Another lightning flash suddenly illuminated the lift. It didn’t worry him. On the contrary, the fact that he was so warm and safe in such unusual circumstances was pleasant and fascinating. His luxury seemed obscene, and not a little erotic. He guessed that Alice felt similarly, because he could tell that her breathing had quickened a little. His arm was still around her waist, and he remembered that when he had moved to kiss her a few moments previously, she hadn’t looked like she was going to shy away. A kiss, then, might be on offer. And with reasonable time to spare before rescue, he wondered whether he might try for slightly more. “You don’t mind, eh?”, he said, squeezing her a little. “Are you sure? I mean, Peter Gabriel doesn’t hang around parties for long. Well, so I hear.” She flushed, and the flush was lovely. “Don’t tease”, she said defensively. “I just thought it would be nice to meet him. It’s not a big issue for me.” Dominic grinned. “Meet him?”, he teased. “You’re sure that’s all? Just meet him?” “The implication being?”, she probed irritably. “Oh, I don’t know”, he said. “A bit of do it yourself kiss and tell, maybe. You do work for a TV station after all.” “It’s not that sort of TV station”, she replied coolly, then, clearly relaxing in the light of his grin, added, “but I suppose I could talk them into covering a few human frailty stories if they happened to drop in my lap. Now you know a lot of celebrities, don’t you, Dominic? Got any juicy gossip for me.” Dominic pretended to consider. “Me and Julia Roberts”, he suggested after a pause. “Anything there for you?” Now she showed genuine interest. “Really?” “No, I’m not that lucky”, he admitted. “Too hot for me.” She wrinkled her nose. “Why lucky? Famous doesn’t necessarily mean good between the sheets. The few kiss and tells I have reported were all a bit tacky.” “Well, tacky or not”, he said, “I’m afraid I can’t add to your collection.” She leaned closer into him, still looking out at the night. “Could be a hot story here, though”, she suggested. “Not tacky at all. Passion at however many feet. The powerful architect and the oh so glamorous journalist. I don’t suppose we’d qualify for the mile high club, but the company would be pretty select anyway, I’d bet.” He raised an eyebrow. “If I thought you were serious”, he said, “I wouldn’t hesitate. To paraphrase somebody or other, I’d join any club that’d have you as a member.” “And why wouldn’t I be serious?”, she asked, and he could have sworn that there was a thickness in her voice. “Why would you be?”, he returned. “I mean, a couple of nights ago, you seemed very cool.” “That was a couple of nights ago”, she said. “And we weren’t, as I recall, hundreds of feet up in a lift, with thunder and lightning crashing all around us.” He chuckled. “I take it you’re into atmosphere, then.” “Wildness, maybe”, she admitted. “The last time I felt this randy was when the Iraqis bombed Israel. I was in a hotel, watching the bombs fall. Me, and my cameraman.” He was startled. “You didn’t?” “I most certainly did”, she assured. “Sex was more important than running for cover?”, he asked. “I can’t believe that.” “Oh, the hotel was pretty safe”, she assured. “But there was a thrill, you know. I mean, people were in danger out there, and I felt guilty about that. But I couldn’t help myself. The sense of risk just... well, overwhelmed me, I guess. And the fear of discovery. Because the door wasn’t locked. We couldn’t afford to lock it, with evacuation in mind.” He took her shoulders, having to reach up just a little, and turned her to face him. “How about if I said I might have been wrong about this lift?”, he said. “If I said it might not be safe after all? And it is true that we might start moving at any time. Right up to the top floor. Without warning. Inexorably onward, regardless of what we might be doing in here.” “Is that right?”, she replied playfully, and looped her arms around his waist, tightly, so that her groin was flattened against his. He felt his cock start to pulse more urgently. “I mean, in light of that, we wouldn’t want to be taking any risks, would we?”, he hunted. “It is dark”, she pointed out. “In this... theoretical situation we’re talking about, that would give us an extra second or two.” “True”, he allowed. “Theoretically.” “It’s certainly dark enough that no-one could see any activity from street level”, she mentioned. “Again”, he replied, “true.” “A risk or two might be in order, then”, she said. “Don’t you think? Theoretically.” “I’m a practical man”, he told her. His cock was throbbing against her now, fully erect. “I always hated theory.” “So did