Parallel Roads

by Mel Teshco

  He only hoped he was able to use it in this dimension.

  ‘Wait,’ said Tara slowly, her expression thoughtful. ‘When we spoke to your dad, he never mentioned that you killed anyone. I mean, I know he didn’t have a clue who you were, but he would’ve mentioned something the moment we said we knew his son.’

  Jessie’s breath caught, before he blew it out heavily. ‘But he did say my sister is dead.’

  ‘Maybe in this dimension you didn’t act on your feelings for revenge?’

  His belly dropped like a stone as realisation set in. ‘Because I didn’t need to,’ he said numbly, digesting the inescapable truth. ‘Drugs replaced my need for revenge.’

  ‘Jessie, no. I never said—’

  ‘But my father did. I’m a dealer, clearly,’ he said bitterly, ‘and no doubt a user. Chemicals would have ensured I wouldn’t dwell too deeply on the death of my sister.’ He hated his other self, even though on some level he knew it wasn’t him. Not the real him.

  ‘You don’t know that,’ she said quietly.

  ‘No. But it all adds up.’ On some subconscious level he knew what he was capable of becoming, hence the overriding assumption.

  Tara unsnapped her belt. ‘We’re playing a guessing game we might never find the answers to.’

  He sighed. ‘You’re right. One thing I think we’ve learned is that nothing is impossible and nothing is as it seems.’

  She opened her door and then glanced back with a wry smile and a little shrug. ‘Maybe in this dimension you’re an undercover cop, deep in the drug world.’

  He laughed. ‘Maybe I am.’

  They moved to the back of the SUV and Tara asked, ‘I guess we walk to your house, just to be on the safe side?’

  He nodded. ‘Yeah, I guess we do.’ He opened the back of the SUV and unzipped their backpack. Reaching inside, he grabbed a cap, pulled it on his head, then proffered her a hand.

  It could have been a pleasant afternoon stroll in an upmarket city suburb. The refreshing sea breezes, the leafy trees and expansive lawns with immaculate gardens, the beautiful big houses with their overpriced views. Except none of it seemed welcoming to Jessie anymore.

  They traversed the driveway to his once house. When he stilled at the front door, he realised he’d never felt more like a stranger at his own home. ‘I’m almost too afraid to press the doorbell,’ he admitted.

  ‘Then let me,’ she said.

  A short time later, the door swung open. A middle-aged woman with a glass of red wine in one hand and a cigarette in the other stared blearily at them through her bloodshot eyes. Despite her sallow skin and bare feet sticking out from beneath a sparkling gown that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a ballroom, Jessie could tell she had once been a beautiful woman.

  She glowered, taking a deep toke on her cigarette before rasping, ‘Yeah? What do you want?’

  Jessed attempted a conciliatory smile. ‘We were told Jessie McCormick might live here?’

  The woman squinted, blew out a stream of smoke, before focusing on him. Her eyes widened before she glowered and spat, ‘You’re Jessie! Don’t go trying to trick me, you piece of shit. I’ve already said you’re not having this house. And no offer of drugs or money will get you it!’

  Jessie’s mind whirled. Though he didn’t own this house in this dimension, he was evidently drawn to it, was perhaps compelled to own it? Was every one of his other selves induced somehow to have whatever he had in his own dimension?

  Even if that meant using drugs as coercion?

  The woman drew herself up to her full, impressive height. And Jessie wondered if she’d been a model before the telltale signs of substance abuse had taken its toll. ‘Get off my property before I call the police.’

  Tara put up a placating hand and said quietly, ‘We were leaving anyway.’

  As Jessie walked back up the driveway with Tara, he murmured, ‘I’m a real catch in this world, aren’t I?’

  ‘It sounds to me like you were a caring brother who turned to substance abuse to cope. Besides, I doubt anyone is a model citizen in every dimension.’

  ‘It doesn’t take away from the fact I’m a drug-pushing criminal,’ he said wearily.

  Tara stopped and turned to him. ‘My point is that the Jessie I know here and now is a man with a conscience and a heart.’

  His chest all but swelled and his smile broke through whatever reservations he’d had. ‘Thank you for believing in me.’

