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Legacy of the Witch House (TheCorsair and Xanaphia)

“Yeah, I mean it’s incredible but…” Marta forced a laugh, forcing away impressions of the amorphous object that lied within. “Well, maybe save those experiments for daylight hours?” She brushed sticky strands of hair back behind her ears and reclaimed the water bottle. The cool water was glorious, but still paled in comparison to Peter’s warmth.

“As far as um…I guess us, I… that is…” With a sigh, she found some words to use. “I really liked it, and I really like you, and I’d really like it if we could do it again.” God, you’re an idiot. “I mean, in the future. Or even, now, honestly. Fuck, the way he looked at her, with those piercing brown eyes, made words goddamn impossible. “I’d be interest in seeing you. More of you. More…”

Fuck it.

She pulled him closer, pressing lips cooled by water against his and demanding entrance into his mouth. Then it was her turn to bite him, tugging on his lower lip, before trailing teeth over his jaw and throat. The salty musk on his skin left her hungering for more, and his moans and sighs were delightful encouragement. She pushed herself up on the countertop, wrapping legs around his waist to keep him close, before finally pulling away to breath, and look up into his eye.

“I don’t want you to leave tonight.”
 
“Yeah,” Pete agreed, both glad and disappointed that she’d changed the subject. “Daylight hours sounds like a good idea.”

“As far as um…I guess us,” Marta stammered, stumbling over her words, “I… that is…”

“I, uh,” he managed as she sighed. “I think, I mean...”

“I really liked it, and I really like you, and I’d really like it if we could do it again,” she managed.

“I, uhm, really like you too,” he stammered our, “and I’d, uh, like that, if, you know...”. Damn it! Am I a teenager again?

“I mean, in the future.,” she clarified.

“Yeah, sure,” he grinned stupidly. “Maybe we could, uh, go out..? Later, I mean?”

“I’d be interest in seeing you,” she agreed. “More of you. More…”

This time, there was no doubt who initiated it. The bottle dropped to the floor, bouncing and spattering water around as she devoured his mouth. He wrapped his arms around her, sighing in delight as she bit and kissed at his jaw as throat, his hands exploring the contours of her body. When she braces herself on the countertop he gripped her waist, helping lift her so she could sit, and she rewarded him by wrapping her long legs around his hips. “I don’t want you to leave tonight,” she breathed.

“I want to stay,” he breathed back, sliding her blouse over her shoulders and tossing it away. He leaned into her, tasting her lips once more, slowly exploring her mouth with his tongue. “I want to see more of you, too,” he whispered, kissing the little bruises he’d left on her skin.

He dragged off his undershirt and tossed it aside, needing to feel more of her body against his. His lips and tongue caressed the swell of her breasts as he cupped them. “I want more of you,” he murmured, tongue curving the taut peak of her nipple.

Hands blazed a trail for his lips to follow as he worked his way over her ribs and down his stomach. He hooked the lastic of her panties and tugged, wirking them over her hips and down her long legs, then tossing them aside as well. Kneels by before her, he took a moment to appreciate the artistry of her bare body perched on the counter. “I want you.”

He could taste himself in her skin as he parted her folds with his tongue, his seed mingling with her juices in a way that turned him on far more than he would have expected. His hands gripped her thighs and slid upwards, caressing her stomach and cupping her firm breasts once more as his tongue traced and explored her depths. “God,” he breathed, sucking gently at her clit. “God I want you.”
 
The pace wasn’t as desperate as the first time. Slower, more exploratory, familiarizing themselves with each other’s body. And damn, he looked fucking good. His slender form was stronger than she would have expected, and she liked that. “I want you,” she echoed, watching with dark intensity as he traveled down her body.

She stripped her bra off, craving the caress of his skin on hers, seeking to remove everything separating them. The heels slid off her feet, clattering loudly on the kitchen tile. Bare feet slid over his back, unable to keep still as her clit throbbed and her cunt quivered. His tongue was hot, flexible yet firm, and fit nicely inside her.

“God, Peter, I want you.” The words were breathy and punctuated with a long moan as his lips caught her clit. She combed through his hair with fingers, just able to resist the urge to grab and pull. “You feel so good…really fucking good.”

Hands behind her, she leaned back on the counter. Thighs hooked on his shoulders now, and squeezed his head, bliss stealing control of her body, of her mind. Her moans came faster, louder each time, refusing to hold back or suppress her building euphoria. “Peter…God, Peter…I’m… Yes… God yes!”

She went rigid in that moment, vision blurring as her eyes rolled back into her head. Peter, goddamn sexy as hell Peter, drew out the moment of ecstasy, his talented tongue teasing her until she could take no more maddening delight, and dragged him up for a kiss. Their mingled taste clung to his lips, and she sucked every drop away. Then, she leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. “You’re amazing.”
 
Well, he must have done something right. Marta moaned and gasped, egging him on with words and with her body until her thighs and hands gripped his head and she went rigid with pleasure. And then she was tugging at him, pulling him up so she could kiss him, clinging to him and greedily savoring their taste on his lips. “You’re amazing,” she gasped, leaning into him.

“So are you,” he murmured, stroked her back as he leaned into her. “But this counter can’t be comfortable.” He lifted her, grinning at her sound of delighted surprise as she wrapped around him. “Which way’s your bed?”

-*-

Eventually they fell asleep, wrapped up in blankets and each other. It was warm and pleasant, which made it all the more confusing when he woke up to a damp chill. Goosebumps crawled over his skin, and the bed beneath him felt strange. Groping for the blanket he must have kicked off, his fingers encountered...

Grass?

His eyes snapped open, and he found himself staring upwards at a cloud-streaked sky lit by a brilliant silver moon. A breeze blew over him, chill on his bare skin. Marta lay next to him, shifting uneasily on the grass. After a moment he sat up, looking around. Rows of ancient gravestones surrounded them and, in the distance, he could see the flickering light of a bonfire.

“This,” he commented aloud, “is the worst lucid dream I’ve had in a while.”

“Hey, Dr. Ahn!”

He looked and, because it was a (particularly vivid) dream, he saw Marie waving as she walked towards them along the rows of gravestones. And because it was a dream she was naked as well, except for the jewelry she wore - a few bracelets, and a necklace with a pentacle. “Dr. Rebelo-Perez!” she added, waving again. “It’s great to see you guys!”

“It is?” he asked, wondering where the hell this dream was going and why his subconscious had decided to add a naked student to it.

“Oh, yeah,” she grinned. “We didn’t think you two would be here for months. Beltane at the earliest. But here you are.” She gestured back towards the flickering firelight. “But come on, we’re ready to start!”

