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 Three
Time is at Hand

Patrick crossed the room, the carpet muffling his footsteps. “I think it best to save the food until later, but a glass of bubbly would be nice.” He leaned close and whispered in her ear, “May I have your watch? How much time do we have?”

Susan unfastened the watch’s wrist strap. “I have to check in at 2:30, so we have about an hour before I have to leave.”

Patrick noticed that the z engraved on the back of the watch had left a mark on her wrist. He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the mark. “An hour is more than enough time, almost an eternity.” He looked into her eyes, smiled and kissed her on the lips.

Susan thought of the time that stretched before them, her mind going back to the night before and the plans they had made for this time they would have together. She was suddenly very aware of the two phalluses buried deeply within her and the now insistent throbbing of her clit. She imagined the throbbing as the tick-tock of her body clock. She returned his smile and his kiss and then handed the watch to him. “Yes an eternity.”

She had conquered all doubts, exceeded her own expectations and fulfilled her master’s task. The feeling of elation welled up inside her filling her heart with happiness and excitement.

Looking forward, but using her peripheral vision, she followed Patrick around the room.

The room had the soft scent of jasmine and the temperature was just right, neither too cool nor too stuffy. She stood quietly, her eyes following her master, as he moved smoothly, almost catlike, around the room. She admired his athletic, muscular build beneath his smart attire and found herself wondering what was going through his mind. How would he want to start? The thought made her vagina and anal muscles contract, making the dildos move inside her. The sensation made her breathing heavier and her heart beat faster.

He took his own watch from his pocket and flipped the case open. The time pieces were in perfect sync, the hands locked together. Even the second hands were in perfect sync, sweeping to the top of the hour. 56, 57, 58, 59, then both said one o’clock as he put the watches together on the bedside dresser. After looking at the timepieces for a moment, he unbuttoned his waistcoat, slipped it from his shoulders and hung it across the back of a chair.

Although he was to her side, and she continued to look forward, he was clearly visible.

Susan stood passively and watched. He moved freely and easily. Smoothly. There was something erotic about the way he moved, the way his erection pressed against his pants. The ease of his movements and his authority made her feel secure in his presence.

She found herself biting her lower lip, as she admired the broadness of his chest and shoulders, as he unbuttoned his vest and slipped it smoothly from his shoulders. She watched as his lean fingers worked over the knot of his tie. It was all part of a ritual. There was a sense that he was preparing himself for her, stripping to get down to business. Susan turned her head slightly to get a better look. She loved watching the man she loved stripping, just for her, and she didn’t want to miss a thing.

Her greedy eyes took in this voyeuristic scene, her mind racing, her body tingling with enjoyment at his slow deliberate performance. She mentally licked each morsel of newly exposed flesh, and the thought of oral homage made her body ache with hunger.

She relished the naughty way it made her feel watching someone else take off their clothes. She felt the heat of desire spreading rhythmically from the heart of her sex, to her outer extremities. The throb between her legs more insistent now. She became aware of the wetness between her thighs as a light whisper of cool air chilled her leg. Her gaze flicked from Patrick momentarily, as she caught a glimpse of her body in the bedroom mirror. The flush of desire on her cheeks and chest was unmistakable. Seeing her own arousal made her feel empowered. Not that she was in control of the situation but that she was in control of her body. She had felt her orgasm building from the moment she had first held him in her arms and yet she had held back the tide.

Her glimpse in the mirror had taken a fraction of a second and now she fixed her attention firmly on her lover. His body as he stripped was lean and hard, tight buttocks and manly flesh, kempt and smooth, firm and erect. She ached to have the phalluses that held her passages open, replaced by his manhood. Her hunger churned like a pan of milk on a stove, the foam rising, as it comes to the boil. Her desire wanting to boil over, yet she was kept on simmer, kept from release. God she wanted him!

Patrick thumbed apart his tie, flicking open his top button and pulling his tie free of his collar. As he did, he looked at Susan. He lusted after her body, there was no doubt of that, but he loved her, truly loved her for all she was, her keen mind, her sharp wit. All that she was brought joy to his life.

His hand delved into his pocket drawing out the loose change in his cupped fingers and scattering the small number of coins on the dresser. The elegant watches caught his eye.

They lay side by side on the dresser. The two timepieces were different in many ways, hers so dainty and feminine, his all together more robust, business like and masculine. There were many ways they were the same too, the warm luster of the rose gold, the faces of the watches were identical in style, the numerals and hands the same rather ornate Arabic design. He smiled with satisfaction, at the second hands ticking in unison. He considered the watches two peas in a pod, as he and Susan were.