  Her smile was tender. ‘Thank you for saving me.’

  The drive back to Mirraway seemed like a dream, where time had no real meaning. It was as if the long road trip took no time at all and yet unravelled before him as though something infinite.

  He’d gotten in a few hours of daylight driving before the night took over once again. He swiped his gritty eyes, thankful he’d slept so deeply while Tara had driven earlier.

  He glanced at her shadowed profile, a smile on his face. It was her turn to sleep most of the way. His jacket was tucked beneath her head and her pretty face looked soft and seemingly carefree.

  He blew out a slow breath. She’d said he’d saved her. But what he’d really done was bring a whole lot of stress into her life, even if she did appear happy to be out of the monotony that had seen her struggling to stay afloat. But at least she’d had stability, a permanent roof over her head.

  He snuck another glance at her lovely form, resisting a sudden need to wake her and tell her how much he adored her. Somehow, someway, when all this was behind them he’d make it up to her.

  Even if it took the rest of his life.

  The dark sky was a glittering blanket of stars and a quarter moon when Tara woke just minutes before Mirraway. It was as though on some subconscious level she knew they were back in her hometown.

  She yawned widely, before pressing a hand to her mouth. ‘Nearly home already.’ She turned to him with her gorgeous smile. ‘That trip went quick.’

  He nodded. ‘Yeah, it’s not so bad in the passenger seat.’

  Unless your sleep is plagued with nightmares.

  Tara sat up in her seat, just in time to see a sheep carcass with its four legs stuck upwards in an undignified manner flash past under the glare of headlights. She shook her head. ‘I swear this drought is in every dimension and it’s never going to end.’

  He flicked a look into the rear-view mirror, relieved somehow at not seeing a one-eyed crow swooping down to the carcass. ‘Nothing ever stays the same,’ he murmured. ‘We’ve seen proof of that.’

  She sighed. ‘Too true.’

  It was becoming routine to park the SUV, grab their gear and head inside Tara’s restaurant and residence before relocking the door. Then, in mutual agreement, go upstairs guided by their trusty flashlight, flick on a dull lamp or light a candle, drop their flashlight and luggage to the floor before they stripped off their clothes and headed to the ensuite’s shower.

  Jessie eyeballed Tara’s gorgeous, voluptuous body. She wasn’t modern chic, her body wasn’t angular and thin. She was a siren of old. Beautiful full breasts, a rounded stomach and cute little navel, her legs long and strong. With her blonde hair falling loose and skimming down her back, she was nothing short of a goddess.

  He withheld a groan as his blood poured south and everything in that vicinity became a throbbing ache. Not even the shadows, where the lamp barely penetrated the dark, could hide his arousal.

  Tara turned the taps. When the showerhead cascaded with steamy water, she glanced back at him, putting a hand to her mouth to smother a giggle at his aroused condition.

  He grinned, stepping into the shower with her and grabbing a washcloth before lathering it with a bar of soap. ‘See what you do to me?’ he asked throatily.

  ‘Can’t say I’m not pleased,’ she waggled her eyebrows, ‘big boy.’

  He arched a brow at her silly teasing, enjoying this other side to her. ‘Glad you approve.’ Then he took the washcloth and trailed it across her rib cage, before sliding it low over h
er belly, close to the heat between her thighs.

  She sucked in a breath. But he didn’t venture lower. Instead he lifted the cloth and massaged first one of her hardening breasts and then the other, until she was panting and restless and her nipples were sharp little points begging to be sucked.

  He resisted using his mouth. He wanted to draw out this simple pleasure first, before worshipping her in every other way.

  He drew the washcloth up over her shoulders, barely seeing the bubbles smearing her skin all the way to her nape, and then down her spine to the rounded globes of her buttocks. She moaned when he crouched and continued to wash past her calf muscles and to her feet, taking extra care with her toes.

  ‘My turn,’ she breathed.

  He straightened slowly, his stare connecting to hers in the shadows even when he surrendered the washcloth. Giving her control so early wasn’t what he’d planned, but who was he to argue?