“Start... what?” he asked.

“The Sabbat, of course.” She extended her hands, helping both of them to their feet. “Come on!”
 
Marta gripped Peter’s hand as the waitress from earlier that night lead them towards bonfire. Eerie shadows cast from the gathered group, far longer than the human shapes they belonged to.

The circle was full of near familiar people she could quite place or name. Students, staff she hardly spoke with, neighbors from different floors of her building. Vaguely acquainted people, with one strong exception. Was that…

“Lena?”

Her sister turned, as nude as anyone else, and her eyes went wide. “Marta, you’ve arrived. And just in time, too.”

“Admit it,” the man beside her called, eyeing her figure with his arms around her sister. Ugh, Jeff. She could have gone without seeing him again. Especially this much of him. “I opened your eyes, didn’t I? That’s how you learned truth, and now you’re here.”

“I… I don’t know why I’m here. Where…?”

“It’s not important now,” Lena assured her, pulling her into the circle. “Everything will become clear in time.” With her holding Lena’s and Peter’s hands, and Peter holding the waitress’ hand (Marie?), the circle was complete, perhaps twenty people deep.

In the middle of the circle, a pyre burned bright, dancing oranges and yellows stark against the backdrop of night sky and stars. One person stepped forward, one person she couldn’t make out, with the fire between them, but he wielded a chain with something on the end. Something that burned, a reddish orange, like embers. He spun the chain in a circle, building up his rhythm until the image seemed permanent in the air, and burned into her retina. The embers and flares branched off, seemingly random, but eventually building a recognizable pattern, recurrent geometric shapes. The portal…

“What is this?” she breathed, unable to tear her gaze away from the center.

“The Sabbat,” Her sister informed, euphoria in her voice. Along the circle, something was passed between the participants, something that caught the flickering flames in reflection. Soon it was in Jeff’s hands, and he used it to cut open Lena’s palm, before passing it to her.

“It’s your turn, Marta. You trust me, don’t you?” the geometric circles glowed in her sister’s eyes, and within the circles, stars glittered. Red blood and orange flame dripped from the knife, and Lena’s smile was terrifying. “You must sign, in blood. Then you will know everything.”
 
“Peter! Good to see you here!”

With that announcement, the team transformed from generic ‘naked in public’ to a more specific ‘naked at work’ nightmare. “Doctor Brown,” he managed, wishing that curiousity hadn’t made him learn about lucid dreaming. “It’s, uhm, good to, uh, see you too.”

Dr. Brown laughed in a kindly manner. “You’re feeling awkward,” he sympathized, clapping Pete on the shoulder. “I understand - my first taste of true freedom was unsettling as well. But... oh, wait. Alan! Come here,” he called with a beckoning gesture.

Oh, God, Pete thought as the older man joined them. Now my subconscious is adding in more colleagues.

“Dr. Ahn!” exclaimed Dr. Alan Freeman, shaking his hand vigorously. He was, of course, as naked as everyone else in this batshit insane dream. “I am delighted to see you here!” He glanced at Dr. Brown. “Has he..?”

“No, not at all!” replied Dr. Brown. “He and his companion must have derived the right notiatory level from first principles!”

“Quite remarkable work,” Dr. Freeman congratulated him. “I knew we made the right choice in offering you tenure!” He looked past Pete. “Who is your companion?”

“Uhm.” Pete half turned, and saw Marta talking to an animated woman and some dudebro. “Uh, Dr. Marta Rebelo-Perez.”

“I don’t know her,” Dr. Brown remarked, eying her curiously. “Is she from Brown, or..?”

“Mushatonic,” Pete told them. “She’s a professor in the College if History and Anthropology.”

“Ah! The light dawns!” Dr. Freeman exclaimed. “But the Sabbat is about to begin. We can talk more after.”

“Come on!” Marie said, gripping his hand and tugging gently. “We need you to help form the circle.”

He let himself follow Marie, then caught Marta’s hand as they gathered around the bonfire. It seemed to flare up as the chain of people closed around it, and then Dr. Freeman stepped forward, spinning a chain with a burning light at each end. The rhythmic spinning became increasingly elaborate as he twirled and moved, spraying sparks that hung and danced in the air. “What is this?” Marta breathed.

“The Sabbat,” murmured the woman to her left, her video crying low and reverent.

The burning arcs hung up n the air, forming a recognizable pattern. It wasn’t the one he and Marta had wutnessed when e was awake, but it was similar. Similar enough to create the same disturbing sense distant points collapsing together as a bridge formed. What... was there something...

Marta’s hand tensing on his, and a peculiar vibrating sensation on his wrist, distracted him. He looked, only to see the energetic woman in her left smiling beautificall and holding a knife. Both the blade and her hand dripped blood.

His wrist vibrated again.

“It’s your turn, Marta,” the woman said, reaching for her hand. “You trust me, don’t you?” Pete watched the knife, the hairs in n his body standing on end. It gleaned orange and red, and the blood staining the edge was thick. The woman holding it smiled, and the smile horrified him. It wasn’t crazy. It should have been, but it wasn’t. It was the sort of smile a mother had when she offered fresh cookies to her children. “You must sign, in blood. Then you will know everything.”

His wrist vibrated again.

There was movement in the bridge Dr. Freeman had made with his burning chains. A A vast shape occurred the stars like a dark nebula, staring at them with twin suns like bored, inhuman eyes. He shuddered, a primal whimper of fear escaping him as the alien gaze fell on him. Dread clutched his throat and he felt his breath stop as he waited for death.

Then it glanced elsewhere.

“Marta?” he criaked, swallowing hard. “Run.” He wanted the word to be forceful, but he could barely utter it.

“But, Dr. Ahn” Marie protested, alarmed. She gripped his hand tighter. “You came to us, the Sabbat spoke to you. You found the path of true freedom!”

“This is what you sought,” said the woman to Marta’s left. “Joy, and knowledge. You...”

Pete tore his hand from Marie’s with a cry. Stumbling backwards, he pulled Marta with him. “Come on!” he gasped, feels by his wrist vibrate, “we...”

His eyes opened. He was lying on his back in an unfamiliar room that smelled faintly if perfume and sex. Blinking rapidly, he tried to make sense of his surroundings. Where was he? Then it came back to him.

Marta.

Carefully letting go of her hand, he checked his smart watch. Five am. “Go running” scrolled across the face. Elements of his surroundings began to make sense. He’d dreamed of being chilly because Marts had hogged the blankets, leaving half his body hanging out. And the pattern in his dream had been inspired by the one he’d generated last night. And the naked faculty?

