Timestones free porn video

I don't need reminding I'm different from the other kids, but they do it anyway, eroding my self-confidence like waves pounding the headland. Sure I wear black jeans, trench coat and eyeliner. Docs, not Converse. Trivium on my playlist over Bieber or Swift. But so what?

Dad understands. Says I should live each day in the moment. Carve a niche in the world and to hell with what others think. Mum would have hated such spontaneity. The dark irony being the day she deviated from habit, Travis fucking Kemp ripped her away from us, drunk behind the wheel of his Maserati. And the bastard's still out there making millions, the designer suits, clutch of lawyers and city backhanders his instruments of corruption.

A vortex remains in our family. Dad just gets by at the lab; I get by at school. The pity ran out a long time ago. Now I'm back to being Puke Otterman. Or Luke Gotherman, or some other deeply imaginative play on my name.

Only three more months to go until I'm free. Until I can take my A-levels into the world and, hell, I don't know. What does English, Chemistry and History get you these days? Probably nothing, but I'd take a job at Comic Cave over climbing the greasy corporate ladder like Kemp. At least there, the people are real, united by their love of artwork.

With a low-demand shop job I could focus on drawing. Work on my own strip entitled 'Timestones', about a misunderstood kid growing up without a mum, who can escape to a simpler time. A time where disputes were settled on horseback, not from the other side of the globe at the press of a button. A time where he can use two hundred and fifty years of historical foreknowledge to his advantage. A time where he can see her again.

It's art imitating life, because it's based on my experiences. Maybe tonight I'll…

Luke felt his notebook yanked from under his arm and the world fizzed into sharp focus in an instant. "Hey!" He spun to see Billy Mason, piggy eyes set atop pudgy red cheeks, grinning with malice. "Give that back!"

"Awww, Gotherman wants his diary. Whaddya think, boys?"

The pair that flanked Billy on the edge of the playground – one white, one black – made the trio resemble bully Neapolitan ice cream. Trey's teeth were dazzling against his skin tone as he sneered, but it was Sean in the low-slung jeans to Billy's left that replied first. "You think he's gonna cry again?"

Luke flared. "Shut up. Give it back, Billy. It's private."

"Oooh pri-vate. Let's see who our make-up wearing freak is writing about."

"Don't…"

The boy flicked through the pages and opened it randomly. "What's this? A comic strip? Hey, listen to this shit," he put on a falsetto voice: "'Come back with me, Alexis. It's not safe here.'"

"Billy…"

He continued to read: "'I'll keep you safe. We can explore the world. Together.'" He sniggered. "Who's this Alexis bitch? She's pasty like you, with longer hair."

Luke felt the hairs on the back of his neck bristle. "Nobody you know. Give it back."

"After you tell me who she is."

"A friend." Luke lunged for the notebook, caught the edge and held on tightly. Billy yanked it out of his grasp, but not before the binding gave way. Luke gave an anguished cry and Billy laughed heartlessly, ripping the remainder and tossing both pieces to the damp ground before turning. Luke crouched to assess the damage, muttering, "Arseholes."

Billy stopped, turned back and strode to within a few inches of Luke's form, put one dirty foot on the workbook then brought his knee up into the side of the boy's face, using the momentum to spin away and leave.

Luke stayed trembling on all fours until they'd gone, dabbing his tender cheek and willing himself not to cry. He'd bitten the inside of his mouth and the metallic taste on his tongue fuelled a rage that he knew would eat him away if he didn't find a way to diffuse it.

He wasn't sure he could last three more months.

~-~ 
The school building was the height of pragmatism: form over function at every staircase and faceless corridor covered by all-seeing CCTV. It resembled a sprawling starfish, with a central atrium like an airport lounge, boasting a mezzanine library and swanky ICT suite. The school had a massive cash injection when it was converted into an Academy, which paid for the renovations and an iPad for every kid. As if either would improve the results or cover up the fact the catchment area included the badlands, where Billy and his mates lived.

Luke trudged up the four steps from the playground to the outer door of D-Wing, or Discovery Drive as the excitable Mr. Leonard had officially christened it. Rapid footsteps approached and Luke tensed, expecting another beating. Instead, Gemma fell in step. She sported dark jeans and a nerd panda T-shirt, a light dusting of make-up visible on her freckled cheeks below blue-grey eyes accentuated with purple eye-shadow. Shorter than Luke by almost a head didn't make her short compared with their peers who streamed past.

"Hi, Luke."

"Hi."

"You okay? I saw what Billy did."

Luke dabbed his jaw. "I'll live."

"He's such a knob. With that IQ of four, I'm surprised he can even stand." Luke smiled, a paper plane skimming his head and looping out into the seemingly endless corridor as they passed room 6C. Gemma continued: "Are you going to the end of year dance?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Too much disco."

"There's a band."

"Can't dance."

"Have you ever tried?"

"On occasion."

"What about with someone who can dance?"

