Slingshot

She didn't have to scan through a crowd this time. There he was at the far edge of the bar. The gangly student grew up to become a thin middle-aged man. His red hair was shorter and with white creeping in. Same with the beard, although it was better trimmed. Instead of a t-shirt and jeans, he wore jeans, an open-collared dress shirt and a sports jacket.

If she had no idea who he was, she still would have guessed university professor.

That's when she froze. What would David's reaction be? Would he run screaming? Faint? Kiss her?

While she hesitated, David got up and went to the bathroom. Gemma paused for another moment, and then moved to the stool next to the one David had vacated. The bartender wandered over. She figured the bartender would card her.

"You might want to move," she said. "I've been working here for 10 years. The prof's a regular, but every February 14, he sits on his stool all night. Anyone who tries to sit where you are, he tells them it's taken."

Gemma felt the air go out of her lungs. Ten years? Has he been doing this for 20 years? Why? She told him the date. Why did he keep coming back each year?

"It's ok, Margaret. She can stay," a voice said behind her. She spun around and looked him in the eyes.

She'd spent much of the last year imagining this moment. David probably spent most of the last 20 years wondering about it. He didn't say anything. Didn't hug her or show any kind of emotion. Instead, he sat on his stool and ordered two beers. Margaret brought over a couple of bottles - not stubbies this time - and made a discreet exit.

David held up his beer. She tapped her bottle with his.

"To discovering you're not insane," he said. And then took a long pull on his beer.

"David," she started. He held up his hand and she went silent.

"I'm a scientist. So when you weren't there in the morning, I thought that perhaps I had gone insane and imagined the whole thing. But then there was your note. And your...underwear," he said, and a ghost of a smile passed over his lips. "So then I ran through other scenarios. A gag by my classmates. Perhaps Tina, my ex, got one of her friends to distract me so I wouldn't go chasing after her.

"I even, briefly, wondered if you were an alien. You joke about something that much; maybe it's to cover the truth."

"Still not an alien, David," she said.

"Gemma, it's no weirder than realizing you've been visited by a time traveller."

So there it was. He already knew. Or at least strongly suspected.

"When did you know?"

"I had a pretty good theory by 1972."

"Jesus, that long ago? How did you figure it out?" she asked.

"Well, my theory wasn't proven until I saw you sitting on that stool, barely looking a day older, whereas I look like this," he said, waving his hands up and down his body. But he was smiling, at least. The initial shock appears to have eased up.

"You still look damn good to me," Gemma said. David blushed, and she saw the man from last year/twenty years ago.

"The note was a big hint. You knew I had journals. It sounded like you had access to them. The weird date in the future from a bar that didn't exist. But it wasn't until I was in a lecture in 1972 that I knew.

"We were discussing the debunking of a theory, one that I talked to you about that night. And it came back to me that you smirked when I talked about it," he said.

"Shit," Gemma said. "And I thought I did such a good acting job."

David tapped his head. "It's not just that I'm smart. I have an excellent memory. And believe me, I replayed that night extensively over the years."

"Really?" she said, facing him and showing off her legs. David saw them and quickly looked away.

"That's when I realized you knew more than you were letting on. More than someone studying sociology would know. In fact, I used your little smirks to disapprove about a half dozen different theories. Helped give my academic career quite the boost," he said.

Gemma groaned and put her head in her hands.

"Let me guess, they teach you in time travel school not to give away anything that might benefit someone in the past," David said. He sounded more confident in himself now. Twenty years ago, she had him one step behind. But now he was like a professor lecturing one of his students.

She had to admit, it was kind of hot.

"Yes, they tell us to avoid it whenever we can. But now I'm beginning to realize how badly I screwed up," she said.

"Why did you come back to see me in 1970? It's the one thing I could never figure out. Why me?"

Gemma juggled how much to tell him and how much to be cryptic. Part of her wanted to get up and walk out of the pub. Mission accomplished, after all. That bitch, Chair Three, wasn't completely wrong. He'd seen her and now knew time travel was possible. Anything else she did here might screw things up.

But she wanted to talk to him. He's a genius. His mind is unique. She wanted to spend hours talking to him, but only after she fucked his brains out.