Well, dreams were strange things.
 
The way they had fallen asleep, with Peter’s arm under her neck and her cheek against his wrist, meant that Marta awoke first at the vibrating of his watch, the unfamiliar sensation shocking against her skin. Well, against that part of her skin, anyways. And, despite the bedside clock showing five am, she was grateful to be pulled from the dream, back in her bedroom, with Peter wrapped protectively around her.

Hesitant to return right to sleep, in fear that dream would return, she turned toward Peter, who was now stirring awake. Dawn hadn’t broken yet, but even with moonlit shadows darkening his features appealed to her.

“Is this when you usually get up?” she asked, nuzzling closer now that she was facing him. “Can I tempt you into staying in bed a little longer? I am sure we can figure out another way get in an early morning exercise…”

Fatigue still clung to her bones, but she figured she could summon enough energy to fuck again. It wouldn’t be that hard, with how good he felt against her, and how much she still craved his touch. But it was more than that, she knew, more she hid under the thrill of new feelings. Ashamed to admit, perhaps, that she was afraid of sleeping alone in her own bed, afraid of facing that dream again, alone. Afraid of the horror that lived on the inside of her eyelids, staring eternally each time she closed her eyes. Jesus, she was a grown woman. A rational, intellectual woman, who didn’t waste time or energy on superstition. With a yawn, she forced herself to sit up, not bothering to cover her bare chest. He’d seen -and appreciated- her last night, so modesty felt pointless now.

“I’m still interested in getting to know you better. I could make us some breakfast, if you need to start getting ready for your morning classes. Then, maybe we could meet for lunch?” Marta bit her lip any more could come out, trying hard not to come off too eager. Fuck, men were too complicated, too many rules. It was easier with women. The joke was that, if the first date went well, you brought a U-Haul to the second date. Stereotype or not, Nkendi had moved in after just a month together and…

Nkendi. Well, shit, at least Peter proved distracting enough to keep away thoughts of her ex, for over 10 hours. That was worth something, worth not messing this up so easily. With a sigh and a small kiss, she tried again, “Or, I don’t know, you tell me what you’re thinking…”
 
“Yeah,” Pete replied, sinking into her embrace as she wrapped around him. “Usually do. A five mile run or a workout, depending on the day.”

“Can I tempt you into staying in bed a little longer?” she murmured, lightly kissing his chest. Her hand curled around his cock. “I am sure we can figure out another way get in an early morning exercise…”

“You are extremely tempting, and I...”. His words cut off in a gargantuan yawn.

Marta yawned as well, then sat up. Shadows played over her skin, creating an illusion of modesty. “I’m still interested in getting to know you better.”

“I am too,” he assured her, stroking her back. Sitting up, he wrapped an arm around her waist. “I’d... like that. A lot.”

“I could make us some breakfast,” she suggested, “if you need to start getting ready for your morning classes. Then, maybe we could meet for lunch?”

“Breakfast sound good,” he agreed. “And do does... wait.” He checked his watch. “Crap, it’s Tuesday. I’ve got a 12:15 class on Tuesdays. So...”

She sighed sadly, and kissed him. “Or, I don’t know, you tell me what you’re thinking…”

“Breakfast,” he decided. “And lunch if we can manage it. And... dinner at my place?” He managed a shy grin. “It’d have to be late. I’ve got an astronomy lab that wraps up at nine.”
 
Peter seemed just as eager to see her again as she was, and, honestly, it was a great relief. Because she felt clingy and needy and maybe more than a little horny, and it wouldn’t take much convincing to get her to cancel her classes and pass the day in bed, exploring and savoring Peter.

But, no. That was just the excitement of new feelings bubbling up in her. And perhaps lingering distress from the dream, so vivid she could still feel the wet grass under her feet and the heat of the bonfire. Pushing aside the terrifying joy in her sister’s eyes, Marta cuddled into Peter’s shoulder.

“12:15 class?” She did the math in her head, “So, you’re done by 2, right? I’ll swing by once my office hours are over, but I have a class at three, so it’s will have to be a quick one…” With her mind still sluggish in the predawn hours, it took a moment to catch the innuendo in her words. “Lunch, I mean. Quick lunch.” Though, the brief fantasy of bending over his desk and taking him from behind held a certain appeal. Maybe she'd wear a skirt to work today.

“But yeah, dinner sounds great.” She leaned in, craving another, deeper taste of his lips. “I’ll pick something up for us and meet you at your place. You like anything in particular from Corvino’s?”

“Now…” She climbed onto his lap, skin sliding over skin and her heat hovering just over his cock, “How should we get our heart rate up this morning? Do we stretch first, or get right into some intense cardio?”
 
“
But yeah, dinner sounds great.” Marta leaned in, her lips warm on his as she kissed him. “I’ll pick something up for us and meet you at your place. You like anything in particular from Corvino’s?”

“I’d... have to check the menu,” he replied, feeling slightly dazed. “It’s hard to go wrong with the shrimp Alfredo, though.”

“Now…” She climbed onto his lap, skin sliding over skin and her heat hovering just over his cock, “How should we get our heart rate up this morning? Do we stretch first, or get right into some intense cardio?”

His hands combed through her hair, drawing her into another kiss. “You should always stretch out,” he murmured, sucking gently on her lower lip. “Don’t want a pulled muscle, after all.” Hands wandered lower, exploring the delightful canvas of her back as he kissed her again, tasting her mouth and then the skin of her chin and throat.

He cupped her rear, squeezing the firm globes of her ass as he gently bit the skin over her collar bone. Rocking her slowly, he groaned as deliberately stroked her mound against the aching length of his cock. “God,” he breathed, catching her earlobe with his teeth, “I want you.”
 
“You should always stretch out,” he murmured, sucking gently on her lower lip. “Don’t want a pulled muscle, after all.”

“You’ll help me stretch then, won’t you?” Her hands gripped his shoulders, shoulders that spoke volumes of his exercise regimen. “Help me get loose and limber?” His lips and teeth trailed over her body, and her fingers traced invisible patterns over his, particularly enjoying his firm arms.

“God,” he breathed, catching her earlobe with his teeth, “I want you.”

“Yeah, I tell”, she giggled, grinding against his cock again, and gasping as it flexed against her. Maybe she shouldn’t arch her back towards him, offering her skin to his teeth, but it felt so good. He’d already given her a handful of hickeys, red against her fawn skin, and she’d have to cover for work. At least it was fall, and perfect weather to wear a scarf.

