My Troubles With Time (25 page)

“Don’t worry, Dick,” she answered. “My husband’s an army captain on the base. All the guards know me. They almost never stop me to check my car.”

I was not about to voluntarily enter an army base. I turned around to see how far I would have to run back to the main road if I prevailed upon her to stop and let me out. I did so just in time to see two military police cars speed by, their lights flashing. The effort to capture me had begun. I realized that if I went back to the road, I would almost certainly be picked up in a few minutes.

“Quick!” she said, “Duck your head down! We’re almost at the gate.”

There was no escape. I complied. As she predicted, we were not asked to stop at the gate.

“Are we safe now?” I asked. “Can I lift my head up?”

“I think we’re safe, but keep your head down! I’m going to pull up by my side door. The bushes will shield the car from the house next door. I’ll let you know when the coast is clear and then you open your door and run as fast as you can into my house!”

The car stopped and I heard her leave. A minute later she called in a low voice, “Dick, now!”

Crouching as low as I could, I jumped out of the car and sprinted to the open side door of the house. It was only a few feet and I doubted that anyone could have seen me. She shut the door after me and smiled.

“You’re safe,” she said. “Let me get you a drink.”

For the first time since my arrest, I permitted myself to relax.

“Thanks,” I said, “I’d appreciate a cup of hot coffee.”

She led me into the living room and invited me to sit down while she went back to the kitchen to get our drinks. When she had gone, I looked around at my surroundings. The furniture was all made of rattan. Remembering my bare bottom, I chose an easy chair whose cushion, I thought, would be kind to it.

I could not help smiling at the absurdity of the situation. Here I was in the living room of a married woman I had just met, sitting stark naked as I waited for her to bring me a cup of coffee.

She returned carrying on tray, on which were two glasses and a bowl of pretzels. “Here you are, Dickie,” she said, handing me one of the glasses. “I thought after what you’ve been through, you could use a martini more than a cup of coffee.”

I was about to protest, then thought the better of it. I was totally dependent on Honey for assistance; it would be folly to antagonize her. “Bottoms up,” she said. I was unable to comply; I don’t like martinis; but I managed to sip some.

She smiled. “Have some pretzels,” she offered, bending to offer me the bowl. The cut of her tennis dress left little of her ample cleavage to the imagination. I found it hard to stop from staring. She noticed my gaze, and seemed amused. I realized I was having another erection and crossed my legs in embarrassment.

“I wonder if you could get something to wear,” I appealed.

“Certainly,” she said. “As soon as we finish our drinks.”

Although I was getting dizzy, I drained the glass. “Let me get you another,” she said. I shook my head. “Thanks, later, if I may. I feel strange sitting here naked. Suppose your husband should return.”

Her face took on a disgusted look. “Lawrence won’t be here any time soon. He spends every Saturday buttering up the colonel. All he thinks about is getting promoted. You’d think that after six years as a captain he could get promoted without kissing the colonel’s ass.”

She looked so distraught, I felt sorry for her. “It’s hard not being promoted when you’ve earned it,” I said. “I know. I’ve been there myself. And it’s just as hard on you as on your husband.”

She shook her head. “Let’s not talk about him. What can I do for you?”

“I do need something to wear,” I said hopefully. Do you think I can borrow some of your husband’s old things? I’ll return them just as soon as I can.”

She got up and headed toward the hall which. “Let me look in the bedroom closet. Have another pretzel. I’ll call you as soon as I find something you can use. I’m pretty sure he has an old uniform that would fit you.”

As I waited for her summons, my mind raced ahead. I probably could prevail on her to drive me into Honolulu. Wearing an army captain’s uniform would be adequate concealment in the city from all but a thorough dragnet by the authorities. If I borrowed a few dollars from her, I could rent a hotel room and look for a job. It would take months to save enough for a nest egg, but with a little capital I might start investing in stocks using my knowledge of the future.

My thoughts were interrupted by her cry, “Dickie, come here!”

I arose and walked through the hall to the bedroom. The room was empty, but the bathroom light was on and the door was ajar.