"There was a chance in 1970 you might drop out of school and that would have been...bad. So they sent me back to make sure you stayed in school," she said.

"By sleeping with me," David said, sounding hurt.

For the first time on this trip, she reached out and touched him, taking his arm to make him look at her.

"God no!" Gemma said. "I... look, there is a big bloody book they give you when you enter the... program. The first two rules are: Do not tell, hint, suggest, or in any way allude to the fact that you might be a time traveller."

"And the second rule?"

"Do not fuck anyone while you're in the past," she said. And then they both laughed.

"So you're not a great time traveller, is what you're saying," David said. But he was smiling now, instead of looking like someone who had been played.

"I am, in fact, an excellent time traveller. Top of my class. But there were concerns I had certain....rogue tendencies," Gemma admitted.

"Like sleeping with people and leaving detailed notes about the future."

"Yeah, just like that."

David paused and took another sip of his beer. He had more questions, she could tell, but was trying to figure out how to phrase them. She just wished he'd hurry up. She was trying not to look anxious, but the clock was ticking.

"So if it's prohibited, why...."

"Because you're hot, you idiot," Gemma said, perhaps a little louder than she should have. "Here's another slip-up for you. I'm a sapiosexual. Keep that under your hat, as the term won't be around until the late 90s. It means I find intelligence hot.

"It means that People Magazine's Sexiest Man Alive could come through that door right now...who is that now anyway?" Gemma asked.

"Sean Connery," the bartender said, as she replaced their empty bottles with new ones.

Gemma paused.

"Ok, bad example. A rich, attractive man who is not Sean Connery could come through that door and offer to whisk me away from here. And I would still choose to stay here with you. You're a genius. It's fucking hot to me."

David looked flustered. He must have hoped to see Gemma again, but the possibility of sleeping with her again was one hope too many for him.

"All because I know time travel exists," he said.

Gemma sighed, tilted her head and glared at him.

"You're making me reconsider the whole 'you're a genius' thing, David," she said.

Then the penny dropped.

"I invented time travel?!" he said. He looked like he was ready to fall off the stool.

Gemma gestured with her hands for him to keep his voice down.

"Yes. My briefing said this date was a crisis point for you. You'd been researching it. But today was the day you either abandoned your research - which would be bad - or you pushed forward and invented it," she said.

Then she sat back and watched him try to process it all. She sympathized.

"But, but the only reason I'm here is that you left a note saying to meet you here today."

"Yup," she said, taking a sip of her beer.

"But you weren't supposed to leave that note."

"Nope."

"So you did something you weren't supposed to do, which got me curious about time travel. And now you're here telling me I will invent it, which I didn't even consider doing until you told me."

"Yup."

"But...I...what the fuck?"

"'Fucking time travel' is the unofficial motto of the Institute," she said. "Sometimes it's best not to think about it too much so your head doesn't explode."

"So when do I invent it?"

"Spoilers, sweetie," she said. "You invent it when you invent it."

David took a big drink of his beer, and was still trying to process things. She needed to move things along.

"David, what you invent...it's not a starship slingshotting around the sun to go back in time. I don't have a Delorean parked outside and will need to hit 88 mph on West Queen to return to my time. And I don't have a TARDIS stashed away in an alley either, although I would love one of those.

"I only have so much time here. And essentially, my job here is done. You'll invent time travel."

"What if I decide not to," he said, trying to look defiant.

"You do, though."

"I could always decide not to. I still have free will."

"You do, though. You do because I'm here now, drinking a beer with you. And wondering why you're wasting time arguing time travel logic when you could take me somewhere and fuck me."

"What?" he sputtered. "Gemma, I must be 20 years older than you now..."

"Nineteen."

"Why would you want to sleep with me? Twenty years ago it was confusing, but now..."

"You're even hotter now, because you're smarter now. You're passionate about science. And....you came here, every year, for the last 20 years hoping to see me here," Gemma said, quietly.

"Margaret told you," he said. Gemma nodded. "I knew it was foolish, but I...hoped."

Gemma reached over and placed a hand on his face.

