Time to Control (24 page)

“I was looking for speculation,” I
responded, leaning my head back against the couch arm to enjoy the attention,
and thought.
 
What had occurred
before the travel happened?
 
Yes, we
were making love, and it was awesome.
 
The spinning and sparkles now made a bit more sense, as possible side
effects of the rip through time.
 
“Maybe they were a warning.”

“Which they?”

“Sorry.
 
The world was spinning and there was
glitter in the air.”

He nodded slowly, accepting the
proposition.
 
“I was chalking that
up to the intimacy, but that could make sense.”

I sat up, continuing my line of
thought.
 
“Sunlight.
 
We hadn't stayed this late before
– we had just been talking about that.
 
What if we have to travel back, that
there's a limit of one day back there at a time?
 
The spinning and sparkles could have
been a warning to leave on our own terms.”

“They would have been very evident
if we weren't otherwise engaged.
 
It
would have given us just enough time to find a safe place and leave.”

Disappointed clouded my features as
I realized the implications.
 
I was
starting to like the idea of living in the past.
 
Now I was stuck living in the here and
now, with just visiting history.

“Since we have that mystery figured
out, there's something we left unfinished...” Eddie said teasingly, and came
over to settle on top of me on the couch.
 
We picked up where we left off.

Chapter Nine

When I got home from work the next
day, I went into the bedroom to change and stopped short.
 
Laid out on the bed was a classic little
black dress, with a new bra and panty set sitting next to it.
 
The black lace bra was adorned with
embroidered hot pink roses and lime green ivy leaves, and the straps repeated
the motif along their length.
 
The
matching thong had a few strategically placed roses, and the ivy crept along
the waistband.
 
A pair of strappy
black stilettos were on the floor at the end of the bed, and I gasped when I
saw the brand name -- they had to cost more than my monthly rent had.

The shower turned off, and I
entered the bathroom to find out what the occasion was.
 
Eddie had already gotten out of the tub,
and was standing on the bathmat, one foot up on the tub, drying his leg off.

"Mmmm, yummy," I blurted
out, and immediately went to squeeze the firm butt displayed for me.
 
I didn't care that he was wet and I was
still in my work attire; I wrapped my arms around him from behind and hugged my
curves into him, wandering a hand southwards.
 
"When do we have to leave?"

Eddie drew in a shuddering breath
as I found the treasure I was looking for.
 
"Six," he croaked out.

I counted that number out by
pressing that many fingertips against him.
 
"And it's five-fifteen now, so that leaves us...."
 
The makeshift slide rule obligingly
extended to its full length as I did the calculations.
 
"Plenty of time," I breathed
into his ear, causing his spine to shiver underneath my body.

The next thing I knew, my skirt was
up around my waist, my panties were around my knees, and I was leaned over the
vanity, Eddie pressing into me from behind.
 
A button went flying off of my blouse as
he hurried to get access to my breasts hanging down below me.
 
I gasped at the sensations of Eddie
rubbing my nipples through the lace of my bra while thrusting deep.
 
It didn't take long before he was
satisfied.
 
"So much for
needing time," I chuckled, knowing only a few minutes had passed.

"Who said we were done?"
He asked, lust making his tenor a baritone.
 
He spun me around in his arms, then
scooped me up and strolled into the bedroom.

"Not on the bed!
 
The dress!" I shrieked before he
tossed me down.
 
He glanced around
the room and spotted the changing bench against one wall.
 
He pushed it away from the wall with his
foot, and deposited me on my back on the padded surface.
 
Eddie leisurely undressed and pleasured
me, then entered me so we could come in unison this time.

"Plenty of time," Eddie
mocked, undoing the knot and redoing his tie.

"You're the one who took his
sweet time.
 
And really, my bra
shouldn't have been that hard to unclasp."
 
I wiggled into the thong.
 
"Man, could you have gotten one any
smaller?"

"It doesn't fit?" He
asked, looking away from the mirror.
 
"Looks fine."

"It fits, I guess."
 
I moved over to join him in front of the
mirror, and cringed.
 
