Saved Between the Sheets: An Anthology of Stories that Get to the Point

by R. M. Walker

  When we’d met, my null shield had kept him from seeing me in his future vision, and it allowed him to experience life as a normal human being. His power over entropy reordered the cells in my body that had been projecting the shield since the day I was born so that in his arms, I could feel. We’d spent almost a year together before he disappeared. It was in his arms that the idea of getting out of the villain business was born.

  I’d stared at that jar every fucking day of my life for years, waiting... To do what? Bitch him out? Tell him how much his walking out fucked me up? Crawl up his gorgeous body and beg for more time with him? I was too tired from the emotions of the session still swirling around near my feet within the null field, and the blood I’d lost from the cut, to know.

  I made it into the shower before the nurse burst in, her patience at an end. Claire had picked her out for me because she stood up to my brand of stubborn, and made sure I was not just sufficiently, but practically taken care of since sometimes the two things are at odds.

  After being wiped down, carried out, stitched up, and given some juice, I felt better. I wasn’t going to be one hundred percent for another day or so, but it was enough to deal with the police, and then get in a cab to a hotel so I didn’t have to decide what to do with Entropy.

  When I emerged from the dressing room in clean clothes and an all clear, I noticed Gaston had also taken the time to change suits. I guess blood spatter wasn’t in fashion this season. “Book a suite at the Seychelle Plaza for the night and have a car waiting with my bag.” A small nod, and he left ahead of me through the penthouse door to the other end of the floor that contained his office and the receiving room, which we normally only used for business meetings.

  Stepping quickly to avoid being seen by that particular room's occupant, I made it into the elevator and used the time to run over in my head exactly what I was going to say to the alphabet agencies waiting for me. I’d managed a feat no non-billionaire villains had: I’d gone straight without being prosecuted. Not even a single ticket for jaywalking. That didn’t mean that there weren’t agents out there who would still love to take me down, or that if my powers were used for harm that I wouldn’t be responsible.

  I unbuttoned the top of my black blouse to show off just a hint of the emerald green lace bra underneath, and breezed into the office on unsteady legs. The fug of cigar smoke hung cloyingly in the air, but the agents I’d been expecting had been replaced by the last person I wanted to see on one of the shittiest days of my life.

  “Hello Fara.” The bastard dared to look sheepish. “I’ve missed you.”

  I rewarded his honestly with a dry laugh and my previously holstered Beretta pointed at his face. “And if you don’t leave, now, I won’t miss you.”

  He wore a black and white suit, its pinstriped lines and close cut bespoke tailoring were an anachronism to the current baggy styles. Green bedroom eyes and a naturally elegant flop of dark brown hair completed the look, and boy, did he look. He was old-fashioned sexy. Cary Grant and Clark Gable rolled into one, with the manners you’d take home to mother, and the libido of a man fresh out of prison. God, I missed him.

  “So fierce, my warrior queen. You look as if you’ve been having a day.” The ice around my heart began to thaw, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing.

  I tried to keep my arm straight and my gun from shaking while we spoke, but it was difficult. “I hate that expression, having a day. Everyone is having a day unless it’s night and then they’re having a night. It’s stupid, just like you for coming here after all this time. So why don’t you go back to wherever you’ve been for five years and stay there?”

  He walked slowly toward me, his gentle eyes on me and not the gun, never afraid. I didn’t think I could stand it if he came closer and touched me. If he gave me even one second of the peace I’d been so desperate for an hour ago. I’d been ready to end it all, at the absolute brink, and then suddenly here he stands in my office oozing charm?

  “Because this is where I’m supposed to be.” I felt the fluttering wings of hope beating in my chest and the agony of having to be so far away... and love. Even the faintest whiff of its perfume for me was like an alcoholic going into a bar. Shit. He was too close.

