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Subject: {ASSM} Passages In Time 4: The Heights mf/rom *
Date: Sat, 26 May 2001 10:10:03 -0400
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The Heights
by Alan C. Macdonald
 
Part 4 of Passages In Time

Adults only, please.

THE STORY SO FAR:
Read The Awakening, The Laying Of Claim and The Confidence Of
Lovers. Because it's far too complicated to go into here.

Comments, as always, welcome at alancmcd@lineone.net.

TORONTO, CANADA, OCTOBER 2008 

"Baby", Holak told Sarah. "You are some fuck." And Sarah glared
at him. He confused her, because he looked like Gunther, who had
just made love to her so consummately well whilst she was sharing
the body of 1930s nightclub singer Lucy Bennett, but the serious
demeanour had gone. Holak seemed altogether frivolous. And
frivolous seemed entirely the wrong state of mind at present. 

The fact that he was naked didn't help either.

"What the hell is going on?", she demanded. "Who the hell sent
that note?"

The note in question had been delivered into her hands, as Lucy,
by Lucy's landlord. It had arrived in an envelope just moments
before she and Holak had been wrenched out of the timestream. And
whilst the envelope had been addressed to Lucy, the note inside
had made reference to Sarah, and to Loranna, the individual who
Sarah understood to be her alternate, and alien persona.

"Arturo sent it", Holak replied lightly. "Who else?"

"I'm aware that it was Arturo's handwriting", Sarah answered
impatiently. "But Arturo wouldn't know Loranna. He wouldn't know
me. And he certainly wouldn't know that I was part of Lucy."

"But Arturo may not have acted alone, perhaps", Holak teased.
"Arturo, like Lucy, might have been carrying a visitor. Isn't
that possible?"

"Who?", Sarah pressed. "One of us?"

Melira interrupted. "Hardly, Loranna. Where would be the gain?
But someone from our world? One of the Restorers? Yes, quite
possibly."

The restorers.....? 

Of course. The restorers. Sarah remembered. Just a little. But
enough to terrify her.

"They believed that Kotee had already damaged time", she
recalled. "And they thought that... that by killing him in a time
before he was born, they could ensure that he never came into
existence."

"A ridiculous notion, as you know", Melira confirmed, "because it
ignores the proven Law of Paradox. But yes. That is what they
believe. They are fanatics. Think back, Loranna. It was the
Restorers who destroyed our ship."

Sarah struggled with the concept. The concept of destruction.
Because it had been so very long ago....

She had been Loranna then. Only Loranna.

Kotee....

Yes, Kotee...

Kotee had been fascinated with earth from the moment he saw it.
And so, if truth be known, had Loranna. The planet was so like
Revisia in climate, and its people, at such an early stage of
development, were a blank slate. What would they become? Would
they be explorers? Would they be wise? Or would they destroy
themselves? Clearly they had the brain capacity to do the first
or second, but they also had a reckless, violent streak which
could lead them to the third.

Kotee, of course, had the tools to answer the question
immediately, and by general agreement the machine was put into
operation. The Revisians explored the life of earth and its
people in detail, sometimes doing so individually, sometimes in
groups, many Revisians discovering favourite times and places and
people, lingering as invisible observers and recorders. 

On this first occasion, the available timespan was deliberately
limited to ten thousand years, all of it allocated to the past.
Travel into the future was still a more complex process, and the
crew wished to indulge curiosity without the risk of a power
overload. For her part, Loranna had discovered a particular
interest in twentieth century England, because at that point the
people were clearly on the verge of a major cultural leap, a leap
which would either take them forward or into the abyss.

On regrouping, notes were compared, and the decision was made to
access more of the future of the newly discovered world. Ten
lucky individuals would be selected, and there was much
discussion as to who these individuals should be.

Those discussions had not been concluded when the Restorers had
attacked.

The assault had been been perfectly timed and vicious. The
meeting deck had rocked as the first salvo of wild ion torpedoes
penetrated the hull, opening two thirds of the ship up to the
vacuum of space.

Loranna remembered a time when Kotee had thought that the
Restorers, led by his brother Rava, were harmless cranks. But
well before the ship had left, it had become obvious that Kara
had influential support. He was already gathering a crew of his
own, was building a private ship, and had stated his intention to
hunt Kotee down and destroy the danger he represented.

Rava and his fellow restorers believed that the actions of Kotee
would pollute the future no matter how far away from the
homeworld he travelled, that he would bring home information
which would be acted upon by scientists and explorers. Loranna
believed the truth to be that Rava was jealous of his more
brilliant elder brother, but whatever his motivation, the man was
a fanatic.

Kotee had remained unconcerned, confident that Rava had no means
of tracking the group. They would have a substantial start, and
Rava would be searching blind. Eventually, he would give up.

Clearly, Loranna recalled thinking as the ship reverberated under
her feet, Rava had been favoured with extraordinary luck.

Fire, by then, was raging through the ship where the vacuum of
space had not claimed supremacy. She knew that one more volley
would finish them.

