The Portal

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The Portal The 7 Deadly Sins and Virtues Series Copyright © 2006 Lark Westerly ISBN: 1-55410-667-2 Cover art and design by Martine Jardin All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher. Published by eXtasy Books, a division of Zumaya Publications, 2006 Look for us online at: www.zumayapublications.com www.Extasybooks.com

THE PORTAL SEVEN SINS AND VIRTUES SERIES DILIGENCE

BY

LARK WESTERLY

THE PORTAL

T

he letter from Nathan Trent was marked URGENT. It demanded to know exactly what Seamus O’Mara wanted done in relation to his house at Fieldings Road, via Fieldings, Baybrook Shire. This was the fifth such letter. Nathan Trent provided a telephone number and requested immediate response. If Seamus had been there, the letter would have followed its predecessors into the circular file, but Seamus was in Japan, so it was Jillie who opened it. “A house?” She shook her head. Nathan Trent, of Trent, Trent and Byers, had his wires twisted. She could see it now. Trent had confused Seamus with some other O’Mara who owned a house. He was pestering the wrong man. Seamus was ignoring the matter and hoping someone would make it go away. “I can do that,” said Jillie. She punched in the number on the letter. “Nathan Trent,” confirmed the dry voice at the other end of the line. “I’m telephoning for Seamus O’Mara,” said Jillie. “You made a mistake. Seamus lives in an apartment in Kamdale.” “I know that,” said Trent. “Ms.…?” 1

Lark Westerly “Jillie Emmett,” said Jillie. “Seamus doesn’t have a house. He has never had a house. Please stop harassing him.” “He has owned this house ever since his greatuncle passed away eleven years ago. It is empty and going to ruin.” “But…he’s never mentioned it.” “He wouldn’t,” said Trent. “If he’d rented it out or sold it ten years ago, it would have been a nice little investment, but now…frankly, the firm can no longer countenance disbursements when there is no reciprocal income. He must sell or make other arrangements.” “If there’s a problem, it needs to be dealt with. I will deal with it.” “Mm, will you marry me?” “No,” said Jillie. “I’ll bring the keys and combinations around in an hour. No, half an hour, before you change your mind.” “But I have an appointment—” A click told her she was talking to air. She felt she was standing on it as well. She had first met Seamus at the supermarket where she worked a few shifts whenever clients were thin on the ground. “That guy is stalking you,” said Niamh, who worked at the adjacent till. “He never goes to any other checkout, and he only shows up on the days you have shifts.”

2

The Portal Jillie didn’t mind. No genuine stalker stared at his prey as unashamedly as the man in question, and anyway, it gave her license to stare back. He was worth staring at. Not handsome, but sexy as hell, with sleek mahogany-colored hair, a roman nose, a stubborn chin, and hazel eyes with extravagant lashes. “Do I know you?” he asked on the fourth day. It was a terrible old chestnut, but the man who offered it had a voice to match his looks, so she smiled. “Not as well as I’d like you to know me.” “It’s not a line. I mean it. Have we met before?” “No,” she said. “I’d remember you if you were one of my clients.” “Clients?” She grinned. “I run a small renovation/decoration business--Can Do.” “How diligent of you,” he said. “I am diligent. Do you have a house in need of decoration?” “I live in an apartment with a garden the size of a bedsheet.” She noted that his hands, as he hoisted his basket of steak, broccoli and potatoes onto the counter, were large and capable-looking, and his feet… Jillie peeped over the edge of the counter while pretending to check the price of the oysters that hadn’t blipped on her scanner. Yes, his feet were large as well. “Big socks mean big cocks,” her grandma always used to say when she got pissed on Christmas punch. 3

Lark Westerly Jillie believed it. Did he eat that much steak every day? As for the oysters… she thought about them slithering neatly over his tongue and almost had an orgasm on the spot. It was all she could do to give her professional till-jockey’s smile and tell him to have a nice day. “Here’s my card,” she added, as she handed over his docket. “In case you know anyone who needs a decorator.” He called her two days later. “Seamus O’Mara.” She recognized his voice. “The man with the apartment.” “Do you decorate apartments?” “Definitely,” said Jillie. “When do you want me?” The apartment had a just-decorated look about it, but Seamus paid without a blink for new papers and blinds, a bijou herb garden in terracotta and a sunburst trompe d'oeil painted on his bedroom ceiling. “There’s better scope in a house,” she said when he came to inspect it. “What I really thirst for is an older place, with stairs and impossible angles, where I could create a whole room that isn’t there.” “Sorry I can’t oblige.” He frowned, and tilted his head to admire the ceiling. “You can see it better lying down,” said Jillie. She removed her paint-spattered overall and flopped on the bed to show him. Then she spread her legs wide to show him something else. 4

