In The Library Ch 09

How the hell could Grace be my sister? I had found no record of any children born other than Grace and her younger sister, Emily. I didn't know what on earth was going on, but the interchange of our minds over the keys had revealed some kind of bizarre truth, and now Grace was accusing me of keeping her chained. I didn't know what that was all about. Maybe she did know more about me than I knew myself. In fact, the more I found out, the less I really knew about what was happening, and even less about what had happened.

And I was still back in time. After she vanished, I stayed in that room by the lake until the sun rose the next day. Even after sleeping, I was still in the same time and place - back in my past. And in Grace's dead time. But she had told me to seek out her (our) mother, and something was telling me that the solution to this mystery was in an even earlier time. Her mother's time. Ok, I was getting used to this time shifting shit, but so far Grace had always been at the centre of it. And for all I knew, she was the power behind it. So how in hell was I going to go back any further?

Fucked if I know, but what I did know, was that I was bloody hungry, and knowing how things could happen to me at any moment, I had to get a feed before too long. So I set off down the road away from the strange place by the water. Searching in my pockets I found some old notes. OK, I had some of this era's money, so I wasn't going to starve. That's good.

But this is bad: on the power and telephone lines running down both sides of the road were birds, hundreds of them, just sitting on the wires. Hundreds of them, maybe thousands, almost as far as I could see. Up and down the wires, just perched there, silent. As I walked below them, silence. Just a slow ripple of wings every now and then, as if a wave of wind was rippling down the wire, but silence. Eerie, weird silence. And then the silence was broken by the sound of a big engine rumbling, and the crunch of gravel as big tyres slowed and stopped, just behind me. The birds perched, still on the wires.

I turned, and the car was huge, big sweeping fenders, huge round headlights, multiple exhaust pipes bursting from the sides of the bonnet. The coach work was luxurious, black painted, the windows a narrow edge of glass around the car's body. This thing was luxury on wheels, old wheels, so old luxury. The rear door swung open. "Get in sir, get in." The driver's voice through the window, smoothly rolling down, "I've been told to get you there in time."

A strange turn of phrase, but given my musings, quite the logical one to hear. Time was the key to all of this, so when a fucking big machine turns up (not quite as big as the train, but hey!), even a stupid like me is going to go along for the ride. Coz this thing is either going to go forwards or backwards, but the one thing that is certain is that it won't stay in the same spot. And with more birds on the wires alongside the long straight road than I'd ever seen, well, there had to be a tad more power right here and now than any sane man would know what to do with. And following my times with Grace, I knew that I was mad, not sane, and she for sure was from no sane place that I knew of. So, madness, then.

Inside the car the rear seat was empty. A glass partition separated me from the driver, and thin veils of cloth separated the windows from the world. The rear seat was big, comfortable, a carafe of red wine on a table folding down from the back of the driver's bench seat, one long stemmed wine glass. What the fuck, might as well have a drink, since someone else was clearly in control here, and I was just going along for the ride. With a growl the powerful engine accelerated, wheels spinning gravel and then gripping firm, and the big car moved smoothly down the road. On the wires above, the birds stood silent, watching as the vehicle sped between their sentry lines.

And the big car drove on down the road, which went on straight, straight, moving towards the horizon through the front screen; and when I turned to look through the rear window, away from the horizon behind me. And the birds on the endless wires, endless numbers on both sides of the car, wires strung in great curving sweeps alongside the road. And into a long dark night, the car drove on. Lulled by the steady rocking of the car on its big wheels, and the dull rumble of the wheels on the road, I drowsed. When I awoke, the car was still thundering on.

"Nearly there, sir, we're just about there. We've made good time." The chauffeur called through the dividing screen. And I noticed we were travelling alongside a black lake, the road sweeping around the shore. The car lurched to a stop, wheels skidding on gravel. The driver's door clunked open, and the driver then opened the rear door, swinging back smoothly on oiled hinges. Across the driveway, the grand doors of a big room stood open. Above the door, an illuminated sign announced 'The Peacock Club'.

Around me other cars were arriving, old vintage jobs, all big spoked wheels, flared mudguards and running boards, upright wind shields and big exposed radiators. And the drivers and passengers, all dressed in jazz era flapper clothes; short bobbed hair on the women, slick backed hair on the gents. Gatsby era.... back when Grace was still a twenty year old girl. Back when Grace was still alive, back before the birds?