“Hi,” I said to announce my presence. Waiting for her to come out, I looked about the room. An army uniform jacket and pants had been tossed on a chair next to the bed. On the assumption these were intended for my use, I walked over to try them on.

I had picked up the pants when the bathroom light was turned off and my hostess walked out of the bathroom. She had doffed her tennis dress in favor of a black negligee so shear that it emphasized rather than concealed her body.

I didn’t know how to respond. An almost irresistible feeling of desire, of lust seized me. At the same time, I could not forget my apprehension over my perilous situation. To the manhunt searching for me, I could not avoid thinking of what might happen if her husband arrived home unexpectedly and surprised us.

Fear won out. I stepped back. “Honey,” I said, “You’re a married woman. I can’t.”

My words might as well have not been spoken. She moved forward and grabbed me. Her lips met mine in what was had to have been the most erotic kiss ever given. I found her forcing my lips apart with her tongue. With it she explored every part of my mouth.

At the same time her negligee fell open. I could feel her breasts against my naked chest. It was shear ecstasy!

“Dickie,” she said, “I want you!” There was no ignoring the determination in her words. Still clutching me in a tight embrace, she drew me backward to the bed and down upon her. I landed hard upon her but she gave no indication of having noticed.

Legs intertwined, we embraced on the bed. She would alternately kiss me passionately on the mouth, then move to other parts of my body. She took one of my hands and moved over her body, guiding it to her breasts and groin. Not even in my wildest erotic fantasies had I had so much fun. My erection grew and grew.

My complete lack of experience was no problem; she was a wonderful teacher. Just as my desire reached its height she took my penis with her hand and helped me to enter her. Placing her hands on my shoulders, she pushed me back and drew me toward her, groaning in synchronization with the rhythm.

Then, suddenly, it was over, my desire disappearing almost instantaneous with my climax. I kissed her tenderly. “Honey,” I said, “It was wonderful! I’ve never had anything like it! Thank you! Thank you so much!”

I almost revealed to Honey it was my first experience with a woman, but desisted. I needed her help; I could not risk lowering her opinion of me.

“That was fun,” she said smiling. “It almost seemed it was your first time with a woman.”

I thought it prudent to say nothing. I tried to roll off her, but she held me to her for a minute, before releasing me. I extricated myself and lay next to her. She reached over to the night-stand and pulled out a cigarette. “Would you like one?” she asked.

Declining, I took the matchbook she gave me and with some difficulty, lit it for her. As she puffed, my thoughts returned to my predicament. Her husband might return at any time. The sooner I was out of the house the better. I started to move away from her to dress.

She restrained me. “Where are you going, Dickie?” she asked.

“I was going to get dressed,” I admitted.

“I’m not through with you,” she said.

“You want to make love again?” I asked amazed. I had never thought of women having a strong desire for sex. Certainly, none I had ever met before had wanted sex with me.

She leaned over and kissed me hard on the lips. I felt her hand reaching for mine. When she found it, she placed it on her breast, rubbing my hand over her nipples.

My resolve to leave gave way to renewed desire. Once again we embraced, petted, kissed. I was less anxious this time, more confident. My desire rose slowly. I let Honey regulate the pace, enjoying every step; not anxiously seeking sexual relief.

Honey seemed more passionate than before, scratching my back until it hurt. She moaned. I was afraid I had hurt her somehow until I realized her moans were those of excitement.

“Let’s try something new, lover,” she said. “Lie down and let me mount you.”

Curious, I did as she directed. She straddled me, carefully inserting my now erect penis in her. She placed my hands on her breasts and began to rock back and forth.

Faster and faster she rocked, bringing me to a state of sexual frenzy I had never before experienced. I was nearly there; I sensed she was, too. Then I was there! In an instant of almost-simultaneous lust and relief, I reached my climax!

I
fell hard. Fortunately, the brunt of the impact was taken by my rear end. My ejaculation was concluding; the sexual excitement that had filled me only a second before gone. Honey, with whom I had been so intimately intertwined, had vanished! I thought for a minute she had pushed me out of the bed in a sexual frenzy.