  Tara swiped the cloth across his shoulders and worked her way downwards, her touch a soft glide across his peaked nipples and his hardening pecs. Damn it. Everything about him was hard while she was all silky soft femininity.

  In the gloom he thought he saw her lick her lips, but she didn’t touch him with open-mouthed kisses, which he suddenly craved. She withheld in just the same way he had, making him all but writhe with need.

  Then she was on her knees, the washcloth dropping to the wet tiles. His cock jerked as she looked up at him with a hungry little stare. Next thing he knew, her hot, moist mouth was sinking over his shaft, pulling him in until his cock head was at the back of her throat and she was slowly retreating, her tongue flicking and licking all the way.

  His head fell back, his lungs tight. Sweet heaven above, her mouth was going to do him in. His legs kicked wide when she set up a rhythm that had his balls tighten inexorably and his cock straining.

  ‘Fuck,’ he uttered inanely. His head rocked back into position so that he could watch the shadowy bobbing of her head and swinging breasts, though even that faint visual pushed him right over the edge and beyond.

  He lasted no longer than a few minutes before he groaned thickly and his seed jetted into her mouth. She took his all, sucking him dry until he had nothing more to give.

  Nothing but his heart. His soul.

  His chest rose and fell as he dragged in oxygen while he floated down from nirvana. Jesus, he’d never had it so good.

  ‘Sweet Tara,’ he said, holding out a hand before he drew her back onto her feet. Shutting off the water pressure, he lifted her against his chest and stepped out of the shower, both of them sopping wet.

  ‘Where are you taking me?’ she squeaked, her voice somewhere between alarmed and aroused.

  He kicked open her bedroom door and dropped her onto the end of the bed, glad the lamplight breached her room better than it had the ensuite bathroom. ‘Somewhere I can take my time with you,’ he said huskily.

  Her mouth dropped open as he raised her nearest wet leg and, starting from her toes, began the slow process of drying her off with his tongue. Her eyes closed as she surrendered to his attention. He tugged her leg wide and licked at her instep. The movement pulled apart her pussy and displayed its glistening pink flesh.

  A rumble built in his chest. Jesus. He could hardly wait to sample her sweet little cunt. But patience was a virtue and he took his time in tormenting her, trailing his tongue over her calf muscle and then the underside of her knee.

  Her breath hissed at the hypersensitive spot, her eyelids fluttering open.

  ‘Nice?’ he asked her hoarsely.

  ‘If you don’t fuck me or eat me soon, I’m going to scream.’

  Her stark honesty had his dick thicken and stir as if trained. ‘Whatever Tara wants,’ his tongue slid all the way down her thigh before he used deft fingers to peel her outer labia further apart, ‘Tara gets,’ he finished hoarsely.

  ***

  Much later, Tara dressed in briefs and a t-shirt, Jessie in nothing but boxers, they found themselves sharing her couch and half-heartedly watching the morning news. He was sprawled out, taking up most of the space, while Tara lay between his legs, her head on his chest.

  ‘I’ve been thinking,’ she said out of the blue, ‘that while hours pass in the dimension we’re in, perhaps the same can’t be said for another dimension.’

  ‘You think we go into a new dimension at a set time?’ he asked, the very idea sending his mind into a spin. ‘What makes you think that?’

  She shrugged, talking slowly, as if choosing her words carefully. ‘We’re nearly always in the rooftop when we hear the voice that yells out “hello”. Seems odd it happens about the same time, every time?’

  When he’d first discovered the house he’d heard the ‘hello’ much earlier. Except he hadn’t immediately gone inside and up the ladder, he’d hung around trying to work out what to do. ‘I think you might be right.’ And if that were true, no hurrying in this dimension was going to make up time in the next.

  ‘And maybe that’s why there isn’t more than one of us in a dimension at the same time? I know it sounds silly, but my gut instinct is telling me I’m right.’ She tilted her head back to look up at him, her eyes worried. ‘But what if I’m wrong? What if we’re even now wasting time?’

  ‘Then I’m as much to blame as anyone. But to be honest, lying on the couch and just enjoying doing nothing for a while doesn’t seem like a bad thing right now. We both need a bit of time out.’

