Essence of Time (3 page)

“So,” Jack finished off the roach. “You gonna talk to me or what?”

“You my therapist now?” Rob closed his eyes and tried to maintain the calm, to not let the antsy nerves he’d been fighting since that morning take over. He’d gotten his all-clear again. No reason to stress for another six months. He needed to focus on school. He’d declared himself a pre-med major and was about to hit the meat of that program with a couple of four-hundred level chem classes this semester.

“Nope. Just your friend. Or so I thought.”

Rob let the comfortable silence between them spin out a few minutes then took a breath. “When I was seven years old I got beaned playing T-ball. Ended up in the hospital for an x-ray. My mom told the ER doc I’d been getting nosebleeds a lot, like every night for a month. A few tests later I officially had six months to live.”

Jack took a breath, but stayed quiet, for which Rob was grateful.  He hated this shit. Hated it nearly as much as living through it. The awkward sympathy he’d get always rang false. He didn’t like feeling angry at healthy people. But he did. “I spent the next ten or so years in a various hospitals and clinics, getting the equivalent of Drain-O pumped into my veins to try and slow the aggressive cancer cell coup occurring in my blood stream. All kinds of fucking experts, students, researchers came at me. My parents had great insurance. I was an anomaly for a while. It was an oncologist’s wet dream.  And yes, I went to Disney World as a bald, pitiful-looking little kid. At that point I had six months to live…again. I lived my life between the ages of seven and sixteen in six month increments.”

He drank the rest of his beer. “Got any more?” Jack rose, water sluicing off his lean muscles. Rob stared at him, admiring his friend’s physique and rugged good looks for the thousandth time.

As much as his fraternity brothers and friends claimed he had “play” Rob never acknowledged it. Figuring he was just standing in for some other, tall, blonde, good-looking pussy magnet, marking time until the sickly kid returned, eyes huge and yellow, as his liver fought and lost the battle. He continued. “I had a liver transplant and now only have one functioning kidney.” Jack yanked back the cold beer he’d been ready to hand him. Rob laughed. “But my new liver must have come from a healthy nun because I have no limitation on drinking, other than, you know, becoming an alcoholic or whatever.”  Jack slipped back into the water. Rob bit his lip, tried to get his roiling emotions under control. He’d never told this story to anyone.

“My father died an alcoholic, a year before I got my all-clear. He was a cold bastard. And rich. So I’m set, pretty much.” Jack looked up and over Rob’s shoulder at the sound of the door opening onto the deck. The sight of his friend’s raised eyebrow told Rob one thing—Christine had emerged. Rob’s chest tightened.

Of all the times they’d shared women, he’d never once begrudged Jack. They had a good system. A tag-team flirt machine that most women fell for astonishingly fast. Their record was ten minutes from eye contact to double penetration in the girl’s sorority house bedroom while her friend watched. She’d been hot, sleek and later, way too clingy. They’d had her once more that week, in their selfish, youthful way, then neither of them returned her calls.

Rob shook his head. This one he would not share. He glared at Jack as they both studiously ignored the woman. She took a seat on the wood bench, a beer in one hand, her sleek black hair pulled back. The one lone tendril that framed her face made Rob clench his fists. He wanted to tuck it behind her ear, then lick that spot at the corner of her plump lips, taste her there. Taste her fucking everywhere. Jesus. His cock sprang to attention and his brain swam at the sudden lack of blood combined with pot and however many beers he’d consumed that day. She stayed silent.

“Remission?” Jack spoke, jarring Rob out of his reverie. He shifted a little, experiencing that strange pleasure/pain of a hard on with no obvious outlet in the near future. “I mean…if you want to tell me.”

Rob cocked his head to one side. He was high as a fucking kite right now and his dick could cut diamonds. It was a buzz. Just how he liked it. He laughed. “Yeah. Remission. But it will be back. I’m sure of it.”

“Well, that explains your asshole-ish behavior. Mostly.”

“Yeah. So what’s your excuse?”

Jack flipped him off. The sexual tension on the deck ramped up a notch. Rob stared at his friend, giving into a brief fantasy he’d entertained. Then shook his head to dispel it. If he ever went down that road it would not be with Jack Gordon, and he knew it.