"Separation five", she had screamed. "It's the only way."

Kotee had shot her a startled glance. Then realisation had
dawned. The realisation that she was right.

And regretfully, he had nodded.

The Revisians had moved immediately into a circle, had joined
hands. Urgently, helping one another if they could, each had
hunted within, had sought out his or her own individual life
force.

And had quickly and without hesitation severed the chain which
connected that force to their flesh.

That life force, that essence, that spirit was, of course, saved.
Which was the whole point of the enterprise. But the physical
bodies of the crew burned to ashes in the great crash which
followed, the crash which had blinded the man from earth who
stood by the river and watched it happen. 

There had been no joy, therefore, in the escape. The Revisians
had known that the possibility of their regaining a physical body
which was entirely their own again was remote. The likelihood was
that they would never see their families again.

Separation five was essentially an educational tool, used in
Revisian schools to teach children to hone the psychic ability of
transference which was a tool only available to the planet's
young. In essence, it enabled the under thirties to see life
through another's eyes. After the age of thirty, the gift was
lost.

In schools, the purpose of separation five was to allow children
to see life through older eyes. It was widely recognised as an
invaluable teaching technique, allowing the passive entry of the
user into the mind of a willing tutor, a mind far more developed
and wise than their own. Revisians believed that in this way
their children learned responsibility, understanding and
increased their knowledge a hundredfold. And there was no risk,
because it was always easy for those in charge to summon their
travelling pupils back.

The belief was that the powers were an evolutionary "leg up", and
that clever evolution dictated their disappearance at thirty,
thus avoiding the possibility that those near to death might seek
to prolong their existence, even passively, in a younger host.
Loranna thought this theory possibly true, but the biological cut
off by no means succeeded in eliminating all of the abuses of
transference. She had once attended an underground club which
specialised in offering transferers vicarious experiences,
ranging from illicit sex to the moment of death. Such
experimentation was of course illegal and punishable by the
medical deprivation of the offender's abilities, but it was
widespread nonetheless.

Many Revisians believed that it was impossible to estimate just
how many people, without their knowledge, were carrying more than
one life force within them. Certainly famous people were probably
thus afflicted, because an enormous number of youngsters were
found dead in circumstances of starvation, and it didn't take a
genius to guess that the physical bodies of these unfortunates
had encountered death by neglect.

The use of separation five had been agreed in advance amongst the
crew, all of whom were under thirty, as a last resort. There had
been no expectation that the last resort would ever be visited.

The plan was simple and horrifying. Separation five worked best
if aimed at the subject with whom the transferer had most
recently experienced a telepathic contact, however minimal. And
the observation techniques employed by the crew in their forays
into the timestream had required a light form of such contact. It
was theoretically possible that even without the aid of the
machine, the Revisians could take up unconscious existence within
the last earth being they had observed.

The result would be that the life forces of the crew would be
dissipated throughout earth's history. It wasn't an ideal
situation. Neither, however, was it intended to be permanent.

Because naturally, there was a recovery plan.

Unfortunately, it wasn't a very good one.

Kotee had observed that one of the few reliable constants amongst
the races of the universe which he had studied was the need for
copulation. And in the act of copulation, fluids were always
exchanged. Fluid had long been recognised on Kotee's world as the
most suitable carriers of psychic energy, and it was not a
difficult conversion to ensure that separation five transfers
always involved new coding for the new biological host,
establishing that the mixing of fluids from two occupied entities
would enable communication between the occupants.

The master stroke was the creation of the Home.

The Home was an extension of the time device, powered by similar
principles and fuelled by psychic energy. It was placed as a
precautionary measure on the surface of planets prior to
exploration, and keyed to operate for seven days every two
hundred years. If, when it operated, Revisian life forces were
located on the planet, all power would be allocated towards
enabling the nearest such life force in time and space to attain
temporary awareness and control of its host.

The gamble was that at such a time, more than one life force
would be operative, and that the sexes of the hosts would differ.
So that one could seek out the other if geography permitted and
the mixing of fluids could occur.

If that mixing did occur, then the physical link would release
one of the life forces more fundamentally, enabling the operation
of the time travelling functions of the Home. Hopefully, the
operator would then track down psychically and release the others
one by one. Whoever that operator was, he or she would remain the
only one capable of effecting such releases, the only one capable
of entering another, temporary host, but would be able to call on
the mental strength of the others. 

As the numbers of the released grew, so therefore would the power
of the Home.

Temporary hosts were needed because each release would require a
new mixing. The task of the operator, therefore, was to transfer
into an individual likely to copulate with the host for the
subject Revisian. And as the Revisians were collected, they would
naturally gather within the hunter's host - in this case Sarah. 

It was believed that so many Revisians inside one host might be
able to fully control the host in the host's own time. Then, if
the technology could be assembled, the home planet could be
contacted and help brought in. If they got that far, Kotee's idea
was that he would build another time machine, and with that time
machine he would travel back to a time before the disaster. To
square the circle, the Revisians would occupy themselves, and
prevent the disaster from ever happening.