The Portal Seamus’s pale skin flushed, and his pupils widened. “Is this part of the service?” “Only for you,” said Jillie. “Take me or leave me. I don’t offer twice.” He took her. And Grandma was right. Jillie, rolling her head ecstatically on the pillow, dug her nails into his bum and squealed with anticipatory bliss. Seamus pulled back with an exclamation. “What’s wrong? Did you bite your tongue?” gasped Jillie. He stared down at her. He was still wearing his shirt, unbuttoned, and his eyes were dilated with what she hoped was lust, but feared was horror. “What?” she demanded. He blinked. “Your hair…” he said in an odd voice. “Is that its natural color?” “Yes. I’ve always been blonde. We’re all blondes in my family.” “And it’s always been long?” Jillie frowned at him. “Are you some kind of hairfetishist? It’s quite okay if you are. I don’t discriminate—” “It’s never been really short?” “Seamus, what is this?” She sat up and pushed him away. “If you’re going to freak, I’ll leave.” “No!” He sounded alarmed. “I won’t freak. I promise.” “Why did you, then? Apart from the sudden doubt about my true colors?” “It was that noise you made.” 5

Lark Westerly “Noise?” Jillie was insulted. “If you’re into bondage and gags, you ought to have said so. I can do that. I am,” she added, “very accommodating. I’ll try anything that doesn’t do any damage.” “It’s not that.” “What’s wrong, then? One minute you’ve got your cock going for gold, and the next it’s as limp as last week’s celery.” “Nothing’s wrong,” he said. “It was déjà vu. Now, where were we?” “You had your cock in my cunt and we were playing stuff the sausage, straight, missionary, steakand-eggs. Do you need me to draw you a picture? I can do that.” Seamus pushed her flat again, pulled up her skirt and made a close examination of her bush, combing it gently through with his fingers until she began to moan with anticipation. “What are you doing?” she blurted, as his thumb rubbed the hair up against the grain. “It’s a bit late to start foreplay.” He laughed and kissed her, teasing her clit with his tongue. “You really are a blonde,” he mumbled. Using both hands, he pressed her legs farther apart, spreading her wide with his thumbs as he lapped her free-flowing juices. Jillie, clawing handfuls of sheet in her ecstasy, reared up to meet his mouth, then stiffened as waves of sensation crashed through her. When he thrust into her again, she would have screamed aloud, but his mouth came down, rendering her silent. 6

The Portal Since that day, Jillie had spent much of her time in a state of physical bliss. Seamus worked long hours, but since he was his own boss, he could arrange appointments to suit himself—and her. Often he would be waiting when she finished work, leaning against the supermarket wall or parked outside a client’s house. At other times, a taxi came to fetch her. Jillie never knew her destination, and the anticipation was exciting. Sometimes she would be whisked to a motel. Now and again, it was Seamus’s office. Whether the interlude that followed was a whole night in satin sheets or ten urgent minutes against the wall between clients, he was always hard and eager. As for Jillie, she found herself melting before he even touched her. Sometimes he would be naked, or wearing a robe. At others, he would be fully dressed for some business dinner. Jillie found it very erotic to feel the starched white shirt front against her breasts, and the contrast between his strong, wool-clad thighs and the eager penis jutting through his fly made her heart thud with excitement. One day, he took her to a boutique and brought her an armful of evening dresses to try on. They bought one, too, but not before Seamus, on his knees, had licked and sucked her clit in the fitting room until she was writhing against the door. A muffled cry broke from her as she was overtaken by a shuddering orgasm, and later she had to make an excuse to the fitting room attendant about catching herself in a wayward zipper… 7

Lark Westerly “I should have caught you in the zipper,” she said to Seamus as they drove home. “What if she’d come and wanted to join in?” She expected him to turn it off with a joke about making the attendant wait her turn, but instead he said, “I’m keeping you busy so you don’t get bored with me.” “We’ve been together five months,” she reminded him. “I even planted a rosebush in your garden. That’s a first, for me.” **** A month after that, Seamus flew to Japan for a round of business meetings, leaving Jillie to receive and open the letter from Nathan Trent. After her brief discussion with Trent, she called Seamus’s cell phone. It rang three times, and then informed her that Seamus O’Mara was unavailable, and invited her to leave a message. “This is Jillie. I’m going to deal with your house,” she said. “The one you never bothered to mention. Call me.” She thumbed off the phone with unnecessary force. Nathan Trent arrived soon afterwards. He was grey-haired, precise and relieved to be ridding himself of the responsibility for Seamus O’Mara’s house. “You do have authority to act for him?” he asked. “He said to take care of anything that came up,” said Jillie. “Call him if you like.” She indicated the telephone. 8