"Don't know anyone like that."

Gemma rolled her eyes. "Geez you're hard work. I can dance, dummy."

"But you're already going."

She glanced across at him and their eyes met briefly. "I don't have anyone to go with."

Luke's mind whirled for a way out. Not because Gemma wasn't attractive. She was cute in a kind of unconventional, emo way. Maybe if it weren't for Alexis he'd consider it, but he couldn't betray her. "Why don't you ask Brad? He likes you."

Gemma pulled a face. "Ewwww. Too macho. Loves himself just a little too much for my tastes. I prefer my men more-" she looked at Luke again "-mysterious."

When he didn't bite, Gemma sighed and changed tactic. "Hey, wanna study tonight? We could bounce ideas around about that commodity essay."

"I've done mine."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Shame. I'm running out of ways to big up silicon. I've pimped building materials, glass, and computer chips, and I'm still a thousand words short."

"Breast implants?"

She brought a hand to her modest chest reflexively. "What?"

"Silicone. It still has silicon as an ingredient, along with oxygen, carbon and hydrogen."

"Seriously?"

"Trust me, I'm a chemist." He liked the way that sounded, even though it was his weakest subject. "Cosmetic surgery aside, silicon's used in contact lenses, kitchen utensils and shaving cream." They slowed to let a bunch of Year Nine's pass and he lowered his voice, leaning in close enough that the delicate scent of her perfume drifted into his nostrils. "And vibrators, but that's not my scene."

Her eyes widened. "You always think outside the box. Thanks."

"You're welcome."

They resumed walking towards the atrium. "So what's yours on?"

"Time."

She pondered and nodded, a crooked smile spreading. "Your box doesn't have any bloody sides does it? I'd never have considered that a precious commodity."

"It's the most precious commodity."

"Can I read it? Maybe if I come over tonight?"

Luke shook his head. "I’m going out."

"Where?"

"Just… out."

"Come on, Luke. Did you not hear what I said about mysterious men?"

He paused, then shook his head. "Better you don't know."

"You're bloody frustrating."

"And you're bloody inquisitive."

She stared at him for a long moment and gave in with an exasperated breath as the corridor opened out. "Fine. See you in English."

She stalked off and Luke dug his hands in his pockets, watching her long, dark hair flicking behind her, cursing himself for being so precious about his discovery. But he couldn't tell her. Couldn't tell anyone. At least not yet.

~-~ 
Away from the shelter of the tree canopy, a light rain fell in the clearing. Small rivulets ran from Luke's face onto the lapels of his overcoat as he stood, one palm pressed against each of the rocks ahead of him. Through the narrow gap between them, no more than a handful of inches, the sun bled its fading orange flame between the horizon and the layer of cloud that covered the rolling patchwork landscape below. The world held its breath. Even the wildlife was eerily silent as he waited.

He stared ahead through the gap. Visualising. Waiting. The timing had to be perfect. The quartz in the rocks - the stuff they made watch circuits from - would see to the rest. As the sun dipped lower, a chill overcame Luke. Not from cold, but anticipation. He looked down at the circle of rope he had fashioned on the floor around him and felt the power surge within his body. He thought of her. Alexis. Let her visage and the town in which she lived fill his mind. The mud and cobbled streets, the stone buildings, the warmth of open fires and the cloying smell of burning wood that enshrouded the place like an invisible fog as people burnt anything they could for warmth. The place he felt free.

Vestiges of sunlight gave way to twilight and he began to chant:

"Open a door through time and space.
Take me to my chosen place.
Protect me, guide me through the land.
And return me to the circle I stand."

He couldn't help but suppress a smile as the rocks began to throb and shimmer. He felt their glow radiate up his arms, warming his whole body, exciting him. The clearing melted away until there was nothing ahead of him but liquid air. No impediment to his journey. His personal Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.

Luke closed his eyes, breathed out and stepped forward.

~-~ 
The first thing he always noticed, before he opened his eyes, was the cleanliness of that first breath. A lungful of negative ions cast from rich, green leaves with a purity that had been robbed from the planet through industrialisation. It was tranquil. Sublime.

He parted his lids and took in the familiar surroundings that he'd sketched into his comic. The carpet of lilac flowers among the gnarly trees, spears of sunlight penetrating the natural awning as the breeze swayed the leaves. And further down the hill to the west, nestled in the centre of the valley, the town.

Haphazard stone structures made up the bulk of its area; perfectly adequate homesteads that would remain standing for hundreds of years, built by everyday people with no formal training in construction. And at the town's centre, the soaring, jagged spires of the cathedral punctured the sky, built by those same townsfolk over centuries. The building's crucifix-shaped footprint dominated the settlement like an imposing parent, its ecclesiastical purpose unapologetic.

Luke breathed deeply for a few moments. Nobody had ever mentioned the town by name, though he hadn’t pressed hard to find out. The mystery of the place and its distinctive architecture had led Luke to label it Gothica. His second home.