His glance traveled to Susan’s wrist, and he noticed the Z was slowly fading. It resembled a small brand, and it pleased him to think, that when she wore the watch the emblem pressing into her skin was a physical symbol of their love and devotion.

He thought about how emotionally connected they were, the way that she would say something he was thinking, the way she would anticipate his needs, and the way he anticipated hers. When they walked, their strides matched, just as the watches were physically together. Patrick’s mind slipped back to the time when they had come across the shop where they had purchased the watches.

It was in the older quarter of the city, an area that looked a bit down at heel. They had wandered into this part of town by accident, wandering from the more trendy Latin Quarter, looking for an interesting restaurant for a lunchtime tryst. Patrick remembered her concern.

“I don’t really feel comfortable. Shouldn’t we go back?” Her manner had been twitchy.

He had smiled reassuringly into her wider than normal pale green eyes and held her hand. “I wouldn’t want to be wandering here at night, but I think it is ok, it looks kind of interesting.” He’d made a few loose hand gestures toward the slightly quirky buildings. “I don’t think it would hurt to look about a bit. Okay?”

Reassured by his confidence, she’d smiled. “Okay. It does look kind of interesting.”

The buildings looked as if they had been built at different times. They all looked old, but some looked a lot older than others. Some looked cared for and lived in, but others had windows that had been unwashed for many years, with net curtains that were tattered and torn. Patrick speculated about the potential number of rats lurking just out of sight.

Hand in hand, they walked down the slightly uneven cobbled street. All around were tightly packed shops and houses with small panes of bull’s eye glass in wooden frames that needed attention. The air was musky with the scent of old and rotting wood.

Patrick with his business head on, made a mental note that the area was prime for redevelopment. As quickly as the thought popped into his mind, his focus drifted back to the slightly crooked doors, with flaking paint. Little curiosity shops, that surely could not make a living in this day and age. Yet here they were a small baker, bread on display, an ironmongers shop, with boxes of screws and a scattering of tools on display. His nostrils caught the delicate sent of summer flowers.

Hand in hand, they turned the corner and before them was a small florists shop. He smiled and kissed Susan, breaking their handhold to pop inside. He re-emerged a few seconds later with a single rose, which he presented to Susan. “A rose for my rose.”

Susan lifted her head from smelling the rose, to catch his warm loving gaze.

He looked into her eyes and delighted at the sight of her smile. He felt her squeeze his hand, then her soft body pressed into his. He loved to have her so close to him, soft, yielding. It was a joy to have her firm breasts pressed into his chest and to feel her soft lips on his cheek, before she whispered a soft, “Thank you,” in his ear.

Patrick caught a glimpse of an old shop, tucked away in a side alley. Something he could not explain drew him to it. As they approached, the old frontage blended in with its surroundings. A small faded sign in the window read, “Guild of Goldsmiths, jewelry made to order.”

The window display was sparse, yet the items on display were exquisite, small broaches on burgundy velvet cushions, rings displayed hung from small branches on a small Z shaped tree, which was the centerpiece of the display. He noticed and was intrigued that the faded sign above the shop said the Crimson Z, a tie in with the Z shaped tree in the window, he was sure. The whole display was simple but very effective. There was a dusty feel to it, yet the gold caught the light, as if it had been polished just that morning.

“We should have a look inside,” Patrick said stepping forward. Something in Susan’s manner gave him the feeling that she was a little resistant. It was the way she hung back, where she was normally a stride forward. Patrick looked at her quizzically and asked, “Is there a problem?”

She squeezed his hand. “I don’t know. It looks a bit creepy.”

He smiled. “Come on, what have we got to lose? It looks interesting.” He squeezed her hand encouragingly. “We might find a little something inside.”

He felt her resistance melt as they opened the door. As they entered the shop, a small bell tinkled. He squinted as his eyes became accustomed to the dimly lit shop. He was aware of a slightly musty, damp smell, invading his nostrils as he looked around the outside of the room. Small, colored glass shaded wall lights illuminated the rough wooden floorboards that creaked beneath their feet. Old-fashioned glass display cases displayed an array of pretty trinkets on miniature stands. The displays had the same theme as the front window, small burgundy velvet cushions, all of which showed off the beautiful craftsmanship of the pieces displayed on them. There was something very quaint about the displays, anachronistic, out of step, a total contrast to more modern shops. Patrick liked the old world feel.

Behind the counter was a long thin metal stand. It was decorative as was the cage that hung from it. The whole thing looked very old and rather dusty. It was not instantly noticeable, but in the corner was a small white bird. It only made a small amount of noise, as it hopped from its perch to the side of the cage and back. He switched his attention to the rest of the shop, which appeared empty.

On the front counter, there was a gold pocket watch the back of the case open, the skeleton of its works smoothly ticking away.

