Time to Control

by Marie Pinkerton

  “Do you think I'm trying to take advantage of you?”

  I didn't say anything, but considered. I could have used the ring at any time to go back to our time. That was one thing I was always glad for – I had control of when we returned. If I was ever in a situation or activity that I didn't like, I could slip the ring off of my finger and return us both home. If I didn't want to be here with him, and yes, be vulnerable and at his mercy, I didn't have to be. But I wanted to, darn him. He turned me on. His caring, concern, worry, and love for me made me glad to give my body to him in lovemaking, and I saw what we were about to proceed with was just foreplay, and if the last time was any indication, foreplay that would lead to mindblowing sex.

  “Schroeder?”

  I looked back into his dark eyes. I wanted him. Just thinking of being over his lap again was setting my body tingling. The velvet of his clothing was so soft against my skin that it was turning me on even more. I didn't answer him, but reached a hand up and ran my fingers through his hair, pulling him down to my waiting mouth. My lips separated, and tongues darted to meet. Eddie ran a hand down my back and played with the curves at the top of my bottom. Yes, I wanted this. I nodded, and Eddie flipped me back over.

  He continued the massage he started earlier, gradually moving his hands down my back, soothing sore and tense muscles. As I relaxed under him, he moved his strong fingers to massage my buttocks, which tensed again. “Just relax, love,” he whispered, and I let myself be carried away with the sensations. He moved down to my upper thighs, deliberately skipping the one place I wanted him to touch. I arched my back, trying to get his fingers where I wanted them.

  “I'll get there,” he chastised me, and gave me a feather light spank on one cheek, causing me to shudder in delight. He did a similar one on the other cheek, and started alternating rubbing circles and doing light spanks. “You doing good?”

  I nodded vigorously and wiggled my hips against him, making sure he was enjoying himself as well. From the feel of things, he sure was. He increased the severity of the swats from barely being there to being a slight sting, and I moaned and arched my back, giving him a better target. He took the hint and dived his fingers into my warm folds, now alternating between stroking me and spanking me.

  My hips were confused; they wanted to grind against his leg, and yet they also wanted to lift to meet his hand. Eddie solved my dilemma by moving me onto the bed, separating my legs, and entering me in one hard thrust. I screamed as I orgasmed, wrapping my arms around him so he wouldn't move. When the tremors stopped, he started moving in me slowly. I had no strength to hold him, and flopped my arms back on the bed and grabbed hold of the covers for round two.

  Eddie leaned on his elbows, his fingers running through my hair. He lowered his mouth onto mine, and I eagerly accepted his tongue into my mouth as I accepted him into my depths. Suddenly I sucked on his tongue, and he gasped as he came deep inside me. He collapsed on his side, and rolled over so I was on top.

  “Wow, that was... wonderful,” I breathed. He ran his hands down my back and caressed my warmed bottom.

  “Yeah?”

  “Oh yeah. I'd thank you, but I don't have the energy yet.”

  Eddie massaged gently. “Did I hurt you?”

  “Not in the least,” I assured him. “You give me a harder spank over jeans in public.” His fingers wandered further below. “Mmmm. This was... sensual. Erotic.” I kissed him, his fingers having lit a fire of renewed energy. “Very erotic.”

  I slid my body down his, and introduced a certain part of his anatomy to my warm, wet mouth. He was shouting his pleasure not too long after that.

  We climbed under the covers and cuddled for a while, snoozing and chatting. “Was it as good for you as it was for me?” I finally asked him, pretty sure I knew the answer.

  “Oh yeah, babe. You're not sore?” He threw back the sheets to see if I was still pink.

  “Hey! It's cold in here,” I protested, pulling them back up after he had done his inspection. “And you're never going to believe I'm fine, are you?”

  “Nope.” His eyes crinkled with his grin, and he gave me a quick kiss. “You're fine, by the way.”

  “Told you so. I didn't even feel it five minutes later.”

  “Five minutes later you were otherwise engaged.”

  I whapped him on his butt. “You know what I mean. Shall we head home?”

  Chapter Eleven

  The rest of our visit with Eddie's family went smoothly, giving me a taste of what a real family was like. The difference between my parents and his was sobering, and did make me question visiting mine again anytime soon.