"I know this is all insane, David. I do. And it's not fair to you. But if I have to argue about time travel, I'd prefer to do it naked in bed with you. What do you say?"

"Isn't that against the rules," he said, but a hint of teasing in his voice gave her hope.

"I won't tell if you don't," she said, hoping he understood she meant that very literally.

"There...there's a hotel nearby."

She hopped off the stool and held out her arm. David threw money on the bar and slid his arm between hers and her body. If they got any looks, neither of them were paying any attention.

And that's how, 30 minutes later, she was in a hotel room looking at her naked reflection in a bathroom mirror. It was vanity and a waste of time, but she wanted to look good for him. It was going to be a while before he saw her again.

On the one hand, this was great. She'd only been in 1990 for over an hour and had already achieved both objectives. She'd convinced David to invent time travel and sleep with her again. This was the good news. The bad was she could feel the creeping edges of 1990 wanting her gone the same way that 1970 wanted her gone last year. It wasn't serious yet, thankfully. She had another three or four hours before it would be hard to hide what was happening.

What she hadn't, and couldn't, tell David was that he invented a frustrating form of time travel. Yes, they could travel back in time, but not always. For certain key events, the slingshot failed.

Then, there were the limitations on who could travel. You had to be under 50 kg and no taller than 150 cm. For legal reasons, you could be no younger than 18. For physical reasons, you couldn't be older than 25. If you weren't in that narrow window, the slingshot usually failed.

But David's invention drove men absolutely crazy. Even if they met the criteria, men made for awful time travellers. Some thought it had to do with muscle density. Gemma leaned towards the theory that women processed pain differently from men. Whatever it was about the pain chronal rejection caused, women handled it much better than men.

The few men working at the Institute were not fans of her theory.

Only three of the 50 people she knew who had slingshotted were men. Each attempt was a failure. So they didn't try anymore.

But the element of David's time travel method that was currently pissing her off was this - you only got three slingshots. That's it. The first lasted eight hours, the second seven and the last six hours. That's how long you could last in the past before it became agonizing. If you tried a fourth, it failed. The recovery time for a slingshot also got longer. It was two weeks last time; this one would lay her up for a month. The last one could be up to two months.

The speculation at the Institute was that time was sentient and a mean bitch. Once she figured out what you were doing, she got onto your shenanigans faster and hurt you quicker. And when it was over, she made you pay a stiff price for breaking her rules. Superstitious and not terribly scientific, but as good a theory as any of the others she'd heard.

You had to want it. Time travel wasn't for the faint of heart. She wondered how David would feel when he realized that one day.

Gemma looked in the mirror one last time. She didn't like what slingshotting did to her hair, but it was far down the list of her irritants with the process. But her blonde hair and big blue eyes worked. She was too thin for her liking, but that was part of the price. But she had nice tits and a surprisingly good ass for a thin white girl. She didn't think David would complain much. She opened the bathroom door and walked out naked into the bedroom.

David was sitting on the bed in his underwear, looking awkward, nervous, and adorable.

"Pretty sure they fire university professors for taking 20-year-old women back to hotel rooms," he said, finding his voice.

"I'm 22 now. And only if I was one of your students," she said, walking towards him. She stood next to him, and their heads were about the same height when he sat on the bed. She ran her nails through his hair. "I mean, I could pretend if you want. It'd be kinda hot, to be honest."

"No, no, that's fine. It's hot enough for me that a sexy woman from the future travelled back in time at least partially to have sex with me," David said. He blushed, but she could tell he was also being sincere.

"Are you sure?" she said. Then trying to sound girly and sexy, she reached down and ran her fingers along the outline of his hard cock. "Oh, Dr. Sale. Your supercollider is even bigger than the other girls said it was."

He rolled his eyes, picked Gemma up and tossed her on the bed. She landed with a squeal. He then shifted up the bed to lie next to her.

"That was old when I was in school. Please tell me they're still not using them in the future?"

"Does that mean you don't want to study harmonic motion with me? We could study thermodynamics to find out why I get so hot around you?" she laughed.

David leaned down and kissed her. She was sure he wanted to, but it was also an excellent excuse to shut her up.