"It just
doesn't cover anything.
 
You can see
two of the freckles!"

A gleam reentered his eyes.
 
"I sure can.
 
Maybe I can find number three," he
said, abandoning the tie and wrapping his hands around my waist.

I slapped at them.
 
"We don't have time, hon.
 
You can save hunting for later," I
promised, feeling heat rising near the errant freckle, and wished we had time
for another go.
 
My hair was still
wet from the shower, and I didn't have time to dry it.
 
I quickly tied it into a tight bun at
the nape of my neck.
 
Eddie looked
at me curiously.

"Anyone ever tell you that you
look like Lillith from Cheers?"

"It's just the hair.
 
She's a lot prettier than me."

"Not to me she's not,"
Eddie told me, giving me a quick kiss.

I blushed.
 
"So where are we going?
 
What's the occasion?"

"No reason.
 
I just wanted to have a nice dinner with
my wife."
 
I looked at him
suspiciously.
 
A nice dinner didn't
require thousand dollar shoes.
 
"We're going to a Brazilian steakhouse."

"And that differs from an
American steakhouse how?"

"You see."
 
He grinned at my reflection, crinkling
the skin around his eyes.
 
I rolled
mine and slid into the dress, and Eddie helped me zip it.
 
He straightened it out for me, running
his hands along the soft fabric closely so he could feel the curves underneath.

"Eddie--"

"I know," he sighed, and
swatted my butt before releasing me completely.
 
"Come on, slow poke.
 
Time to go."

"I feel overdressed," I
complained as we waited in the valet parking line behind some cowboys getting
out of their pickup truck in their ironed jeans.

"You look beautiful,"
Eddie assured me.

"Which is a completely
separate thing," I muttered under my breath as I let the valet help me out
of the car.
 
I tottered on the high
heels until Eddie took my elbow.
 
"And this is before I have any alcohol," I whispered to him,
and he chuckled.

When we got inside and were seated,
I had to admit Eddie was right.
 
Dressy clothes were much better suited for the restaurant.
 
The lights were dim, but not too dark so
that you couldn't see your plate.
 
The handsome Maitre D held out my chair for me and pushed me in,
something I had never experienced before.
 
Noticing that I was wearing a black dress, he politely removed the white
napkin from the table and excused himself to get me a black one.

I leaned across the table to
whisper to Eddie, one hand holding the low cut dress to my chest so I didn't
flash him.
 
"Why is he getting
me a different napkin?"

"You're fine, you're not
showing too much.
 
And you wouldn't
want white string or fuzz from the napkin on your dress, so he's getting you a
matching color."

I sat back, impressed.
 
If this was how fancy restaurants
worked, I'd eat there more often.
 
On Eddie's dime, of course.
 
Their waiter appeared, and explained how the meal worked to me.
 
The meal was prix-fixe, offering
unlimited amounts of the salad bar, dozen meats, and sides.
 
There was a paper coaster for each of
us, and the green side meant bring by the different cuts of meat, and the red
side meant hold off.
 
My mouth
watered as I saw one of the gauchos bring a large skewer of top round to a
neighboring table and cut off a slice for them.
 
Eddie ordered a bottle of wine, and we
headed over to the salad bar.

_
Are there any unattractive waiters here?_
I let my gaze linger on
the handsome gentleman that handed me a plate at the salad bar.
 
I thanked him and took my place in line,
hoping I didn't look as uncultured as I felt surveying the delicacies.

"Here, let me load your
plate," Eddie said with a smile in his eyes, seeing my discomfort.
 
"Panchetta?
 
I believe I saw some asparagus on the
other side that you can wrap."

"Um, no thanks," I said,
then realized he was helping me by identifying the objects.
 
I had him grab some familiar items, as
well as things I'd always wanted to try -- artichoke hearts, tomatillos,
roasted red peppers, and Waldorf salad.

Another waiter dived to push in my
chair before I could sit back down.
 
Yes, I could really grow to like this kind of service.

The salad bar was great, but I
found that the meats were simply amazing.
 
