.

Rob took in the familiar forms of their usual crew—four fraternity brothers, the female cousin of one of them, a friend of hers who’d been hanging out with them all lately, and… “Whoa.” He slipped the Ray-Bans down and took in the tall form of the unknown woman seated in the back of the van. She had one foot propped on the bumper, a beer in one hand, the long ebony fall of her hair hanging over one sunglass covered eye. There was no disguising her perfect hourglass shape. A little taller and fuller than Jack’s type, she made Rob’s scalp tingle. A new sensation and one he didn’t care for much.

“Holy Penthouse pet, man.” Jack slapped his shoulder. “This trip just looked up as far as I’m concerned.”

“Shut up.” Rob threw the truck into park and climbed out. Something felt strange. His usual restlessness buzzed between his ears, but the sight of the new girl had set him off even further. Although he had just gotten off, his cock had stirred back to life. Annoyed, he stayed behind the truck a minute.

“About time, dickheads.” A petite redheaded girl leapt up into Jack’s arms. He caught her and planted a kiss on her lips.

“It’s his fault Suzanne,” Rob nodded to the group. “I have beer. What’s your contribution?”

“Same. A couple of bottles Smirnoff, OJ, chips and salsa. We can get the rest there.”

“Asshole!” Jack shifted Suzanne to his back. “What food did we bring?”

“I got it handled, Gordon. As usual. All you have to do is bring your swinging dick, preferably washed.” Rob rolled his eyes at the new girl, who hadn’t moved from her perch. He felt her eyes on him, even from behind her Oakleys. Unnerving. He forced himself to drag his gaze from the pale blue jeans hugging her hips, the way she put the brown bottle to her lips like it was a…  "Can we fucking go now people? I arranged this god damned junket; let’s get on with it.”

He watched Jack drop Suzanne back to the sidewalk and saunter over to the new girl. “Who’s your friend?”  Jack spoke and sat, ignoring Rob completely.

Rob gritted his teeth, a sudden surge of jealousy making him dizzy. She looked up at him, ignoring Jack.

“Oh that’s Christine.” Suzanne clamored in next to her. “Christine, that’s Rob and Jack.” She rummaged around in one of the three coolers and emerged with three beers, tossed one to Jack and one to Rob. Rob opened his, downed half then tipped the bottle to the vision still sitting motionless at the back end of the van. His heart pounded a little too hard for his taste when she slid her sunglasses down and appraised him up and down.

“See anything you like?” He kept his voice light, sucked back the beer to hide his discomfort. The entire tableau of people, his fraternity brothers, including his roommate, and the few girls invited on this trip disappeared when her eyes narrowed at his words. He raised an eyebrow, at a loss for the first time in years. A corner of her incredibly full lips lifted, at the same moment Jack draped an arm around her. She didn’t even acknowledge him. Kept her deep mocha-colored eyes trained on Rob’s.  He leaned on the truck. The moment spun out between them, as his body started responding involuntarily.

“Nope.” Her voice was low, smoky, and dismissive.

Jack laughed.  “Hot. And has great taste.” He handed her his beer. She took it without looking at him, took a drink and didn’t say another word. “I think I’m in love.” He leaned into her. She moved away imperceptibly while Rob watched the whole thing play out, a strange humming noise starting in his brain.
Fine. Two can play the ignoring game. And I always win. She’ll be begging for it by tonight.
He gave her his best slow, sexy grin then turned the rest of the group, ignoring the impulse to run his tongue along the curve of her full, pink lips.

****

Rob’s skin felt hot and cold all at once. The wind whipped at his jacket. Snow blinded him as he shot down the hill past his group. The compulsion for movement had him in its firm grip. The need for speed, urgent calling for edginess, and the sheer adrenaline rush of being alive poured through his body.
Fuck yes. This was how to live.
All the years of bullshit, of "maybes," "hopefullys," and "don’t get too used to being healthys" blown away for six more months. He gripped his poles harder as the wind hit him from the side, nearly forcing him off the already rutted track. He heard shouting from somewhere, but crouched down, urging more speed from the physics of downhill motion, needing it more than his next lay.

He swerved to avoid trees; loving the sensation of his leg muscles engaging, of his core keeping him upright. He was alone. Once again. In the dark. The snow flew straight at him, burned into the few exposed centimeters of skin on his face. Alive. That’s what he was. Alive. His thighs burned. He grinned, relishing the pain. He hit bottom, sliding to a perfect stop, throwing snow onto the waiting forms of Jack, Suzanne and a tall, white-garbed woman with coal black hair. He felt high, utterly flying with energy, heard himself laughing like a maniac. But the sound died on his lips at the look on his friend’s face.

“What the fuck man?” Jack stalked up to him, awkward in ski boots, putting his sunburned face inches from Rob’s.  Rob glared at him, but sensed the anger radiating from the group.  “You are out of control.” Jack stayed up in his grill, gripped his bicep hard. “Do you have any idea what you just did?” His breathing was heavy. Rob narrowed his eyes, suddenly unsure.

“Yeah. I just skied, stopped, and now you’re in my face. Back off.” He tried to shrug out of his grasp. But Jack wouldn’t let go.

“No.” The look on Jack’s face made him pause. “You went down a closed fucking hill, you dumb ass showboat.”

“No I didn’t.” He swallowed, sensing the sudden proximity of Christine. He would swear he could smell her. “Let go of me.” He yanked his arm out of his friend’s grip and clicked out of skis, picked them up and stalked away from the group. His brain buzzed and his cock was so hard it made him grunt in pain as he got as far from that girl as he could.