The scheme was, of course, ridiculously complex. Any number of
things could go wrong, and much of it was theory. In particular,
one glaring problem resulted from the limited abilities of the
Home.

Kotee could not predict how many time transfers the Home would be
able to fuel. Power could not be allocated to survey the lifetime
of any host for a verifiable sexual contact. For that reason,
once a host had been discovered, the likelihood of a copulation
had to be theorised from observation. Even travelling ahead just
a little in order to ensure that such a copulation did take place
was an unsafe use of precious energy, energy which had already
been reduced because of previous, abortive attempts to unite the
Revisians.

Matters were complicated further by the factors which had to
surround a successful copulation. It had to be the first between
the hosts, because the reaction could only be fuelled by a novel
exchange of fluids. And it had to involve the transmission of
semen into the vagina. Anal or oral sex was valueless in the
context of the rescue.

Judgement was therefore vital. Although when entering a new body
Loranna was able to imprint a biological imperative, was able to
create an attraction in her host for her target, all control was
lost thereafter, and much depended on the preliminary evaluation.
This unpredictability was the rock upon which all previous
attempts had foundered. 

And now it seemed there was an additional problem. By some means,
the Restorers had infiltrated the time stream, and were hell bent
on ensuring that the unification failed.

"How have they done this?" Both Sarah and Loranna asked the
question, because they were now a dual entity. By now, Loranna's
character and many of her memories were as much to the fore as
Sarah's own.

"Kotee's technology is available to those with a high enough
security clearance", Melira said. "Perhaps they brought the
equipment needed to interfere with them. Or more likely, knowing
that we escaped when they destroyed our ship, they returned for
it. Either way, be assured. They will do what they can to stop
us."

"But they'll be limited", Holak reminded, "just as we are
limited. Like us, they won't be able to fully control a host.
They can only influence, by the messages they input at the time
of joining."

"Are you sure of that?", Melira challenged. "Arturo wrote a note.
That implies full control."

Holak thought about that. "I may be wrong", he conceded. "If
Kotee's theory that multiple transfer may allow control of the
host is true, then I suppose we may be facing a conscious enemy.
Yes. An enemy who can observe our activity in time. An enemy who
perhaps is observing us even now."

"And who after any transfer would take over the person must
likely to frustrate our intentions", Melira presumed.

"Precisely", Holak agreed.

Sarah was horrified. Because for both parts of her, the
consequences of failure were sickening. As Loranna, she would
never see her lover again. As Sarah, she would return to her
boring life as a cheap prostitute.

Voicing one of Loranna's more positive thoughts, she said, "I
doubt they're watching us now. Penetrating the Home should be
impossible. But they may be aware of our route."

"Ah, Loranna", Holak said cheerily. "Glad to have you fully with
us at last."

"It's possible", Sarah pressed on, "that they observed the last
attempt at unification. Tracked it, but couldn't react quickly
enough to intervene. And now, they are simply presuming that
we'll take the same route again. That we'll first free those we
know we can free. The way of least resistance, and least power
drain."

"In which case", Melira interpreted, "we have to change the
route."

"Logical, but dangerous", Holak stated. "We do have to consider
the energy difficulty."

"It's a tough call", Sarah conceded. "I wasn't trained as a
strategist. None of us were."

Holak's face lit up, advertising an idea. "But Viara was", he
replied. "And we know where to find him. If we went for Viara
now, we could gain a couple of things. A change in direction to
wrong foot our pursuers. And the best tactical mind we have any
kind of access to."

It was a brilliant notion. Sarah nodded. "Let's do it."

Melira was more cautious. "It won't be easy. I know we've
identified a situation for Viara, but the copulation isn't a
certainty. We've tried three times, and failed twice."

"Not this time", Sarah said confidently. "I'll make sure. I know
how important this is."

Melira nodded, clearly accepting the commitment from the
twentieth century earth girl as honestly meant. "We have to do
it, Holak", she said. "I don't see another choice."

"Neither do I", Holak agreed. "Alright then. You go for it,
Loranna. And we'll support you from here. There are only two of
us, but we'll give you what strength we can. Remind you
subconsciously from time to time, if we can, of your purpose."

The plan lightened Sarah's burden a little "If you really want to
help, Holak", she said, "you can start by imagining yourself some
clothing."

With a shrug, Holak did just that, creating something mainly
yellow and wholly revolting.

The travellers arrived at their new destination swiftly. Sarah
was even more fascinated than she'd been on previous recoveries,
because she would see, for the first time, her planet's future.
Only a little way into it, but the future nonetheless.

"Toronto, Canada", Melira announced as the debris of time melted
away. "The year by earth reckoning is 2008. The month is October.
And we stand in front of the Quest Building."

The Quest Building. Sarah studied it, and murmured surprise.

