Twenty-Nine Hours to Eternity

by Elizabeth Noble

  “I’d have never thought of it, and I loved it.” Ian smiled. “I’m famished.” He dug into his lunch.

  2:00 p.m., December 23: Nineteen hours to eternity

  THE SECOND time Race was invited to Ian’s room, he took up the invitation. On the way back to the hotel after lunch, they stopped at a florist and bought some pine garlands and a tiny holly plant with bright red foil covering its plastic pot. They set the plant on the dresser opposite the bed. The long strands of pine they broke up and spread over the room.

  “Can’t forget the bed,” Race said as he draped some of the garlands across the headboard. Inhaling deeply, he added, “I love that smell.”

  “I live near a tree farm that grows pines for Christmas trees. Having the windows open and that scent wafting through is like sex for my nose.”

  Race burst out laughing. “While I disapprove of murdering healthy trees for a week or two of home decoration, I have to say I am excited at the prospect of visiting your home and experiencing that delightful air freshener for myself.”

  He loved the way Ian’s face lit up at the mention of Race visiting Ian’s home. “Really? You’ll come visit me?”

  “I hope that’s all right and that this isn’t merely some entertainment on a layover.”

  “All right?” Ian stepped up to Race and slid both arms around him. “I was hoping you’d want to see more of me.” His words were broken by kisses, each one lingering longer than the last.

  “I’d like to see more of you now.” Race stepped back far enough to tug his shirt off, then he pulled Ian’s henley over his head and tossed both garments to the floor. He held Ian close, pressing their lips together.

  As the heat rose between them, Ian’s tongue found a path through Race’s lips and into his mouth, where it glided over and around Race’s until Race broke their kiss. With one arm around Ian’s shoulders, Race guided them to the bed. A gentle shove and they were stretched together on the mattress.

  Ian kicked his jeans off, panting, “Condoms in the nightstand.”

  “Prepared. I like that. But we don’t need—”

  Ian rolled them over so he was straddling Race. “Yes, we do.”

  “You don’t understand—” Whatever argument Race could possibly offer—and he had a pretty fine argument against wasting time with condoms—was lost when Ian twirled his tongue around one of Race’s nipples for a few seconds before he covered that nipple with his mouth and sucked. Hard.

  Race’s body arched, and his cock leaked. It’d been way, way too long. Ian was lean and supple, but he seemed to love Race’s softer, rounder body. It didn’t take long before Race’s condom-covered cock was encased in Ian’s heat. Rocking back and forth, Ian rode Race, playing with his nipples when he wasn’t kneading his chest.

  Race moved his fingertips up and down Ian’s sides, tracing every rib before he pressed his thumbs to the tender flesh of Ian’s groin. He moved his thumbs in a circle, then pushed in firmly and used an up-and-down motion until Ian was clenching around him, hips thrusting frantically.

  Small rivulets of sweat oozed along Race’s lips, and he licked them off, cherishing the salty taste. His scent mixed with Ian’s. They were surrounded by a cloud of lust and need. All too soon Ian was coming, covering Race’s belly with thick, white, warm liquid. The air was alive with a heady aroma that mixed with that of their heated bodies. One last powerful upward thrust and a tingle spread from the base of Race’s spine to his balls and cock until he throbbed inside Ian and gasped for breath.

  Ian pitched forward and used his hands on Race’s shoulders to hold himself up while he gulped in deep breaths. “That was amazing.”

  “It was.” Race grabbed the box of tissues off the nightstand and wiped himself clean. Ian eased off, and Race disposed of his condom. Then Ian settled against Race’s chest and sighed. Race kissed Ian’s forehead and held him close. “I haven’t enjoyed myself so much in what seems like lifetimes.”

  Yawning, Ian said softly, “I think I need that nap after all.” He planted soft kisses along Race’s chest until he drifted to sleep.

  6:45 p.m., December 23: Fourteen hours and fifteen minutes to eternity

  “WHOA!” IAN threw his hands in the air and jumped off the stool while coins cascaded from a slot machine. The payoff wasn’t a huge amount of money, but it was the principle of the thing. Winning was fun.