“I want you again…I can’t get enough of you…” She drew his mouth to hers, this time. Both hands caressing his face, thumb running over cheekbones and tongue exploring his mouth. The more she kissed him, the more the dreams faded away. The more he tasted her, the more the horror dissipated. The more their bodies touched, skin warm and smooth against bare skin, the more connected she felt. But still, she wanted more.

She reached between them, stroking his dick. Hard already in her hand, and his throbbing mirrored her own, her body aching to have him again. So, slick lips dripped down his shaft, drooling in anticipation, in need. Sliding, sinking down, swallowing that thick column of meat until he filled her again. Until he completed her again. “Fuck, Peter… I love how you feel in me.”

There was something she was forgetting, wasn’t there? Something that seemed important before? She chased the worry away, chasing her pleasure in each fluid movement of her hips.
 
Pete gasped as she slid down him, swallowing his cock with her slick heat. “Oh, fuck,” he groaned, squeezing her sss again. “You feel so fucking good on me.”

“Fuck, Peter…” she echoed with a sigh, rolling her hips, “I love how you feel in me.” She gripped his shoulders, using them for leverage as she rose and fell on his shaft. In reply he flexed his arm and back, moving her on him. Not enough to set the pace, just to aid her in the rhythm she found.

“God, Marta,” he breathed, catching her bottom lip with his teeth and gently tugging. The action turned into a full-body kiss, a thin film of sweat lubricaring them as tongues fueled and proved. “Oh God. Like that.” She clenched around him, squeezing his cock as she slid back down him. “Fuck... like that...”

He slid one hand up her back to grip her shoulder, encouraging her to lean back just a little. The shift in position drove him even deeper into her, and he let his head roll back with a moan before tasting her once more. “God, Marta,” he breathed into her ear. “I’m close. Tell me you are, too.” He but her earlobe, then trailed kisses along her jaw. “Cum on me, Marta. I want to feel you cum on me.”
 
The headboard thumped rhythmically against the wall, in time with her desperate motions on Peter. Marta’s cries echoed the sound, her sharp moans counterpoint to the dull thud of wood on plaster, counter to moist slap of skin on skin. Peter’s praise, his pleas, were the musical completion, driving her harder, deeper, faster, drawing more sweet sounds from sweet lips.

His lips trailed a sultry fire along her skin, tingling along her senses, and she wanted more. She burned for him, burning from within, friction slick as swollen lips sunk down his cock. Her nipples ached, erect with desire, and they rubbed his smooth chest with each bounce of her hips. Need and momentum built, grew feed by his hunger, until it burst in her mind.

“Peter…” she managed, breathed, clenching as he pushed up into her. Gripping him tighter and tighter, and craving the pressure of hid thick shaft within sensitive channel. “Peter… Close… oh Peter…” Her raspy breaths caressed his name, her nails dug into his strong shoulders and her back arched, swallowing the full length of his shaft. Ripples of ecstasy pulsed on her nerves, a fluttering of muscles that matched the fluttering of eyelids, her entire being consumed by her pleasure. Their pleasure. “Cum… Oh God, Peter, Cum!”
 
The eager hunger in Marta’s voice mingled with the rhythm of her body moving with his to become a feast for the senses. His mouth was full of her taste, his nostrils full of her scent, his skin aflame with the heat of her body as she clung to him. She called his name in breathy gasps, her nails digging into his back as she clenched on his shaft. “Cum…” she called out, voice thick with rapture. “Oh God, Peter, Cum!”

“Oh... oh fuck.., Marta...”. His words were grunts, animal sounds thick with mounting pleasure. His arms moved, maintaining her rhythm on him as she faltered, list in her climax. “Oh... oh God... Marta... I.. I..,”. Speech dissolved into s breathy cry of release as his orgasm found him, his cock pulsing against her clenching walls as his cum flooded her in thick spurts.

Gasping, the initial rush of orgasm fading, he wrapped his arms around her and fell back. His cock pulsed gently within her as he pulled her down against his chest. “Oh... God...” he whispered, hands gently stroking and exploring her bare back. “I...” I love you was right on the tip of his tongue, but he hesitated. He’d known her for less than 24 hours. Was he jumping the gun n? Would he seem too needy? Would it scare her off?

He settled for kissing her again. “You’re... amazing.”
 
Marta leaned into Peter for a time, enjoying his heat and his skin and the tired contentment of their bodies tangled together. She could sleep in his arm for the rest of her life… A thought that came a little too soon, considering they still hardly knew each other, but she didn’t fight it off. Too pleased, relaxing to the steady beat of his heart.

The bedside alarm clock buzzed, and her eyes snapped back open. No, there would be no going back to sleep this morning. They both had to get ready, and he still needed to head home, so he could change into clean clothes for the day. But perhaps she could keep him close a little longer. “Looks like we will need to shower together, if we want to have enough time to share breakfast. I hope you don’t mind using my soap, and smelling of me all day…”

~*~​

Dressed for the day, Marta decided on a turtleneck sweater dress, over tights and leather boots. It covered the bites Peter had given her, and clung to her slender figure. For now, Peter was back in the clothes he wore last night, and they huddled together over omelets and sausages. Her leg brushed his as they shared space at the kitchen island “So, how long have you been teaching at Miskatonic?”

But Peter never got a chance to answer, as the lock to her doorlock jiggled and clicked. The sound drew Marta’s focus, as she stood slowly and approached the door, her mind filling in the amorphous being from the night before.

“Marta?” A familiar, feminine voice called, just before pushing open the door. No extra-dimensional being. Just Lena, pulling her into a hug. “Oh, thank goodness you’re safe.”

Visions of the thing in the portal returned with her sister’s words, but Marta pushed them aside. “What are you doing here? And why wouldn’t I be safe?”

“I was worried about you. You just never know when you date men if you are going to get a psycho and when you didn’t respond to my texts or answer my call…” Lena blinked, and finally registered Peter. “Oh, that’s why. You weren’t done with your date.” Lena took two steps towards Peter and offered her right hand. “Lena, Marta’s sister.”

“It wasn’t exactly a date,” Marta argued, closing the door. “Peter is a colleague.”

Lena quirked an eyebrow, “Is it common to spend the night with your colleagues in academia?” Marta raised a hand to answer, before lowering it with a sigh. Lena went about making herself at home, pulling out a coffee cup and reaching for the pot, “So, Peter, do you teach history too, like Marta?”