After they came up for air, she looked at his face and ran her fingers through his beard. Yes, he was older. There were some small wrinkles on his face. There were more white hairs. But the eyes remained the same. Kind, but penetrating. Like he was always trying to figure out how something was working. She had no doubt he was now paying attention to everything she said or did for some hint on how time travel worked.

"So, learn any new tricks in the last 20 years?" Gemma asked.

"God, 20 years. It's insane. How long was it for you?"

"A year," Gemma said. "It's crazy, selfish, and unethical, but I missed you. Which makes no sense. It was a year. You had 20 years of not knowing if I would even come back."

"I'm so glad you did. Not just to prove I'm not crazy, it's just...." he said, losing the words.

Gemma kissed him again. "Yeah, me too. I kinda got in a little over my head that night."

"Yeah, well, other women have failed to live up to my time-travelling mystery girl."

"Time-travelling blondes are a pretty hard kink to satisfy," she said, smirking at him.

David began kissing his way down her body, pausing to bite her nipples. Gemma hissed at the sensation.

"You deserve that."

"Ooooh, what else do I deserve?" Gemma asked.

"You deserve? I've had to wait 20 years!" he said, continuing to work on her breasts. She was enjoying the sensation of his beard running against her skin.

"Ah, but I offer enticements," she said. It was a bad idea. A super bad idea. But she could tell from how David kept bringing it up that the time apart was bothering him. Time to get him to stop thinking a bit. "For every orgasm you give me, I'll tell you one thing about the future."

His head popped up. "Seriously? How is that not against your rules?"

"Well, some Terms and Conditions apply."

"Of course."

"First, nothing about time travel and how you invent it. Second, nothing about yourself, when you die or anything foolish like that. Third, I reserve the right to say no if I think the answer could cause problems."

He stared at her, his fingers tracing circles along her stomach. The rational part of her brain was hoping he'd say no. Trying to figure out what she could and couldn't answer would be a bloody nuisance. On the other hand, she was betting he could give her lots of orgasms.

"Deal," he said, sliding between her legs and beginning to lick at her pussy.

"Fuuuuuuck," she moaned. Of course, his quest for knowledge might end up killing her.

She gave David credit. Two screaming orgasms from going down on her. His tongue and fingers were a lot more skilled than the last time. Then again, it'd been a year for her and she hadn't been with anyone. She had no idea who he had been with. He might have gotten married. They still kept all that information from her. But he'd obviously had some lovers because he knew what he was doing.

She tried to distract him by sucking on his cock. She was willing to bet she could time travel for the rest of her life and not find a man who didn't love it.

But sensing she was doing this as much to give him pleasure as to delay how many questions she would have to answer, he pushed her mouth off his cock. Then he rolled her over on her back and slid his cock inside.

"No condom this time?" Gemma gasped.

"I'm betting you're on birth control and I was tested a few weeks ago."

She grinned.

"Just in case a time-travelling blonde happened to swing by?"

He blushed, and it had nothing to do with the exertion from fucking her.

"I hoped my theory would pan out," he said, his cock moving back and forth inside her pussy. She wrapped her legs around him and began to match his movements. It was a toss-up between how many orgasms she wanted versus how much of the future she was going to have to give up.

So far, orgasms were winning over common sense.

"Glad your theory worked out?" Gemma said, shamelessly fishing for compliments.

David took her legs, put them on his shoulders and began pounding her hard. Gemma lost the ability to speak, breathe, and think, and not necessarily in that order. Within minutes, she found enough breath to scream out her third orgasm of the evening.

When she finally recovered enough to wipe sweat from her face and look at him, he was also sweating. But smiling, too.

"I think it's working out quite well. That's three secrets," he teased.

"Oh, it is on," Gemma growled. Her legs were still wrapped around David's shoulders. Using some leverage and martial arts training for her childhood, she flipped him on his back. He looked up at her with surprise. She grinned down malevolently.

"No way you get four," she said.

"We'll see," he said.

So began a cat-and-mouse game between the two of them. Gemma moved on his cock, using her pussy muscles to squeeze him. In return, he would play with her nipples or run his fingers along her clit. It was evil. It was fun. And judging by how she was feeling and the look on his face, it was about to end.