  “Our table is ready,” Race said and held up a round, flashing disk. “This is genius—a casino with a restaurant. Gambling and feasting!”

  “Do you think Saturn would approve?”

  “I absolutely do believe Saturn would approve. Isn’t that how Saturnalia was celebrated: feasting, gambling and a time that is the best of times?” Race asked. As Ian fed another slot machine with a few dollars, Race reached out and ran his fingertips along a design combining playing cards and gypsies that decorated the borders of the device. “This is interesting.”

  Bells clanged, and coins poured out to fill the little bucket at the base of the machine. Ian laughed. “You are such good luck. Do you realize every time I’ve won, you were right next to the slot I was playing?”

  “Is that so? I wasn’t paying attention.” Race rubbed Ian’s back. “Shall we go spend some of our winnings on our evening feast?”

  Once at their table, Ian studied the menu. “I confess I’m a little disappointed they don’t serve wild boar.”

  “Ah, but they do have sausage and gravy, dishes loaded with olives and deviled eggs—” Race flipped the menu over. “—and cheesecake and nut rolls.”

  “We should get a to-go order of the nut roll for breakfast tomorrow.” Ian reached across the table and took Race’s hand. “If you’re interested.”

  “I’m very interested.” Race reeled Ian in for a quick kiss.

  After they’d shared a piece of cheesecake to end their sumptuous meal, Ian leaned back in his chair, dropped his napkin onto the table, and groaned. “I’m stuffed.”

  “This cheesecake is almost as good as the Roman version of fried cheesecakes,” Race said. “Those were little bites of ecstasy.”

  Ian laughed. “You make it sound as if you were there.”

  Race merely smiled and shrugged. After a minute he added, “I have a recipe that I hear is pretty authentic. It’d be my pleasure to prepare it for you.”

  Ian’s cheeks warmed. “You’d do that for me?”

  “It would be fun. And tasty. Good recipes are meant to be prepared and shared with our favorite people,” Race said.

  The sincerity of his words moved Ian deeply. It must’ve shown on his face because Race’s expression changed, softening and radiating such affection Ian wasn’t sure he could say anything that would adequately reflect his thoughts. He opted for honesty and gratitude.

  “This is nice, having someone to celebrate the holiday with. Every year it seems as if people around me are so wrapped up and tense. My coworkers, the airline customers—hell, even the cashiers at fast food places. They think they have to have the perfect holiday, the perfect gifts and decorations. What they forget is that no matter what your religion, it’s not about the trappings.”

  Race nodded. “It’s about the joy and peace of being with loved ones.”

  “Exactly.” Ian sighed and continued, “People have lost sight of that. I mean, most years I celebrate alone, but it still brings me a calmness, even if I can’t do most of the traditional things for Saturnalia.”

  “As long as it gives you peace, that’s what is most important.” Race stood up and held out his hand to Ian. “I haven’t seen Hollywood Boulevard in years. How about a stroll to see more of the sights?”

  Hollywood Boulevard was awash with colorful—and in some cases very creative—Christmas decorations. Businesses and storefronts had red, green, and white lights of all sizes and shapes adorning their entrances and windows. The tall trunks of palm trees had tiny lights strung around them, and larger-than-life replicas of nutcrackers, tinsel trees—appropriate for Tinsel Town—and e
ven a few Grinches lined the sidewalks.

  The air was warmer than the winter subzeros of Ohio where Ian grew up. He found not having to pile on layers of clothing to stay warm or shovel a mountain of snow from in front of the door to get outside a pleasant change. The night wasn’t hot, but temperate enough they didn’t need coats or jackets or even sweatshirts.

  “It’s easy to pick out the natives. They’re wearing more winter-style clothes and coats. Where I come from, Ohio, this is T-shirt weather. If I were home, I’d be wearing shorts when it’s this warm,” Ian said and nodded discreetly to a couple walking a few yards in front of them. “This part of the city is very cheerful.” He snickered and nudged Race’s side. “Even if all the decorations are for the wrong holiday.”