It was quite the most impressive construction she had ever seen.
Fashioned from concrete and glass, it soared above her,
disappearing into the low lying clouds. Straight sided.
Uncompromising. Massive.

It was some time before she could bring herself to look towards
the base of the structure. When she did, she noticed that the
entrance was busy, obscured by a melee of people. 

Flash cameras flashed. Cars pulled up at the kerb in sequence,
disgorging people she recognised. Jack Nicholson. Demi Moore.
Bill Clinton. There was rather a lot of handshaking.

"A new skyscraper", Sarah presumed.

"The biggest in the world", Holak confirmed. "Started in
celebration of the millennium. This one doesn't so much scrape
the sky as wave to it on the way past."

"And obviously it's the opening ceremony", Sarah said. "Judging
by the rash of celebrities."

"Anybody who is anybody", Holak judged.

"So I must get to be somebody famous, then?", Sarah suggested,
suddenly intrigued and a little excited.

"Famous in his field, yes", Melira said. "But not a film star or
pop star, I'm afraid. You get to be the man who built this thing.
Dominic Vachon. Who is.... oh, yes. Over there."

Sarah followed Melira's indication and noted a man in his late
thirties. He was quite good looking in a hawkish, Dustin Hoffman
sort of way, but his attractiveness was tempered for her by his
stature. He was no more than five feet seven inches tall, she
estimated. And that might have been a generous assessment.

"He's a dwarf", she commented unkindly.

But a suave dwarf, she realised. He was immaculately groomed, and
his dinner suit was tailored by a genius.

She watched him for a a while. He was employed entirely in
gladhanding the guests. Clint Eastwood arrived. Tony Blair.
Melanie Griffith. Al Gore. Elton John.

The starstruck phase passed, and she returned to matters at hand.
"And Viara?", she queried.

"He'll be along any minute", Holak said. "These, by the way, are
the last of the official guests."

She watched Vachon see Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman into one of
the three lifts at the rear of the elaborately decorated central
lobby. "The party's upstairs", she presumed.

"The top floor", Holak confirmed. "Where else? Now watch. Here
comes our target. Dominic's private guest."

A woman appeared in the lobby. She was absolutely gorgeous. A
black cocktail dress moulded around a luscious figure. A fountain
of flame red hair spilled down the back of it. Long shapely legs
encased in sheer black nylon stockings were supported by black
stiletto heels. Her face was healthy and captivating, pink
cheeked, full lipped. Her wide brown eyes sparkled, supporting
her lovely smile.

"She's six inches taller than him", Sarah commented.

"Opposites attract", Holak responded lightly.

The woman walked across to Vachon and kissed him. She had to bend
slightly. He had to stand on tiptoe.

Sarah giggled. "So Viara was watching her before the Separation",
she supposed. "Well, I can't say I blame him."

"You know Viara", Holak replied. "He always had exquisite taste.
And not a great deal of interest in history."

Sarah found a memory of Loranna's which confirmed this, and
nodded. "Yes", she said. "You're right. So who is this vision,
then?"

"Her name's Alice Edwards", Holak advised. "American. Journalist
and news presenter. For the cable networks. Dominic's been trying
to get into her knickers for the last week. And she's slightly
interested, because she likes the smell of money, but she's not
stricken. She went on a dinner date with him two nights ago. He
didn't get any further than a kiss on the way home in the limo."

"And we want that to change today", Sarah stated, settling on her
task.

"We do", Holak said. "But we have a problem here. You see, Alice
is rather smitten by Peter Gabriel. The rock star. And Peter
Gabriel is upstairs right now. On the one occasion we won this
one, Dominic managed to keep her away from Gabriel all night, and
later, when the guests had gone, she found it in her heart to let
him fuck her on a table in the restaurant. Mainly because she got
a kick out of taking cock while looking out over the city. And
from the risk of discovery. She gets off on things like that."

"And when we failed?", Sarah enquired.

"When we failed", Holak said bleakly, "let's just suppose that
Peter Gabriel didn't."

"Okay", Sarah said, steeled for the challenge. "I've got the
picture. Let's go for two out of four."

"Do it, and good luck", Melira encouraged. 

"I know the stakes", Sarah assured. And then she moved forward,
entered Dominic Vachon with ease. 

This time, though, she approached the connection without needing
to concentrate on building the sexual attraction, because there
was no need. Dominic was obsessed enough. Instead, she
concentrated on the need to avoid a certain rock star.

The transition proceeded. For a moment, she was Loranna, and
Sarah, and Dominic.

Then, for another moment, she was Loranna and Dominic. And in
that moment, the support of Holak and Melira was a flaming guide,
made her believe that against all logic she might actually
maintain a conscious presence.

Then the belief was gone, and Loranna was gone. 

She was Dominic. Dominic alone.

And as Dominic, she had led the lovely Alice outside for a
moment. 

No, he had. Dominic had. He had led her outside....

Never mind. Let it be. It wasn't important.

Alice was important. His lust for her was important.