Somewhere among the loose-knit tangle of muddy streets and noise he would find Alexis. And this time it would be different. He could feel it in the pit of his stomach, the twisting, yearning desire to be with her. To hold her. To take her away from the man to whom she was married. A man who did not appreciate her beauty, nor her intelligence. A powerful, unpredictable, dangerous bully, like those in Luke's college playground, but significantly more versed in swordsmanship. Luke prayed he did not run into Tarron again.

Gazing upwards, he gauged the sun's position beyond the swaying green cover. He estimated it was around four o'clock. A little over three hours until sundown; a few scant hours to find her.

Fumbling for his mobile in the trench coat's deep pocket, Luke flicked it to Airline Mode, conserving battery by preventing the circuitry scanning for cellular base stations and WiFi hotspots that would not be invented for over two hundred years. He pocketed the device and brushed the droplets of rain from his shoulders. Running his hand through his damp mop of hair and taking one final, deep breath, he set off in the direction of the town, the brittle twigs beneath his boots snapping with each step.

~-~ 
It was just as he remembered from last time. Not that time held any specific meaning. His last visit had been less than a week ago, but much had changed. He had given up trying to understand why. Perhaps planetary shifts in the Earth's position around the sun accounted for the fact he always arrived in the same place, while sometimes months had passed. He'd resigned himself to the fact he would never find the answer in Gothica itself. Society had only relatively recently begun to spare those who claimed the sun, not Earth, was the centre of the galaxy.

The day was warm so the air was correspondingly clear, no smoke curling from chimneys. The narrow streets bustled with mid-afternoon activity. It was noisy and cramped. Locals in drab clothing carried merchandise in and out of low-rise buildings. Traders who had yet to be lured by the bright lamps and promises of the burgeoning cities hawked the remainder of their wares, bartering with anyone who came within earshot.

Everyone, it seemed, had a purpose. Farming in the fields bordering the outskirts gave way to other divisions of labour in the town itself. Echoes of the bakers, apothecaries, carpenters, armourers, and cobblers that had once lined the streets in mediaeval times were still present. The professions had moved on somewhat, barrelling inexorably toward what Luke knew would soon be the industrial revolution, but the way of life in the country was much the same. Townsfolk who once paid feudal tax in exchange for a place to live, continued to work and deliver services for the land owners. In return they gained not only employment and a small wage, but protection from outsiders.

Like back in his own time, Luke was an outsider, attracting curious stares from anyone who wasn't otherwise occupied. His clothes were the obvious differential, with fabrics that nobody had dreamed could exist. He allowed himself a wry smile as he imagined next time wearing a pair of dark sunglasses as he strode through the town undetected, like Neo from The Matrix.

The attention made him uneasy, and he wished he could go about the business of finding Alexis anonymously, without spectacle. But he didn't own any clothes that would have passed for the eighteenth century, so had to accept the consequences. A few locals nodded as he threaded his way through the streets, and he acknowledged their presence noncommittally.

Luke stuck to the shadows wherever possible, peering into murky windows and open doorways as he passed, hoping to catch a glimpse of Alexis, and avoid Tarron. Bursts of noise bled from raucous taverns, as large quantities of alcohol were imbibed – primarily gin due to its unlicensed status and the fact it was arguably cleaner than the water supply. It certainly took time to acclimatise to the stench of human and animal waste sluiced into the channels either side of the road.

Wrinkling his nose, Luke pressed onwards, shuffling through the congested streets hoping that the next building would reveal her dazzling form. Everyday dress of the age was not particularly becoming, yet she somehow made it glamorous. The era was all about shape over style. Most women wore a plain, dowdy outer dress with a series of hoops beneath their petticoats to add shape. Some wore unflattering bonnets but, being at the higher end of the social chain, Alexis did not. Instead, she favoured elaborate hats, as if the Ascot races were her next destination. Her dresses were of the finest cloth, owing in no small part to the status of her father who oversaw not only the parish but also funds for the cathedral. Alexis had certainly known no poverty.

Luke passed a coffee house, glanced through the window and stopped. There she was, laughing with her friends around an ornate table to the left of centre. His heart fluttered at the mere sight of her, and though he knew he should move on for fear of being spotted, he found he couldn't tear himself away.

Her dark hair was neatly pinned, revealing an exquisitely curved neckline that plunged south to the exposed upper shelf of her bosom, no doubt artificially bolstered by the tight corset beneath her pastel dress. Luke's eyes played over the creamy surface of her chest and he felt his arousal stirring. God, she was beautiful. The number of times he had dreamed of kissing her neck, holding her hips, drawing her close and feeling her warmth radiating his body were beyond count. The number of times he had touched himself to those same thoughts…

One of her friends looked up, nudging Alexis and nodding in Luke's direction. Their eyes met and burned into one another for an instant until he spun away from the shop.