Something about the timepiece caught Patrick’s eye. Even from a distance, the solid look of the case made it look dependable, and as he got closer, quality exuded from the chronometer. The skill that had gone into the engraving was truly lovely, clean and precise.

He moved closer still to admire the workmanship. It was as beautiful as it was skillfully engineered. He had always loved timepieces and in the top drawer of his dressing table, there was a rather large collection. He had in his possession all manner of watches, from fine dress watches, designer pieces and a number of sports clocks, even a rather dated digital watch from the 1970’s. This pocket watch was something very special, truly class, a mark of status, a symbol of success and an object that he now very much wanted to own.

He was just about to touch the precious metal, when a strongly accented voice came from somewhere behind him.

“Beautiful, isn’t it Sir? Do you think I might be of service, Sir?”

Both Patrick and Susan were startled by the unexpected appearance of the well-built, bearded man. His voice was deep, calm, and measured. “I am sorry if I startled you, please allow me to introduce, myself. I am Zachariah. Welcome to my humble establishment.”

Patrick composed himself and replied “Thank you. You have an interesting shop.”

Zachariah meshed his fingers together and gave a curious nod of the head. “I like to think we have the things that people are looking for and of course for special customers, I am happy to make that special item.” The old man walked slowly round to the other side of the counter. He moved confidently and with grace, for a man of his years. “I can see you have an eye for timepieces,” Zachariah said as he picked up the pocket watch and handed it to Patrick. “Exquisite isn’t it?”

Patrick stroked the engraving turning the watch in his hand stroking the sensually decorated Z on the back.

Zachariah slowly continued. “I sense that time is an issue? An issue for you both, maybe? Time I suppose is a concern for us all, but I feel it is especially so for both of you.”

As he put his arm around Susan’s shoulders, Patrick looked down to find her looking up at him. Her slightly furrowed brow echoed his own feeling of unease. His hand moved from her shoulders to stroke her hair reassuringly. It was in this act of soothing her, he felt easier about the situation himself. He felt as if Zachariah just knew his, their, thoughts. He found that a very spooky thing, but there seemed to be nothing sinister about the old man. Looking at the expression on his lover’s face, he could see she was thinking the same thing he was. Like him, she seemed less troubled about the situation.

Zachariah seemed happy with the moment’s silence. “Time is a troublesome thing in this day and age; we never seem to have enough of it. Don’t you agree?”

Patrick was struck by his words, they were so perceptive. “Yes, I think you are right,” he answered simply.  Maybe it was the thoughts of time, the feeling that there was never enough of it, or that time was running out that gave him his affinity to own and collect timepieces. He had a collection of over thirty, each unique in its own right. Time was always the issue and he heard the jeweler’s words in his head. Time is a troublesome thing in this day and age, we never seem to have enough of it.

Patrick rolled the watch in his hand. Both sides were beautifully engraved there was a tactile knurling around the edge to stop it slipping from his hand. It was well thought out, practical, and beautifully decorative. The whole feel of this pocket watch was so right. Its weight was substantial yet not too heavy. The style was old world, yet not dated. He thought classic would be a fair description.

He showed the timepiece to Susan, who seemed as fascinated by the watch as he was. “How much, would a watch such as this cost?”

The large man looked deep into Patrick’s eyes. “One thing you must consider when buying such a watch, is that it is not just a trinket. This is a serious watch for a serious man. In buying this watch, you will see your life in a new way. Maybe you will worry less about the ticking of the clock, and more about what is important to you when filling the hours.” Zachariah’s eyes still had a spark of youth, though his age showed in his body and more especially in his slightly gnarled hands. “If you don’t mind me making the observation Sir, price is not the issue. It is more a case of if you are ready to make this purchase, more a case of if the time is right.”

The corner of his mouth curled into a charming smile. It amused Patrick that Zachariah seemed to know him so well. He realized that his clothes showed him to be financially buoyant. He ran his hand across his tailored trousers. He wasn’t comfortable in jeans.

Zachariah pulled himself straight to his full height, which Patrick judged to be a little under six feet. He looked an imposing character in his black suit in the Hasidic tradition. He wore no tie but a white shirt with the top button done up. His long beard was flecked grey as was his long hair, which contained more salt than pepper.

Patrick reflected that the jeweler must have been even more impressive as a young man, yet even now, there was something timeless about him. He had a quiet strength and power that made him seem like the sort of man you would be unwise to get on the wrong side of.

Patrick turned his attention back to the watch. He knew he would have to buy this watch.