  I was eager, however, to visit the past again. We gave “traveling” a day off to cover our two trips in one day, but traveled as soon as we awoke the following day.

  Arriving in Elizabethan times in our own house was sooo much nicer, and less stressful, than aiming for a dark alley. At a minimum, I knew I would be landing on Persian rugs (from Persia itself, no less) and not chamber pot contents. We were able to keep our “historical” clothing in the cottage, and could travel back in our normal clothing. That made life a ton easier.

  Eddie unlocked the cottage door and opened it a crack so we could see when Henry walked by. It was typical English weather outside – fog settled around the buildings, giving them a blurred, soft focus. It looked like the street scene paintings I had seen in museums. This was the England I had envisioned.

  Ten minutes later Henry strolled by on his way to work. We waited for him to pass us, then left and locked the door behind us. The drizzle immediately coated us with a fine layer of moistness, and I could feel my hair already starting to curl in the humidity.

  The fog made us follow Henry closer than usual, and we bumped and jostled our way through the crowded street. As we crossed Cheapside, the moment we had been waiting for happened.

  It was over in a millisecond.

  Henry was like the rest of us, slipping in the mud on the street. His feet slid, and

  combined with the person next to him stumbling into Henry, Henry was poised to fall head first

  directly in front of a horse drawn carriage.

  Eddie shot out an arm to grab Henry by the elbow, pulling him back and helping Henry regain his balance. The large hooves of the passing horses reminded me of Clydesdale's feet, and I could instantly see how Henry's head would have been crushed under the horse's weight if we hadn't been there.

  I took Henry's other arm, and Eddie and I walked the shaking man into a nearby tavern, and sat him down at a table. Henry ran his hands through his hair, and stared at them, fascinated by their visible tremor.

  “I...I could have died.” I bit my tongue, not saying that he was supposed to have died. “You saved my life.”

  Eddie clapped a hand on Henry's shoulder. “Happy to help, mate.” He gestured the barmaid over, and asked for ale for himself and Henry, and wine for me after inquiring. I didn't mind modern beer, but had no idea what the stuff back here was like. Wine seemed like a safe(r) option, even if it was way too early in the day for me to normally consider drinking.

  Henry chugged two pints of ale before I got up the guts to try my wine. I blinked in surprise after the first sip – it was a decent burgundy. I'd gotten worse wine in Dallas.

  For as quick as the near-death experience was, Henry dwelled on it. He claimed his life passed before his eyes, twice. I wondered if that was more a testament to his life than to the severity. Yes, I knew he was supposed to die, and I wasn't trying to discount that. But when you think about it, life was full of close calls.

  After several hours and way to much ale, Henry had decided to go back home to his father's village. We walked him back to his house (mainly because there was no way he could walk under his own power), went to our cottage, and returned home.

  After talking about it, and talking about it, and talking some more, Eddie and I decided that I would quit in person. Because it was my safety I was concerned with, I wasn't giving two
weeks notice. Eddie checked with his lawyer, and Texas was a right-to-work state – it wasn't required for me to give two weeks notice. I felt bad about not, but Eddie wasn't so nice about pointing out that they didn't deserve it.

  “Quite frankly,” he said as we were going up in the elevator Friday morning, “if I knew then what I know now, I wouldn't have given my recommendation on the technical end.”

  “Nothing you know now would change anything,” I insisted for the hundredth time. “You have insider information. If you go with what's on paper, everything is fine.”

  “And my due diligence includes talking to everyone. If I had asked the right questions, it would have come up.”

  “And I don't think it would have. You would have passed us, and even if you didn't give a glowing review, Kinerian hasn't shown a propensity for listening to you, anyway.”

  He scowled. “Which also doesn't please me.”

  “Hey, I got my money, and we're done.” I raised up on my tiptoes to kiss him on his cheek. “We talk to Joseph and clean out my desk, and I never have to come back here. Ever.”

  “Let's get this over with,” Eddie sighed, and followed me onto their floor.

  Joseph was surprised to see Eddie with me. “I thought once the buyout was finalized, you wouldn't be here any more?”

