Time Rider Ch. 05

Disclaimer: All characters portrayed engaging in sexual activity are 18 years of age or older. Actual historical figures or living people represented are done strictly for context and humour, I lay no claim to them. If you had trouble following the plots of Pulp Fiction or Four Rooms because of the back-and-forth timelines, just turn around and leave now, as this fic will make you butthurt. As always, critiques and reviews all welcome, illiterate flames will be snickered at. Enjoy!

Chapter 5, Part I - I Think I'm Getting The Hang Of This!

Mark sat as his dining room table, eating dutifully. His mom had prepared short ribs and mashed for dinner, one of his favourites. What she didn't know was that Mark had substituted several herbs and spices into her collection, items he'd brought back from his temporal travels. At the very least, this meant they were technically several hundred years old, or sometimes that they didn't exist in the modern era at all.

"I'm enjoying this particular batch of thyme that I put in the braise," Dhallyla Pritchard remarked as she gently stabbed some green beans with her fork. "Mark, where did you say you got it for me? The flavour is so ... special."

Mark shrugged. "Another shop I thought I'd try out," he replied. "Nowhere near our usual places."

"Well, keep it up, son," his father said, sitting at the other end of the table. "No offence to your mother's cooking, but the spices we were getting before weren't helping the cause. Now this is flavour."

"Such a good little minion," his mom said sweetly, reaching over and pinching his cheek. "First, you did amazingly well on your Physics exam and boosted your overall grade to the place where the university accepted you, and now you're an herbs and spices guru. Talk about an unexpected change."

"Yeah," his sister Roxy said, sitting across from him, and trying to keep the suspicion out of her voice. "Unexpected is right."

"Now Roxy, be nice," their mom chided. "You should be happy for your little brother, he'll be going to university with you."

"As long as she pulls her grades up," grunted dad, pausing in eating to waggle his fork in her general direction. "You promised us you'd keep your grades up and we'd let you live here rent-free as a result, Rox. We're living up to our end of the bargain, what's so difficult about yours?"

"Maybe I should study more and party less," she grumbled, scowling at her food. She hated to admit it, but her mom was right, the spices were great. Where had the little trouser-snake bought them? "Y'know, open my mind more and my legs less?"

"Dear!" Dhallyla gasped, looking at her daughter in shock. "Nobody said you were behaving licentiously! There's no need to use language like that!"

"Sorry," the dark-haired girl sighed, putting down her fork. "Just been on edge lately. Seems to've been The Mark Show around here recently, and I'm not even quite making my grades in Soph."

"You just need to focus, darling," mom said, trying to sound reassuring. "Mark stopped goofing around and knuckled under, and he got rewarded. Nothing says you can't do the same."

She reached for the dull green bottle and removed the cork, pouring herself another glass of the Bordeaux her son had found. She looked at the mottled green glass, the seemingly dusty exterior, and the red wax they'd had to break to get the cork out.

"So interesting to sell a bottle of wine like this," she mused, tracing a finger over the surface. There's not even a proper label. Who thought of selling wine this way?"

"Artisan wines are a big deal, mom," Mark said simply, pouring another glass for himself. He was technically not of age to drink, but his parents let him at mealtimes. "It's clever marketing, y'gotta admit. People feel like they're buying a really old wine, so it's classy."

"Well, it's certainly enjoyable," his mom agreed, watching the dark, rich liquid swirl in her glass. "Make sure you get more of it, wherever you got it."

"Yeah, maybe you can take me along with you next time," Roxy said, resting her chin on her hand and her elbow on the table, smiling at him. "Sounds like a place I'd show to a few of my friends."

"Uh, we'll see," Mark replied somewhat uncertainly. "I never know when I'll make it back there..."

***

Becky and Mark were leaning into one another and kissing deeply while they sat on her swinging chair in her backyard. It was nearly midnight, and with the rows of trees that bordered her property, they weren't worried about being espied. The blue-eyed blonde beauty pressed her impressive breasts into his chest, humming into his mouth while her fingers reached up and tangled through his brown hair.

Mark, for his part, had one hand resting on her back, holding her close, while his other hand had reached around to hold her butt, squeezing it gently. She was wearing snug jeans that showed off her magnificent, toned curves, while her bust strained tightly against an old, faded screen-T that advertised the classic cartoon "What's Opera, Doc?"