His mind tangled. All the conversation fragments he had practised since they last met evaporated. With a sinking heart and sickening clarity, he knew the very notion of a relationship with this married woman some eight years his senior from a different period of history was untenable. And yet he tortured himself again and again, violating goodness knows how many laws of the space-time continuum, driven to Gothica by some unrelenting craving. Caught in her corona like a moth to a flame, sometimes plucking the courage to talk, mostly just watching.

"Luke!"

He froze. Waited until she approached. Too late to run.

"Luke?"

Turning, he took in her radiance, the low sunlight casting her gently tapered nose in profile.

"Hello, Alexis."

"Hello stranger. Why did you run off like that? Are you not pleased to see me?"

He fumbled for some suitable English, dredging synapses that would link brain to mouth. "I, uhhh… of course I'm pleased to see you." His head screamed, pay her a compliment, pay her a compliment. "You… you look stunning."

Her expression softened. "Thank you. Oh my, what is this?" She reached up to brush her fingertips over his bruised cheek.

Luke loved the deep-down warmth he received from their skin connecting, but felt awkward at her concern and eyed the floor. "Nothing." He scuffed his feet against the cobbles, occasionally raising his gaze to catch hers, making a conscious, and demanding, effort each time to avoid the draw of her breasts. She smiled at their third connection. "You came all this way just to comment on my appearance?"

He shook his head. Suddenly it all seemed so ridiculous. Come away with me, Alexis. Leave your husband. Visit the twenty-first century. We'll have ice cream and take selfies in the park, hand-in-hand. "No, I just wanted to see you again."

She curtsied. "Ta-daaa." Straightening, she added. "What now?"

Luke nervously surveyed the streets, half expecting a bloodthirsty roar and the steel of Tarron's blade to run him through. "Not here."

Alexis cocked her head to one side. "Where then?"

"Somewhere… less public. Where we can talk."

"Look around you, Luke. Everywhere is public. And you cannot exactly show up at my door."

He was quick to dismiss the notion. "Maybe there's somewhere out of town?"

She thought for a moment and scanned the street, allowing Luke to steal a glance at her cleavage while her head was turned. She caught him by snapping her attention back sooner than expected and he felt himself colour. Alexis seemed amused, but didn't comment. "There is nowhere we could reach without drawing suspicion, even on horseback. I am too well-known and my father would be sure to question me, not to speak of Tarron."

He sighed. "I know. Look, forget it. Sorry to have interrupted your day."

"Not at all, it is lovely to see you. We should… wait…"

"What?"

Luke could almost see the cogs working in her head and his spirits rose as she continued. "My father is holding a banquet this evening. Everyone will be there from the diocese. Priests, clergy, bishops. And Tarron and I are expected to attend."

He went cold. "How does that help?"

"If they are all there, I can slip away. Feign illness. Anything. We could meet then and talk."

"Are you sure? You'd do that for me?" All of a sudden, excitement replaced the doubt.

"Better than mingling with the pious."

He wasn't sure if that was a compliment, but let it pass. "So where?"

Her eyes twinkled, almost cerulean in the fierce sunlight. "That is the beauty. We meet right beneath their noses. Here." She dug into her dress, beneath the waistband, and produced a small iron key from one of the pockets tied around her waist. "The cathedral."

Luke's eyes widened. "But…"

"It is perfect. Go soon, before it is locked for the evening at six. This key will allow you into the central tower."

"Why do you have a tower key?"

"I am sometimes required to give access to the men who clean the bells when my father is away. Just climb. Keep going, past the bells, right to the top. There is a trapdoor to the roof. I keep a box up there to help me climb out."

"You go up there a lot?"

"Sometimes. To think. And admire the view." She proffered the key again. "Take it."

Luke reached for the key, their fingertips touching, electrifying his senses. "Are you sure?"

"Trust me. The view alone is astounding. Go!"

He pocketed the key alongside his mobile and Alexis looked left and right, then leaned in to peck him on the cheek, her breath tickling his ear as she whispered, "Go."

He watched her scampering towards the coffee shop without looking back and prayed he could, at the very least, convince her to leave with him.

~-~ 
With just under an hour to kill, Luke found a tavern, different from the one the pair had frequented last time. He had no money – at least denominations that were legal tender, despite the pieces of paper bearing the Queen's head in his pocket being worth several orders of magnitude above the average yearly wage in Gothica. He ordered gin and hoped he'd find some way out of paying.

Swirling the clear liquid in the glass, he thought, mainly of Alexis. His fingers found the key and he turned it over in his pocket. Why had she seemed so willing to give it to me? He knew from their prior conversations that she was not happily married. It was an arrangement. The price, she said, of her status. Tarron was wealthy. Wealth brought the promise of stability to the church, along with allies forged between families in neighbouring towns and cities: the protection of her father's legacy, perpetuated by Alexis' silence towards her marriage of convenience. But that didn't mean she was ready to throw it all away. Especially for Luke.

