Frig Newton

"Oh right, I'd forgotten you're there. But what's the trouble again?"

"Look, I'm in a serious bind here, Donald. They won't let me get my paws on the manuscript without that letter from you. The one I wrote and you signed, or said you signed, and were supposed to send to Trinity two months ago. I need it desperately."

"Calm down Booker. I did indeed sign and send the letter, I remember it now. The problem is likely at their end."

Rupert knew his tone sounded exasperated.

"Fine, that's great, I am thankful for your efforts." He tried, with some success, to modulate his voice.

"But they insist they don't have it."

"Can't I just send them an email tomorrow? They can even call me if necessary. I can verify whatever it is they want to know about you."

"Won't do. The imbeciles are adamant. Has to be a real letter, on paper. I need another, with your signature on it, they won't do electronic communication, still the 18th century here. Can you get one out on overnight tomorrow when you get to the office?"

"Yes, I can do that. I'll see if I can dig up the file and print it out and sign it tomorrow. I'll have Connie priority mail it."

"I'll send you an email copy, it's in my files, you don't need to look. Please just be quick about getting it out."

"To your hotel? Or to them?"

"Better make it here. Got a notepad?"

Rupert gave him the hotel name and address, and made a note to himself to inform the front desk of an important arrival.

"Wait, what about your classes this week? How are you going to manage those?" Donald indeed was annoyed now.

"All set. Michael will handle the intro courses, I'll be back by Friday for the seminar. This has been a royal pain in the ass, if you must know Donald."

"I imagine so." There was a pause, Rupert knew there was no point in further chitchat at this point.

"Excellent, thank you Donald! It cannot arrive here too soon. Thanks, appreciate it old man."

Rupert knew he was cutting it close, but if it came by Tuesday, even late, he still would have a chance to see the Principia on Wednesday.

The envelope from Idaho arrived at his hotel on Tuesday afternoon. It would be a busy morning next for Rupert and he felt a surge of excitement.

Yet since his return to Cambridge on Saturday, Rupert had been in the condition Kierkegaard termed the 'vacillation of the spirit.' His thoughts ranged widely from first, getting the letter, which he now had, and then to Cassie, who had been mysteriously vacant these past days. Had she stayed at Grantham? He kicked himself for not getting her cell number to contact her. He didn't even know her last name. Had she been avoiding him? Had their little apple-tree adventure on Saturday weirded her out?

His mind flip-flopped from one obsession to the other, but there was nothing to be done.

Wednesday morning, right at opening hours, Rupert was at the door to the Wren.

Wentworthy examined the document, showing no interest of any sort. Was he annoyed that Rupert had come through the with documentation? Rupert couldn't tell.

He spent three hours on the manuscript. It was not materially different from other drafts he had read. There were two annotations of some use, but they were not of the break-through, novel moment of genius that he wanted. Anticlimax? Irony? This whole adventure would add exactly one or two footnotes to his own work.

He made his notes, took another pass through, and finally left the library. It really hadn't been worth the trouble, but at least he knew there was nothing more to mine for his own work.

As he stepped out to Nevile's court, there was only one thought. Cassie.

He wandered around Trinity, with the vague hope of running into her, melancholic, restless, now without any real purpose in town. There were so many ways he could have arranged things differently. He thought of button-holing people he ran across, asking if they knew her, where he could find her. But he didn't even know her last name, why would they help?

He didn't even knew if she lived at college. Did graduate students live elsewhere? In town? There was so much of an enigma to this Cambridge mystique.

He made his way to the market square, at least he could return home with some more Stilton.

Cassie found him at the cheesemonger.

"Rupert! Any luck?"

"Yes and no." He relayed his results, ending he was sure, with a more or less disappointed tone.

She looked harried, not impatient, but preoccupied. She wasn't as welcoming as he expected.

Rupert paused, aware he had been going on and on.

"Sorry," she said in a distracted tone. "I am in the midst of a spectacularly busy day. I have to get back to Trinity but hoped to catch you."

"I believe you said you leave Thursday morning, correct?"

"Yes, I'll take the 8:44 train to Kings Cross in London, then on to Heathrow. I'll get back to Moscow a wreck, but at least can drag myself to seminar on Friday."

"I have a proposition that you might find of interest."

"Yes?" He arched his eyebrows.

"You perhaps know where Newton's quarters in college were, between the Porter's gate and the Chapel, on the east side of Great Court?"

"So I have heard."

"The college lets out the room from time to time, mostly to dignitaries, as a bit of diplomacy, a perk to patrons, just so they can stay in the great man's room."

"Ah yes, to sleep in Newton's bed for one night? I imagine that is an attraction."

"Would you like that opportunity? Tonight?"

Rupert stood open-mouthed.

"Of course! That would be splendid!" There was that word again.

"If you can cancel your hotel room for tonight, have them stow your possessions until tomorrow, I think I have found a way to let you have it for the evening."