I joined the crowd throbbing into the club, which seemed to be a big speakeasy, where I assumed the cops looked the other way and the moonshine booze flowed, just as smooth as you like, and the jazz was black and funky, and the women broads, just as smooth as you like, legs just as long as you like. Hot damn, I could get used to this! And in front of me, an elegant woman, older than all the others in the room, but silver haired, proud and poised, beautifully dressed in a peacock green dress, feathers belted around her waist, a feather boa around her neck. "Greetings, I've been expecting you, it's that time again." Well, I don't know who the fuck she is, but she clearly knows me.

"I'm Alexandra, it's been a long time since last we met, so let's go upstairs for old time's sake." And she swayed her magnificent hips, tightly sheathed in the iridescent shining silk or velvet dress (the light playing on the cloth was like liquid so I couldn't tell), swayed those luscious hips ahead of me as she slowly walked up a long flight of stairs, curving around to galleries above. And below, a big jazz combo was playing, saxes and trumpets blasting, a simple old drum kit punching the complicated beat. Jesus, she was old enough to be my grandmother, but this woman was pure class. Not my family then, the image of my own mother's lewd black snatch and Grace's flowing red hair flashed before my eyes.

"Join me for a drink, dear boy, I've time before I go on stage. It will be nice to take a refreshment before I perform. Tonight's a special night, I'm singing with my daughter for the first time." And she draped her body onto a long couch, the cloth of her dress riding up her long legs. Here was proof that some women get so much better with age. I needed to be on my game here, this Alexandra sure as hell knew what she wanted. And hot damn, I was hoping she was wanting me. There sure seemed like a seduction going on here, but I had a feeling it wasn't me taking charge.

"Sit here by me, dear boy, let me see how you've grown." I had no idea what she meant - she kept talking as if she knew me. And as if I had been gone for many years. What the fuck? But her long fingers ran down my arm and forthrightly straight across my crotch. Whoa, she really did know what she wanted! I was running to keep up - I really do need to lift my game, else I'm going to be eaten alive. So I lingered my own fingers on her long elegant leg, tentatively teasing the cloth up her thigh.

"Ah, so you've still got that wicked touch, that I loved so much."

"I like to think so," I replied, as smoothly as I could muster, but my dumb brain was getting more and more confused by what she was saying, but not wanting to show that I did not know what she was talking about. Maybe actions then, better than words. Encouraged by her memories of me (even if I had no memories of her), and encouraged that her legs were sliding a little further apart under my trailing fingers, I decided to carry on until she either told me to stop, or told me what to do - if I was losing my way....

She was draped elegantly on the couch, both long legs now across my lap, her body leaning against mine. Her hair was long and silver, a skein of fine silk falling across her neck and shoulders, a silken fall like water. The skin on her face and neck was incredibly soft and smooth, only a few tell tale wrinkles of her age to be seen. At the corners of her eyes were crow's feet of wisdom, a natural, experienced smile. Her eyelids, heavy, deep green eyes flecked with gold. She sighed as I brushed my breath against her neck, and I lifted the soft fall of her hair away.

Her ear lobes, each adorned with single diamond studs, were delectable to nibble, and again a soft sigh of delight eased from her lips. Red carmine lips, her small white teeth, a lazy, langorous smile. She was not in a hurry so I took my time. My fingers again stroked her neck, again I nibbled her lobes, and she gave me her warm throat, a pulse steady and gentle beating in a blued trail under her skin.

Our faces turned to each other and our lips met, gentle tongues and slow, her hands now caressing the back of my head, slow, running her fingers through my hair, slow. My pulse was quickening with the slowness of her touch. Clearly, Alexandra had been around long enough to know when langour and waiting were best, to be in no hurry to end this time. An older woman's patience, more knowing than my younger man's haste, an older woman's comfortable beauty slowly presenting itself for a younger man's delectation. "My dear boy," she sighed, "my dear forgetful boy." There it was again, her knowing and me not knowing. "Shall we take ourselves up to my room?"