He brought the sharp liquid to his lips and knocked back a slug. Shit, it was rough. Nothing like Bombay Sapphire. It scorched his throat and he stifled a cough. Back home he wasn't quite of legal age to drink, but he and his dad shared the odd cheeky snifter at home.

Crap, that would be another awkward conversation: Hi, Dad. This is Alexis. She's from the mid-1700s. Yeah, the past. But on the plus side, we'll ace the classical music round at the pub quiz from now on. He shook his head and ran his fingers through his dark hair. What the hell am I doing? He took another slug and swallowed quickly, trying to make it burn less. His eyes watered.

What if she says no? Will I keep visiting? Or would it be better to keep quiet about my feelings and just enjoy our moments together? Like that time in the tavern where we talked for hours and she stroked my leg under the table, occasionally brushing my cock "accidentally".

He drained the gin with barely a splutter and ordered another.

Could I stay here instead? He wasn't sure how long the portal stayed open, but it had always been long enough. Maybe I could get a job here? Screw the A-levels. All I need is a history book and I could pretty much carve a niche in the world, exactly as Dad said. I could win her over by becoming wealthier than Tarron. Dissolve their marriage and take my place at her side, with her father's blessing.

But the scenes with the sports almanac from Back to the Future II kept playing on his mind. What if I screwed up history? What then? He took half the new drink in his mouth and swallowed. The alcohol swirled through his system and he felt light-headed as he considered the consequences of skewed timelines and setting off a McFly-esque paradox.

"You!"

Luke didn't immediately realise the thundered yell was directed at him, but the sudden silence in the bar soon filtered into his brain and he woozily turned his head towards the source.

Shit.

Tarron.

The man was still ghastly. Long, matted hair and a thick, dark beard framed his cold eyes. Not that Luke had any time to reflect upon his form before the man barrelled into his side and knocked him from the barstool to the floor, the glass skidding from his grasp and shattering.

A jolt of pain fired along Luke's arm as he landed awkwardly on his side. He groaned but Tarron didn't wait, following up with a savage kick to his ribs. Luke curled into a ball, the wind knocked out of him.

"Get up!"

Luke did nothing besides gasping.

"Get. Up. Worm."

With unaccustomed sluggishness, Luke knelt and then stood, clutching his arm with his uninjured hand, desperately scanning for a way out as he regained his breath. The door was ten paces behind him. With luck, he could probably make it. Tarron was stocky in his ill-fitting tunic and Luke's focus fell on the worn handle of the man's sword. He didn't want to find out if Tarron was prepared to use it. Not after last time. If I die here in this world, do I die in my time too?

He didn't want to find that out either and chose flight over fight. With a sudden spurt of adrenaline, he ran. Tarron gave chase.

Bursting into the street, Luke darted left, expecting the next feeling his damaged arm being lopped off with the sword, but Tarron had stopped at the doorway to the pub, simply yelling, "Leave her alone," after the fleeing shape.

~-~ 
Doubling back several times and convinced he was safe, at least for the time being, Luke turned the corner by the haberdashery and made his way into the hubbub of the town square dominated at one end by the cathedral; a magnificent structure, equal parts daunting as awe-inspiring. Two towers, comprising hundreds of sculpted stone figures arranged in columns, rose either side of the south front that served as its main entrance. The sand-coloured stone itself glowed yellow-ochre in the late afternoon sun that streamed across the rooftops.

As he neared, the grandeur of the building became more apparent. A figure was stamped at the top of the gable end, beneath which were twelve other carved figures. Disciples, he presumed. And on each corner, protruding from the structure high up, were gargoyles. Even though they mostly served a practical purpose to channel water away from the building and prevent corrosion, they gave the building an ominous presence. At the huge entrance, Luke paused, swallowed and heaved the thick wooden door open.

In stark contrast to the square, the mood inside was serene yet oppressive, the lighting subdued, save for the sun streaming through a striking stained glass scene. Shafts of light caught dancing particles in the air before scattering off the intricate stone mosaic floor. Luke could see why the Church held such power over the people. It was difficult not to be impressed and wooed by its majesty.

One lady in a headscarf prayed on the front pew, head bowed, and he heard a muted conversation between people stacking books from over on the far right. Luke willed his heavy boots to quieten as he paced to the central tower. If he walked too fast, it would seem unnatural and he would attract unwanted attention. But too slow and he would increase his chance of exposure to whomever was in the building. His heart thudded as he neared the wide, shallow steps that led to the tower. There were fewer than ten of them, stretched around two sides of the thick column that soared to the decorative stone arches and intricate carvings of the roof.

The door to the tower was on the right. As Luke steadily ascended the steps, he tracked a path diagonally to skirt the column. The stained glass now ahead of him beyond the stout tower door caused him a full-body shiver. The virtuous scene seemed to be mocking his moral compass. Here he was, in this most revered place, heading for a rendezvous with a married woman. Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour's wife. He'd done nothing but, ever since their first meeting. The key inside his pocket became a dead weight in his clammy grip, but he brought it out, praying the mechanism would not give him away.