The Portal “No point,” said Trent. “He always hangs up on me. Sign here.” Jillie signed there, took delivery of a collection of keys and combinations and a map. After that, she went to the salon for her six-weekly trim. “Just the usual?” asked Belinda, ushering her towards the mirror. Jillie, on the point of agreeing, changed her mind. So, Seamus had a house. One he’d never bothered to mention, even though he knew she would be interested. It wasn’t as if the subject had never come up—she had mentioned houses at the beginning, and he had said sorry, he lived in a apartment. “I want a complete makeover,” she said. “Cut, color, the lot.” “I thought Seamus—” “Fuck Seamus,” said Jillie. “I’d love to. Anytime you’re finished with him, sweetie.” “Has Miki any appointments free today? I want a Brazilian.” “I see,” said Belinda, and cackled. “I have a new project.” “I just bet you have. I hope he’s worth it, sweetie.” “He’d better be,” said Jillie. Five hours later, Jillie parked her Can Do van outside a pair of massive, wire-topped gates in Fieldings Road. She could see why Nathan Trent had been so annoyed when he dropped off keys and combinations, and why he was so eager to get her 9

Lark Westerly signature on the receipt. It must be difficult to keep an eye on a house so far from the city. She keyed the code to let herself in through the prison-style gates, and found herself wading in a miniature forest of waist-high grass. Mature trees clustered on either side, and she stared in awe. Trent hadn’t lied when he said the place was a disaster zone. Rambler roses had assumed Sleeping Beauty proportions, and couldn’t someone have at least cut the grass? Mentally, she bought herself a machete and pith helmet. The house was double-storied, with four high gables. The solid brick construction didn’t show weathering as painted boards would. The windows might be dirty—it was difficult to tell, since all of them had shutters. Why had Seamus let the place get into this state? Had someone been murdered in there? She expected the door to creak when she coded herself in, but the padlock opened with an oiled click. The interior smelled of dark, dust and neglect. She unlocked the nearest door and peered into a sitting room. She could see pale shapes looming around the walls. She picked her way over to the window and opened the heavy drapes, sneezing as she did so. Light straggled through the shutters, and the pale items resolved themselves into furnishings shrouded in dustsheets. The timber floor was dull; it needed to be sanded and waxed. There were cobwebs in the cornices, and everything was filmed and furred with dust. 10

The Portal Door after door opened to the same elegant neglect. It looked as if no one had entered the house since Trent, Trent and Byers had taken custody of the keys a decade or more before. Mentally, Jillie unpacked her scrubbing brush. She would remove the dustsheets and wash down walls. She would send the rats, if any, packing. Upstairs was more of the same darkness and dust. And yet, the structure was solid—she could not smell the telltale sweetness of dry rot, and there didn’t seem to be any woodworm. She explored, finally reaching a small door tucked away at the end of the corridor on the top floor. A closet? She pushed open the door and stopped in confusion, thinking for a moment she had wandered into another house. The room had a sloping ceiling and a polished floor, but there were no dustsheets, and no dust. Downstairs, the house was musty, but in this room, the air was fresh. Much of the space was taken up by a vast bed, spread with a blue velvet coverlet and piled with sleek pillows. To one side sat a heavy wooden chest that gleamed with oil. “Goodness!” she murmured. The window was hung with blue drapes with cream lining. Jillie parted them, and a veritable pool of late sunlight fell over the bed. There were no shutters here, and a vase of huge crimson roses glowed on the sill. She touched a rose with her finger. It was real. For a breathless moment, Jillie found herself smiling. The opulent romance of the setting didn’t 11