She was looking up, studied his handiwork. He followed her gaze,
and the height of his own tower made him feel dizzy. 

The thought occured to him that it went beyond the notion of a
skyscraper. It speared the sky, penetrated it. Waved to it on the
way past. The thought was an odd one, and he wondered where it
had come from.

"How many floors?", Alice asked.

He loved that voice, so deep and sexy. "I've forgotten", he lied.
"Hundreds."

"Are there only three lifts inside?", she queried. "It doesn't
seem enough."

He turned to study her. The wind was playing in her hair, teasing
her dress to mould more tightly against her body. She was
breathtaking. Nobody could have constructed her. His building
couldn't hope to compare. "There are four lifts in total", he
said. "And I thought you might like to be the first to ride in
the fourth."

"Lifts don't do a lot for me", she observed dubiously.

"This one might", he suggested. "It's over there."

She followed his pointing finger, and he was pleased to note her
surprise when she saw the exterior lift, his piece de resistance,
the lift which ran on three rails up the front right hand corner
of the building.

"You'll get to see the whole city", he advertised. "And make a
grand entrance. Impress the big stars. Including Peter Gabriel.
What could be better?"

"What about the weather?", Alice wondered. "Is it safe?"

Dominic understood her concern. Thunder had rumbled twice in the
last five minutes, preceded by sheet lightening. "Absolutely", he
assured her. "Safe, but atmospheric."

"Okay then, builder man", Alice confirmed. "I'm game."

Dominic led her to the corner of the building, made the lift live
with his electronic key. 

The doors fizzed open and the couple entered.

The lift, including the doors, floor and ceiling, was constructed
of toughened glass. There was a row of seats along the back wall.
Once the doors closed, the wind and rain were entirely cut off,
and a luxurious warmth spread into Dominic's bones. "Here we go",
he said, "ready or not", and he pressed the keypad again.

The lift started to rise, very slowly. Dominic had limited its
speed not for safety reasons, but so that its passengers could
enjoy the view at leisure.

Alice ignored the chairs, remaining at the front to watch the
city spread out before her. Dominic came to stand by her.

The thunderstorm seemed to be increasing in force, and Alice's
posture stiffened at a particularly impressive flash of
lightning. Dominic had been honest when he had told her that she
need have no concerns, because the tower was better protected
against lightning than any building ever constructed. But he
understood her uneasiness. Fear of heights and fear of foul
weather were standard human phobias.

Already, though, she was relaxing. He guessed that she was
studying the lights of the metropolis, the moving headlights of
the cars which already seemed smaller than ants.

"It's amazing", she breathed.

"Yes", he said. "It is." He risked letting an arm fall around her
slender waist. Thrillingly, she didn't resist.

"How long is the ride?", she asked him.

"Bored already?", he teased. "It didn't stay amazing for long."

"I don't want it to stop", she said. "That's why I'm asking".

He tried to read her, and noted that her eyes seemed moist.
Gazing into them, his cock stirred like a disturbed snake. 

The realisation that he should kiss her came fully formed.

And he was about to do exactly that when the lift shuddered to a
sudden halt.

To her credit, Alice didn't panic. She merely observed him
quizzically.

"I don't know", he said, answering the unspoken question. "It
isn't the storm, so it must be a mechanical fault. But I find
that hard to believe. This equipment's been tested and retested.
In all conditions."

The notion at the back of his mind, the notion that he dared not
utter, was sabotage. It seemed impossible, and he could not
conceive of any individual or organisation with motive, but the
thought nagged at him. The thought, and a name....

Restorers....

What the hell...?

"We have a problem, don't we?", Alice suggested. "Because nobody
knows we're here."

"You don't have a mobile", Dominic presumed. surprised. He had
expected her to be equipped with all conceivable rich girl
gadgets.

Alice shrugged. "Sorry."

Dominic nodded glumly. "Never mind. It won't be long, anyway.
After all, they can't really inaugurate the building without the
guy who built it. And when they start looking, they'll see that
the lift isn't at ground level. Ten minutes, maybe. Half an hour
tops."

Alice returned her gaze to the magnificent view. "I don't mind",
she said. "They can take their time for me."

He looked out with her. 

The city, perhaps eight hundred feet beneath them, looked like a
model village. Rain lashed against the glass, but its fury was
impotent.

Another lightning flash suddenly illuminated the lift. It didn't
worry him. On the contrary, the fact that he was so warm and safe
in such unusual circumstances was pleasant and fascinating. His
luxury seemed obscene, and not a little erotic.

He guessed that Alice felt similarly, because he could tell that
her breathing had quickened a little.

His arm was still around her waist, and he remembered that when
he had moved to kiss her a few moments previously, she hadn't
looked like she was going to shy away. A kiss, then, might be on
offer. And with reasonable time to spare before rescue, he
wondered whether he might try for slightly more.

"You don't mind, eh?", he said, squeezing her a little. "Are you
sure? I mean, Peter Gabriel doesn't hang around parties for long.
Well, so I hear."

