Temporally Yours
The Key
Richard Savage
0-9802246-1-6

Erotic Paranormal Romance
144 paperback pages
Multi-format ebook $3.99
Paperback $10.95
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Chapter One
Time on my Hands

The air was filled with the pungent aroma of coffee and Danish pastries. Smells of cooking wafted from the kitchen. Waitresses bustled, taking and delivering orders and there was a general buzz in the background as people discussed the minutia of their daily lives.

Patrick closed the case of his gold pocket watch with a satisfying click. 11:37 AM. He stroked the inlayed and engraved watchcase, enjoying the tactile feel, before slipping it into his vest pocket.

Absorbed, Patrick was oblivious to the room’s distractions.
He sat, warming his hands on the mug, staring into his coffee noir, contemplating time, seeing the world over the cup’s white rim. Time was the thing, there was never enough of it, or at least that used to be the case.

To be in control of time, was to be the master of your own destiny. All those wasted hours, ticking away, gone forever, like grains of sand lost on a beach. But what if you could stop time and live in the gaps, he wondered.

It was a fantasy for a man waiting. Time. If he had a wish, it would be to spend more time with Susan. He was haunted by a reoccurring daydream of Susan being a part of his every day life.

A noise distracted him and for a moment, he looked around the café. His eyes were drawn to the source of the noise, a red-faced waitress, frantically apologizing to customers, amidst a pile of mangled food and broken crockery. The room was caught up in the drama for a moment, and then it returned to its low rumble of chatter. For a moment, he listened to the overlapping waves of conversation. Other people’s lives had always fascinated him.

There was something of the voyeur in him, picking at the threads as people chatted, in the vague hope of a juicy tid-bit. Although years had ticked by the topics of the conversation had not changed, who was sleeping with whom, the price of food, and the scandalous behavior of whatever administration was currently in the White House. The Café itself was timeless. It still had all the hallmarks of the 1980’s. Patrick had first sat here when it was new and besides looking a little tatty, nothing much had changed. He found he liked the continuity.

His finger idly played with some spilled sugar on the table and the individual snippets of conversation returned to a background drone, freeing his mind to drift back to his coffee and time.

He remembered books he had read and films he had seen. There was a scene from a science fiction film regarding the nature of time, and a conversation, his mind struggled to recall.

“They say time is a beast that stalks us all our lives,” Dr. Soren had said in the film.

“I prefer to think of time as a friend that accompanies us along our journey” Picard had responded.

He had sat on both sides of that fence. For so many years of his life, he had thought of time as the enemy and now time was just a thing that was there. It was just a factor, like the weather, always there. No longer the demon it once was.

He took the watch from his pocket, the gold chain dangled from the round ring on the winding stem. Patrick pressed the knurled winding button and the case sprung open 11:59 AM. His heart raced as the bell on the café door rang. He looked up from the watch as Susan entered.

He closed the watch and returned it to its pocket. He could see her eyes searching for him and he caught her gaze. They both smiled. The connection made, they didn’t break eye contact as he rose to greet her.

She looked smart, yet he could see she had come straight from work, by the wrinkle lines in her dark skirt. There was that worn all day look about her clothes, but they were smart nonetheless.

He had missed her and joy filled his heart, as she picked her way to his table. He moved into the gap between the closely spaced tables, trying to avoid the clutter of handbags and general shopping debris, and held his arms out to greet her. He could see his smile mirrored on her face as they melted into each other’s arms.

He loved the feel of her soft lips as they grazed lightly against his. Her lips parted slightly, surrendering to the tip of his penetrating tongue. He was aware of his penis stirring, like some caged animal, in its dark confined space. He suspected too that people were beginning to notice them.

The kiss deepened and he ran his hand across Susan’s pert bottom, and gave her tender cheek a squeeze. He wanted her here and now, yet for the sake of decency he knew he would have to break soon.
Still locked in a hug, Patrick reluctantly broke the kiss. It had lasted a matter of seconds but it had felt a lifetime. Slowly he became aware that the chatter had stopped and to his amusement he discovered that they were indeed, attracting a substantial amount of attention from the cafés other occupants.