With a furtive glance at the kneeling woman, and mercifully shielded from the book stackers by the columns supporting the arch to the east wing, he brought the key to the lock, guided it home and turned it. The lock clicked loudly in the cavernous space, but no patrons paid attention. He withdrew the key hastily, reached for the iron handle, turned it and tugged. The door swung outward amid a blast of stale air. Swallowing deeply, he pressed through the void and brought the door closed behind him, as gently as he could.

Darkness enshrouded him, the lack of indignant shouts from the other side pleasing. With the key back in his pocket, he brought out his mobile and used the display's screen to cast artificial light across the stairs that curved away steeply ahead of him. Stabbing the phone's menu button every thirty seconds to keep the display on, he began to climb, keeping his footsteps light; the walls were thick, but he was taking no chances.

All the castles he had visited back in his time had worn and crumbling steps through centuries of use. He had expected the cathedral's staircase to be the same, but it was in surprisingly good shape. He kept to the outside where the tread was widest, using the cold wall and diffuse cone of light from his phone to guide his ascent.

The spiral staircase seemed to stretch forever and his breathing became heavier with the exertion by the time he reached the bell tower. He pressed on, not wishing to find out how deafening the chimes would be up close, until the stairs ended abruptly and he banged his head on the low ceiling. Cursing, he flashed his phone around the square space. As Alexis had said, a small box to the right of the stairs sat beneath some kind of access hatch in the floor above.

Luke took the two paces across, reached up and shoved the ceiling. Dust billowed and he looked away as it settled, then stepped up onto the wooden box so his torso protruded into the larger, oblong room above. Natural light bled in from a door to the left so he pocketed his phone and hauled himself up.

The door opened onto a narrow gangway among the cathedral's many ornate edifices. Even though this part of the structure would rarely, if ever, be seen from the ground or by those worshipping inside, it was testament to the architect's vision that such detail was employed. Just below the gangway, flying buttresses protruded at regular intervals; great archways that supported the roof by transmitting the lateral thrust to the thick outer walls. And beyond them, again as Alexis had promised, the town sprawled, the roofs and chimneys of the buildings somehow chaotic yet structured in their symmetry.

Stepping along the gangway towards the front towers, he leaned on what could only be described as the ramparts and waited, watching the town below shutting down for the evening. The tower struck six, sellers packed their merchandise, horses and carriages clattered into and out of the square, and people scurried home for their evening meals.

As the sun dipped lower, a shallow breeze flapped Luke's coat. He still wasn't used to the ensuing totality of darkness without the spilled hue of light pollution. Candles inside lamps began flickering in the windows of the town, the glimpses of people's, sometimes naked, routines passing in front of windows giving him an elevated sense of voyeurism.

On the horizon, the moon began to ascend. Not full, perhaps waning or waxing gibbous, he forgot which. And above, he began to make out the faintest pinpricks of light from the stars. He thought back to the days when he and his parents had taken his telescope out to the darkest place they could find to study the moon and the stars. Being able to see the light from thousands of years ago blew his mind. His mum always said stars were a glimpse into the past, and that notion had thrilled and fascinated him since.

He became so engrossed in the surroundings, he didn't notice Alexis emerge.

"Beautiful is it not?"

He refocused and turned to watch her sashaying towards him, silvery and angelic in the moonlight, dark hair free flowing in the breeze.

"It's quite something."

She stepped alongside him, close enough that her wide dress brushed his leg and they said nothing for a long moment, both watching the subsiding antics of the town, Luke intensely aware of his heart rate almost doubling in her presence. He broke the silence. "Did you have any trouble slipping away?"

Alexis put the back of her hand to her forehead. "Terrible headache, daddy," and smiled.

Luke smiled back. His head implored him to say something – pay her another compliment, dumbass. "Under the stars you're even prettier than in daylight."

She gave him a curious stare. "Thank you… I think. Or are you implying I look better in the dark?"

"No not at all, I… that didn't come out how I expected. I just…"

She nudged him with her hip. "Just teasing. Thank you, Luke."

He breathed a sigh of relief and they continued to watch the night unfold below. "Do you like this town?"

"Is that a leading question?"

He paused. "Possibly."

She took in a lungful of night air and her ample chest swelled above the dress. "I like the freedom. Meeting my friends. The daily habit. Tarron can be, well, Tarron sometimes. You have witnessed his temper."

Luke nodded, even more aware of his heart hammering in his chest, knowing the conversation afforded him an opportunity to ask the question that was burning a hole in his mind. He had to find out, despite the consequences, yet it took considerable willpower to muster his courage before speaking. "Alexis?"

"Yes, Luke."

His hands went cold and he gripped the ramparts for support. "Would you come away with me?"

"What?"

"Come with me. Leave this place."