“I can see, you have made up your mind, and may I say Sir you have made the right decision. You will not regret it.” The goldsmith smiled broadly. “I also have a suggestion for the lady.” He took from his pocket a small thin lady’s dress watch. “I know it is rather presumptive of me,” he passed the watch to Susan, “but this rather suits you and I think the two watches will keep perfect time together.”

Although the lady’s wristwatch was smaller and more delicate in style, it closely resembled the pocket watch. It carried the same engraving. On the back, there was the same stylized letter z. It was plain to see that the watches had the same maker.

Patrick looked at Susan. It was obvious she was taken with the watch. All seemed right. Perfect timing he thought, in every sense of the expression. “Thank you, we will take them,” he announced, offering his hand to shake on the deal.

The jeweler took his hand and shook it with an honest, trustworthy grip “The watches are not quite finished. I need to finish them both off. They need to be tuned to run perfectly together. I would like to customize them. This might sound a tad bizarre but I like these things to be personalized to the individuals buying them.” The large man paused and looked at the couple before him. “Normally I get what I need by subterfuge, but I can see you are direct people, so I will ask outright. I would like a tiny sample of your blood, just the merest smidge. Call it the eccentric nature of an old man.” He shrugged. “It is the belief of my people that the mixing of blood from a loving couple will bind them in time.” The old man paused, he seemed to have a hesitant look on his face, as if there was something he should say, but was debating in his own mind whether to say it or not. After his deliberation he went on, “There must also be added a little blood from an innocent, this will blend the whole elixir together.”

Patrick raised an eyebrow, “An innocent?” He paused to see if the old man might offer further insight to the source of the innocent blood, but none was forthcoming. “Are we talking sacrificial virgins?”

The jeweler smiled, obviously amused by the suggestion. There was a hint of a stifled laugh in his voice when he replied. “No, I don’t think we need to go quite that far on this occasion."

Patrick looked at Susan, feeling a little foolish about bringing up the subject of virgins. She gave him a small shrug and a rather skeptical look, yet with a smile and a second shrug agreed. He looked on as she offered the goldsmith her hand and saw her wince as the pin pricked the end of her thumb. Patrick followed and a tiny sample of his blood was taken.

Zachariah smiled and nodded courteously. “Thank you, the final procedure will take about thirty minutes, you may wait if you wish, or return later.”

Patrick looked at Susan to see if she had a preference. Not seeing any in her expression, he answered, “If it is ok we will wait.”

“Would you care for some tea while you wait?”

Having guided Susan to the more comfortable of the two chairs, Patrick carefully eased himself onto the remaining, rather rickety seat. He watched the hands of the old grandfather clock, heard its steady tick and silently contemplated the nature of time. Time, he thought, was an unusual commodity. In some respects like a liquid, it flows. Sometimes it feels like it is still and calm, other times it runs like a waterfall down a mountain. He considered how time felt, right then and there. The wait felt like laying in a warm bath, or like being in a small boat on a calm lake, no pressure, time to think and ponder, a wonderful contrast to his usual, not a minute to spare feeling, which was vaguely reminiscent of him feeling like a salmon swimming against the tide. The grandfather clock ticked on, the hands slowly moving around the face. He checked his own wristwatch, which said the same time to the second. He thought that strange.

The relentless tick of the old wooden case clock measured out the segments of time and chimed for the half hour. Patrick looked at his watch, which told him that thirty minutes had passed. In a way thirty minutes felt about right, but in other ways it felt as if he had been waiting all day. In other ways, it felt like it had been only a matter of seconds. Patrick turned to find Susan looking equally disorientated.

A shrill noise from the back of the shop focused him and his mind raced as he considered what would make a noise like that. His eyes flicked around the room and landed on the cage. It was now empty. He frantically recalled the conversation about innocent blood. He felt a little sick. Surely not? A tang of guilt gripped him. The bird! Oh Christ no! Not the bird!

Seconds later, Zachariah emerged smiling, bird alive and well on his finger. His old hand fiddled with the latch on the door of the cage. Once opened the bird fluttered inside none the worse for whatever ordeal it may have suffered. The old man turned to Patrick a knowing smirk on his face. “Surely you didn’t think I would harm the creature?”

The goldsmith presented them with their watches. The deal was struck with a final handshake as the money changed hands.

Zachariah escorted them to the door. “What has gone on here is more than a simple transaction,” his voice had been warm and friendly. “What we have here is a bond. I hope very much that you will come back and see me again.”

As they left the shop, Patrick turned and shook Zachariah’s hand again. “Yes, we will be back.” The idea of having an engagement ring made by the craftsman came into his mind. The idea of proposing to Susan was not a new idea, but the notion of the ring seemed to come from nowhere.

“Rings are one of my specialties,” Zachariah said a twinkle in his eye.

Patrick smiled. How the hell had he known he was thinking that?

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