  “I'm not here as a consultant today, sir, I'm here as protector.”

  “Husband?”

  “Oh.” Joseph sat back in his chair. “Who do you need to be protecting? Alan is in jail. They set bond at some high amount – two hundred grand, or something. He's not going anywhere.”

  Eddie reached a hand out to me, and I gladly took it. This was why I wanted him there – I knew Joseph was going to try to strong-arm me.

  “Joseph, with all due respect, it's been a rough term working here. The stuff with Alan was just the last straw. I can't do it anymore. I don't feel safe here.”

  “Are you accusing me of having an unsafe work environment? We've made several accommodations for you recently. We've fired Alan. We gave you an enormous raise, and a sizable compensation for wage disparity. You just received a fair amount from stock options yesterday. What are you trying to get now?”

  “Just my leave, sir, that's all. I quit, effective immediately. I will take my personal belongings with me. I do not want anyone at the company contacting me. I will ensure that Human Resources has my lawyer's information – any and all contact to me needs to be routed through him. I will not take the chance that Alan will use someone else here to get my information.”

  Joseph was red-faced with the accusation. “If you have grounds for that--”

  “If I did, I'd be suing you. As it is, I'm not. I'm sorry for not being able to give two weeks notice. Under normal circumstances, I would. But I simply don't feel safe here, and nothing you can say will convince me otherwise.” I rose, and Eddie followed suit. “Up until recently, it has been fun working here. Thank you for all the opportunities you have given me.”

  Wes left the office without another word, and Joseph didn't say anything back.

  I gripped Eddie's hand tightly as we walked to my office. “Steady, we're almost out of here. Just a little bit longer. Once we leave, then you can lose it, okay?”

  I didn't look at him, knowing I'd break down then if I did. My few photos and books were easily slid into the bag Eddie had brought, and I tied the sweatshirt I had stolen from Eddie around my waist.

  “Heh, good thing I didn't store personal information on my computer. It's the FBI's, now.”

  “Anything else, then?”

  I looked around, sad to see a lack of anything personal in the office. This never really was home. I had never personalized it. That, more than anything, told me volumes about what I really felt about the job over the years.

  “Nope. Let's go home. To New York.”

  It was right at lunchtime, and the elevator was crowded with employees going on break. I looked at them, and realized that other than Dylan and Matt, there wasn't even anyone I wanted to say goodbye to. Dylan was home on bed rest, and I said goodbye to her on the phone the night before. Matt I hadn't seen, so I didn't know if I would get a chance to say goodbye.

  I paused outside the building, glad it was the last time I'd have to be there.

  I turned to ask Eddie where he wanted to go for lunch when a shout rang out.

  “He's got a gun!”

  I looked around the parking lot, and met the angry, insane gaze of Alan. Time crawled as I realized that he held a handgun, and was slowly raising it to eye level. Now I knew how Henry had felt. I felt the impact of Eddie pushing me to the ground at the same time I heard the gun go off, and turned to see crimson appearing on my husband's shirt as he crumpled to the ground on top of me.

  "Eddie!" I screamed, and pressed my hands over his shoulder. Alan was striding over towards us, gun still out. I grabbed Eddie's hand in my bloody hands, and made him grab the ring. "Our house in London. Come on baby, please," I begged, and together we slid the ring on and slid back in time.

  "I'm okay, Schroeder, calm down."

  "No you're not," I sobbed, watching the blood pool on the Persian rug. "He shot you. Oh God, oh God, oh God. He shot you, oh my God."

  "It doesn't hurt, I'm okay." He tried to sit up, but I pushed him back down with me hands on the wound.

  "You've been shot. Oh damn. Fuck. Shit. And now we're back with crappy medicine. Oh my God." I started to hyperventilate, and looked down at my husband's face. My husband's face, that was infinitely more calm than mine. Oh God, and he's the one that's been shot. Control yourself, Schroeder, I ordered myself. Get it together. You're the closest thing he has to a real doctor. "Oh God," I moaned.