“You guys are pretty hot, you know it?” Christine’s raspy voice made them both look up. “Yin and Yang. Dark and light. Bet that’s worked well for you so far.” She sipped her beer, one long leg tucked up underneath her. Rob blinked, unable to stop staring at the high red of her cheekbones, the lean line of her neck. He gulped as she stood. The snow seemed to highlight her, make her skin glow as she slipped out of her jeans and pulled the sweatshirt over her head.

“Fuck. Me.” Jack murmured at the sight.  The perfect swell of her breasts, tipped with rock hard pink nipples made Rob’s head pound. Her thighs were strong, he noted, as the utterly ridiculous thought that he should get her workout routine crossed his lust addled brain. He’d never seen quads like that on a woman. His eyes traveled upward, took in the light dusting of coal black hair over her sex, to the definition of her abs and back to those amazing…He looked away, angry with himself for being so easy, and furious with her for doing this. For playing him.

She slid into the water, and Rob nearly came without a single touch at the sweet sound of satisfaction she made as she sunk down beneath the bubbles. He glared at her. She stared at him, her chocolate colored eyes expressionless, flat. He wanted her so bad he had to choke back protest when Jack put a hand on her bare shoulder, drew his finger along the line of her collar bone, up her neck. But when he tried his patented “turn her face and kiss her fast” move, she balked, moving away from him.

 Rob smiled and shrugged when Jack shot him a dark look. The haze of pot and beer, of stress and cold, of the near constant sensations of simultaneous relief and tension he lived with every day made him feel slow, languorous.  When he found himself face to face with her he was shocked. Her breath on his face, her tongue in his mouth, her body pressed against his underneath the water, her hand on his shaft, his hands caressing the amazing swell of her breasts—it all passed in some kind of surreal dream state.

He had no idea where Jack went, only that he had disappeared, thank god. He fisted a hand in Christine’s silky hair, tugged on it, exposing her neck to his lips and teeth. She made that noise again, somewhere between a soft, breathy moan and a grunting sigh of satisfaction as she leaned over him so he could suck a perfect nipple between his lips. “Harder,” she whispered, clutching at his hair, holding him in place. He bit down on her flesh. His hips moved of their own accord, as his cock sought release. He nearly cried out from the overwhelming need to be inside her. But she stayed up on her knees keeping that part of them separate. The soft warm folds of her sex against the agony of his erection made him breathless. She smiled, lowered her lips to his and kissed him, sucked his tongue into her mouth, and shifted her hips just enough.

“Holy mother of…yes…” Rob sighed as she sank down on him, enveloping his need, his every molecule. He kept one hand buried in her hair and watched her face as she moved up and down on his cock, controlling the angle and speed to suit herself. She ground her clit against his pubic bone, flexing her pussy around him so hard he groaned. Concentrating on the way the stars spun around overhead, the quadratic equation, his upcoming chemistry lab assignment; anything lest he shoot his load in seconds.

She gripped his shoulders. “Look at me,” her sexy, raspy voice commanded. He opened his eyes, not remembering when he closed them.  She leaned in, forced her tongue between his lips again, as she moved her hips so fast Rob nearly blacked out. The orgasm smacked him right between the eyes as he gripped her full hips and pounded into her, coming in a glorious roar of ecstasy that she matched, even latching onto his shoulder with her teeth as her pussy contracted and spasmed around him, tugging him through the climax harder, longer than he’d ever felt in his life. “Damn.” She whispered, licking the place on his shoulder that already hurt from her bite. “Sorry.” She put her hands on his face, held him steady as he tried to focus on her.

“It’s okay. I-I think I love you.” He stuttered at one point, sighed as she lifted herself up and off him, moving to the far side of the hot tub. The tips of her still erect nipples poked up from the water, making Rob bite the inside of his cheek to keep from climbing all over her again. His cock had not softened one bit. He felt fully alive and completely buzzed all at once. He laughed up into the cold air. Laughed so loud and hard he heard the door opening behind him.

“You kids are awfully loud out here.” Jack’s voice was tight. But Rob did not care as he stared at Christine. Her eyes sparkled and her skin glowed. Winter break had definitely taken a turn for the better.