Lark Westerly detract from the frankly carnal size of the bed. And velvet was such a sensuous fabric. It would be heaven to lie naked on this bed with the warmth of the sunlight playing over her belly and boobs. She would close her eyes and wait, utterly relaxed, until Seamus bent to taste her. She swallowed. Ridiculous. Seamus wasn’t here. This was not one of his whisk-aways. She was alone in the house he had never mentioned, and no one but Nathan Trent knew she was there. But someone else must have been here recently. Very recently, she amended, examining the roses. Some were fully opened, one or two were still tightly furled buds, but not one petal had fallen to the sill. Had Seamus prepared this bower as a surprise? He could have come yesterday, before his flight… if he had taken the flight. Jillie’s hand strayed to the back of her neck, which felt oddly cold after her session at the salon. She dug her cell phone out of her bag and keyed in Seamus’s number. Nothing happened, and she noticed with irritation that she had no service. She held the phone out the window and tried again. This time, his voice invited her to leave a message. Jillie realized she was hyperventilating and made another call. The receptionist at the Sake International Hotel spoke excellent English. Mr. O’Mara was, indeed, staying with them. He was in a meeting. Would Ms. Emmett like to leave a message? “Do you know him by sight? And have you seen him today?” persisted Jillie. 12

The Portal “Oh, yes, Ms. Emmett. I know Mr. O’Mara. He is tall, with dark red hair. He has stayed with us before. May I—” “No, it’s all right.” Feeling foolish, Jillie ended the call. Of course Seamus was in Japan. There was no way he could have known she was coming to the house. She hadn’t known herself until a few hours ago. Maybe he’d prepared the room for someone else? She called Nathan Trent, who said brusquely that she must be mistaken. He had given her the only set of keys, and until she had taken them over that morning, they had been in the office safe. No one else had the codes, so no one could enter the house. If one of the rooms was in better condition than the others, then she should count herself lucky. And maybe, thought Jillie, she should get the hell out of here. She closed the window and tossed her head, releasing a wave of salon-scent from her newly styled and colored hair. Why should she leave? Seamus had told her to deal with anything that came up. Well, she would deal. She wasn’t the trespasser. There were two built-in closets in the room, so she opened one. Inside hung three gowns, all garnished with satin and lace. On a small built-in shelf were candles in brass holders and a wooden box of matches. The second closet was empty. It smelled of roses and incense, and not so much as a mousedropping defiled the floor. “Weird,” said Jillie. She turned back the velvet counterpane and found the bed made up with cotton 13

Lark Westerly sheets. The pillows showed no indentations, and the linen smelled of fresh air and sunshine. She toured the house again, but almost every room was draped and wrapped like a mummy, musty and unused. Only her footsteps showed in the dust. The exception was a small bathroom, also on the top floor, which was supplied with fresh towels. The light switch yielded no response, but the taps released a good flow of clean, cold water. There was no electricity, so she assumed the water came from a gravity-fed tank. Someone must have made these two rooms habitable. It had the hallmarks of a Seamus-style whisk-away, but how could he know she would come? Trent’s letter had arrived after he had left, and she’d called Trent, not the other way about. If Seamus had planned to surprise her with an erotic getaway on his return, he would have flown home a day early to place fresh roses. The late autumn day was beginning to grow cool. Jillie wondered if she should go back to the apartment, but it was a long drive and the answers wouldn’t be there. Seamus would call when he got her message. She tried to imagine what he might say. “Sure, I’ve got a house. My ex drops in to sleep there now and again.” “Oh, yes, my aunt eloped years ago, and her room is always prepared in case she comes back.” “I keep a house in case I should ever want to kidnap anyone.” 14

The Portal “The local abseiling club makes parachute drops on the roof, and then enters through the window.” Jillie locked up and drove into the nearest town to buy some necessities. Since there was no electricity or gas, she added a small camping stove to her selection of food and drink. She had told Trent she would deal with the place, and so she would. And if someone was sleeping in the attic, she would deal with her as well. The house seemed darker when she returned, and she locked the door behind her and made a final tour. There were no other outside doors, and the windows were all shuttered. “Tight as a fortress,” she commented. Nevertheless, she dragged a heavy table from the sitting room and tipped it against the front door. If someone did have the combinations to the locks, she (or he) would be forced to shoulder the obstacle aside before gaining entry. That would make enough noise to wake the dead. Jillie went back upstairs, washed and ate her supper. The scent of roses was strong and sweet in the attic, and it mingled agreeably with the scent of the candle. She closed the drapes and latched the door, twisting the wooden snib into place. After that, she lay in bed watching the play of candlelight on the ceiling. The house was away from any major road, so the only sound, apart from the creaks of settling timbers, was a faint hushing of breeze in the trees. A feeling of unease stole over Jillie. This bed had been prepared for someone, by a person or persons unknown. If not Seamus, then someone from Trent, Trent and Byers 15