  It would be too easy to charge into the next dimension with too little sleep and too much adrenaline. He didn’t want to see the inside of a prison. He didn’t want to fuck things up any more than he already had. He wanted to save his sister. And he wanted to stay with Tara.

  She nodded. ‘Yes, that’s true.’

  He leaned down and kissed her upside-down mouth, enjoying the way his mouth fit so perfectly over hers, the way her lips opened beneath his in welcome. Even if just for a few hours, he needed this. Needed Tara.

  She pulled away to stare at the television screen. ‘Who is that?’

  He tore his stare away from her and focused on the images as Tara snared the remote and turned up the volume.

  A grainy photo of a young, newly elected overseas president flashed on screen, followed by the visuals of rioting and gunfire. A seasoned newsreader quoted from the wet-behind-the-ears president.

  President O’Sheandha says he isn’t going to back down. He has all the nuclear and chemical weapons he needs at his disposal and will use them in any way he sees fit to protect his people from the Western world.

  Tara clicked the television off, visibly shaken. ‘That didn’t look like happening in my dimension.’

  He let out a slow breath. ‘Or mine.’

  Tara jumped up, her nimble fingers flicking through an array of DVD’s in her television cabinet. ‘I think a comedy movie is in order.’

  He raked a hand through his hair, all relaxation and enjoyment dissolving at the bleak news. But he went along with her forced enthusiasm anyway, if for no other reason but to soothe her anxiety. ‘Sounds like a great idea.’

  But it wasn’t the movie that had him eventually relax once again. It was the press of Tara’s body against his, her curves filling his every nook, her skin soft and her hair giving off its faint flowery scent.

  It was only when he began to doze that he realised neither of them had bothered about an early breakfast. Guess some things in life really were more important than food …

  Jessie woke to midafternoon sunlight streaming through the net curtains of the lounge window and Tara’s curves pressed against his body. She must have switched the television off, because nothing disturbed the peace other than the cawing of a crow.

  He woke fully, goosebumps springing to life all over his body. He carefully disentangled himself from Tara, needing to see for himself that the crow wasn’t the one he’d seen at the old house.

  Pushing aside the filmy curtains, he peered outside. No crow that he could see, even the disti
nctive ‘caw’ had stopped. But other movement caught his eye. Harrison was sitting on the steps of his hotel, a beer bottle in hand and a woman close by his side and all but hidden by Harrison’s bulk.

  Jessie squinted, trying to make the woman out. But all he could see was one familiar-coloured shiny length of blonde hair shimmering under the sun.

  His heart stopped and all breath left his lungs. Holy shit. It wasn’t … Tara, was it?

  ‘Jessie?’

  He turned around at his name. Tara was sitting up and rubbing at her eyes. ‘We slept in?’ she asked groggily.

  He nodded. ‘Yeah.’

  She got to her feet. ‘I’m going to check the time.’ She disappeared into the bedroom to view her alarm clock, then reappeared seconds later, her eyes wide. ‘It’s three-thirty. We slept half the day away.’

  He automatically flicked a look at his own watch, unsurprised to see it still not working. He should toss the wretched thing in the garbage where it belonged, but it’d been his first real gift to himself when he’d become a success. It was also the one thing that connected him to his own dimension.

  He drew in a steadying breath. ‘It’s been a hectic few days. We needed to catch up on our sleep.’

  She bit into her bottom lip. ‘I’m putting the kettle on. Is instant coffee okay this once?’

  ‘Yes. Sure. Thanks.’ He was already drawn to look back out the window. At the now empty set of steps at Harrison’s hotel.

  Perhaps a minute later, Tara asked, ‘Jessie. What’s wrong?’

  His chest tightened even before he turned to face her. Thankfully she was preoccupied a little with making their coffee. He rubbed the back of his neck. ‘I’m not sure,’ he admitted. ‘I’m really not.’

  She paused, a frown marring her brow and the milk carton held midair. ‘Tell me, Jessie. We’re in this thing together, remember?’

  ‘You’re right.’ He stepped towards her and cleared his throat. ‘The first time I went off the highway and onto the track leading to the … house.’

  ‘Yes?’ she prompted.