  I took some deep breaths, trying to calm my breathing. "Okay. Okay. Um, we should move you to the bed. I'm sorry, but you're heavy -- I'm going to need you to help. No! Go slow, damn it." He hauled himself up to his feet without my aid, but fell heavily on the mattress. I shoved his feet up and onto the bed. "Um, bandages. We have clean cloth. Somewhere. Stay there," I ordered him, pointing a shaking, bloody finger at him.

  Blood smeared on all the cabinets in the room as I frantically searched for the stack of cloth I knew was here somewhere. I finally found them buried in a drawer, and brought the clean fabric over. I folded the cloth up, and pressed it against the entry and exit wounds. "Can you hold it here, baby? Eddie? I need to get stuff. Water, disinfectant, oh God, I don't know what else."

  Eddie grabbed my chin carefully. "Calm down. It's going to be okay. You have to stay calm, do you hear me? If you freak out, you're going to make me freak out, and that's the last thing I need to do right now, understand?"

  I nodded my understanding, tears flowing. "I'm sorry. It's just -- oh God, he shot you. Okay, deep breaths."

  I wiped my hands off on one of the cloths, and focused my brain by running around the house. Water was on to boil on the hearth, and the iodine I'd brought back in the travel pack were located. I dragged a small table to the bed and laid out everything I thought I would need. The water was boiling when I got everything else together, and I gingerly carried it over to the table.

  The adrenaline was wearing off of Eddie by this time, and he was starting to look pale and piqued. A knife from the kitchen sliced through his shirt easily, making it so that he wouldn't have to move to take the shirt off. I dumped some of the water into a pitcher and wet a cloth, and mopped the blood up around his wound so I could see it.

  It wasn't as bad as I had thought earlier. The bullet had gone cleanly through the fleshy part of his shoulder above the armpit, and he could squeeze my hand, albeit weakly, with his right arm. Good, no nerve damage, I thought.

  "What do I do with all this water?" I wondered out loud, and Eddie chuckled, then winced in pain. "Seriously," I ranted to keep him occupied, "everyone always says in the movies, 'bring me boiling water'. But you never see them actually use the boiling water. It's a dilemma, I tell you."

  I poured a large goblet of wine. "Eddie, I'm g
oing to sit you up a bit, okay? You need to drink this. I don't have any painkillers, so drunk is as good as you're going to get." He nodded, and I crawled onto the bed behind him, and hauled him up to lean against me.

  After he drank three glasses full, he waved off a fourth. "Enough. If I drink any more right now, I'll throw up. I still might do that anyway."

  Worried, I made sure I grabbed an extra basin before I continued. The iodine had disappated in a small amount of water by this time, and I made sure that I rubbed it all over my hands before doing the same to the entry and exit holes.

  What other options did I have, I wondered. Since I knew we could only stay until the evening, it wasn't like I could sew him up – I'd still want him to go to the hospital once we got back to the future. Sterilizing and pressure, I realized, and just stop the bleeding. Anything else would be suspicious. I tried to ignore his grunts, and just kept pressure on the wounds until the bleeding eventually stopped.

  "Okay, babe, we're done," I whispered, in case he had fallen asleep. Or passed out. Probably closer to the later, I thought. It took a few tries, but I figured out a good way to wrap bandages around him so they stayed on. After much grunting (mine, not his) I got him undressed and under the covers. I kissed his furrowed brow, wrinkled in pain.

  Eddie finally all seen to, I bustled around the cottage cleaning up the mess. As much as I wanted to wash the blood off of me, I paused. When we went back, blood would be anticipated to be everywhere. The same concepts that kept me from stitching the bullet hole up dictated that I keep Eddie's shirt, and that I don't change out of my bloody clothes. We didn't need anyone asking questions that we wouldn't want to answer.

  But what do I – we – do now? Great, I got us to the past so that he can heal. Would it all be in vain? Would we come back to modern time only to have Alan kill us with the next shot(s)?

  Alan wouldn't be expecting Eddie to have had some time to recuperate, though. He'd known that he hit Eddie; I had seen the smug smirk before we traveled. If Alex anticipates Eddie being down for the count, maybe Eddie could surprise him by immediately regaining his feet and rushing Alan? I didn't remember if anyone else was nearby that would also serve as a distraction for Alan. As nice as it would be if the FBI was there, we had to get ourselves out of this situation.