With a last squeeze of her ass, he smiled and said, “God I have missed you.” He kissed her again, holding her against him. Though it had been only days, it felt an age since they had been together.
He lingered with the kiss letting his lips slip to her slender neck, as he drank in her floral fragrance. She always smelled good even after a day at work. He felt her hair on his cheek. It was long and loose, soft and shiny, falling in soft shimmering waves that framed her face. He could not help himself, his hand rose to feel the silken strands, fine as gossamer. His nose touched her hair and his nostrils detected a little of the hair spray, that had recently been combed out.

Usually when they met, with Susan coming straight from work, her hair was still in the airline regulation tight bun. It gave him pleasure to see her hair let loose. The hazel colored tresses curled under slightly giving it a gentle bounce, when she moved.

His eyes wandered down her length. Each time they met it took his breath away how beautiful she was and how lucky he was to call her his. He loved the way she looked in her uniform, strangely sexy. The smartly tailored dark blue jacket molded to the line of her breast and the matching skirt clung pleasingly to her hips. Both bore little creases, showing all the signs of a hard day’s work and that too was erotic, the lines of the distressed fabric, showing her body’s movement. He found it a huge turn on that she had come straight from work. Her urgency to see him echoed his and made him stiffen.

His erection was beginning to make its own demands. Her smile was pure lust. The glint in her eye, as she looked deeply into his gaze told him of the passion that burnt within her and the flush on her cheek and neck showed him, beyond doubt, that she was as needy as he was.

In his mind’s eye he pictured her naked, in his arms, as they lay together on a bed with crisp white sheets, basking in the afterglow of their spent passion. His erection moved uncomfortably. He struggled with the urge to straighten it, but this was far too public a place. He squeezed her bottom.

A clatter of cutlery and the slowing chatter of the other diners sank into Patrick’s consciousness, reminding him of how public they still were. In truth he was so focused on Susan he didn’t really give a shit how public they were, his need to have her clouded everything else.

Susan smiled and said, “I have been counting down the seconds.” She beamed and reciprocated his action, her fingers feeling his buttocks beneath the soft material of his suit pants. She stroked the rounded contour of his bottom. She loved the feel of his tight muscular ass. She felt herself moisten, in anticipation of the fun and games that were yet to come.

She tightened her grip. “I thought I would never get here, it has taken forever.” She could tell by the look on his face and the bulge pressing against her, that he was as hungry as she was. “The taxi took forever to get here.”

Susan looked deeply into his warm hazel eyes, kissed him and whispered into his lips, “It is wonderful to see you, I have missed you so much.” She pulled him closer and kissed him, inhaling his subtle spicy aromatic aftershave. She loved that scent, loved the way the smell of him lingered on her clothes. The smell of him never failed to make her knees weaken and her panties moisten.

She was very aware of the closeness of his body; the feel of his erection pressed to her was unmistakable. The way he pulled her tightly to him, left her in no doubt of the depth of his desire for her. The flush on her cheek and the ache in her breast made her burn for time alone with the man she knew was the only man in the world for her. The hunger she felt consumed her waking thoughts and prowled her dreams.

They reluctantly broke apart. Patrick characteristically pulled out the chair for her, and caught the waitress’s eye with an equally polite, “Please.”

She had been drawn to Patrick from the first time they had flown on the same plane. He had been a regular passenger when she worked on the Washington to California route.

There had been something magnetic about his personality. An understated power, the way he held himself, so upright so self-assured, that had attracted her to him.

He dressed immaculately; he had always worn a three-piece black suit and had always looked fresh when he’d flown her route. She’d found herself hovering near his seat, waiting for him to press the attendant button and had been a little despondent when he didn’t call. When on the rare occasion he did call there was always a spring in her step. It was instinctual, she had felt from the start that she wanted to be with him, wanted to serve him.

She’d kept looking for signs that he was spoken for, a wedding band, something to shatter her illusion, but she never saw any evidence of a woman in his life.

He was good looking, but she was impressed as much by his manners which were impeccable, always a please and thank you. Always a pleasant smile.

Over the weeks, she had found herself leading up to starting her first non-airline conversation with him. She had felt like she was back at school, with all the little girl butterflies, but she had started the conversation.

It had happened when they had been on a late flight to Washington, on a Wednesday night. The plane was almost empty. She knew his name from the flight manifest, and she had been plucking up the courage to chat with him. “Mr. Ryan, is there anything I can do to make your flight more pleasant?” she had asked.