Lark Westerly must have been here. Maybe some office worker had accessed the codes and occasionally entertained her boyfriend up here? If so, she hadn’t done any harm… and she’d get a shock if she decided on a trip to the love nest tonight. Love nest. Jillie squirmed. The cool sheets and the opulence of the coverlet were blending with the perfume and candlelight to make her horny. Living with Seamus had spoiled her, and her options were limited to a quick three-finger tango. That wasn’t a lot of fun without body lotion and a Shakin’ Stephen, so she’d pass. She blew out the candle. **** She must have fallen asleep, because when she opened her eyes next the room was glowing with a narrow river of light. Moonlight, shining through a chink in the drapes, she supposed, but it was coming from the wrong direction. Jillie sat up, the sheets falling to her waist, and blinked. The beam of light widened, growing wedgeshaped. It was coming from the door of one of the closets. Fire! Ridiculous. Fire was red and orange, not white. Someone using a noiseless photocopier? In a deserted house? Jillie heard herself whimper with apprehension. A figure emerged from the closet and stood silhouetted against the glow. For a moment, she saw a 16

The Portal startled face, and then the pale light shrank to a pinprick and vanished. “Aw, fuck!” said a voice. It sounded young, and male. Jillie froze. She could hear the stranger moving in the darkness, stumbling, groping about. A muffled thud and an exclamation of pain would have told her he’d bumped his shin even if the whole bed had not vibrated from the impact. Any minute now, he’d fall against the window, or across the bed. “Stay where you are,” she said. “If you’re looking for your girlfriend from Trent, Trent and Whoever, she’s not here.” A long, ragged gasp informed her he hadn’t realized the room was occupied. “What are you doing here?” he stammered. “I have a perfect right to be here. Can you and your girlfriend say the same?” “What girlfriend?” “The one from Trent, Trent.” “I haven’t got a girlfriend. I’m staying with my Uncle Al. And he would have told me if someone else was here, ’specially a chick,” responded the intruder. “What are you doing in an empty room?” “I was asleep,” said Jillie. “And the room isn’t empty. Stay where you are. I’m going to light a candle.” “There’s a light somewhere,” said the boy. She heard him moving again, and then the switch clicked several times. 17

Lark Westerly “Fuck, it doesn’t work,” he said. “The globe must’ve gone.” “There’s no electricity,” said Jillie. “Now stay—” The bed shook again, and the boy yelped and swore. “Shit! I stubbed my toe!” “Keep still!” Jillie leaned over to locate the candle and matches, but as she did so, a heavy body landed on the bed beside her. “What the fuck—” He sounded bewildered, and she heard patting motions. Jillie struck a match and applied it to the wick of the candle. A tiny flame wavered, and strengthened. The room could not be called brightly lit, but at least she could get a view of the intruder. He knelt on the bed, staring at her, his eyes wide. Jillie stared back. “Seamus?” Immediately, she realized her mistake. This boy had mahogany hair, long-lashed eyes and a strong chin, but he was much younger than Seamus. Seventeen? Eighteen? Certainly no older then twenty. “Who are you?” she amended. “Fuck!” He was still staring at her, transfixed, his pupils wide black lakes in the low light. His mouth fell a little open, revealing strong white teeth. “Is Seamus your dad?” She was deeply uneasy. A secret house was one thing. An unmentioned son was serious. “You’re…” The young man seemed lost for words and belatedly, Jillie realized where he was staring. She almost dropped the candle in her haste to snatch up 18

The Portal the sheet. If this was Seamus’s son, he shouldn’t be eyeballing her boobs. It was practically incest. “C–careful.” He took the candle from her and scrambled down to set it on the chest. Then he perched on the edge of the bed. “I don’t get this,” he said, turning to face her. “How did you get in here? I was in here just seconds ago and this room was empty.” “You must have been in one of the others,” said Jillie. She could feel the friction of the sheet against her aroused nipples and blushed with horror. If this was Seamus’s son… The intruder shook his head. “No, it was this one. I went in the closet there to stow my kit and the light went funny and when I came out…” He gestured at her. “You were here in this bed.” He swallowed, audibly. “Bare. Bet Uncle Al doesn’t know!” “I don’t know what’s going on,” said Jillie, “but I wish you’d tell me who you are and what you’re doing here. This house belongs to Seamus O’Mara. Are you his son?” He wrinkled his forehead. “I’m Shay O’Mara, but I don’t live here. My dad’s called Kev.” “Is Seamus your uncle, then? Your big brother?” “You’re not making sense,” he said. “This is my Uncle Al’s place. Alan Sperry. I don’t have a brother. I’m the only Seamus I know.” He bit his lip and gave her a sudden hopeful smile. “Hey, are you my birthday present?” “Huh?” “I just turned eighteen. Did Al get you to come and give me a good time? He did say he was going to get 19