They finally broke the kiss and pressed their foreheads together, just enjoying the warm night air and one another's company. She was his high-school Physics teacher, at least technically. Rebecca was still teaching an earlier version of Mark's current self, one that was unaware of his carnal interactions with this insanely hot woman.

"Still can't believe how stupid earlier Me is," he breathed, fondling her ass through her jeans. "He could've been doing this."

"Now now, that's not true," she giggled, rubbing her nose against his, her eyes dancing in amusement and delight. "You're still seventeen when I get to class every day and watch you fail miserably at Physics, you know. What makes you think I want to be caught fucking a minor?"

Mark smiled slyly, took her hand and placed it on his crotch, making her massage his cock through his jeans.

"Oh, I dunno," he mused, feeling her shiver. "Maybe this..."

"Nnnn, that's cheating and you know it," Becky murmured, continuing to rub him even after he removed his own hand. "And I suppose it's only a three-month technicality, but I still wouldn't have if I didn't know about the Holmes Field Device. I don't care how big your dick is, young man, sometimes a lady needs more."

"Y'mean like wacky time travel adventures?" he asked, grinning.

"Exactly like wacky time travel adventures," she purred as she clambered into his lap and straddled him, her arms around his shoulders. Predictably, Mark's hands came to her butt. "I always expected to lead an adventurous life, but this is something altogether different. And the fact that I owe it to one of the lousiest Physics students I've ever taught is rather ironic."

"I think you said 'lousiest' when you meant 'luckiest,'" Mark quipped, squeezing her butt cheeks and kissing her nose. Becky giggled and nodded.

"I couldn't agree more; you are one of the luckiest Physics students to ever live," she opined, using her hands to gesture to herself. "Not often a guy gets access to a playground like this without a gold band, you know."

He nodded. He and Becky were very close now. Maybe they even loved one another after a fashion. But were they in love?

She seemed to sense his thoughts and kissed his nose. "Stop worrying, big man," she cooed. "I don't think we're in love. I suppose part of me is gone on you, but that's just the euphoria of our adventures and all the dopamine you keep pumping into my system. You're seven years younger than me; I'd probably kill you after a while."

"I didn't know you were an ageist, Becks," he chuckled, teasing her. "After all, remember the innkeeper's two daughters in that little town in France? You sure they were legal?"

"We've been over this, Mark." Becky chided, stroking his cheek. "If they were alive today, they would've been nearly five hundred years old."

"God, I love how your mind works," he laughed. "You're so much better at this time travel stuff than I am."

"Maybe I'm intuitive about it, and a quick study, but I think you've got something I don't, and that's dumb luck," she mused, casually moving her breasts against his chest while they talked. "I mean, think about it - I was taken prisoner by Cardinal Richelieu, and virtually a prisoner in Queen Anne's court. I had no way of getting out of there, and certainly not of returning home. I don't have any clue, yet, of how to build a time machine."

She kissed him deeply, her fingers tangling in his hair again as her heart almost raced at the memory.

"But then you came back for me, after being shot and nearly killed, and charged in like some sort of insane knight on a horse, threw the entire Louvre into utter chaos, and got me out of there."

"Well, maybe," he said, almost blushing. "I didn't do it alone, y'know."

"That's true," Becky agreed. "You had help from Chester Edgeworth, and Lady Alexandra."

Becky leaned back slightly and sighed, closing her eyes. "Now her I'm totally in love with."

"Even though she's probably your ancestor?" Mark teased.

"Remind me all you like, I don't care," Becky sniffed. "So I'm an incestuous time-travelling, Physics-teaching slut. I'm having a great romp, thank you."

"Me too, Becks," Mark agreed, nodding. "And I'm glad I've got all the dumb luck necessary to rescue you, because you've got the smarts to save me when I do anything stupid."

They kissed some more, with her sitting contentedly in his lap, just enjoying the prelude to the night's activities.

"So," she said finally, looking at her student and lover. "Where shall we head?"

"Don't you mean 'when,' Becks?" Mark quipped.

"Try to refrain from time travel jokes, they're painful coming from you," she sighed, smiling and shaking her head. "Any ideas?"

"Well, I think Chester's been in touch," Mark mused, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a brochure. It was made of regular paper and inks, but what it displayed was so very strange. "You can, apparently, go on safaris with dinosaurs, if you know where and when to look."