She flushed, and the flush was lovely. "Don't tease", she said
defensively. "I just thought it would be nice to meet him. It's
not a big issue for me."

Dominic grinned. "Meet him?", he teased. "You're sure that's all?
Just meet him?"

"The implication being?", she probed irritably.

"Oh, I don't know", he said. "A bit of do it yourself kiss and
tell, maybe. You do work for a TV station after all."

"It's not that sort of TV station", she replied coolly, then,
clearly relaxing in the light of his grin, added, "but I suppose
I could talk them into covering a few human frailty stories if
they happened to drop in my lap. Now you know a lot of
celebrities, don't you, Dominic? Got any juicy gossip for me."

Dominic pretended to consider. "Me and Julia Roberts", he
suggested after a pause. "Anything there for you?"

Now she showed genuine interest. "Really?"

"No, I'm not that lucky", he admitted. "Too hot for me."

She wrinkled her nose. "Why lucky? Famous doesn't necessarily
mean good between the sheets. The few kiss and tells I have
reported were all a bit tacky."

"Well, tacky or not", he said, "I'm afraid I can't add to your
collection."

She leaned closer into him, still looking out at the night.
"Could be a hot story here, though", she suggested. "Not tacky at
all. Passion at however many feet. The powerful architect and the
oh so glamorous journalist. I don't suppose we'd qualify for the
mile high club, but the company would be pretty select anyway,
I'd bet."

He raised an eyebrow. "If I thought you were serious", he said,
"I wouldn't hesitate. To paraphrase somebody or other, I'd join
any club that'd have you as a member."

"And why wouldn't I be serious?", she asked, and he could have
sworn that there was a thickness in her voice.

"Why would you be?", he returned. "I mean, a couple of nights
ago, you seemed very cool."

"That was a couple of nights ago", she said. "And we weren't, as
I recall, hundreds of feet up in a lift, with thunder and
lightning crashing all around us."

He chuckled. "I take it you're into atmosphere, then."

"Wildness, maybe", she admitted. "The last time I felt this randy
was when the Iraqis bombed Israel. I was in a hotel, watching the
bombs fall. Me, and my cameraman."

He was startled. "You didn't?"

"I most certainly did", she assured.

"Sex was more important than running for cover?", he asked. "I
can't believe that."

"Oh, the hotel was pretty safe", she assured. "But there was a
thrill, you know. I mean, people were in danger out there, and I
felt guilty about that. But I couldn't help myself. The sense of
risk just... well, overwhelmed me, I guess. And the fear of
discovery. Because the door wasn't locked. We couldn't afford to
lock it, with evacuation in mind."

He took her shoulders, having to reach up just a little, and
turned her to face him. "How about if I said I might have been
wrong about this lift?", he said. "If I said it might not be safe
after all? And it is true that we might start moving at any time.
Right up to the top floor. Without warning. Inexorably onward,
regardless of what we might be doing in here."

"Is that right?", she replied playfully, and looped her arms
around his waist, tightly, so that her groin was flattened
against his. He felt his cock start to pulse more urgently.

"I mean, in light of that, we wouldn't want to be taking any
risks, would we?", he hunted.

"It is dark", she pointed out. "In this... theoretical situation
we're talking about, that would give us an extra second or two."

"True", he allowed. "Theoretically."

"It's certainly dark enough that no-one could see any activity
from street level", she mentioned.

"Again", he replied, "true."

"A risk or two might be in order, then", she said. "Don't you
think? Theoretically."

"I'm a practical man", he told her. His cock was throbbing
against her now, fully erect. "I always hated theory."

 "So did I", she hissed. And, at last, she kissed him. Not
gently, but hard, her tongue snaking instantly into his mouth, a
fat, wet intruder, taking his breath away. He fought back,
revelling in her cinammon taste.

Wasting time wasn't on his agenda, because the risk he'd pointed
out about the lift moving without warning was actual. He moved a
hand to her left breast, caressed the mound through her evening
dress. The nipple, surprising him with its erectness, pressed
urgently against his palm, and Alice moaned deep in her throat.
Her hands were suddenly busy too, tracing his spine, skipping to
lightly caress his stomach. Without warning, she cupped his
balls, squeezing them gently, making him shudder with delight.

She wasn't out of control, but she was determined. He kissed her
neck, her shoulders, using his tongue and lips with equal
measure. She started to moan. Her mouth found his left earlobe,
nibbled it, electrifying him. "Go on", she urged. "Do it."

He dropped his hands to the firm globes of her buttocks, bunching
the material of her dress as he investigated there, then he
hoisted the dress at the back, hooked his thumbs in her panties
and hauled the garment down onto her thighs. Wriggling, she
worked them lower, stepped out of them. "I want you", he
promised.

"Fuck me", she whispered, still against his ear. "I want you to
fuck me."

"Not yet", he told her cruelly. And, honouring the plan he had
just conceived, he pushed her into the corner of the lift,
dropped to a kneeling position.