Their eyes had met and he had smiled. “I am fine thank you, but if you are free, it would be nice to talk. It has been a long day and a little company would be nice.”

She smiled, relieved that he had helped to break the ice. They chatted on and off for the rest of the flight, about everything and nothing. From that conversation, their relationship grew.

They had chatted on other flights, and after awhile had swapped phone numbers and shared meals when they were in the same city. Eventually they shared nights together when they were in the same city.

From the very beginning, she had wondered what it would be like to be with him, what it would be like to he held in his strong arms. She had more than once found herself moistening thinking of those passionate moments. When working away, she spent many nights in lonely hotel rooms. As she laid beneath crisp, white, Egyptian cotton sheets, it was the thoughts of Patrick that lit her fire. It was thoughts of his hands roaming freely over her body, opening her, possessing her, that took her to the edge, while her fingers deftly strummed her sweet pearl of pleasure.

It was those thoughts of Patrick that fuelled her fantasies. Deep dark fantasies, of her tied, while he ravished her defenseless body. Happy sun light fantasies of making love on a warm summer’s afternoon. Regardless of scenario, it was always Patrick, her own personal knight in shining armor that protected her and kept her from harm. It was thoughts of Patrick’s hands on her that fuelled her when her fingers traveled south. As fantasy and physical peaks came together, Patrick took her over the edge.

Her mind played through the fantasies and feelings of being possessed and taken. The dawn of reality brought her back to Patrick’s physical presence, across from her in the café. She loved the feel of his warm palm lightly touching hers as they sat holding hands, their conversation a light soufflé of well-humored chat, as they caught up with each other’s lives.

Her work schedule had changed, creating a longer gap between the times they were together. It had been just two weeks to the day since they had last met, but that two weeks had felt like an eternity. She had hungered for each stolen moment, each phone call, text message, e-mail, anything. She had felt lost and without direction while they were apart.

She had found that she needed him more and more and although the separation made her ache for him, there was a comfort in that ache, because it carried with it, the knowledge that he was right for her. She squeezed his hand and was delighted to feel him give a gentle squeeze back.

Patrick was delighted to have his lady back by his side. The time apart had taken its toll on him. He had found himself listless at meetings and distracted when he should have been focused. He had found himself fighting the urge to phone at inappropriate times. He had taken to restricting their calls to evenings, but oh such passionate evenings. He’d been amazed at the levels of passion that could be achieved through a simple phone line.

It was masturbation, yes, but it was different when two minds were linked in the act. They had explored the sensual world, their thoughts and suggestions escalating their passion. They’d explored themes from bondage and submission, to wispy light quests into the erotic.

It had been as if their two freethinking, willing minds had locked together as one in a kaleidoscope of erotic imagery. He felt himself stiffen further as he recalled their phone calls, but he hoped his hunger did not spill out in his conversation as he asked, “Have the flights been ok?” He felt her squeeze his hand.

Susan heard his words, but the look in his eyes said I want you now! She loved to see him this hungry, it made her feel wanted, desired. She knew he would engage in this polite discourse and she loved him for it, but she also knew him well enough to know the smoldering desire that lay below the controlled exterior.

Her tongue flicked out to moisten her lips and she heard herself say, “The flights were good, mostly on time,” when what she wanted to say was, I am yours for the taking.

He smiled and squeezed her hand, letting his fingers stroke the palm of her hand “That is good, it is a chore when there are delays.”
She had always thought he would make a good actor, as at a glance he appeared cool and relaxed, but her well-trained eye could see the trace of perspiration on his brow, his fingertips fiddled idly with his cufflinks. She loved that twitchy look he had about him, he was like a coiled spring, a cobra about to strike, and she liked him edgy like this.

Her clit tingled and her panties dampened. She felt so desired and this fuelled her own passion. God she wanted him and wanted him now. She wanted him so badly she ached. Her nipples felt caged within the confines of her bra, she wanted the bulge that she knew was straining to get out of Patrick’s pants, buried deep inside her. The tease and denial of their public circumstances, was driving her to distraction. She ached for release. If only she could touch her clit, she knew she would cum on the spot.