"A bit on the sly," she added. "Irregular."

Cassie gave him breathless instructions, to meet him at the gate from the Backs at eight, to travel light.

"Sorry, I have to get back. See you then?"

"Yes."

And she was off.

Rupert stood there for a moment, feeling as if in the wake of a fast moving ship. But he made his arrangements, was at the rear gate to Trinity promptly at eight, where Cassie let him in.

They made their way carefully through the college, and to the northeast corner of Great Court, where Cassie led him up a narrow staircase. Rupert felt a bit like a burglar, or someone on some sort of illicit assignment.

It was, he felt, a bit eerie to be ascending stairs that had felt Newton's own feet upon them once upon a time. He wondered if the planks had been changed out since he lived here, but didn't dare speak to Cassie as they went up.

The room itself was hardly remarkable. He was sure it had been spruced up, surely looked better than when Sir Isaac lived there, had his food delivered when in the midst of one of his solitary obsessive periods when he didn't leave his room for days, studying and writing.

Small dormer windows faced the court, the wood inside was dark, the ceiling quite low.

There was a bookcase, carefully arranged. A "Principia' was obvious, a facsimile of course, and the college's choices were otherwise non-representative. A few theological works, more works of mathematics than Newton ever would have had, and zero of the alchemical texts that comprised over a quarter of his library.

Rupert noticed a tripod and some photography equipment in one corner. He looked sideways at Cassie.

"I told them I would be doing a photo-shoot here, some visuals to add to my research, that's how I got access to the room. I said I needed the keys for a couple days, needed early morning and late evening light, and they were satisfied with that. Of course you know this is highly irregular."

"I imagine so." Rupert looked around the room, the early evening light dimming. Of course there were no electric lights, Newton would have used a candle at night.

"It's really very kind of you to do this. I know I won't be able to talk about this officially, but it still is quite an experience. To sleep in Newton's bed, look out his window in the morning. Thank you."

She was standing maybe three feet away, looking hard at Rupert.

He suddenly felt absolutely on edge. Every element of his being wanted Cassie to stay overnight with him, but he faltered. It was too sudden, too forward, his American instincts surely wrong and out of place here at Trinity College Cambridge. And if it was irregular for him to stay here as a guest, how would the college officials feel about having Newton's room used as a trysting spot?

Cassie was still looking at him. Intently. He had never been good at reading female non-verbal communication mechanisms, invariably he interpreted them one hundred and eighty degrees wrongly.

"Cassie," he managed to stammer out. "Would you be up for staying here with me overnight?" He could not remember making such a fraught request before, ever, in his life. He steeled himself for the response.

Her face relaxed into a smile.

"I was hoping you would ask."

She threw her arms around him. "Oh this will be splendid!"

While they embraced, Rupert's mind raced. Details, consequences, differential tangents off obscure equations.

"Ah, the sheets?" he managed. "How will we keep things tidy? Overnight?"

"All figured out," she said. "I brought a towel we can put underneath us. I'll be able put things to right tomorrow after you leave."

She had thought it all out. Rupert was stunned.

"Your health?" he stammered.

"All good. No worries on the pregnancy front, either. I'm prepared. And you?"

"Fine," he couldn't believe he was saying this.

They looked at each other.

"I am always so awkward the first time," he managed. "There haven't even been that many of them."

"Neither for me," she agreed. "Let's just relax about it all, we've got until tomorrow."

"Why don't you use the loo first and get into bed? I'll follow along. Here, take this," she handed him a small towel. "The loo's down the hall. I'll handle the bed."

Rupert found his excitement almost uncontrollable as he did his business, cleaned himself up.

The sheets were cold on his naked skin when he slid in. He was glad that he had gone first, at least he would warm the bed a little before Cassie joined him.

He watched her disrobe, his chin resting on the covers.

No matter how many times he had seen a woman remove her clothes, the thrill never entirely disappeared. Cassie was deliberate, putting her carefully folded woolen skirt on one of the two chairs in the room, and arranging her blouse on the other chair's back to be fresh for when they left in the morning.

She was soft, rounded. Her hair just grazed the tops of her shoulders, the triangle of her pubic hair dark, symmetrical. Her chest was larger than he imagined. Rupert inhaled.

Her skin was cool to his touch as she slid in, he felt her hard nipples against his chest as they clutched each other, more for warmth than from ardor at that moment. It took some time before the bed warmed enough to do anything else.

Cassie had placed herself on top, it felt marvelous to have her soft expanse draped over him, while she nibbled his neck. Soft fluffy hair moved about his shoulders, her scent was forest-like, loamy.

And then a slow descent down his body. He was keenly aware of her movements—the rustlings of the covers, her soft lips on his flanks, a tongue poked into his navel, then along his pelvis bones.

By the time her mouth made its way to his member Rupert was on fire. The first lick, from anyone new, is always an expectant threshold. How will she proceed? Will she tease? Dive right in? What is it like for her? What does she want to do? How does she want to be treated herself? He tried not to ponder too greatly over these immensely important matters, and just let the sensations wash over.