  “That sounds like a load of bullshit.” I lowered the gun, holstering it. “I don’t know if the cops have left, so I’m going to pass on shooting you, but I don’t want you here, E.” I backed away, across the white line, and his expression looked pained. “You left, and it broke me. Then I picked my ass up off the ground and built this whole business by myself. Left the life I’d known, by myself. There’s no reason you are here that needs to involve me.” I kicked open the office door, gesturing.

  Entropy paused, staring down like a man on the way to the gallows. My instinct was to go to him, comfort him, but I couldn’t take that chance. I was an addict, and he was my drug of choice. When he didn’t move for a long moment, I finally asked, “What are you waiting for?”

  Tears ran freely down his face, leaving tiny dark spots on his perfect white shirt. “When the light shines for you, darkness falls for someone else. I was too close, too wrapped up in your perfection and the way you made me feel.” He raised his head, eyes white with futures only he could see. “I thought leaving would save you from the darkness, but instead it just grew stronger.”

  Fingers of cold dread wound themselves around me, rooting me in place and freezing my resolve. “What do you see, E?”

  He reached out a thin-fingered hand as if he caressed my face from a distance, but I knew he was still in the vision. “I see the end. Every road leads there. I’ve sacrificed five years and nothing has changed. A thousand, thousand branches followed into the darkness; every road ending at midnight.” A high sound, like the wind howling through the broken window of empty buildings, broke his concentration and his eyes returned to their beautiful green. I realized the sound was me as he strode toward me. “There is nothing left to save, and if I cannot stop it then I want to meet it with the only person who has ever truly mattered to me. I’d like to meet my fate in your arms, if you’ll have me back.”

  He crossed the line, but didn’t wait for my answer. He was many things, but not a liar and more than that… never wrong. What argument was there against that? None that my broken spirit cared to make as I let myself be scooped up and held. He smelled of cloves and cinnamon, and the smell hit me at the same time as the emotions. Strong and sharp, heady and fragrant.

  I loved him.

  He loved me.

  We loved...

  Laughter bubbled up from the previously dry well within me, bursting like bubbles between us as we kissed. He swung me around, so my long legs wrapped around his lean waist, backing us against the door, but we fell through the empty space where it had remained open instead. I screeched out a laugh, my stomach tumbling like that first downhill on a rollercoaster as we fell, and he landed atop me, his hands braced to save me from his muscular weight.

  “Gaston!” He stood several feet from the office door, back against the wall with a clipboard and seven small white gift bags over one arm. He glanced down at us, then waited patiently as we giggled and stood like children who’d been caught.

  “Madame,” he nodded formally, then glanced in through the open office door. “I will assume this is Monsieur Entropy and not the enforcement agents as expected. I’ll put away the gift bags then and go confirm tomorrow's schedule.” He began to turn before I caught his arm, finally startling him.

  “Don’t.”

  “Don’t?” He spoke the word as if his mouth were full of marbles. “I do not understand.”

  “Don’t confirm, don’t work, don’t do anything. You’ve taken care of me for so long. I want you to take the rest of today off. Tomorrow too!” I smiled, the idea to giving this kind, pompous bastard who’d had the cojones to care for one of the most hated bitches on Earth time off tickled me. He looked as if I’d told him he needed to start wearing overalls to work, and I
began to giggle again. It felt like champagne on my tongue.

  “But Madame. Surely with the loss of Mada—” I cut him off.

  “That is an order, my dear Frenchie. Take the black card and go. Buy whatever you want, spend the days with whoever makes you happy. We all need a break, starting with you.” I reached up and patted his face. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

  He seemed to waver for a moment, objections warring with his impeccable training. Then, after a long look at me smiling and holding E’s hand, he gave a deep formal bow and stood. “It has been my honor. I will see you in two days.” And then he was off, turning down the hall to leave.

  “Give the rest of the staff time off too, on your way out!” I yelled, squealing as E lavished kisses up my neck, tickling me with his fingers as he untucked my blouse.

  “Wait! Not here, not here! How much time do we have?” The seriousness of the question slowed his frantic undressing of me, but didn’t altogether stop him.