She had to get her mind off her carnal desires or she would go crazy from the persistent throb between her legs. She desperately tried to think of something innocuous to say, “How about you? How has your work been?” she asked. She desperately wanted to sound interested, and she was interested, yet her own body’s call distracted her. She squeezed her legs together in an attempt to quiet the throb within her, but that only served to stimulate her more. “I know you said it was not going smoothly.”

Her bottom moved on the chair. She longed to quell the ache between her legs. It would take the merest touch to bring her to climax.
“Did you get the new database up and running eventually? You said you were having problems?” She smiled and stroked his hand. She loved his big strong hands. He could have been a construction worker with hands like that, so big, so powerful, yet soft, smooth and manicured. She longed to feel his hands on her body and craved the moment when he would possess her.

He loved the soft feel of her warm hand stroking his. She was so gentle. He looked into her eyes as he said, “We launched it yesterday, seems to be working well.” His words came as if from another, for his mind was in a different place. The tender feel of her touch took his mind to more earthy places. He felt his penis throb, as he pictured her naked. He cupped his other hand over hers capturing it. His mind took him to tender thoughts of dungeons and chains where his pet would be oh so sweetly punished.

She loved the caged, captured, helpless feeling of his hands confining hers. She moistened, and a myriad of snippets of fantasies dashed through her mind. The slave girl imprisoned in a harem, at her master Patrick’s beck and call, to be used and lovingly abused. The helpless maiden locked up high in an ivory tower, her jailer, Patrick a ruthless potentate. The humble housemaid on her knees serving her master Patrick, or whatever master he saw fit to give her to.

Patrick’s hand was warm and firm, holding her. His hand made her feel so secure. He was the man who caged her heart and soul, and she would give her soul so eagerly.

She felt his weight, as he leaned in conspiratorially and whispered in her ear “Are you wearing them?” She smiled and felt the rush of heat that she knew must be coloring her cheeks. She looked at Patrick. He smiled warmly and squeezed her hand. Susan knew she could not hide her embarrassment. She sat mute, for a moment.

She put a finger to her lips and with a simple shush tried to quiet him. She saw him raise his eyebrows, which she read as him telepathically re-asking the same question.

There was a jug of ice water on the table, she reached out and rested her free hand on the cold condensation on the glass. She felt the stark contrast between the iced jug and the heat of her face. Taking her hand from the water jug she placed it on her face, the affect was soothing. As she felt the flush in her cheeks subside, she began to see the funny side and the feeling of amusement grew. The fact that he should be so playful, as to even whisper this in a public place was kind of funny.

She began to look around, suddenly concer ned. Had anyone heard? She let out a nervous laugh, coughed to compose herself.

She paused and answered, “Yes. Of course I am wearing them.” She felt herself flush again. Her free hand touched the jug of ice water again. She lifted the wonderfully chilled carafe off the table and brought it to her face.

Patrick beamed like a schoolboy. “Excellent, I hoped you would. I am so pleased” He squeezed her hand and asked excitedly, “How do they fit?”

She squeezed his hand back and beckoned with a finger to her lips for him to lower his voice. In hushed tones of her own, she said, “Like a glove.” The intimacy of this conversation made her a little uncomfortable, yet excited. She moved in her seat, aware of the tightness in her body, the ache of her hardening nipples, nipples that felt caged as they rubbed against her bra. She felt an instant throb from between her legs, a pulse, emanating from that tiny hooded pearl and a deep intense hunger. Moistness spread from deep within. She wanted him. Now.

His hands held hers and he whispered, “When did you put them on?” She knew that he wanted to know everything, and her excitement had moved her beyond the point of caring, if they were being overheard or not. Was he as turned on as she was?

She tensed her muscles and was very aware of what she was wearing. Still feeling a little flushed, she snatched a glance around to see if anyone was actually eavesdropping. She was relieved to find they didn’t seem to be. The people around, were all caught up in their own conversations. “Well, I couldn’t fly wearing them.”

“No, of course not.” He paused, leaned across, kissed her cheek, and with a disarming smile spread over his lips said, “But, when?”

She could not help loving his enthusiasm, and the fact he was so energized made her hunger even stronger. The naughtiness of being so public was a big turn on too, yet what she wanted was privacy. She wanted his hand, his mouth, his cock, to sate her lust and the fact they were so exposed made for an exquisite game of tease and denial. She squirmed in her seat and felt her wetness grow.