And she stirred from the couch and slowly walked ahead of me across the room to a narrow set of stairs climbing to another level. Below us, the band became background accompaniment, sweet music for our sweet song. Above us, the flight of stairs. She walked slowly up them, hips swaying, one step at a time. I followed a few steps behind, so that the glorious swell of her backside was right in front of my eyes. I couldn't resist placing my hands on her waist and it was as if she was pulling me up those stairs. And I trailed my hand down her long thigh, lingering on her stocking clad leg as it tightened on each step. Her movements were slow and sensuous: Alexandra had plenty of time and was savouring it.

As she reached the top of the stairs she threw off her feathered belt and the boa around her neck, and swung her silver hair in my face, laughing. Alexandra pulled me by the hand into her room, luxurious bed heaped with pillows, wide doors looking on to a balcony. The drapes were pulled wide, the moon light spilling into the room. I was reminded of the long silver body of Grace, sheened under similar moonlight in the clock tower. But Alexandra seemed to have more sophistication, more elegance, her age and experience shining. And then she kissed me hard on the lips, "my dear young man, let's see what we've got, let's see what we've become."

Her beautiful fingers flickered at the buttons on my shirt, easily sliding the buttons through their slits. She peeled the shirt down my arms and dropped it to the floor, and with a slow curve of her body, it was as if she bowed down in front of me, hand caressing my chest, fingers tugging at my nipples. And then she was crouching on the floor in front of me, her long green dress falling between her legs, her elegant hands undoing buckles, belts and buttons, then sliding my pants from my legs.

She gently cupped my thickening cock in the palm of one hand, the other taking the weight of my balls. And she gazed upon the centre of me for some long seconds, motionless, the only movement in the room the slow hardening of my shaft and the slow tightening of my testes. And then with a small nod of her head, as if some inspection had been done, and some decision made, or some memory confirmed, she touched her lips to my rising shaft, just gently, there on the hot skin in the middle of my prick. Her fingers on my ball sac gave a gentle squeeze there, and she gracefully rose to her feet, hand still holding my shaft. And she led me, this Alexandra, she lead me by the cock to the bed. "Mine, always mine, my flesh and my blood, my boy."

And I was seduced. Alexandra was older and sophisticated, and I was, quite simply, hers. She lay gracefully on the bed, her long green dress falling loose about her body, a simple belt about her waist. I lay naked beside her, her hand softly holding, not stroking, just holding, my now hard penis. I undid the three buttons over her breasts, and gently peeled the cloth from her back. Her skin was pale, still smooth, softer than I would have expected given her age. Her breasts were sheathed in a simple cloth band, clipped at the back, which I unclicked. Her breasts were pale, slight, but with puffed and tightening nipples.

"God, you've still got the breasts of an eighteen year old, they're so firm and tight." I was spellbound by the youthfulness of her delicious body.

"Yes, there is strange blood in my family, it keeps us young," she replied, her breath starting to quicken as I lowered my hot mouth to those plump nipples and sucked them into my mouth, my tongue swirling on their tightness. Alexandra arched her back with the pleasure of it, and my hands went to her waist and lifted her body up and against my chest, her arms falling away as if in a swoon.

"Hold me, my dearest boy, hold me hard and tight, hold me tonight - for it will be our last time, this time." I could not make sense of what she was saying - we had only just met, hadn't we? But again there were her strange references to time, and again, as if she had known me before.

I was confused, "do you know me, how do you know me?"

"Oh yes, I certainly know you, my dearest boy, I really do know you." But she pulled my head to hers and kissed me hard, her tongue piercing my lips, her hand gripping my prick hard, and then a long caress. She was too mysterious, too knowing of what I didn't know. But what I did know was that she had known me and obviously liked me at some time in her past - and I was getting a strange feeling that her past was my future - and that the liking might have been down to my ability to pleasure her. Because she certainly wasn't saying no to my attention. Talking was too much and thinking was too hard, so it was up to my tongue and lips, hands and cock.

And again her back arched and her nipples stood proud, my tongue circling those tight buds and flicking them, my teeth nipping. Her torso was slender, thin even, the ribs to be counted, her belly hollowed. She wore a garter belt on her hips, slender straps black to her stockings, the black lines a contrast to her pale skin. My fingers ran to the top of her silk knickers, which were ivory coloured with tiny buttons down the sides. Her belly shivered with the ripple of my hands and her hands were in my hair, urging my head down to her centre. Gently, I eased her green silk dress away from her body and it became a split of cloth like the wings of some brilliant butterfly, her pale body long and beautiful. My fingers fumbled with the tiny buttons of the silken cloth hiding the centre of her, and then her mound was there for my eyes, her hair fine and silvery blonde, delicate curls at the base of her belly.