  “The sun won’t rise tomorrow.”

  I nodded. “It hasn’t set yet, so we have just enough time for one perfect evening. Give me ten minutes and meet me on the roof.” A questioning look crossed his face. “Just trust me and go!” I punched the up button on my elevator for him then ran back into my office, all the lethargy of earlier gone and replaced with a lightness of spirit I wasn’t sure I’d ever felt before.

  The end of the world. The end of the world. I repeated it a few times to myself, rolling the thought around in my mind to make sure I was really taking it in. Hmm, yep, I thought, honestly caring very little. There was no time for gnashing my teeth and being angry, and I didn’t want to waste a second. I’d lived, I’d fucked, I’d stolen and given back. I’d reinvented myself because of love, then spent five years trapped in my own personal hell. If tonight was the night, then I would go out on my own damn terms. Fara style.

  By the time I reached the roof with a large box in my arms, E had already lit the candles and uncovered the patio furniture in the middle of my rooftop garden. It was my one oasis of calm and beauty, and fittingly enough, the tribute I’d created with the memories of him after he’d left. Spring gardens bloomed in overflowing raised planters, and trees in massive pots threw tiny pink and white blossoms into the wind to roll in drifts past our feet. The whole roof was a thing of wonder, but I’d almost never come to enjoy it and didn’t understand why...

  Until I stood here next to him and remembered. He eyed the box I set down, but came with me to open the door when the buzzer sounded. In walked four delivery boys, all carrying their weight in food, bottles, cakes, and a small pink package. They set the bounty on the long table under the ivy-covered pergola and left, the last one hanging back to point at the pink box.

  “From Manuel,” he said, then left. I opened it quickly, enjoying the feeling of anticipation fizzing in my stomach. Inside was a small rolled up bit of soft green leather, the same as my own super suit. It had been cut in the same style as well. I was beginning to wonder what was going on when I noticed the symbol tooled in gold between the eyes. It was not my usual crossed out zero, instead, a golden infinity symbol was etched there.

  “There’s more in the box,” E told me, leaning over and picking out the last two objects. I felt a little trembly, as if even though in a few more hours I would no longer even exist, that this moment was very, very important. He handed me a photograph and a letter.

  The photograph was of a wall covered in underlit shelves. Glass boxes covered each small piece of Super memorabilia that I’d given him over the last five years, neatly labeled and lovingly preserved. His joy in the items showed. In the middle of the middle shelf, a place of prominence, sat an empty glass container with a small gold plaque that read: Null/Infinity. “Read it to me, please,” I whispered, and E obliged.

  “Princesa, I had this saved to give you, but when I saw your order I thought to send it now. It hurt my heart when you said I didn’t collect your kind. Almost six years ago today I was cowering on the floor of the Metacali Art Museum after four very famous villains blew through the roof. When Flicker had disappeared the art, and Webz had erased all recordings, all that was left was to get rid of the witnesses. Mija, how confused and grateful was I when a terror in black and green screamed in rage at the fourth man who walked toward us to boil our blood. This dark angel stood in front of fifty people and defied her nature, and I never forgot. How blessed was I then when she walked into my restaurant and spoke to me as if we were friends? You are my kind, daughter, and the whole reason I collect. I had this place saved for you from the beginning. The mask is a regalo for you, make of it what you will. Forgive an old man for renaming you, but I think to me, it’s a better name for you now. The opposite of nothing is everything, no? That is what you gave me. Everything.

  Manuel.”

  Entropy laughed and his wonder overflowed into me as I clutched the letter. Manuel's steady kindness clung to it like perfume and I breathed him in. If I had two days left, I’d spend one of them with him.

  “Come on.” I pulled E over to the table, setting the letter and mask back in the box. “Let’s celebrate the end of the world.”

  7

  The End

  As the sun began its final journey past the horizon, I rose from the comfortable chaise we’d been cozied in drinking wine, and feeding each other these divine sea salt chocolates. E looked as content as I felt, but there was more that I wanted to feel... I had an exceptionally detailed list of emotions I’d longed to know, and he was about to help me tick off a few.