“Peter is actually a brilliant astrophysicist,” Marta explained, returning to her breakfast, “It’s kinda funny how our work intersected…” Her voice trailed off as she took note of her sister’s left hand, wrapped in a thick bandage. Just like the dream. Swallowed hard, Marta pointed at the injury, “What happened to your hand?”

Lena shook her head, “Oh, just cut myself chopping veggies last night. I’ll be alright.”
 
Pete dug into his egg white omelette with gusto. It wasn’t his favorite - generally he just beat the eggs together as cholesterol be damned - but she’d seasoned it and added enough ingredients that it was actually quite good. The fact that between last night and this morning he’d worked up an appetite didn’t hurt. More importantly, though, was the simple act of sharing breakfast. They sat comfortably, bodies like ghtly touching as they moved, enjoying one another’s presence. He could, he decided, get used to this.

“So,” Marta asked, “how long have you been teaching at Miskatonic?”

“Be a year in January,” he replied, swallowing. “I...”

A rattling sound caught his attention, loud in the morning quiet. The lock? Who the hell would be trying her door at... he glanced at his smart watch. Six in the morning. Did she have a boyfriend, or... no. Not the way she tended. She wasn’t expecting anyone. So, who..?

Unbidden, his memory produced the manlike shape from his dream, and he felt his throat tighten. He heard the door open, and turned as a feminine voice called Marta’s name. Clearly surprised, Marta rose and embraced her. I’ve seen her somewhere, he thought, trying to place her. And then it clicked.

The dream. She’d been the naked woman with the knife! What was she doing here?

Marta clearly had a similar question, if not for the same reason. “What are you doing here? And why wouldn’t I be safe?”

“I was worried about you,” the mystery dream-woman replied. “You just never know when you date men if you are going to get a psycho and when you didn’t respond to my texts or answer my call…” Then she seemed to notice him for the first time. “Oh, that’s why.,” she said with a knowing smile that made Pete blush, “You weren’t done with your date.” He rise and shook her hand as she offered it. “Lena, Marta’s sister.”

“Pete Ahn,” he replied automatically. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Why are you here? Why were you in my dream?

“It wasn’t exactly a date,” Marta argued, closing the door.

“It was more of a, uhm, a...” Pete tried to clarify, flustered

“Peter is a colleague,” Marta continued.

“We were, uhm, discussing some, some research,” he concluded.

Lena looked from one of them to the other, “Is it common to spend the night with your colleagues in academia?”

“I, uhm, have pulled a few all-nighters,” Pete heard himself say. Lena lifted an eyebrow and snickered, then went looking for a mug. “I can not believe I said that,” he groaned, sinking into his chair and wishing for death.

Lena perched on a chair opposite him, sipping coffee, “So, Peter, do you teach history too, like Marta?”

“Peter is actually a brilliant astrophysicist,” Marta answered.

“Oh?” Curiousity filled her words. “However did you meet.”

“Research,” Pete answered. “We..,”

“It’s kinda funny how our work intersected…” Marta added, before trailing off. “What happened to your hand?”

Pete looked, then did a double-take. Her hand. The hand she’d sliced in his dream. It was bandaged. Suddenly shaken, he refilled his mug. Coincidence, he told himself. I must have seen her picture last night. Yeah, there. On the wall. But her hand?

Lena shook her head, “Oh, just cut myself chopping veggies last night. I’ll be all right .”

It made sense. Hell, he could even calculate the odds. They were bad but, with a sufficiently large sample, even the utterly improbable became a virtual certainty. And it had just been a dream, right. “Was it bad?”

“No,” Lena said, shaking her head. “I keep my knives sharp, so the onion juice hurt worse than the knife. A couple of butterfly sutures and a bandage, and I just need to avoid going anything strenuous with it for a few days.” She sipped her coffee. “So. An ‘all-nighter’, hmmm?”

Pete flushed again. “That’s not,” he stammered out, suddenly finding the remains of his omelette fascinating, “I mean, I didn’t mean..,”

“Oh, he’s cute, Marta!” She laughed, then sipped her coffee. “But really, how did you meet? How does history research intersect with physics?”
 
Despite herself, Marta laughed. Pete was cute. “Well, I maybe have discovered a woman who was a mathematical genius on the level of Isaac Newton. A contemporary in Providence, while the states were still colonies. She graphed out some… What did you call them again? Diagrams of space-time, seen from an outside perspective? Something like that. Her drawings were remarkably similar to some work Peter produced by developing a program to map multilevel vectors.”

Lena blinked twice and then laughed, “Yeah, I didn’t catch any of that. But you both seem so excited.” Lena took a deep drink of her coffee, before getting an inspired look, “Oh, maybe you can guest star in one of Jeff’s videos!”

Marta hid her cringe behind her mug, taking a long drink of coffee as she tried to formulate an excuse, “Oh Lena, it’s just hypotheses right now. There isn’t nearly enough evidence to say one way or another.” Marta tried not to think of the wormhole Peter created, and the presence waiting within for them.

Lena had fished out her phone by now, starting up the YouTube app, “Here is Jeff’s latest video, where he discusses string theory.” Holding up the phone, a still from the video depicted a young man bearing a thoughtful pose, with the animated words “STRING THEORY: DESTROYED” hovering over his head. “You should check it out, I bet you’d like it.” Then she finished her coffee.

“Okay, well, Marta, I am glad to see that you are safe, and just ignoring my texts in favor of your new fling. And Pete, I hope you and my sister can join Jeff and me on a double date sometimes. Maybe you two can debate science!”

Lena left, and Marta shook her head and laughed, before flashing Pete an embarrassed smile. “Sorry, my sister worries over me a little much. And I think she’s excited I met you, because my ex could never stand any of her boyfriends.”

Nkendi returned then, in Marta’s mind alone, shaking her head at the sight of Marta and Pete together. It’s hasn’t even been a month, and already you’ve jumped into the arms of a man.

No. She wasn’t going to let Nkendi judge her. Nkendi made her choice. Now Marta was making hers. “I love my sister, but she does have unfortunate taste in men. But, maybe it would be sexy to see you completely school him in a science debate. Only problem is, Jeff won’t even have enough understanding to know you were schooling him.” Marta laughed again, and pulled Peter in a quick kiss.
 
Pete peered at the screen, doing a double-take as he realized he recognized the man on the screen. He’d been standing, he was sure, to Kena’s left in his dream. The realization did far more to wake him up than the coffee he’d been drinking. “You should check it out, I bet you’d like it.”

“I’m... sure I would,” he said diplomatically, drinking his own coffee and trying to make sense of things. It couldn’t have been the same man as in the dream. It had to be just vague memories of a generic brunette guy grafting onto the picture. Right? Right.