She wanted so much to please him, to tell him all he wanted to hear. The desire to please was an ache deep within her, an ache she needed to rub. Her mind drifted back to the previous night in her lonely hotel room and the sound of his voice telling her what a good girl she was. She loved the praise, craved his approval. She would gladly give him anything, her body, her soul.

She was aware that she had fallen silent, lost in her daydream. She saw him raise a quizzical eyebrow as he was waiting patiently for her answer. Again, she composed her concentration enough to talk. “In the ladies room just before I got the taxi.” She smiled, again trying to conceal her embarrassment, yet feeling herself blush a deeper pink. This public discussion was exciting, yet she yearned to take this conversation to a private place. Still she knew it was Patrick’s desire to keep this part public. She knew he was enjoying her discomfort and she enjoyed giving him anything he wanted. This public conversation was just one way she would serve him.

She felt a profound urge to serve him, to give him everything he wanted. The way he gave her time, never rushing her, always taking her needs into consideration made her feel loved, nurtured, cherished. She loved Patrick, her master, and she wanted to give him everything, her body, her soul, everything.

Patrick could see desire smoldering in her eyes. He recognized it easily, as looking into her eyes, he saw the reflection of his own lust. He loved the way she looked slightly uncomfortable talking about such private matters in such a public place. He took great pleasure from the fact that he was putting her in a slightly uncomfortable position, taking her outside her comfort zone. He was also hugely turned on by the fact that she had risen to the challenge.

“How do they feel to wear?” His curiosity knew no bounds, but he sensed her discomfort with such an open conversation, even if he had whispered the question. The power it gave him thrilled him. His groin ached. His penis yearned to be set free. He leaned in a little closer to hear her whispered reply.

“They feel very different. Nice, but different.”

He slipped his hand from hers and let it glide beneath the table letting it rest on her thigh. Susan squeezed his hand between her warm thighs and he knew it would not be long before they would have to leave.

“I can’t wait to see, I bet they look phenomenal on you.” He squeezed her thigh again feeling hot flesh beneath sheer nylon. He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek.

Patrick raised his hand to attract the waitress and indicated he wanted her attention. As she came to the table he said, “May I have the check please?”

The girl produced a slip of paper and Patrick fished a bill large enough to cover the check with a handsome tip from his wallet and told the waitress she could keep the change. She smiled, thanked him and moved away into the noise of other patrons.

 “I have a hotel room booked across the block,” Patrick said with another squeeze of Susan’s hot skin.

“Tonight you will serve me totally,” he whispered. He pictured in his mind’s eye a myriad of service that echoed his heart’s desire. There were scenes of loving bondage, tender discipline and scenes of her sweet surrender. These lust-filled thoughts, took his need, his hunger to new heights. He felt the ache of his groin as each moment took him closer to being alone with his love. With each second that ticked by the caged animal became more agitated, straining to be loosed from his pants. A bead of perspiration trickled down his cheek. He thought of the wetness between her legs and how he wanted to dive into her hot moist centre, gorge himself, devour her, take her, with his mouth then with his cock.

Temporally Yours is a four fan read. It is an erotic paranormal romance which includes graphic language and fetish elements.

The Key is a three fan read. It is a contemporary romance short story which includes no fetish content.

Ric Savage weaves together a fantastic tale of power exchange and romance where the lovers are living out their dreams on borrowed time. I am truly delighted by the story and look forward to more by this author. -- Robert Cloud Author Toy's Story: Acquisition of a Sex Toy and The Crimson Z

Ric Savage has once again touched the heart of this reader.  His first published work in "The Crimson Z" brought tears to my eyes and these two works brought smiles to my lips.  The relationship between the Dominant and submissive is explained very well in "Temporally Yours" and if you ever had any questions about those relationships, Ric has answered them here. In "Temporally Yours", Patrick and Susan have found something that most people long for, whatever their particular choice of lifestyles... a lasting and deep love with caring, respect and honor.  Susan and Patrick glow with the love they share.  The added element of the watches created by Zachariah brings another nuance of magic to the love they have found. The erotic exchange of power between these two is electrifying and may lead you to want to find out more! -- Lee Rush Author Bound by Fate and The Crimson Z