I”, she hissed. And, at last, she kissed him. Not gently, but hard, her tongue snaking instantly into his mouth, a fat, wet intruder, taking his breath away. He fought back, revelling in her cinammon taste. Wasting time wasn’t on his agenda, because the risk he’d pointed out about the lift moving without warning was actual. He moved a hand to her left breast, caressed the mound through her evening dress. The nipple, surprising him with its erectness, pressed urgently against his palm, and Alice moaned deep in her throat. Her hands were suddenly busy too, tracing his spine, skipping to lightly caress his stomach. Without warning, she cupped his balls, squeezing them gently, making him shudder with delight. She wasn’t out of control, but she was determined. He kissed her neck, her shoulders, using his tongue and lips with equal measure. She started to moan. Her mouth found his left earlobe, nibbled it, electrifying him. “Go on”, she urged. “Do it.” He dropped his hands to the firm globes of her buttocks, bunching the material of her dress as he investigated there, then he hoisted the dress at the back, hooked his thumbs in her panties and hauled the garment down onto her thighs. Wriggling, she worked them lower, stepped out of them. “I want you”, he promised. “Fuck me”, she whispered, still against his ear. “I want you to fuck me.” “Not yet”, he told her cruelly. And, honouring the plan he had just conceived, he pushed her into the corner of the lift, dropped to a kneeling position. Her body had tightened with disappointment. Now, it relaxed. “Oh, yes, baby”, she encouraged, sensing what he was about to do. He raised her dress again, this time at the front. Another flash of lightning illuminated the flesh which he had exposed. A firm flat belly. Neatly trimmed pubic hair which proved her hair colour to be natural. Slightly parted thighs opening above the vee of a lush, glistening pink pussy, with clitoris big and red and erect. He teased her for a moment, trailed his tongue across her abdomen, felt her body start to shake in response. Then he pushed her legs further apart and applied the tip of his tongue to her love button. She gasped, started to push her hips downward. He worked urgently, occasionally dipping his tongue into a honeypot that was just as musky as he had imagined. For the most part, though, he concentrated on taking her to a swift clitoral orgasm. He seemed set to succeed. Her hands soon came behind his head. Her legs started to vibrate with tension. Moments later, she stiffened, cried out with pleasure. And the grinding motion began again, this time swifter, as orgasm pumped through her body. Her breathing stopped. She ground against him. She held him in place, doubtless until the joy subsided. When she did release her grip, his neck muscles were aching, and his face was lathered with her juices. He stood, let her dress, which was now slightly creased, fall back into place. She was still leaning into the corner of the lift, perspiring now, hair in disarray. He dropped his arms around her waist, pulled her to him, kissed her again, this time with a studied gentleness. “You’re good”, she complimented him, pulling free. “Damn good.” “Why, thank you, ma’am”, he replied, tipping an imaginary hat. She giggled. “You want something back, I suppose.” “I think I could handle that”, he said. Alice smiled a predatorial smile and, in her turn, lowered herself to her knees. With practised skill, she unhooked and unzipped his pants, and he felt them slide to his ankles. Then she gently bit his fully erect cock through the cotton of his boxer shorts. It was such an unusual thing to do that it surprised and delighted him, so much so that he didn’t register the fact that she had already moved on, that she was already opening the bottom half of his shirt. She teased the elastic down then, took his cock into her cool fist. The sensation was gorgeous. His hardness strained against her fingers as she held him tightly. He waited, heart pounding, for her tongue. Yes. There it was. Yesssss........ She licked the head of his cock softly, making him moan and strain, teasing him mercilessly. And immediately, he wanted more. Wanted her mouth. Just when he thought that she’d never take him there, she did so, swallowing his whole length with ease and bobbing quickly along and back, along and back, her lips skimming the surface. The immersion in wetness and warmth was wonderfully satisfying, and her mobile tongue brought him to a state of high excitement within moments. He struggled to hold back. His balls were twitching, and the telltale pressure was building at the base of his aching member. Again, he wanted more. “Stop”, he managed, croaking. “Please stop. Alice, stop. I need to fuck you. Need to.” She didn’t react immediately, but she slowed down her assault. Of course, that only made things worse. “Please, Alice”, he begged. She rocked back on her heels, grinned at him. His cock was still twitching. “Fuck me”, she said, layering her voice with mock surprise. “Well, why didn’t you just say so?” He reached for her, intending to make love to her in a standing position. But suddenly he was thrown to the right, found himself striving for balance. The lift had started to move again. Dominic panicked, and reached for his pants, only to find that Alice was holding onto them. “How long?”, she asked, a vicious purr in her voice. He was panicking now, reading her intent, pulling so forcibly at the trousers that they felt close to ripping. “What the hell are you doing?”, he demanded. “What the hell do you mean, how long?” “Before the lift reaches the top floor”, she clarified calmly. “How long?” “Two minutes”, he told her, exasperated. “Three at the most. We can’t finish this in two minutes. No, Alice. No way. It’s insane.” “We can’t move on to what you had in mind”, she allowed. “But I bet I can finish what I started.” Dominic watched in horror as she rocked forward, took his cock all the way into her mouth again. He had already softened a little, and was therefore convinced that the task she had set herself would prove beyond her, that her efforts would still be continuing when the lift doors whooshed open and exposed him to the eyes of the media and the gasps of many of the most famous people in the world. But he didn’t stop her. Because the luscious wet pressure of her tongue was exquisite, and he couldn’t bear the thought of losing it. Startlingly, he was fully hard again. Suddenly, the urgent bobbing of her head, the soft pressure of her fingers on his balls, were taking him past even the level of tension he had reached before he had interrupted her. The pressure was building in his buttocks and his cock, so exquisite that he felt dizzy, that he could barely remain standing. His fingers were in her hair, massaging her skull, keeping her in place. Orgasm consumed him, knifing into his neck and back. He cried out, unable to contain the pleasure, and Alice redoubled her efforts. The storm within him was matched only by the storm outside, and the rain whipping against the glass seemed a metaphor for his passion. With a second cry, he ejaculated, substantially, once, twice, three times. Alice continued to suck him, an occasional forced swallow the only sign that anything had changed. Every drop he had to offer was squirted into her mouth, disappeared without trace down her throat. When, finally, she pulled clear, licking the length of him as a final gift before grinning at him, the cat that got the cream, there was no cream to be seen. He leaned back, closed his eyes. He had never felt quite so drained, so satisfied. Nonetheless, he felt a little uneasy. In the back of his mind, a voice was telling him that what he had done was not enough, not enough at all. That what had happened was in fact a disaster. “It’s gone wrong, hasn’t it?”, Alice said. He looked down at her, shaken rigid by her perception. His fear sharpened. “Yes”, he agreed. “Something’s gone wrong. But I don’t know what.” Her eyes met his, held them. And he knew, for an instant, that another looked out of him, at another within her. Then the knowledge was gone, and only the sadness, mingled with sexual relief, remained. Then Alice shrugged free, chuckled, thankfully breaking the mood. “Hey, cheer up”, she said. “And you might think about pulling your pants up, too.” The practical problem concentrated his mind. He hauled at his trousers, struggling with the zip, struggling with the buttons, struggling to tuck his shirt in. He completed the task with seconds to spare. The door opened on a gathering of concerned faces. Principal amongst them was Angela Vane, his secretary, a middle aged woman who tended to mother him and the only other person with a key to the lift. “You okay, boss?”, she asked solicitously. “Fine”, he said. “No problem.” He realised that he must look flushed and a little the worse for wear, knew that he needed to get to a bathroom. “How about you, little lady?”, asked a deep, sonorous voice. He turned to see Peter Gabriel, hand on Alice’s elbow, solicitously leading her into the safety of the party room. Alice was gazing at him with an unlikely and almost canine devotion. “It was a bit frightening”, Dominic heard her lie. “But I’m okay.” “Can I get you a drink?”, her hero suggested. “To