He wished he felt convinced. Stupid nightmare.

“Okay, well, Marta, I am glad to see that you are safe, and just ignoring my texts in favor of your new fling,” Lena said, hugging Marta and heading for the door. “And Pete, I hope you and my sister can join Jeff and me on a double date sometimes. Maybe you two can debate science!”

“It sounds fun,” he managed, eliciting a smile. Lena waved, wiggling her fingertips to not strain her bandage, then headed out the door.

“Sorry,” Marta said with an embarrassed smile, “my sister worries over me a little much. And I think she’s excited I met you, because my ex could never stand any of her boyfriends.”

Pete suppressed a guilty flare of jealousy at the mention of an ex. That was ridiculous, right? Marta was hardly his property, or some bullshit like that. “It happens,” he laughed. “I mean, if we were in Seattle, I’d probably have both parents and an uncle showing up if I ignored texts.” He snorted, imagining what that would be like. “Jeff... doesn’t have a degree in physics, does he?”

“I love my sister, but she does have unfortunate taste in men,” Marta chuckled. “But, maybe it would be sexy to see you completely school him in a science debate.”

“That’s the job of sisters, isn’t it?” Pete chuckled, before the rest of her statement caught up. “Wait, What? Sexy?”

“Only problem is,” she added with a laugh before pulling him in for a kiss, “Jeff won’t even have enough understanding to know you were schooling him.”

“Ah, one of those YouTube lecturers,” Pete said sagely, once he came up for breath. “We get emails from them from time to time. Usually semi-literate screeds about scalar energy or plasma cosmology or gravity being a hoax.” He kissed her again, because she tasted nice, and pulled her into his lap “Sometimes in three or four fonts and font colors.”

He was just contemplating a third kiss, one that might end with Marta bent over the table and her leggings around her ankles, when his wrist buzzed at him again. Grimacing, he checked the time over her shoulder. “I guess I should head home,” he sighed. “Get shaved and changed for class.” Nipping gently at her jaw, he made no move to leave. “Indian sound good for lunch? There’s a little place near campus that delivers.”

The nipping turned into a lingering kiss, his tongue slipping between her lips as his hands explored her her back through the soft wool of her dress. And then his wrist buzzed again. This time, with a last lingering kiss, he reluctantly dIsentangled himself and got to his feet. “Oh, about dinner. You aren’t allergic to cats, are you? I have two.”
 
“Yeah, I love their chicken curry. And I look forward to meeting your cats,” she replied, mentally flinching as she realized how dorky she sounded. But when he left, the emptiness of her apartment seemed to weigh upon her. She was hardly done rinsing the dishes when the disquiet crawled over her skin. She could be early to work this morning, she decided, packing her things for the day. Go over her lesson plan in her office, before her first class.

~*~​


In between her morning classes, Marta scoured the library, looking for more records on Goode Brown. Luckily, Miskatonic university was one of the foremost authorities in preserving records from the witch trials. Which meant that, if the records existed, they were here. But it also meant sorting through hundreds, if not thousands of records of all the rest of the trials and accusations. But, recalling something Peter had said about the notation on one of the diagrams, Marta came upon discovery. A discovery that left her giddy as she waited until they could meet for lunch.

As she moved through the physics department, a man she vaguely recognized made eye contact with her. “Dr. Rebelo-Perez?”

“Yes,” she acknowledged, trying to place him. For whatever reason, dream images of a naked man speaking with Peter returned. Clearing her throat, she ignored the nagging memory, “Have we met before?”

“Not formally, I don’t think, but I just started your book on how Christianity supplanted native religions during the colonial period. Fascinating stuff.” He offered a firm handshake, “Dr. Michael Brown. What brings you to the physics department?”

“I was consulting with Peter, um –Dr. Ahn, about some research I stumbled upon,” she explained, shifting her briefcase strap back up her shoulder.

“That makes sense, then. His office is the last one on the left,” he explained, turning his body and pointing the way along. She thanked him with a nod, and moved passed him in the hall. “I look forward to seeing more of you, Marta.”

There was something about the way he said it that drew chills down her spine. There was nothing ominous in his remark or tone, nothing she could pinpoint as off, but she felt uneasy until she entered Pete’s office, and closed the door behind. Then, the look of delight in his eyes made her feel safe.

“Hey,” she greeted with a wave, sinking into the chair opposite of his desk. Already, she was excited to show him what she’d discovered, pulling out the new records from her briefcase.

“So, I found out how it is possible for Goode Brown to have mapped out these diagrams. Seems like she was building on the work of an Arabic scholar, Hasan Ibn al-Haytham. He was mostly known for his theories in optics, but he also wrote about paraboloids. Three-dimensional parabolas, if I understand correctly. She seemed particularly interested in the conversion of two-dimensional shapes into three-dimensional figures.”

Marta sat back, “She may have created a system of calculus independent of Newton or Leibniz. Which was already an amazing coincidence. I mean, it would really make my career, if I can prove this. Still, it doesn’t quite match up to creating a wormhole.” She gave Peter a pointed laugh, pushing back against the horror that crept up again. Against the infinite eyes that could watch her through the open screen of Peter’s laptop. “You’re going to be the next Stephen Hawking or Neil deGrasse Tyson.” She bit her lip and looked down, choosing to focus on the memories spent tangled together in bed. “That’s kinda hot.”
 
“How did it go last night?”

Pete started at the question. Was there a sign on him, saying spent the night wildly fucking a colleague? “How did what go?” he asked.

Dr. Freeman chuckled. “I noticed you were running the modeling program later than usual. Anything interesting?”

“I...” I opened a wormhole. “I had an idea for a new angle on the project,” he said carefully. “For trying to model specific spacetime locations. It looks promising, but it’s extremely preliminary.”

Freeman nodded. “Good work.” A grin. “I knew we made the right choice inoffering you tenure.”

The statement, echoing his dream, sent a chill down his spine. “Thank you,” he said. “Once I get a few kinks ironed out, I’ll run it past you.”

-*-

Pete looked up as his door opened, irritation at being interrupted transforming into delight as he saw Marta. “Hey,” he grinned, “Come on in.”

“Hey,” she said, sinking into the other chair on his office and opening her briefcase.

“Lunch,” he told her, sliding a styrofoam container acriss his desk, “is served.”

She pushed it to to side, depositing some books on his desk. “So, I found out how it is possible for Goode Brown to have mapped out these diagrams.”

