Disclaimer:
All characters portrayed engaging in sexual activity are 18 years of age or older. Actual historical figures or living people represented are done strictly for context and humour, I lay no claim to them. If you had trouble following the plots of Pulp Fiction or Four Rooms because of the back-and-forth timelines, just turn around and leave now, as this fic will make you butthurt. As always, critiques and reviews all welcome, illiterate flames will be snickered at. Enjoy!
Chapter 5, Part I - I Think I'm Getting The Hang Of This!
Mark sat as his dining room table, eating dutifully. His mom had prepared short ribs and mashed for dinner, one of his favourites. What she didn't know was that Mark had substituted several herbs and spices into her collection, items he'd brought back from his temporal travels. At the very least, this meant they were technically several hundred years old, or sometimes that they didn't exist in the modern era at all.
"I'm enjoying this particular batch of thyme that I put in the braise," Dhallyla Pritchard remarked as she gently stabbed some green beans with her fork. "Mark, where did you say you got it for me? The flavour is so ... special."
Mark shrugged. "Another shop I thought I'd try out," he replied. "Nowhere near our usual places."
"Well, keep it up, son," his father said, sitting at the other end of the table. "No offence to your mother's cooking, but the spices we were getting before weren't helping the cause. Now
this
is flavour."
"Such a good little minion," his mom said sweetly, reaching over and pinching his cheek. "First, you did amazingly well on your Physics exam and boosted your overall grade to the place where the university accepted you, and now you're an herbs and spices guru. Talk about an unexpected change."
"Yeah," his sister Roxy said, sitting across from him, and trying to keep the suspicion out of her voice. "Unexpected is right."
"Now Roxy, be nice," their mom chided. "You should be happy for your little brother, he'll be going to university with you."
"As long as she pulls her grades up," grunted dad, pausing in eating to waggle his fork in her general direction. "You promised us you'd keep your grades up and we'd let you live here rent-free as a result, Rox. We're living up to our end of the bargain, what's so difficult about yours?"
"Maybe I should study more and party less," she grumbled, scowling at her food. She hated to admit it, but her mom was right, the spices were great. Where had the little trouser-snake bought them? "Y'know, open my mind more and my legs less?"
"Dear!" Dhallyla gasped, looking at her daughter in shock. "Nobody said you were behaving licentiously! There's no need to use language like that!"
"Sorry," the dark-haired girl sighed, putting down her fork. "Just been on edge lately. Seems to've been The Mark Show around here recently, and I'm not even quite making my grades in Soph."
"You just need to focus, darling," mom said, trying to sound reassuring. "Mark stopped goofing around and knuckled under, and he got rewarded. Nothing says you can't do the same."
She reached for the dull green bottle and removed the cork, pouring herself another glass of the Bordeaux her son had found. She looked at the mottled green glass, the seemingly dusty exterior, and the red wax they'd had to break to get the cork out.
"So interesting to sell a bottle of wine like this," she mused, tracing a finger over the surface. There's not even a proper label. Who thought of selling wine this way?"
"Artisan wines are a big deal, mom," Mark said simply, pouring another glass for himself. He was technically not of age to drink, but his parents let him at mealtimes. "It's clever marketing, y'gotta admit. People feel like they're buying a really old wine, so it's classy."
"Well, it's certainly enjoyable," his mom agreed, watching the dark, rich liquid swirl in her glass. "Make sure you get more of it, wherever you got it."
"Yeah, maybe you can take me along with you next time," Roxy said, resting her chin on her hand and her elbow on the table, smiling at him. "Sounds like a place I'd show to a few of my friends."
"Uh, we'll see," Mark replied somewhat uncertainly. "I never know when I'll make it back there..."
***
Becky and Mark were leaning into one another and kissing deeply while they sat on her swinging chair in her backyard. It was nearly midnight, and with the rows of trees that bordered her property, they weren't worried about being espied. The blue-eyed blonde beauty pressed her impressive breasts into his chest, humming into his mouth while her fingers reached up and tangled through his brown hair.
Mark, for his part, had one hand resting on her back, holding her close, while his other hand had reached around to hold her butt, squeezing it gently. She was wearing snug jeans that showed off her magnificent, toned curves, while her bust strained tightly against an old, faded screen-T that advertised the classic cartoon "What's Opera, Doc?"
They finally broke the kiss and pressed their foreheads together, just enjoying the warm night air and one another's company. She was his high-school Physics teacher, at least technically. Rebecca was still teaching an earlier version of Mark's current self, one that was unaware of his carnal interactions with this insanely hot woman.
"Still can't believe how stupid earlier Me is," he breathed, fondling her ass through her jeans. "He could've been doing this."
"Now now, that's not true," she giggled, rubbing her nose against his, her eyes dancing in amusement and delight. "You're still seventeen when I get to class every day and watch you fail miserably at Physics, you know. What makes you think I want to be caught fucking a minor?"
Mark smiled slyly, took her hand and placed it on his crotch, making her massage his cock through his jeans.
"Oh, I dunno," he mused, feeling her shiver. "Maybe this..."
"Nnnn, that's cheating and you know it," Becky murmured, continuing to rub him even after he removed his own hand. "And I suppose it's only a three-month technicality,
but
I still wouldn't have if I didn't know about the Holmes Field Device. I don't care how big your dick is, young man, sometimes a lady needs more."
"Y'mean like wacky time travel adventures?" he asked, grinning.
"Exactly like wacky time travel adventures," she purred as she clambered into his lap and straddled him, her arms around his shoulders. Predictably, Mark's hands came to her butt. "I always expected to lead an adventurous life, but this is something altogether different. And the fact that I owe it to one of the lousiest Physics students I've ever taught is rather ironic."
"I think you said 'lousiest' when you meant 'luckiest,'" Mark quipped, squeezing her butt cheeks and kissing her nose. Becky giggled and nodded.
"I couldn't agree more; you are one of the luckiest Physics students to ever live," she opined, using her hands to gesture to herself. "Not often a guy gets access to a playground like this without a gold band, you know."