Lark Westerly me a present while I was here. I thought it’d be a gadget of some kind, one of his inventions. Unless you’re a she-bot?” “When I was eighteen, you were eleven. And I’m not a she-bot.” “That’s all right, Ginger. You’re still a great present. I’ve always wanted to fuck an older woman.” Jillie was tempted. This young man looked so much like Seamus he had to be a close relative, but that was impossible. This was impossible. Therefore, the whole scenario was an erotic dream. Glowing closets, indeed. She-bots? Uncles who gave young men an older woman as a present? And who was he to call anyone Ginger? “Okay,” she said, “I’m your birthday present. Aren’t you going to unwrap me?” Shay gave a crow of delight. In the way of dreams, he seemed to have forgotten his earlier confusion. He jumped up and grasped the sheet, tugging it down to her waist. “Mind the candle!” she gasped. He heeled off his shoes, kicking them across the room, and then ripped off his tee-shirt. Jillie registered somewhere in her mind that he must be a devotee of op-shopping—the shirt bore a design celebrating a one-hit-wonder band dating from her schooldays. She could see he was excited, but a bit shy, so she smiled to encourage him. He scrambled across the bed and put one arm around her. The other hand went unerringly to her breasts and gathered a generous handful. 20

The Portal Jillie moaned. It seemed a long time since she’d had an enthusiastic but unpracticed lover… not since she was unpracticed herself. She felt her juices beginning to flow, and pressed into Shay’s hand. He was breathing hard and quivering with eagerness, and she realized that if she didn’t get control of this dream things were going to be over in a blink. “Slow down,” she said. She put her hand flat against his chest and held him away. The planes and contours of muscle and flesh felt familiar, and she slid her hand down to his stomach, hooking her thumb in the top of his jeans. “Better get these off,” she said. She could feel him tensing, and he leaned back to unsnap the fastening. His penis was erect already, straining against the fabric, and Jillie felt another surge of déjà vu as it sprang free between the teeth of the gaping zipper. “Right off,” she said, and he obeyed with the flexibility of youth, shedding the pants in three economical moves. Now he was naked, and she was able to admire him in the dim light. She leaned back against the pillows, waiting to see what he would do. He pushed the sheet back from her lap, glancing at her once or twice as if asking permission, and then reached out with one forefinger to touch her newly-waxed skin. He drew his finger down to the cleft, and she heard his breathing pick up again. He must have felt her wetness, for he withdrew the finger and stared at it, 21

Lark Westerly and then slipped it down again, rubbing against the slickness. Jillie felt her legs straining apart. If she didn’t put the brakes on now it would be all over in seconds. She grabbed his exploring hand and pulled it away. “Please…” She put her hand against his belly again and pushed him down, then grasped the eager young cock in one hand. He surged against her, lifting his hips clear of the bed. She used her other hand to cup his scrotum, feeling it tighten and wrinkle in response. She toyed with it, watching the expressions playing across his face. His mouth gaped open, and his eyes seemed to be glazing, so she let him go and lay back, opening her legs. He rolled against her, pressing his unsatisfied erection against her thigh, and resumed his exploration of her slit. His forefinger slipped in, and he added another. Jillie, excited almost beyond endurance, put her hand over his and guided his thumb to her clit. She grasped his bum with the other hand, clenching her fingers and crying out as she felt the first shudders overtaking her. He jerked his hand away and half-scrambled to lie on top of her, thrusting against her belly. She felt the warm slickness of semen spreading over her skin as the friction from his taut balls catapulted her into a deeper level of orgasm. “Awww, fuck!” he exploded, collapsing against her, and Jillie shook with giggles. “You’re laughing at me.” He sounded rueful. 22