“Oh?” he replied, glancing at the books and papers. “I may have found a few things myself. What did you turn up?”

“Seems like she was building on the work of an Arabic scholar, Hasan Ibn al-Haytham,” she replied. “He was mostly known for his theories in optics, but he also wrote about paraboloids. Three-dimensional parabolas, if I understand correctly. She seemed particularly interested in the conversion of two-dimensional shapes into three-dimensional figures.”

He flipped pages as she settled back, continuing to her explanation. “She may have created a system of calculus independent of Newton or Leibniz. Which was already an amazing coincidence. I mean, it would really make my career, if I can prove this. Still, it doesn’t quite match up to creating a wormhole.”She laughed uneasily, a sound that reminded him of the thing they’d seen through the wormhole. “You’re going to be the next Stephen Hawking or Neil deGrasse Tyson.” She bit her lip and looked down. “That’s kinda hot.”

Goddamn if that didn’t go right through him. He licked his lips, cock suddenly hard as he remembered her taste. “I think you mean we’ll be the next Hawking,” he pointed out. “Your research made it possible, after all. Which reminds me...”

He glanced at his computer, checking his own notes. “I did some research myself. Some of Brown’s notation looked really familiar to me, and I figured out why.” He popped open his own styrofoam container and dug into a mound of chicken tikki masala. “Part of my research is based off of an incomplete paper written by a graduate student here at Miskatonic back in the 20s. A Walter Gillman, who would probably have been another Einstein if he hadn’t died of a heart attack. But he was an occultist as well, and apparently drew inspiration from old witch records and from medieval occult texts for his research.”

Reaching over, he pulled up one of the diagrams from last night. “These numbers,” he said, pointing out the ones inscribed around the circle, “correspond to the coordinate system he worked out in his paper.” He paused for another bite. “A coordinate system to locate specific points in spacetime.”

Sitting back, he looked at Marta. “We screwed them up last night, but if we can make these work with my program?” His finger tapped her books. “We could use Goode Brown’s work to actually travel to other times and places.”
 
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Marta mixed the chicken and sauce into the rice, saturating it all with the flavor before scooping a heaping into her mouth. Damn, she could just listen to Peter go on and on about all this, sinking into his passion and excitement. Right up until the moment he suggested going into a portal. Using them for travel.

It was the discovery of the century, and it could change everything. Still, the thought of opening another of those portals gripped her heart in an icy vise. A terror that stood at odds with her natural curiosity, as well as the building craving for Peter. “That’s… great,” She decided, forcing a smile, “But… maybe a bit…” she reached for a word, seeking the answer in food she wasn’t sure she had an appetite for anymore.

“I mean, it’s going to take a long time to reach that level, right?” She decided, assuring herself with immensity of what Peter was proposing. “Surely something so big and complex must take years to solve, years to figure out and perfect.” She took another bite, comforting herself with the scope of the project. “I mean, it’s unlikely anyone could figure it out in our lifetime.”

After a few more bites, she felt more confident, able to put away the shifting alien image in her mind, “Not that what you’ve discovered already isn’t amazing. I mean, you are literally going down in history for this. We are, I guess.” Now that was a much more pleasant thought. Not so much the fame and prestige, though that was nice too, but the thought of them as a “we”, as a unit. Them, together. Like last night. Like this morning.

Still, as pleasant as those thoughts were, something still nagged at her. “You… you thought that Goode Brown created a portal in her cell, right? Which is why you tried to recreate it. Do you think she… well, do you think she tried to go through it?”
 
“That’s… great,” Marta managed, not sounding like she thought it was great at all. “But… maybe a bit…”

Pete swallowed chicken and rice. “Ambitious?” he suggested. “Aggressive?”

“I mean, it’s going to take a long time to reach that level, right? Surely something so big and complex must take years to solve, years to figure out and perfect.” She shook her head, then took another bite. “I mean, it’s unlikely anyone could figure it out in our lifetime.”

“Maybe not,” Pete replied. “I mean most of the work is already done - the equations that generate the wormhole, I mean.” He ate some more rice. “The real truck will be figuring out the coordinate system, so we can accurately target a location. And Brown’s diagrams, combined with Gillman’s work, should let us reverse-engineer it faster than if we were developing it from scratch.”

They ate in silence for a few minutes, both mulling it over. “Not that what you’ve discovered already isn’t amazing. I mean, you are literally going down in history for this. We are, I guess.”

“I think we are,” Pete grinned. We. That had a nice sound to it. “I mean, the implications are staggering, and not just for transportation. Kip Thirne’s calculations show that you’d need negative energy to generate a traversable wormhole.” He gestured wildly with his fork, sketching symbols in the air. “If that holds true here, then we could use these to build generators, or...”. He frowned suddenly, reaching for his phone. “Thermodynamic violations,” he muttered as he typed a note. “Possible source if the CT ivalance?”

“You…” Marta said, breaking in, “you thought that Goode Brown created a portal in her cell, right? Which is why you tried to recreate it. Do you think she… well, do you think she tried to go through it?”

“Absolutely,” Pete said, looking up. Think about it, Marta. She was facing, what? Burning at the stake, if my set of horror movies was any sort of accurate education. I’d rather take a chance on a wormhole, even if I hadn’t fully tested it, than face that.” He shrugged. “Statistically you’d die in the vacuum of space if you screwed up. Which would be faster, at least.”

He drummed his fingers on his desk. “Sorry, that got kind of dark. But!” He brightened up. “If we can work out the coordinate system, we could go see for ourselves what she did!”
 
“Statistically you’d die in the vacuum of space if you screwed up. Which would be faster, at least.”

“I mean, there is no way she could have known that,” Marta argued, scooping up the last bit of her rice onto her spork, “but I’ll concede your point, that even the unknown was preferable to being burned at the stake.”

“Sorry, that got kind of dark. But!” He brightened up. “If we can work out the coordinate system, we could go see for ourselves what she did!”
“Maybe,” she agreed, digging a bottled water out of her bag. Truthfully, she should have been more excited. The ability to traverse time was any historian’s wet dream. Even if her current wet dreams were more along the lines of perching herself on Peter’s desk, with legs wrapped around his waist while he fucked hard and deep into her.

But the applications for this work were nigh infinite, challenging the very foundations of knowledge. And Peter’s enthusiasm was enticing. Whatever it was that they discovered the first time was just a mistake. A mistake they wouldn’t make again. “Well, it certainly seems like you have your work cut out for you. I’ll see what I can find in the record that could help you but… let’s just say, I wouldn’t want to count on my own math skills to calculate any of those coordinates.”