Her body had tightened with disappointment. Now, it relaxed. "Oh,
yes, baby", she encouraged, sensing what he was about to do.

He raised her dress again, this time at the front. Another flash
of lightning illuminated the flesh which he had exposed. A firm
flat belly. Neatly trimmed pubic hair which proved her hair
colour to be natural. Slightly parted thighs opening above the
vee of a lush, glistening pink pussy, with clitoris big and red
and erect.

He teased her for a moment, trailed his tongue across her
abdomen, felt her body start to shake in response. Then he pushed
her legs further apart and applied the tip of his tongue to her
love button. She gasped, started to push her hips downward. He
worked urgently, occasionally dipping his tongue into a honeypot
that was just as musky as he had imagined. For the most part,
though, he concentrated on taking her to a swift clitoralorgasm.

He seemed set to succeed. Her hands soon came behind his head.
Her legs started to vibrate with tension. 

Moments later, she stiffened, cried out with pleasure. And the
grinding motion began again, this time swifter, as orgasm pumped
through her body. Her breathing stopped. She ground against him.

She held him in place, doubtless until the joy subsided. When she
did release her grip, his neck muscles were aching, and his face
was lathered with her juices.

He stood, let her dress, which was now slightly creased, fall
back into place. She was still leaning into the corner of the
lift, perspiring now, hair in disarray. He dropped his arms
around her waist, pulled her to him, kissed her again, this time
with a studied gentleness.

"You're good", she complimented him, pulling free. "Damn good."

"Why, thank you, ma'am", he replied, tipping an imaginary hat.

She giggled. "You want something back, I suppose."

"I think I could handle that", he said.

Alice smiled a predatorial smile and, in her turn, lowered
herself to her knees. With practised skill, she unhooked and
unzipped his pants, and he felt them slide to his ankles. Then
she gently bit his fully erect cock through the cotton of his
boxer shorts. It was such an unusual thing to do that it
surprised and delighted him, so much so that he didn't register
the fact that she had already moved on, that she was already
opening the bottom half of his shirt.

She teased the elastic down then, took his cock into her cool
fist. 

The sensation was gorgeous. His hardness strained against her
fingers as she held him tightly. He waited, heart pounding, for
her tongue.

Yes. There it was. Yesssss........

She licked the head of his cock softly, making him moan and
strain, teasing him mercilessly. And immediately, he wanted more.
Wanted her mouth. 

Just when he thought that she'd never take him there, she did so,
swallowing his whole length with ease and bobbing quickly along
and back, along and back, her lips skimming the surface. The
immersion in wetness and warmth was wonderfully satisfying, and
her mobile tongue brought him to a state of high excitement
within moments.

He struggled to hold back. His balls were twitching, and the
telltale pressure was building at the base of his aching member.

Again, he wanted more. "Stop", he managed, croaking. "Please
stop. Alice, stop. I need to fuck you. Need to."

She didn't react immediately, but she slowed down her assault. Of
course, that only made things worse.

"Please, Alice", he begged.

She rocked back on her heels, grinned at him. His cock was still
twitching. "Fuck me", she said, layering her voice with mock
surprise. "Well, why didn't you just say so?"

He reached for her, intending to make love to her in a standing
position. But suddenly he was thrown to the right, found himself
striving for balance.

The lift had started to move again.

Dominic panicked, and reached for his pants, only to find that
Alice was holding onto them. 

"How long?", she asked, a vicious purr in her voice.

He was panicking now, reading her intent, pulling so forcibly at
the trousers that they felt close to ripping. "What the hell are
you doing?", he demanded. "What the hell do you mean, how long?"

"Before the lift reaches the top floor", she clarified calmly.
"How long?"

"Two minutes", he told her, exasperated. "Three at the most. We
can't finish this in two minutes. No, Alice. No way. It's
insane."

"We can't move on to what you had in mind", she allowed. "But I
bet I can finish what I started." 

Dominic watched in horror as she rocked forward, took his cock
all the way into her mouth again.

He had already softened a little, and was therefore convinced
that the task she had set herself would prove beyond her, that
her efforts would still be continuing when the lift doors
whooshed open and exposed him to the eyes of the media and the
gasps of many of the most famous people in the world. But he
didn't stop her. Because the luscious wet pressure of her tongue
was exquisite, and he couldn't bear the thought of losing it.

Startlingly, he was fully hard again. Suddenly, the urgent
bobbing of her head, the soft pressure of her fingers on his
balls, were taking him past even the level of tension he had
reached before he had interrupted her. The pressure was building
in his buttocks and his cock, so exquisite that he felt dizzy,
that he could barely remain standing. His fingers were in her
hair, massaging her skull, keeping her in place.

Orgasm consumed him, knifing into his neck and back. He cried
out, unable to contain the pleasure, and Alice redoubled her
efforts. The storm within him was matched only by the storm
outside, and the rain whipping against the glass seemed a
metaphor for his passion.