They would slice off a piece of meat to
the exact level of doneness that I liked, and the food so was flavorful I
couldn't help but let out a moan of pleasure when I tried a new selection.

At first, Eddie found that
intriguing and humorous.
 
But the
more wine I had, the more those moans were like other little moans I would do
for him, in a more private setting.
 
"Will you quit that?" He finally hissed in a low voice.

My gaze flew to meet his, tearing
away from the delicate lamb.
 
"What's wrong?
 
You
should try the leg of lamb.
 
The
char on it is simply delicious."

"The--" He broke off when
a waiter appeared to refill our wineglasses.
 
When the gaucho left, my gaze followed
him, watching how the cut of the pants emphasized the trim waist and legs on
the man.
 
"That too.
 
Stop ogling the meat, and for the love
of God, quit moaning like that."

Understanding hit me
immediately.
 
I took a sip of wine
and peered at him coquettishly over the rim of the glass.
 
"Jealous?"
 
The tablecloth was floor length, so I
had no qualms against slipping off a shoe and running my toes up his calf.
 
I giggled when Eddie jumped, almost
spilling his wineglass.
 
He grabbed
my foot and gave it a warning squeeze.

“What has gotten into you tonight?”
He asked, exasperated.

“You.
 
Oh wait, you haven't yet.
 
Wanna hit the ladies room?”

He pushed my foot back down to the
ground.
 
“Behave.
 
No more wine for you.”

I wrinkled my nose at him, thinking
that sticking my tongue out would be misconstrued.
 
But then again, I might have meant that
meaning.
 
I wasn't quite sure.
 
The mashed potatoes and fried bananas
were calling my attention anyway, and ooh-there went the filet minon again.

There was still half a glass of
wine left in the bottle when our shared dessert came.
 
“I'm drinking it if you're not,” I
challenged him.

“I'm driving.
 
You don't need to drink it.”

“That's alcohol abuse.
 
I always hated that on tv and movies,” I
commented, sloshing the wine into my glass.
 
“A man would walk into a bar, order a
drink, and either never touch it, or have just a sip before he leaves.
 
It's a waste.
 
Why buy something if you're not going to
drink it?
 
If I'm paying this much,
I'm going to enjoy it and get my money's worth, damn it.”

Eddie closed his eyes and took a
deep breath.
 
“Schroeder, it's just
money.
 
It's no big deal.”

“You were the one berating me about
the name brands in the grocery store.
 
You can't justify saving a quarter on cheese if you waste it on an eight
dollar drink that the bartender throws away when you leave.”

“It's not the same thing.”

“It's exactly the same thing!”
 
I looked around, afraid someone
overheard me.
 
It looked like no one
had.
 
“Besides, I never get
drunk.
 
I don't drink that
much.
 
So if I end up with three
glasses of wine instead of two, it's not that bad.”

“Tell that to your liver.”
 
He waved his white napkin above the
table.
 
“Sorry, couldn't
resist.
 
Truce.
 
I don't want to argue tonight.
 
Besides, this isn't a hill I want to die
on, even if you've had four and not three.
 
Drink the damn wine.”
 
I
smiled cheekily at him, and he rolled his eyes and smiled back.

When we got back home after dinner,
Eddie plopped immediately on the couch after throwing his suit coat over the
back of it.
 
“I am so full.”

“Me too.”
 
I considered going to change, but if he
wasn't, I wasn't.
 
I sat down next
to him, and he put his arm around my shoulders.
 
I leaned into his shoulder.
 
“I liked the restaurant.
 
It's not often I go somewhere where the
goods are paraded around like that.
 
And that they are carrying food, too.”

“Watch it, married woman,” he
grumbled good-naturedly.

“Or what?”
 
He didn't respond, so I took the
initiative to drape myself over his lap.
   
He didn't touch me, and I
started to feel really embarrassed, and wished I had more alcohol.

Finally he rubbed my back.
 
“Baby, I appreciate the sentiment, but I
don't think this is a good idea.”

Face flushed, I rolled off of him
and stood to go change.
 
“I'm
sorry.
 
I thought you were
interested in that.”