calm you down?” Well, that was that, then. Depressed, Dominic turned back to Angela. Oddly, Angela was grinning. He couldn’t work out why. And then, just for a moment, it all became clear. “You stopped the lift”, he realised. “Clever boy”, Angela confirmed, an unusual twist in her expression. “But I realised my mistake in time and started it again. Just in time, by the look of things. Viara’s still trapped, isn’t he? Oh, how sad.” Dominic clenched his fist. He truly intended to strike her. But then suddenly he was dizzy, because Loranna was with him, and then Sarah was with him too. Then Dominic was gone, and Sarah was looking at the concerned faces of Holak and Melira. Sarah was seated at the unreal table in the unreal library. And she was in shock. Melira came immediately to her side, placed a hand on her shoulder. “It can’t be helped”, she said. “It wasn’t your fault.” Sarah was determined. “It isn’t over yet”, she insisted. “It isn’t bloody over.” “It has to be over, love”, Melira disagreed. “We haven’t got Viara. And if we haven’t got Viara, we can’t complete the circle. We’re just going to have to try again next time. It might be years away, but there’s no choice. We all have to go back where we came from.” “No”, Sarah disagreed. “We can go to Israel.” Melira was confused. “Israel?” But Holak nodded slowly. “You’re right”, he said. “Yes, we can go there. We have to go there.” “Will someone explain?”, Melira requested. “From where I stand, it looks like you’ve both gone mad.” Sarah motioned for Holak to do the honours. Holak complied. “It’s simple”, he said. “Until now, this Canada incident was the only sexual encounter for Alice Edwards that we knew about. But because the Restorers stopped the lift, we now know of another. The Gulf War. The missile attack on Israel. Alice, and her cameraman.” “I have to be the cameraman”, Sarah said. “That’s our way out.” Melira nodded. “Alright, yes”, she conceded. “It’s a good idea, and I suppose we can try it. But we’re entering new ground. Our chances aren’t going to be good. I suppose it is better than giving up, but we need to be realistic.” “We have to do more than try, Melira”, Holak stated moribundly. “Because I can tell you for a fact, there’s no future for us if we fail. None at all.” “Don’t be a depressive, Holak”, Melira scolded. “Like I said a moment ago, there will be another time.” “No”, Holak said with a frightening certainty. “There will not.” Melira was simultaneously dubious and concerned. “How can you know that?”, she demanded. “We went a little way into the future. Some of our people are there. Viara himself, for example.” Holak smiled without humour. “True, but irrelevant”, he pronounced. “Because at the very limit of our spread, a few linear years from now, I have seen the end of things. Or at least, I have seen the beginning of the end.” The Sarah part of the Sarah and Loranna entity looked at him, intending to challenge him. Her world could not possibly end. It was ridiculous. She readied herself to say so. But then she saw the bleak honesty in Holak’s eyes. NEXT: January 1991. Israel. Wild Fire. And to close, as you may have come to expect, the joke.... 3 Paris, 1939, and Pierre, the famous and heroic French fighter pilot, was lucky enough to win a night in the arms of Louise, the sophisticated and beautiful French waitress. Back at Louise’s place, after a candlelit meal, she pleaded, “Pierre, kiss me.” So Pierre seized a bottle of red wine from the table, poured some of the contents into Louise’s mouth, and kissed her passionately. “I am Pierre, the famous and heroic French fighter pilot”, he said when the kiss was done, “and when I have red meat, I drink red wine.” Matters progressed, and soon the lovely Louise was begging, “Pierre, Pierre, kiss my breasts.” So Pierre ripped open Louise’s blouse, tore off her bra, laid her on the floor, then, seizing a bottle of white wine from the table, poured all of the contents over the girl’s chest, before setting to work. After a time, he sat back. “I am Pierre, the famous and heroic French fighter pilot”, he said, “and when I have white meat, I drink white wine.” By now, Louise was ready for even more personal attention. “Pierre, Pierre”, she requested, “kiss me down there. Between the legs.” So Pierre ripped off the young French girl’s knickers to reveal a wild black bush. Reaching into his pocket, he took out a bottle of lighter fluid, which he poured over the hair. Then he put a match to it, and dived to his task. Above Louise’s squeals of objection, he told her, “I am Pierre, the famous and heroic French fighter pilot. And when I go down, I go down in flames.”