With a second cry, he ejaculated, substantially, once, twice,
three times. Alice continued to suck him, an occasional forced
swallow the only sign that anything had changed. Every drop he
had to offer was squirted into her mouth, disappeared without
trace down her throat. When, finally, she pulled clear, licking
the length of him as a final gift before grinning at him, the cat
that got the cream, there was no cream to be seen.

He leaned back, closed his eyes. He had never felt quite so
drained, so satisfied. Nonetheless, he felt a little uneasy. In
the back of his mind, a voice was telling him that what he had
done was not enough, not enough at all. That what had happened
was in fact a disaster.

"It's gone wrong, hasn't it?", Alice said.

He looked down at her, shaken rigid by her perception. His fear
sharpened. "Yes", he agreed. "Something's gone wrong. But I don't
know what."

Her eyes met his, held them.

And he knew, for an instant, that another looked out of him, at
another within her.

Then the knowledge was gone, and only the sadness, mingled with
sexual relief, remained.

Then Alice shrugged free, chuckled, thankfully breaking the mood.
"Hey, cheer up", she said. "And you might think about pulling
your pants up, too."

The practical problem concentrated his mind. He hauled at his
trousers, struggling with the zip, struggling with the buttons,
struggling to tuck his shirt in. 

He completed the task with seconds to spare.

The door opened on a gathering of concerned faces. Principal
amongst them was Angela Vane, his secretary, a middle aged woman
who tended to mother him and the only other person with a key to
the lift. "You okay, boss?", she asked solicitously.

"Fine", he said. "No problem." He realised that he must look
flushed and a little the worse for wear, knew that he needed to
get to a bathroom.

"How about you, little lady?", asked a deep, sonorous voice. He
turned to see Peter Gabriel, hand on Alice's elbow, solicitously
leading her into the safety of the party room. 

Alice was gazing at him with an unlikely and almost canine
devotion.

"It was a bit frightening", Dominic heard her lie. "But I'm
okay."

"Can I get you a drink?", her hero suggested. "To calm youdown?"

Well, that was that, then. Depressed, Dominic turned back to
Angela. 

Oddly, Angela was grinning. He couldn't work out why.

And then, just for a moment, it all became clear. 

"You stopped the lift", he realised.

"Clever boy", Angela confirmed, an unusual twist in her
expression. "But I realised my mistake in time and started it
again. Just in time, by the look of things. Viara's still
trapped, isn't he? Oh, how sad."

Dominic clenched his fist. He truly intended to strike her. But
then suddenly he was dizzy, because Loranna was with him, and
then Sarah was with him too. 

Then Dominic was gone, and Sarah was looking at the concerned
faces of Holak and Melira.

Sarah was seated at the unreal table in the unreal library. And
she was in shock. 

Melira came immediately to her side, placed a hand on her
shoulder. "It can't be helped", she said. "It wasn't yourfault."

Sarah was determined. "It isn't over yet", she insisted. "It
isn't bloody over."

"It has to be over, love", Melira disagreed. "We haven't got
Viara. And if we haven't got Viara, we can't complete the circle.
We're just going to have to try again next time. It might be
years away, but there's no choice. We all have to go back where
we came from."

"No", Sarah disagreed. "We can go to Israel."

Melira was confused. "Israel?"

But Holak nodded slowly. "You're right", he said. "Yes, we can go
there. We have to go there."

"Will someone explain?", Melira requested. "From where I stand,
it looks like you've both gone mad."

Sarah motioned for Holak to do the honours. Holak complied. "It's
simple", he said. "Until now, this Canada incident was the only
sexual encounter for Alice Edwards that we knew about. But
because the Restorers stopped the lift, we now know of another.
The Gulf War. The missile attack on Israel. Alice, and her
cameraman."

"I have to be the cameraman", Sarah said. "That's our way out."

Melira nodded. "Alright, yes", she conceded. "It's a good idea,
and I suppose we can try it. But we're entering new ground. Our
chances aren't going to be good. I suppose it is better than
giving up, but we need to be realistic."

"We have to do more than try, Melira", Holak stated moribundly.
"Because I can tell you for a fact, there's no future for us if
we fail. None at all."

"Don't be a depressive, Holak", Melira scolded. "Like I said a
moment ago, there will be another time."

"No", Holak said with a frightening certainty. "There will not."

Melira was simultaneously dubious and concerned. "How can you
know that?", she demanded. "We went a little way into the future.
Some of our people are there. Viara himself, for example."

Holak smiled without humour. "True, but irrelevant", he
pronounced. "Because at the very limit of our spread, a few
linear years from now, I have seen the end of things. Or at
least, I have seen the beginning of the end."

The Sarah part of the Sarah and Loranna entity looked at him,
intending to challenge him. Her world could not possibly end. It
was ridiculous. 

She readied herself to say so.

But then she saw the bleak honesty in Holak's eyes.




PART 5 will follow.


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