The Portal “No, no,” she assured him, patting his flank. He was leaner than the Seamus she knew. “I let it go too soon.” “So did I. You got me there really fast.” “Did I?” He sounded a little more cheerful. Jillie moved away a little. If this hadn’t been a dream, she would have been feeling pretty bad about now—it would have been the first time she had cheated on Seamus in the whole six months. Now… She smiled. Cheating in a dream meant she could have her cake both ways. He got up on one elbow and looked down at her. “You’re the nicest birthday present I ever had. How did…I mean, where did Al find you?” “He bought me off eBay,” said Jillie. “What?” His fine brows wrinkled. “Never mind, Shay. It wasn’t a good joke.” She smiled. “Time to wake up now.” “I don’t know how he managed the bed and all. Did it fold up from the floor? Was there a false wall with mirrors? Are you going to stay with me all night? Or do you need help packing up or-–uh— paying? I could call you a cab…” “I’m sleeping here,” said Jillie. “Goodbye.” “But I want to fuck you again, properly.” “Maybe that can be arranged,” said Jillie. “Take your clothes and go. I’ve got a lot of work to do tomorrow.” Protesting, Shay tugged on his T-shirt and pants and found his shoes. He unlatched the door and groped his way out onto the landing. Seconds later, he was back. 23

Lark Westerly “There’s something wrong. There are things missing…someone ripped up the carpet. What the fuck’s going on?” “That way,” said Jillie. She got out of bed and bundled him, still protesting, into the closet. White light flared, and when she opened the door again, it was empty. Dream over. She got back into bed and blew out the candle. **** When she opened her eyes again, it was daylight. For a few seconds, she stared with incomprehension at the room. The bed was still covered with a rumpled blue velvet spread, and the vase of roses still dispersed sweetness into the air. The candle she had used the night before crouched like a stalagmite in its brass saucer. Jillie remembered, with a rush, where she was and why. She pondered the content of the odd erotic dream. In daylight, analysis was easy. She was angry with Seamus over his secrecy, so her subconscious had supplied her with a younger version of him, one who was just as sexy but with whom she had no reason to be angry. “Easy,” she said. “I’m not cheating on Seamus, because it was him, and he didn’t know me, because that was him before we ever met. Cute!” Smiling at the cleverness of her own subconscious, she climbed out of bed, put on her robe and headed for the bathroom. It was only when she was sponging 24

The Portal herself with cold water that she remembered she hadn’t had to unlatch the bedroom door. Before she had time to think about that, her cell phone rang. “Jillie, what the fuck are you doing? Where are you? I’ve been calling the apartment, and the supermarket…” “And you’ve only just thought to try my cell?” she said. “It’s been out of service. Where the fuck are you?” “I’m at your house. I told you, in my message.” “At the apartment?” he said, hopefully. “At your house. In Fieldings Road. The one you never bothered to mention.” “But how—” “Nathan Trent brought the keys round,” she said. “He was very pleased to hear that someone was willing to deal with the place.” There was a brief, crackling silence. Then Seamus said, “You must have left home very early if you’re there now.” “I came down yesterday and slept in the house.” “But no one’s been in the place for years! It must be filthy!” “Most of it is,” said Jillie. “That’s why I’m going to clean it up. Don’t worry, I won’t charge you. And when you come back, you can rent it out or put it on the market.” “Jillie, get out of there. Bloody Trent had no right to involve you in this.” “You weren’t doing anything about it. He says you hang up on him.” 25

Lark Westerly “Okay, I’ll talk to him today. Go home.” “I’ll see you when you come back,” said Jillie. “Goodbye, Seamus.” She ended the call and switched off the cell phone. Then she dressed and went to make breakfast. The first room she tackled was the kitchen. She forced open the shutters and heated water on her camping stove. It was not ideal, but a call to the electricity company brought her no joy—they could not send someone to turn on the power for two weeks. She went into town and bought a bigger stove and a gas-fueled refrigerator. Her purchases were eating into her savings, but Seamus could reimburse her when he sold the house. She was a good worker, neat and methodical, and by mid-afternoon the kitchen was clean. Most of the dirt was loose dust, which could be swept and swilled away. The curtains were filthy, so she took them down and bundled them together with the dustsheets. Then she waxed the floor and polished the wooden table. “One room down,” she said aloud. She glanced at her watch. It was almost dinnertime, and she was too tired to cook, so she took an assortment of fruit and cheeses up to the attic. The room was as she had left it that morning. She washed in the bathroom then sat cross-legged on the velvet spread and ate her picnic, watching as the sky outside flushed with pink and orange and then faded to grey. She lit a candle and then, on impulse, opened the 26