She shifted to her side, one leg folding up as my pillow. And I lay my head on her thigh and gazed upon her sex, her outer lips plump and slightly wrinkled, her inner lips like a small fan of wings, her fine soft hair with a few drops of dew, glistening. And just at the top of her thigh was a small blaze of deep purple and brown, a birthmark maybe the diameter of a ten cent piece. I traced my fingers over it, and it was just as smooth as the rest of her skin, ever so slightly raised, a tiny ridge under my finger. I ran my fingers along the smooth glide of her cunt lips, her sweet cunny, and her moisture was slick and sweet. Slowly, slowly, ever so slowly, I opened her lips to reveal the red trace of her inner flesh, and with a hot breath my mouth was upon those wet lips, my tongue to her centre. My fingers traced to her rising clit, purple-red and standing high in the folds of her sex.

I felt Alexandra shudder with my touch on her, and then felt her hands pull to my cock, and then her lips and hot mouth circled the hot head of me, sucking my prick into her mouth. Our mouths worked our sexes, our tongues swirling over cock slits and cunt lips, my mouth suckling and pulling on her clit and wetness, her mouth pulling and sucking on my prick and hardness. We urged each other up to a peak and then backed away, delaying our ecstasy for her pleasure of me and my pleasure of her. The scent of her was on my lips and tongue, the taste of her in my mouth, the long look of her a delight to my eyes, those long legs opening wide to let me go right to the centre of her.

And my arms were around her now, my hands kneading the tight cheeks of her ass and pulling her hot cunt onto my face, my tongue deep into her and then sliding slick and wet from her clit, over those hot blood filled lips to the bud of her asshole. And she pushed onto my face, her juices slick and smooth in my mouth, and I urged Alexandra to the peak of her climb, her hot coming a glory of pleasure as I opened my mouth wide to her wet cunt and breathed my hot breath into her, and she bucked, her open sex a silent scream of pleasure, and with a long moan she came onto my mouth, shuddering, her body bucking. Her mouth came away from my prick and cried out with her pleasure, her hands grappling the sheets with soft grabs at nothingness, just grasping at the fullness of her pleasure.

And when she had descended from her high ecstatic place, she pressed me onto my back. "My turn, my lovely boy, my turn," her eyes gleaming as she sat astride my hardness, her hot wet cunt a clasp on my long prick. She sat upon me, gently rocking back and forth, my cock flat to my belly, her thighs gripping mine. I reached up to her shallow breasts, my palms cupping the hardness of her nipples, squeezing them up against her body. Alexandra gazed down on me, a strange softness in her eyes as if she were drinking me in, as if she couldn't sate herself with the look of me. And then she flicked her long fall of silken silver hair, once and then twice, as if again a decision was reached and a memory made or a memory found.

And she stroked her hands down her slender ribbed frame, caressing her own breasts as her hands flowed past, and with a look of intense concentration she ran her fingers to her cunt lips and spread them. She lifted her sex away from my cock and balls, and took my prick Into one slender fingered hand, and eased her hot wetness onto my shaft. I lay motionless beneath her, focused only on the vision of my long redness easing into her silver edged heat as she sat upon me, inch by glorious inch.

"Ah, boy, you fill me long and good, long and hard, fill my cunt, take my cunt," and she sunk her full weight down onto me, her body trembling with the slowness of it. Alexandra eased herself onto me, one hand taking her weight on my chest, her other hand cupping a breast. Slowly she began to ride me, her cunt like a hand gripping my pulsing shaft, her breath faster and more ragged, a red blaze building up on her chest and throat with her hot pleasure. My hands could not settle, stroking and squeezing from breasts to ass, sneaking around the slight crack at the base of her spine, my finger pulsing into the rose bud of her ass hole. She gripped me there, too, her body greedily pulling my smaller finger shaft into the depths of her self. So we fucked long and slow, this divine Alexandra, this perfect woman with experience beyond my years.