"Ooh, like Jurassic Park?" she asked, taking the brochure and examining it.

"Well, Anyperiod Park, I guess," Mark replied, shrugging. "Looks like some company from the far future has created amusement parks back on Pangaea in various eras, allowing time travellers to go and see what life was like. They've created huge, secured habitats on continents to allow for safe interaction without affecting the timeline or the world at large."

"They must be from really far in the future and have some really high tech if they're confident enough to do that and your time cops haven't kicked their ass," Becky said absently, still reading through the brochure. "Oh, look at this, they've domesticated members of some species! You can ride on some plant eaters ... there's Dromaeosaur races ..."

"Interested?" he asked.

She pursed her lips: "It's expensive, Mark. It's meant for people from the time period the company is from, clearly. And assuming this sign indicates the currency, there's an awful lot of zeroes following it."

Mark thought about that for a moment. "But Chester had to know that, and still gave it to us, right? That means he knows something we don't."

"And we all remember what happened last time he knew something and we didn't," she pointed out, folding up the brochure and tucking it into her bra. "You got shot and nearly died, and I ended up a prisoner in a gilded cage. Let's pass for now, and do something a bit less exotic but still fun, okay?"

"I'm down with that; it's not like there's a time limit on the offer, literally," Mark acquiesced. "So, what shall we do?"

She made a show of thinking, tapping her finger against her cheek. "Well ..."

***

"How's your head?" Becky asked as they walked down the hallway, gazing in wonder at the ornate mosaic that covered the floor and stretched ahead of them. The walls, no doubt made of brick, were covered in plaster, upon which colourful (and often erotic) frescoes were painted. While the clothing she was wearing in theory resembled the stola and other clothes worn by Roman women, hers was considerably abbreviated, if not downright scandalous. The white garment hung off her sensual curves, spilling away from her voluptuous breasts, which could be seen through the mostly diaphanous material. Gold bracelets and bangles adorned her arms and a thin gold chain with tiny jewels sat on her ankle. She was wearing her golden-blonde hair up atop her head, but playful wisps and curls hung down in places, giving it a sassy and almost playful look. A gold-coloured belt cinched in at her tiny waist, making her bust look even bigger.

Mark grimaced and lightly thumped the heel of his palm against the side of his head, as if trying to jar his brain loose. "It kinda hurts, to be honest, like a buzzing headache," he muttered, waiting for his eye to stop twitching. "Who'd've thought getting advanced cybernetics installed in your noggin would hurt?"

"Oh, come now, you're hardly Steve Austin," Becky chided, smiling at his outfit while they walked. "It was just a little bio-chip installed into your Broca's area to help you get by quickly with the whole language thing."

"Well, if Latin is supposed to sound like the white noise on a grandpa TV combined with a mosquito buzzing in your ear, then it's working," Mark groused, wiggling his jaw to see if opening up his ear canals helped at all in getting rid of this unwelcome phenomenon. "How long did they say it usually lasted?"

"Just an hour," Becky replied, stopping and fiddling with Mark's tunic, adjusting it to show off his handsome physique to best effect. The simple leather belt hung loosely on his small waist, more for contrast than anything. He was wearing very simple sandals on his feet. She hadn't had to do very much to his dark hair to achieve the look she wanted, merely tousling it after rubbing in a little olive oil, making it wavy and pleasing to look at. "Should stop any time now."

And as if acceding to the lovely woman's request, the buzzing and throbbing stopped suddenly. Mark's eyes widened slightly at the sudden quiet inside his cranial grape. Becky saw his expression change and smiled, knowing what had happened.

"Mmmmm," she purred, tracing a finger down his form and over his cock beneath his period clothes. "Estne volumen in tunica, an solum tibi libet me videre?"

Mark grinned, understanding what she had said. "Ego sum laetus video vidi te!" he replied readily.

"Well, I know you're happy to see these ..." Becky whispered, leaning close and using a finger to tug down the edge of her barely-there clothing and exposing her breast to him, the pink nipples begging for his attention. "But ..." she said, replacing the clothing and standing up again, "... we're here to take part in a Roman orgy, so we'd best get moving now that you're feeling better."

Mark exhaled, composing himself after her tease, and nodded. "All right. So what's the drill again?"