With great effort I collected my thoughts. I realized I was not in Honey’s bedroom. Slowly I got to my feet and looked around. The familiar surroundings of my garage met my eyes. Somehow, I had been moved in the blink of an eyelash back home from Honey’s bed in Honolulu.

Other than the shock I had experienced hitting the garage floor, I was not hurt. I was still stark naked. I wondered what could have happened, what date it was. Was it possible that my time travel to 1941 and my meeting with Honey was only a delusion, brought on by my failure to obtain tenure and by the insulting letter from the National Physics Society.

Quickly, I discounted this possibility. My penis was still moist from my intercourse with Honey; I could still taste her lipstick on my lips.

I looked around again. Something bright glittered on the floor. Bending to pick it up I was startled to see it was the sword that had disappeared in 1870 Paris. In the corner of the garage, another item caught my eye. It was my time machine, somehow transported from where I had hidden it along the road to Pearl Harbor on December 6
^th
, 1941.

I shook my head, astonished at the brilliance of Professor Kupinski. The return of my sword and time machine was further proof of the validity of Kupinski’s first law. So, too, was the disappearance from the paper I had sent to the National Physics Society of the photographs I had secured during my trip to 1870 Paris.

As I reflected, I suddenly grasped the meaning of his second law. It explained my sudden return to my garage. Animate objects displaced in time, Kupinski realized, also tend to return to toward their point of origin at a rate determined by the rate of speed of their original displacement, the distance of their displacement, and their molecular weight.

My thoughts were interrupted by a severe case of the shivers. The temperature in the garage was well below sixty, and I was standing there stark naked. Rather than risk pneumonia, I decided, I would go to my house and put on some clothing before doing anything else.

As I walked to the garage door, I caught a glimpse of the front of the time machine and suddenly stopped. Something was wrong!

After a few seconds of reflection, I realized what had struck me as strange. The headlight that I had broken during my landing on Oahu the night of December 6
^th
, 1941 had somehow been repaired. But how? Could it be related, I wondered, to one of Kupinski’s laws of time travel?

Another fit of shivering convinced me to delay further consideration of the matter until I was dressed. I walked to the garage door and opened it. It was night, with only a crescent moon. The sight relaxed me. I had been afraid that my nakedness might be seen and commented upon by my neighbors when I left the garage on my way to my house.

Summoning up my will power for the run in the cold night, I made a beeline for my house. Only after I made my way into the kitchen by way of the back door did I realize that something was amiss. I had departed on my trip in the time machine back to Pearl Harbor in the late afternoon, while it was still light. Clearly, I had returned at a different time. I anxiously looked at the kitchen clock and confirmed my conclusion. It showed the time as 6:45, whether a.m. or p.m. I could not be sure.

But what was the date? I thought of turning on the radio to ascertain the date, then realized that the date is rarely mentioned on radio broadcasts. The quickest way, I decided, would be to check the newspaper.

I walked through the kitchen and hall to my front door, opened it, and cautiously peered out. My morning paper was lying on the front porch. This confirmed my belief that it was 6:45 a.m. rather than p.m. Using the door as a shield to conceal my naked state, I leaned out, seeking to grasp it. I was unsuccessful. The paper was close to the front steps, too far for me to reach.

I ran back to the kitchen and grabbed a dishtowel. Retracing my steps, I paused at the door to place the dishtowel strategically over my private parts. Holding it there with one hand, I tiptoed outside and carefully bent down to retrieve the paper with the other. I then walked backward into the house.

As soon as I was safely inside, I turned on the hall light and unfolded the paper. Eagerly, I looked for the date. To my amazement, the date was Thursday, April 14
^th
. Somehow, I had been returned from my trip back in time almost thirty-six hours before I had left!

Wondering which, if any of Kupinski’s laws on time travel could explain this paradox, I walked back into the kitchen to make myself some coffee. Suddenly, I felt a sharp pain in my ankle. I looked down to find Princess had bitten me.

Without thinking, I swung the folded newspaper, hitting the cat hard across its face. The beast retreated, hissing and arching its back. I felt ashamed. I had never before hit an animal. Still, I had to admit, the blow was effective; Princess retreated back upstairs without any further effort to maim me.