Cassie was a teaser, a bit of a surprise. She licked, she suckled, never for long enough, but each touch almost excruciating in the excitement produced.

She came up for air at one point, and they embraced, all warmed up at this stage.

"What would you like?" he whispered, always a delicate question for a first night.

"Let's couple?" she suggested. "Me on top if you don't mind? You probably won't last long, judging by your state," her fingers wagged his erection as if to underline her words, "and that's fine, but we can maybe continue after?"

This sounded good, but Rupert felt the need gauge her own condition.

She was damp to his finger, but not yet slippery. This would work.

He wondered if Sir Isaac had ever had a carnal moment in this bed,. Surely he had, but probably just with himself. Newton had never married, never even had a love-interest of any sort. Rupert tried to imagine what Newton would think if he could feel Rupert's right middle finger that moment, as it probed and insinuated itself along the folds of Cassie's notch, growing damper each moment.

She climbed aboard. He felt her groin hairs slide over his right thigh, and she rubbed herself upon him a few times, to his delight.

She guided him in, that first penetration always of astounding delight.

She was right, Rupert did not last long. Having her squash her soft chest into his, the rhythmic movements of her haunches as she moved in and out, up and down, the squeezings of her sex on his penis, all combined for sudden and momentous release. She continued to pull on him, until he was spent, then lay on top of him. It all felt warm, wet, elemental.

Cassie rolled to the side and they faced each other. Rupert tried to find something to say, but Cassie put her fingers to his lips.

"Let's not talk at the moment. Just your senses, nothing more."

She rested her head on his chest. Stroking her hair was one of the most pleasant things Rupert had done in ages.

They rested, but soon inquiring fingers began their searching explorations. Rupert delighted in the softness of her flesh, now warm and perfect under the covers.

Cassie toyed with his penis, but it was loose and lifeless. Rupert had gotten her slick, the feel of her lips sliding along his fingers was exciting, the brush of her mons hair along his hand.

At one point she moved on top of him, and slid her sex up and down one leg. Her breathing had increased, and Rupert felt damp leavings on his thigh.

While Rupert felt some excitement himself, his organ remained stubbornly quiescent.

Cassie, came back up along-side him, her fingers gentle on his penis.

"The third Law," she murmured in his ear.

"To any action there is always an opposite and equal reaction," her fingers continued to slide along his penis, trace the edge of his glans. "Materiæ vis insita est potentia resistendi, qua corpus unumquodq..."

Rupert whispered back the rest, "quantum in se est, perseverat in statu suo vel quiescendi vel movendi uniformiter in directum."

His penis began to stir.

"In other words, the actions of two bodies upon each other are always equal and always opposite in direction," she translated, moving her hand up and down Rupert's shaft.

"Some equal and opposite for us, perhaps?" she asked after he had grown hard.

She positioned herself underneath him. Rupert felt the dampness of her groin and the eagerness with which she held him tight.

It was a slightly longer union this time. To Rupert's great pleasure, Cassie climaxed not once but twice, panting and heaving. She gripped him fiercely, pulling his rump cheeks with startling vigor. He finished inside her and sank into her warmth.

Sleep came swiftly.

Also the dawn.

Cassie was up first, urging Rupert to hurry. "You'll need to get going to catch your train."

They spoke little but gathered themselves up.

"Rupert, you leave first. Go around the perimeter of Great Court away from the Porter's Gate, and make your way to the Backs. I'll follow in ten minutes or so, while I straighten up. I don't think we should be seen together."

Rupert walked deliberately, acting as if he were a resident of the college, trying not to stare at the early morning beauty of the Gothic buildings, the stately gables and windows.

Cassie met him at the gate and let him through.

"You can go down to Silver Street, but it will be a bit quicker for you to use the Clare Bridge."

"Isn't that just for townsfolk and university people?" he asked. "That's what the sign says."

"Technically yes, but in fact no one really cares, especially at this hour."

She leaned up for a kiss. "And I am making you an honorary university visiting fellow, as of today." Her smile was small but triumphant.

They looked at each other. The situation was absolutely unprecedented in Rupert's brief life of the heart. He had no idea of what to do, what to say.

"Rupert, please do me a favor and write? Not just email, but proper letters? I should not like this to be finished as of this morning. I have never been able to predict matters, but I have some faith that this is only a beginning."

Again his mouth opened, in astonishment, but she reached up and kissed him hard, holding him tightly.

She left off and looked into his face.

"Promise?"

He steeled himself.

"On one condition."

Her eyes narrowed and it seemed to Rupert that her body tensed.

"Only if you write back."

Their embrace went on longer than either of them expected, unwilling to break the spell. Rupert thought of universal gravity, the only force that acted even at distance.

She smiled and turned, and this time Rupert watched her make her way towards Nevile's court and the arresting if troublesome Trinity College.