She stared at him open-mouthed and the bottom dropped out of Luke's world before she even spoke. "I… I cannot entertain that. Maybe in your town it is customary, but here, it is not as simple."

He realised he was begging, but couldn’t help himself. "Please, Alexis. I want to see you happy. Every day. I can't bear to think about…" he turned away and watched a pair of gentlemen struggling to unload kegs from a wagon.

Alexis reached up to his chin and turned him to face her, fixing him a soulful stare. "It is nothing to do with you. Believe me, I have seriously considered it. But there is too much at stake. My father, for one. And Tarron."

"He doesn't appreciate you. Not like. Not like…" he tailed off.

"I know, Luke. I have seen the way you look at me. And I am flattered. Truly. Another time, another place, maybe it would be different."

Luke didn't dwell on the irony. He could take her to another time and place, but didn't wish to push her away further by revealing the mechanics of his discovery. His gift. He breathed out heavily. "I could protect you."

She could see he was crestfallen. "Part of me wants to flee, but this is my home. I hope you will still visit. I enjoy our," she paused, "cryptic chats."

Luke grimaced, but nodded, "I will." His voice sounded sickeningly hollow.

So that's what I am. A cryptic conversationalist. Gemma had said as much, too. He was about to embark on his usual thought stream of why nobody 'got' his romantic side when Alexis leaned in and kissed him. Not just a peck as usual, but warm, sensuous lips against his. A fleeting second, maybe two, before she withdrew, but his insides took flight as his whole being was swamped by her aura.

She beamed. "Thank you, Luke. I am lucky to have you as a friend."

He whispered, "Alexis, I want to be so much mor-"

She silenced him with a finger against his lips. "Shhhh. Please, Luke. Do not make this any more difficult than it already… oh… what are you doing?"

He kissed her finger tenderly. Up and down, drew his hand across her hips and up the slender hourglass, over her silky bare shoulder and upward to caress her cheek, softer than anything he'd ever imagined. He took the very tip of her finger in his mouth and kissed it again, senses overloaded. Holding her hand gently in front of his face, he trailed his lips up, placing kisses on the back of it, then across each knuckle. Watching her expression, he whispered, "Kiss me again, Alexis. Please. Just one more kiss."

She opened her mouth, perhaps to protest, but she stopped, her eyes giving her away. Luke took a chance, crept his face closer to hers, inch by inch, until they were separated by nothing more than a sliver of night air. He could feel her breath as his, and covered the remaining distance in what felt like frame-by-frame animation. Their lips touched again, gently at first, then firmer. Luke's stomach somersaulted, electricity zipping up and down his spine, both hands slithering to her hips and drawing her body to his, just as in his dreams and comic.

All of a sudden, he wasn't the lead. Alexis took charge, crushing her lips to his, tongue darting in and out of his mouth as their passion ignited. Her hands snaked around his body, locking the pair together and she moaned softly. He never wanted the moment to end, lost in her blazing embrace, but she pulled her head away briefly.

"We should not be doing this," she panted. Luke nodded, his disappointment not reflected in the considerable bulge pressing between them. Alexis inhaled. "But that kiss-" She chewed her lower lip and looked down at his straining erection, seemingly making a snap decision. "I want you to take me here. Now. Quickly, before we are discovered."

She reached behind her and loosened the ties of her dress, tugging until the garment was loosened from her shoulders and fell, pooling at her feet. Luke took a sharp breath at what was beneath. She wore a burgundy and black corset, common for underwear of the day, comprising whalebone stays to maintain its shape. And what shape. She tapered to a pinch beneath her pillowy bosom and then blossomed at the hips, full, womanly and utterly sexy. She wore no knickers and her thatch of dark pubic hair glimmered in the moonlight.

Luke was spellbound, opening and closing his mouth, no words forming. Alexis giggled. "What are you waiting for?" He goldfished a little more and Alexis brought her hand to her mouth. "Oh my, are you…?" She shook her head and giggled. "Just follow my lead."

She stepped apart half a pace, reached for his hand and brought it to her pubis, curling his fingers between her legs to nestle against her clit. "Press and rub." She showed him, moving his wrist to hit the spot and closed her eyes. "Perfect."

As he set up a rhythm and her breathing became more laboured, she reached for his cock, rubbing it through his trousers, feeling it flex and surge in response to her actions. He was rock hard and Alexis groaned. "I want this inside me right now. Can you feel how wet I am already?"

"Yes," he whispered.

"Slide your fingers inside me."

Luke continued to rub her pleasure button and on the downstroke allowed his fingers to continue and curve into her body. They both simultaneously exhaled and Alexis had to bite her knuckle to stifle cries that would have carried to the square below. "Oh Luke, yesss."

She reached to undo his belt and trousers, only momentarily surprised at the layer of underwear, set his rigid shaft free and ran her fingers along its veined length, shivering in delight as it nodded in appreciation. Stepping away, she spun to face the town, wiggling her curvy rear in his direction and looking back at him over her shoulder. "Slide that in where your fingers were."