  “Eh.” Race shrugged. “It’s the right time, and the meaning—the best of times—is the same, so I’ll take it.”

  “Because you invented Saturnalia,” Ian teased.

  Race shrugged and gave him an innocent look. They stopped at an intersection and waited for the light to change. “Imagine. It wasn’t that many years ago all of this was wetlands.” Race turned in a circle and waved one arm at the scene before them. “Over there a huge pond, and that way, grasslands. So many different types of foliage and trees it would be impossible to name them all. All sorts of wildlife, big and small, moving around day and night.”

  Ian burst out laughing. “Now you’re talking as if you were there. And for the record, a thousand years or so is a long time. Or does the fact your name translates to timekeeper give you a different perspective?”

  Race smiled softly and held both hands up, palms out, in a questioning gesture. People began brushing by them. “Oh, the light’s changed. We’d better get moving.”

  “It’s weird that it’s so dark but still so warm outside,” Ian said. “I always associate early sunsets with winter, and where I grew up farther north, winter was cold.”

  “Don’t you go to other places that are warm in the winter?”

  “Sure, but I usually fly in, hang out in the airport or a hotel for a few hours, and fly back out,” Ian explained. “Sometimes I’m in one place long enough to do the visitor thing. Once a flight attendant has worked for an airline a long time, hitting the ten year or more mark, things are different. We can schedule more time between flights and really go out and see a city. I’m not quite there yet, but soon. Just a few more years.”

  “There is still enough time to catch a movie or see another of the interesting sights this city offers,” Race pointed out.

  Ian stifled a yawn. “As much as I’d like to do that, I think it’s better I go back to the hotel and get some rest before I fly out tomorrow morning. Believe me, there’s nothing worse than dealing with holiday travelers with too little sleep.”

  Race put one arm around Ian’s shoulders and gave a gentle squeeze. “If you’re sure.”

  Ian drew in a deep breath and sighed it out slowly. “Are you having second thoughts about coming back with me?” It would hurt if Race said no, but Ian reasoned it was better he knew now.

  “Absolutely not! I’m looking forward to our evening and night together and sharing that nut roll for breakfast.”

  They stopped at another intersection, and Ian took a good long look at Race’s profile. A feeling of peace and belonging washed over him. The same thing had happened each time Ian paused and really studied Race’s face. Race was sincere; Ian could feel it right through to his soul.

  11:20 p.m., December 23: Nine hours and forty minutes to eternity

  IAN FLOPPED on his back on the bed. He didn’t try to be subtle as he slowly looked up and down Race’s body. Race’s skin was covered with a fine sheen of sweat, making some of his chest and leg hair mat together. His breath was still coming in short pants, and the way his muscles twitched would’ve given Ian an instant hard-on if he hadn’t already been spent.

  He reached out, grabbed Race’s hand, and gave a gentle tug. Race took the hint and knelt on the bed, and walked on his knees across the mattress to sit beside Ian. He ran the fingers of one hand over Ian’s hair tenderly for a minute.

  Ian smiled. “If I tell you something, do you promise not to laugh?”

  “Will it be funny? If it’s funny I can’t be responsible for my actions.”

  “Fair enough,” Ian agreed. “I wanted to tell you that no matter what happens in the future, the time I’ve spent with you this past day has been some of the happiest of my life. I feel as if I’ve known you forever.”

  Race leaned down and kissed Ian’s forehead. “I’d never laugh at words so touching. Thank you. I want you to know, I feel the same way. So what happens from here?”

  “I fly to Hawaii tomorrow. I’ll spend some time hanging around. I think my layover is about fifteen hours. Then I’ll be heading to Japan before coming back here on my way home to Ohio, where I’ll have three weeks off.”

  “Hmm… does that mean I could have you to myself for all those days?”

  “You’ve had me to yourself since we met,” Ian reminded him. “But yes, I live alone. No roommate or anything.”

  “I will purchase a ticket to Ohio as soon as you tell me which airport I need to arrive at.”

  “I’ll write it all down for you.” Ian yawned. “In the morning if you don’t mind.”

  Race settled against Ian’s side and wrapped both arms around him. “I don’t mind at all.”