  “That look,” he murmured as he bit his full bottom lip, and the first true taste of lust rolled through me. “You, my dear, are dangerous.” I picked up the box I’d carried to the roof, setting it at his feet, then peeled off the button up I’d been wearing. I was exposed to anyone watching from the taller buildings on either side, but I cared very little. In fact, the idea of finally being myself under so much scrutiny brought a warmth to my crotch and puckered my nipples inside of the emerald bra I wore. He looked down into the box. “What is this?”

  I slowly unbuttoned my pants and slipped them down my pale, toned legs. His reaction was everything I wanted—dilated pupils, quick breaths, and that heavenly look of greed. He wanted me, badly.

  Standing in front of him with the glorious purple and pink hues of sunset at my back made me feel beautiful and womanly, and I crawled onto his lap to revel in the sensation. His hands felt glorious skimming down my naked back and cupping my ass to pull me closer, my breasts bumping against his chin as a result.

  “All my life I’ve been a slave to my power. To master it, I had to dominate everyone around me at every level,” I began, as he kissed a fiery trail down my cleavage, licking his way back up. “And you... you’ve been a slave to fate, always submitting yourself to its will.” He rocked me against his hardness, my clit singing at the contact. I pulled back a little to see his face. “So this,” I reached back with a foot to kick the box, “is giving life the finger and doing things the way we want to.”

  His hands were everywhere, impatient and needy, but a very wicked look came upon him as he puzzled out my meaning. “So you’re saying you want me to...?”

  “Dominate me.” I felt his cock twitch with excitement.

  “Are you sure?”

  I held my wrists out in front of me. “Yes, Master. I am.”

  A pleased sort of humming came from his throat as he pushed me slowly off his lap. Once we were disentangled, I watched him like the good little submissive I’d always dreamed of being. He stood, slowing pulling the blouse I’d tossed onto him off his shoulder, and twisted it in his hands, tighter and tighter. “Then kneel for me. I intend to find out exactly how sure you are.”

  I shifted to my knees on the concrete as he began to look into the contents of the box, a hiss coming involuntarily when the rough stone cut into my already tender knees. I heard and felt the crack of my wound shirt at the same time, like a towel in the locker room. A sharp sting b
loomed on my thigh, but the pain was only a note in the bouquet of glorious feelings I reveled in.

  “Did you like that, my little tart?” E purred at me, watching my face for signs that I took back my offer. He found none.

  “Yes, Sir.” I stayed in the slave pose, my knees bent and head bowed, waiting for instructions. I was a good little slut, I mean, I’d better be. I’d been beating others into submission my entire life. I had better be the best slut in the whole wide world. At least for the next few hours anyway.

  I heard him pull something that slipped and jangled from the box and tried to mask my excitement. These games we play, I reminded myself, did not always have to be at the expense of someone. BDSM was as much about mutual respect as it was the joy of fear, or the freedom you can only find in being completely restrained.

  From behind, a firm hand grasped my ankle and a leather cuff pulled tight. My other leg was shoved roughly apart with a similar cuff on the ankle, and a long spreader bar joining them. My cunt tightened at the thought of what he might do to me with my legs kept so painfully apart, but he walked away instead. I nearly cried out.

  I heard sounds coming from the pergola area but knew I wasn’t supposed to turn. The anxiety and anticipation heightened my senses. I could feel the cool breeze tickling the moisture that had gathered and soaked through my panties, while a distant thumping reminded me of the rhythmic twitching of E’s cock when I’d straddled him.

  After a moment, all my questions were answered.

  “Stand up Fara and walk over here.” His voice was husky, the thick bulge in his pants begging for me to reach out and touch it. From the outside row of the pergola roof hung a rope, and suspended from that rope was the matching suspension bar dangling high over my head. “Now, be a good girl and hold your arms up for me.”