"Your name is Bonosus," Becky instructed, touching up his outfit again. "You're a slave from Spain, meaning that you have no rights. But don't worry, I own you, and I am very specific about who can do what with you."

"So, no guy is gonna try and fuck me in the ass, right?" Mark asked somewhat nervously, smiling.

Becky smiled: "Pity you won't try it, you might like it. However, no, I'll simply explain that you're off-limits to men, because you're being saved for my uncle, who is away on the German border. Me, I'm a patrician woman, visiting Rome, and I'm looking for a good time. My name is Aurora. If you really need my attention and are worried about speaking in Latin, we'll speak in English, quietly. Got it?"

"Okay, what should I expect?" he queried.

"I did a little research, looking for who had a reputation for throwing orgies and parties that tended to bring out the morals police," she answered, adjusting her own outfit now. Neither of them was wearing undergarments, and if the light caught the bottom portion of her so-called dress just right, Mark could see her pussy. "This villa is far enough on the outskirts of Rome that we're very unlikely to get a visit."

She leaned back against the wall, smiling saucily as she drew him into her, their pelvises pressing together as she looked up at him.

"So we're going to go in there, and fuck, and fuck, and fuck, with anyone and everyone we choose," she whispered in his ear. "Fuck every single girl that catches your fancy, Mark. Those anacept pills we took will cover us against all known transmitted diseases for a week, and they make us temporarily infertile. No consequences. And the tiny tabs on our skin will keep our libidos from flagging for a whole day."

"That sounds great," he agreed, his eyes glinting with excitement. "Really great."

"Mark, I am going to behave like I haven't since my wildest nights in college," Becky said softly, reaching up and running her fingers through his hair as she looked up into his eyes. He could feel her breathing getting heavy. She was really turned on by what they were about to do. "Are you sure you're prepared to see me like that?"

Mark nodded: "I don't own you, Becks. We're time travel partners, and damned good ones. It's not like we're in love. Do what you like, I promise, it's fine."

"Mmmmmm, just when I thought you couldn't get more attractive ..." she purred, pulling him in for a deep kiss while they leaned against the wall. She broke the kiss and looked up at him. "D'you remember where all our supplies are, in case things happen to go south?"

Mark nodded again. "Back in the little vestibule near the servants' rooms. I remember. Now let's do this ... Mistress Aurora."

"God, I could get used to hearing that," Becky sighed, shivering as she straightened up and prepared herself. "Remember ... lots of drinking, eating, music, dancing and fucking. Do whatever the Hell feels good tonight, Mark, this is a real Roman orgy."

She took him by the hand and smiled wickedly. "Now let's go get 'em, tiger..."

***

Mark was laughing and drinking wine from a silver goblet, while watching a group of slave girls dance in the middle of the floor. The girls, who were clearly from all around the Empire, were whirling and cavorting about while drums and cymbals clashed out a rhythmic beat for them to follow. They wore sheer material draping down from their waists between their legs, and nothing else. Their breasts bounced and jiggled about as they twirled about one another, letting out sensuous calls on occasion.

The hosts of the day's festivities, a patrician man named Flavius and his lovely wife Pompeneia, were very wealthy, and they owned over five hundred slaves, spread out among three separate properties spaced around the capital. Mark had even heard tell that they owned land in Egypt and Byzantium. Wealthy indeed.

There were nearly fifty proper guests, excluding slaves and attendants, so the place was fairly bustling with people. Patricians, plebeians, freedmen, freedwomen and slaves, all were to enjoy themselves tonight. And all at the request of the guest of honour, the stunning Aurora of the fabled Horatius family.

Mark pried his eyes away from the dancing girls long enough to look around for his 'mistress'. He finally espied her, lying stretched out on a lectus, along with their hostess, Pompeneia, hungrily swallowing one another's tongue while they groped each other. Against all odds, 'Aurora' still had her clothes on, although only barely.

Mistress Horatia Aurora had, as guest of honour, requested that in the name of the goddess Feronia, that the slaves be allowed to celebrate tonight as well, free of consequence, as long as they also performed their assigned duties. If not actively seeing to an assignment, they were allowed to sit, although they had to accede their seat to anyone of a higher station who needed it. They would also still oblige guests who wished to be serviced by the slave in question, and the Flavius household's slaves were all available to anyone who attended.