  5:30 a.m., December 24: Three hours and thirty minutes to eternity

  RACE STRETCHED and used a remote to turn the television on. There was nothing on the news, so what was to come would be a complete shock to many people. He listened to the shower as he swung out of bed and cut the nut roll. Using the coffee maker and coffee supplied by the hotel, he prepared a small pot, then warmed the nut roll in the microwave.

  He knew many things, and could do what humans could not, but Race couldn’t force someone to go against their will. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on Ian’s face, then on his soul.

  Ian’s soul was honest and forthright. Race believed with his whole heart and being that they’d have much more time together than Ian could’ve dreamed possible.

  The sound of running water stopped, and the bathroom door opened. Race pulled the nut roll from the microwave and arranged the slices on a paper plate in the same colors as the sign hanging over the hotel’s front entrance. He set the plate on the small round table along with paper mugs for their coffee.

  “Yum, that smells amazing!” Ian tugged on underwear and grinned when Race pulled a chair out for him. “You’re old-fashioned. I love that. Thank you.”

  As they ate, Ian took a pad of paper with the hotel logo across the top and explained as he wrote some notes. “This is my flight number to Hawaii and the one back to LAX. Sometimes we can get cheaper tickets for family, so I’ll see what I can do. That way we can fly back to Ohio together.”

  Race nodded. “I won’t purchase a ticket until I hear from you.”

  “My cell phone and address too,” Ian added.

  “I have this little card,” Race replied, handing the item to Ian. “It has all my information on it.” The fact that the address hadn’t existed for centuries didn’t matter. The phone number was real, and with luck, in a few short hours they wouldn’t need such things anyway.

  Race watched while Ian dressed and prepared to go to work. He took in every detail, wanting to memorize the shape of Ian’s face, where every tiny mole was, and how the hair swirling across his chest created a little pattern.

  Once Ian was ready to go, Race pulled him close, smothered his face with soft kisses, and held him tightly until they were out of time.

  “I’ll call you as soon as I’m in Hawaii,” Ian whispered in Race’s ear, and then he was out the door and gone.

  Race dressed and gathered some of the pine and the sigillaria Ian had given him. He left several hundred-dollar bills on the nightstand. The rest of the nut roll, he put on the dresser with the plant. Moving silently, he stepped into th
e hall and closed the door behind him.

  It was almost time.

  9:00 a.m., December 24: Six minutes to eternity

  IAN WHISTLED under his breath as he made his way to the employee area of the airline he worked for, pulling his suitcase behind him. He fingered one of the two small figurines—a sigillaria—nestled in his pants pocket and smiled. This one was terra-cotta; the other was pottery. Race—Horace—and Ian could still picture Race wrinkling his nose at the sound of his full name. His groin warmed and was pleasantly full as the memory of Race’s touch flowed through Ian’s mind.

  Along with the sigillaria was a small card with Race’s phone number and his promise their day-long fling would become so much more. Ian had doubts, but nonetheless he’d had some of the best hours of his life here, with Race. He’d never regret the time he’d spent in Race’s company, and he said yet another silent prayer to Saturn for much, much more time with Race. He could easily spend forever with that man.

  Nodding to a few of the other flight-crew members, Ian took his place in line and pulled out his ID. Leaning on the suitcase handle, he glanced around the concourse, not really paying attention to the many people walking briskly on their way to catch flights to anywhere in the world.

  Ian had another layover in Hawaii, but he’d be calling Race often and was already planning the phone sex. He could almost feel Race beside him.

  A low rumble came from somewhere farther along the main terminal. A pilot in line next to Ian frowned and muttered, “What the hell was that?”

  “Earthquake?” someone else suggested.

  Ian barely had time to consider that the event didn’t seem like an earthquake before explosions sounded, people began screaming, and breaking glass flying like shrapnel careened toward him. Ian turned in time to see a bright flash and he was thrown back against a row of chairs. Large shards of glass impaled him and he stared, fascinated, at the dark spot spreading out from his chest to meet another one inching up from his stomach. Ian tried to brush it away with one hand.