Luke stepped towards her and she reached behind herself to guide him inside her buttery folds, sighing as he sunk home. Luke groaned in pleasure. It was like nothing he had ever experienced. Velvety smooth, slick with her juices, and the noises of satisfaction she uttered made him feel like the only man in the world worth a damn. She moved back and forth and Luke eventually began to join in, their bodies bucking together beneath the stars, the gargoyles either side judging, yet maintaining silent vigil.

With every stroke, she let out a sexy sigh that fuelled his actions. "Alexis, you're incredible." He gripped her hips and picked up the pace, mesmerised by the way the moon caught the light and shadow of her perfectly smooth, alabaster bottom. His hands roamed the front of her corset, squeezed her breasts and she moaned loudly.

"Oh I love it when you do that. More. Harder! Sooo close."

She panted into the night as Luke obliged, squeezing her magnificent tits and slamming into her in unison with her cries over the town as she came, adoring the way her buttocks deformed and rippled with each thrust. He felt a surge build inside him. An uncontrollable thirst. "I think I'm close too."

Hurriedly, Alexis pulled away, whirled, dropped to her knees and gripped his bobbing, slippery shaft, wetness glistening beneath the moon's opalescence. She slid his length back and forth inside her curled hand, imploring him to come with wide eyes the whole time. Luke's knees began to buckle and he looked to the heavens as his brain sparked, body quivered and she directed stripe after stripe of white spunk across the creamy surface of her chest, drizzling towards her corset. He groaned with release.

"Oh Alexis." Somewhere in the distance he heard his name called, but he ignored it. "Please come with me. We could do this every day."

She laughed, tucked his cock back in his trousers and did up his belt. "I would wear out!" He jumped as he felt a hand come to rest on his shoulder, quaking as the voice became insistent like a splinter in his head.

"Luke! Lu-uke!"

The world around him shimmered and began to fade startlingly fast. "No! Alexis! I promise I'll retur…"

He twisted away from the grip on his shoulder, blinked and found himself back in the clearing facing the two stones. Spinning, he spat, "What the hell, Gemma? How did you find me?"

"Your dad. I went over to yours. He's worried, Luke. We both are."

"What gives you the right?" He let out an exasperated snort. "She was just going to answer me."

"Who? Alexis?"

Luke's eyes narrowed. "How do you know about her?"

"You were calling her name. You've been stood there with your hands against those stones for ages, muttering to yourself."

"No I haven't. I was there."

"Where?"

"Gothica. With Alexis. On the cathedral roof."

"You were stood right in front of me, Luke. The whole time."

Luke took a step and winced. He paused and lifted his top. "See this?" He showed her the red marks on his ribs. "Bruises from a kicking I got from Tarron while I was there. Explain that!"

Gemma inspected them, visually and with her fingertips. "You could have done that yourself."

"Jesus, I'm not Tyler Durden! I was there in the world with her. I can travel. Project myself. I'm doing what Dad says: carving a niche."

"You're digging a rut!" Gemma put her hands on her hips and continued. "Escaping into comics and fantasy worlds – real or imagined – is a coping strategy, but it won't bring your mum back." Luke opened his mouth to respond, but shut it again promptly. "Look at it this way. If you can go back in time, why go to this Gothica place? Why not just teleport back to before your mum died and save her?" Luke's lip began to tremble and Gemma barrelled on. "Exactly! Because you can't. Because it's all in your fucking head."

A tear sprung and rolled down Luke's cheek, followed by another. He blinked them away and turned back to the stones, shaking. "It's real. She's real!"

Gemma put her hand out and touched his forearm. "Luke, I'm sorry. I don't mean to be harsh, but we're worried about you. Me and your dad especially."

Luke stifled a sob and Gemma stepped in front of him. He dropped his head and buried it in her shoulder, leaning into her and openly crying. She wrapped her arms around him and held tightly until he returned the hug. Between sobs he managed to utter, "I loved her… so much. It's so unfair."

"Shhhh, I know." Gemma stroked the back of his hair. "But as hard as it seems, you have to face it sometime." She felt him go limp against her body, defeated.

They stayed that way, supporting one another until Gemma extricated herself from his grip and looked up. His eyeliner was smudged. With her thumb, she wiped away the streaked tears, stood on tiptoe and kissed him fully, sensuously on the lips, then slowly returned to her regular height. "Stop running, Luke. Take a look around and you'll see that everything you need is right here in this world." Their eyes locked, she reached for his hand and held it. "Everything."

Luke stared at the ground, dug his free hand in his coat pocket and froze. Alongside his mobile was the tower key. Thoughts fired almost too fast for him to process. Gemma was wrong. And right at the same time. He'd been looking in the wrong place for salvation.

A weight lifted inside him. He trained his gaze on Gemma. "Come tomorrow at sundown and I'll show you something out of this world."