“You’re not an adrenaline junkie. You’ve got a fucking death wish.” Jack hollered after him. Rob ignored them all. They’d never understand. Never. And he’d never tell them. He’d had enough bullshit sympathy to last him a lifetime.

Chapter Two

Rob watched as Jack threw his cards on the table to the sounds of jeering and cheering. Jack shrugged, and slipped out of his jeans, leaving him clad only in boxers and socks. Rob tried to keep his eyes off the girl next to him. His friend had kept his cool since the earlier confrontation, not speaking beyond the necessary words for bathroom coordination. They ate the ribs one of the guys had cooked on the huge grill provided with the condo, washing down the hot, Texas-style barbequed meat with ice-cold beer. Rob had kept apart from the crowd, sensing the anger that still lingered over his antics on the slopes.

He still had most of his clothes on, as did Suzanne and one other of their friends. But Christine was down to her bra and panties. She remained seemingly unfazed by the scene while sipping straight Scotch, the swell of her near-perfect breasts above a black silk bra making all the men gape like idiots. Annoyed, he glanced at Suzanne at one point. Her eyes were narrowed, and on Jack. Rob sighed and stood, the drama quotient in the room more than he cared to endure.

“I’m done.” He walked away without another word, realizing his rudeness but needing space more than he needed to be polite. The near constant hard on he’d been sporting since laying eyes on Christine made him wince with a combination of pain and aggravation. The frigid air hit him hard, cooling him from tip to toe. He sighed and flipped on the hot tub jets, stripping out of all his clothes before stepping into the bubbly water. Letting the heat soothe the ache in his quads from hours on the slopes, he leaned back, closed his eyes. Tried like hell to stop his brain from spinning.

After years spent staring at four walls of a hospital room, he’d learned the hard way how to entertain himself. A voracious reader still, he was never without a couple of books and magazines at hand.  He still called on the old distraction tricks when he got stressed. Internal mantras about the next set of doctors giving him "good news," or Beatles songs he’d repeat on a endless loop in his imagination, all of it had worked then, why not use them now? He tried. But the recent memory of her near naked body kept intervening.

 Since being told at sixteen that his ten-year battle with leukemia was, for all intents and purposes, over, he’d kept a tight grip on the urge to plan an actual future.  The poison they had poured into his system in a seemingly vain attempt to kill the perfectly happy, living cancer cells in his blood, had finally worked. The cancer had grumbled and retreated into a cave of remission. A cave he walked up to every six months, nonchalantly whistling, hands tucked in his pockets or running through his new grown and now long blonde hair, expecting the worst.

Rob’s mind whirled with snowy images and memories. The usual ones—his sobbing mother, his stoic father, the creepy, smelly priest who had a thing about patting Rob’s leg higher and higher on his thigh every time he visited—they never faded. No matter how many sheer cliff walls he climbed or black diamond slopes he shot down. His direct “fuck you” to the deadly cells that he still sensed, lurking, growling and pissed off at him. Ready to pounce.

He sighed, and sank further down into the steamy bubbles. He nearly leapt out of his skin when something ice cold touched his shoulder. “Shit!” He glared at Jack.

“Calm my brother,” Jack wandered around the sunken hot tub and perched on a wooden bench, holding his own beer. Rob curled his fingers around the brown bottle, aggravated but relieved by his friend’s presence. “Cheers.” Jack held up his bottle, waited until Rob did the same. They drained most of the twelve ounces in one gulp. The snow glowed faintly behind Jack’s nearly invisible silhouette. Rob chuckled.

“Where is she?”

“Where’s who?” Jack never admitted defeat. He went into denial mode. The amazingly hot, mysterious woman had obviously rejected his nearly naked flirtations during the poker game. Not something that happened often - to either of them. Rob heard the steadily louder laughter drift out of the glass doors. Suzanne trotted out, her small form encased in jeans and a giant wool sweater, a burning joint in one hand. She handed it to Jack as he drew her down to his lap. Rob wondered not for the first time, how the two of them never got together. They were so touchy-feely all the time.

But Jack had assured him he had no interest in fucking up a perfectly great friendship with the slight, smart, red head. Rob had only asked once how actually having sex with a woman would “fuck up” a friendship. He hadn’t gotten a good answer then, and didn’t anticipate one now.

Jack took a deep toke then Suzanne brought it to him. The weird sensation of jumpiness remained. Usually a long day of physical activity cured that for him, allowed him to sleep a few hours. Not today. His cock stirred, but he willed himself under control. There was no way he’d act like a horn dog around Christine. Nope. She’d come to him, eventually. The pot worked its usual calming magic. He smiled, and blew smoke straight up into the freezing air. Suzanne put a soft kiss on his lips before hopping up and heading back inside.

Jack watched her leave. "Don’t start,” he muttered before stripping out of his clothes and climbing in across from Rob.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” Rob took another hit, then passed the joint to Jack. The aches he’d been nursing in his back and legs started to fade.

Within a week of being given the all clear the day after his sixteenth birthday he’d headed to the gym, used every ounce of his near ten-year, bed-ridden pent up energy to get his body in the best physical shape he could. He ran for miles, lifted weights, did thousands of push-ups and sit-ups. Every sore muscle he viewed as a gift. Albeit one he had on loan from the cancer library. And that place had a real bitch of a librarian.