 He frowned when she rose, letting the water slide off her skin. A funky, possessive feeling made the edges of his vision blur. He wanted to tell her not to do that; to cover up, not to let Jack see her gloriousness.
Crazy.
He shook his head and, by the time he realized she was gone, he actually wondered if he’d dreamed the whole damn thing. His cock was still hard enough to fuck two or three more women. He groaned, as the sweet post-orgasm relaxation rolled through him.

 ****

“No, we can’t.” The whisper near his ear made Rob blink, then roll over. “Shhh... Oh shit, don’t stop.” He placed Jack’s voice.

What the hell?

A hangover threatened and Rob knew his only defense at this point would be to sleep more, to get past the worst of it. A soft grunt, a moan, a distinct shifting of skin on sheets. He put a pillow over his head. He’d not originally planned for this many people on this trip and the condo only had one bedroom and a couple of pull out couches. Christine had claimed one for herself, the other two girls had the other one, and the men were draped all over the bedroom. But last night had ended in a swirl of pot and booze.

By the time Rob had dragged himself out of the hot tub, feeling rubbery-legged and well satisfied, the group was passing around another joint.  He’d sensed Christine’s eyes on him, following him, as he drank about a gallon of water. Then, ignoring the room on purpose to avoid the temptation to scoop the woman up and toss her over his shoulder, he’d fallen face first on the bed and passed out. The only thing he remembered was the sound of Suzanne crawling up next to him, muttering about “too much noise” and something that sounded like “just rest a minute in here.”

He rolled onto his back when the bed started rocking and looked over to see their red headed friend straddling Jack, one hand propped on his chest, the other gripping his thigh, moving her hips and moaning. Groaning at the ache in his head Rob sat, struggled to his feet and stumbled out. Taking one last look back he saw Jack sit up, cradle Suzanne on his lap as they rocked in unison.

Could get interesting
. He walked into the still dim kitchen to make coffee and throw some bread in the toaster. The familiar sounds of a morning kitchen soothed him, remembering the few times his parents and he were home as he grew up, everyone in the house, but on edge thanks to him. His mother loved coffee and kept a pot going nearly all day, every day. The process gave him comfort as he went about filling the pot, measuring the black grounds into the basket, listening to the burble as it came to life. Another day started.

“Does he know?” Rob jumped, and gripped the edge of the sink at the interruption.

“Jesus Christ. You sure know how to sneak up on a guy.” He turned, hoping to capture the tall gorgeous woman in his arms but she sank into a chair, munching on an apple. The too-large sweatshirt slid down exposing her shoulder, making him blink and clutch the chair back. She observed him a minute, taking small bites and chewing them, letting the silence spin out around them. The tingling in his spine climbed up to the base of his brain. “Does who know what?” He didn’t mean to sound angry. He needed to get the fuck out of there, away from her.

“Jack.” Her voice was easy-going, calm, as if she were asking about the weather. Rob glared at her. In the matter-of-fact fashion he’d come to associate with her she floored him with her next words. “Does he know you are in love with him?”

Rob’s jaw dropped. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

She shrugged. “I could have misjudged, but I don’t think so. Do you?” She leveled that dark stare at him, and he squirmed under it.

A sharp pain pierced his chest. “You’re nuts.” He started to walk past her, but she stopped him, threading her fingers through his.

“I don’t mind, you know. I’m just saying. You might want to acknowledge it; get past it.”

“I’m straight. Thanks.” He pulled his hand from hers, with reluctance. It was warm, and made him want to kiss her.

“I’m sure you are.” She leaned back. The sweatshirt neck dropped further, exposing the upper swell of one breast. Fury surged through him.

Who the hell did she thinks she was anyway? He was the seducer. He and Jack. Not her.
He had no frame of reference for the pain swirling in his gut, the eerie tightness in his chest, or for the images in his brain. He walked away, found his gear and headed for the slopes.

He didn’t see any of them for the rest of the day. Simply focused on taking every black diamond slope he found including the one he hit the day before. When he got back to the condo, everyone greeted him as if he’d never left. Jack and Suzanne still clung on each other like a pair of lovebirds. Her cousin had coupled up with one of the other guys and they kept disappearing into the bedroom. Christine was curled up on one couch with a book, the firelight throwing yellow hues onto her skin, which was already reddened from a day in the sun-shot snow. Rob forced himself not to look at her.