Laughing at herself, Marta double checked her phone, and sighed as the time dictated she had to leave. “I better get going if I am going to make my 3 o’clock class. But I am really looking forward to tonight…” She reached over at that, capturing his lips in a moist, but quick kiss, and pulling away before she could indulge in desires to peel him out of that button up shirt. Savor her desire, she told herself. Let it simmer, until this evening, and then unleash it upon him.

~*~​

Marta was simultaneously grateful and annoyed that she had a couple hours in between her last class and her dinner date with Peter. Grateful, because it meant she had time to get dolled up for him. Annoyed, because it gave her just enough time to overanalyze her every choice. It’d been so long since she went on a first date, and despite how their first evening ended, this was their first date.

In the end, she was mostly happy with the black wrap dress she’d picked out. Sexy, without trying too hard, loosely draped over her curves. The low cut neckline would have been garish on a better-endowed woman, but it flattered her slender figure. It didn’t however, cover the bites and hickeys Peter had left on her, and as much as they reminded her of their explosive first night together, she’d need to cover them up. Nothing a stylish scarf couldn’t fix.

She’d planned the night carefully. The food would be ready at 9:15, which meant it would still be hot by the time she got to Peter’s place. This timing gave her fifteen minutes to kill at the supermarket, picking out the wine. His choice of shrimp inspired her own, mouth already watering at the thought of the shrimp scampi waiting for her. So, a white would be her best choice. What would Peter like better, a pinot grigio? Or maybe a chardonnay? How would it taste, clinging to his lips, or drizzling down his smooth chest?

Deciding on the pinot grigio, (Italian Wine went better with Italian food, right?), Marta wandered the aisles aimlessly. Well, maybe not so aimlessly, finding herself near the pharmacy, where the pregnancy tests and condoms were sold. That probably wasn’t such a bad idea. As good as it felt to have him inside her, it probably wasn’t smart to let it happen again. She’d have to start thinking about birth control again. Which was a strange realization, considering how, just a month ago, she’d been debating the pro and cons of adoption versus artificial insemination.

She wasn’t sure she’d even bought condoms before. Did there really need to be so many different kinds? Damn, fucking men was such a hassle… But well, Peter was worth it. She’d have to make a doctor’s appointment, first thing tomorrow. Grabbing one that promised “maximum pleasure for him and her,” Marta heard for the checkout, and sent Peter a quick text, I’ll be there in 20 minutes.
 
“Well, it certainly seems like you have your work cut out for you,” Marta observed, waving off his admittedly over-enthusiastic assessment of what could be done. “I’ll see what I can find in the record that could help you but… let’s just say, I wouldn’t want to count on my own math skills to calculate any of those coordinates.”

Pete chuckled at that. “No, no, there’s plenty else to do. It would help if we could get anything else on Goode Brown and what she did, if those books she referenced. The Arabic ones, in particular. It might give some extra insight into the coordinate systems. Which reminds me...”

He grabbed his phone again, rapidly typing a text. An instant later, Marta’s phone buzzed. “Gillman referenced a few old texts as well. Uhm..,” he glanced at his screen. “The Necronomicon, the Livre d'Eibon, and the in... unas... uhm, Unaussprechlichen Kulten?“. A frown. “I’m sure I spelled it right, anyway. Have you heard of them? The Orne Library has them in the Rare Books collection. Any idea how hard it would be to check them out?”

Marta checked her phone, then checked it again. “I better get going if I am going to make my 3 o’clock class.”

“Crap,” Pete muttered, standing as she did. “Is it really that late?”

“But I am really looking forward to tonight…” She reached over at that, capturing his lips in a quick kiss that left him wanting more.

“So am I,” he managed, kissing her quickly back and fighting down the urge to pin her against the wall. Instead, he made himself get the door for her. “I’ll see yo tonight!”

-*-

The rest of the day passed quickly, flowing in a haze of lectures and calculations. Every spare moment was spent pouring over the increasingly frustrating diagrams illustrated by Goode Brown. There was a pattern there, he could almost see it. Almost.

“Damnit,” he muttered, then jumped as something warm curled around his legs. “All right, all right,” he laughed, picking the tortoise shell cat up and nuzzling her. “I’ll get you fed already.”

Cradling the cat, he wandered into the kitchen and checked the automatic feeder. “Lazy thing,” he scolded, shaking his finger at the cat’s nose, “you’ve got food already.” The cat responded by putting andbatting at his finger until he set it down. Then he returned to his office, to find s black cat sitting in his chair. Before he could say a thing, though, his phone buzzed.

I’ll be there in 20 minutes, the message read. He stared at it stupidly for a moment. Then he mouthed “oh, shit” and raced for the bathroom. Fortunately he hadn’t changed out of his suit after the lecture, so he just needed to run his razor over his face and his comb through his hair. And then go toss a few items of dirty clothes in the hamper and an old pizza box in the trash.

When the buzzer sounded, he felt ready. Except for the butterflies. “Marta,” he said, opening the door. “Come on in!”

His apartment was a fourth-floor industrial loft, with brick walls and hardwood floors and minimal walls, and large windows on one wall and a skylight. Carved wooden screens and a number of bookcases divided the area, providing the illusion of separate rooms.

“You look... amazing,” he said, taking the packages and depositing them on an IKEA table. “Uhm, would you like a tour? Or would you rather eat?”
 
“Thanks,” Marta replied, eyes cast down as crimson warmed her cheeks. It’s not like I tried on five outfits before deciding on this one.

“Uhm, would you like a tour? Or would you rather eat?”

“Well, if you think we can manage it before the food get’s cold,” Marta joked, sliding herself up against him. It was easier to flirt tonight, easier to be playful. Easier to forget.

Soft fur brushed her bare leg, causing a momentary spike of panic, until she glanced down, and met wide green eyes staring back at her. “Is this your cat? Isn’t she precious.” Squatting down, Marta scratched the cat, who indulged her for a moment, before wondering off. “I can’t have animals in my building, so I am quite jealous.”

Back at his side, she slid her hand into his. Just like the dream that had haunted her the night before, but she was determined to put that delusion behind her. “So, lead the way. Does the library feed into the study? Is this the master bedroom, or just one of the smaller suites?” she teased, leaning into his chest and enjoying the fragrance of his aftershave. The scent led her in closer, rubbing her cheek against his.

“I’ve been thinking about getting you in bed all day,” she whispered, purposely grazing his lips over his ear. Then she pulled away, and began unpacking their food. “But dinner first, because I am famished. Do you like white wine?”
 
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