The Portal closet again and selected a silk gown in ice blue. It seemed unworn, so she slipped it over her head. The sensuous fabric slithered down her body, skimming her curves. For a second, she saw herself, tall and blonde, in a fairytale gown, and then remembered abruptly that she had changed her style. Her new cut was so short she couldn’t see it without a mirror, but imagination supplied the image of a slender redhead with a pixie cut. Seamus was going to be surprised. She felt an evil smile settle on her lips as she reflected that he would be more than surprised when they met again. Either he would have learned a salutary lesson about keeping secrets from his significant other, or else he would be so angry he would end their relationship. Well, he wasn’t the only one who was angry. Jillie twirled a couple of times and then lay down on the velvet spread. She smoothed the cool silk over her breasts and hips, stroking it against the bare skin. She had never had a full wax before, and it felt odd to fingers used to a short but springy bush. She lifted the skirt to drape across her hips, and trailed her fingers over her mound. Would Seamus be intrigued or uncomfortable to see her looking so youthful down there? Her finger and her mind wandered, one to stroke the folds of delicate damp skin, the other to the extraordinary dream she had experienced the night before. The younger edition of Seamus—Shay—had been raw and inexperienced, but he had touched her heart as well as her body. Rubbing her fingers lightly 27

Lark Westerly over her clit, she sighed. It would be quite an experience to take a young lover and train him up. If he hadn’t learned bad habits with other girls, she could show him exactly how she liked it. A very young man would have other advantages, too. He would be flexible and athletic, and curious… Her eyes closed, and she saw the flickering shadows of the candlelight against her lids. “Ginger?” The questioning voice made Jillie open her eyes with a start. She was lying on the bed with her gown rucked up and her fingers splayed over her bare mound. A stark white light flooded for an instant from the right-hand closet then shrank into itself. Shay stood by the bed. She jerked her hand away and struggled upright. “Oh, don’t!” burst out Shay. He was grinning at her with the younger, less practiced charm of the Seamus she knew. “I always wondered if chicks really fingered themselves like in that video I saw.” Jillie sighed. She must have dropped off again. “I’m glad you’re back,” went on Shay. He sat on the bed beside her, and looked at her curiously. “I was afraid you’d gone away.” “I’m renovating the place,” said Jillie. Shay laughed. “What for? It was done up when Al moved in.” Jillie opened her mouth to remind him that no one had been in the house for years, and then gave up. If this dream followed the same course as the other, he wouldn’t understand. And if she knew she was dreaming then she must be having a lucid dream, 28

The Portal which meant she could influence events at a semiconscious level. “You can go back to what you were doing, if you like,” said Shay. “I’ll watch. I might pick up some tips.” “I think we could do better than that,” she said. She reached out for the unmistakable bulge in his jeans. Shay’s eyes sparkled, and he shucked off his clothes in record time. “I like the nightie,” he said, touching the silk. He walked his fingers down to bare skin, and Jillie caught her breath. “That’s really smooth,” he added. He bent suddenly and put his cheek against her belly, bringing his fingers to trace the folds of flesh as she had done. Jillie panted, and twisted her head on the velvet. “Use your thumb,” she directed, parting her legs to give him better access. “I’d rather use my cock,” he said. “Can I, this time?” Safe sex, said Jillie’s mind, but erotic dreams were the safest sex there was, and the thought of that bare silky cock made her wetter than ever. “Ginger?” “Yes!” She panted, concentrating on holding back. “But do this a bit first. It—” She moaned, pressing her hips down against the bed. “It feels good.” She reached out for him and stroked his erection from root to tip. The shaft was firm and smooth, the nest of auburn curls from which it sprang softer than they would be in years to come. 29

Lark Westerly She heard him groan, and gave the cock an admonitory pat. “Not yet. Make it last.” “I don’t think I can.” “Yes, you can. Now, just let me…” She drew his hand away from her cunt and doubled sideways to rest her cheek against his balls. He smelled clean and musky, and she rubbed her lips against him. “Fuck!” “Wait…” She knew she was tormenting him, and wondered if she was taking symbolic revenge on this younger version of Seamus. “Here,” she said, rubbing her fingers over her increasing wetness, “suck on that.” She thrust her hand to his mouth, and he took her fingers into his mouth and began to suck. “Use your tongue,” she commanded. “Now…you know what to do?” “You mean…” he mumbled, and Jillie pulled her fingers out of his mouth. “Yes, suck me down there. Not too hard.” She closed her eyes as he jackknifed around on the bed, resting his face against her thighs for a moment before giving her a tentative lick. “Yes!” Jillie clutched the velvet in both hands. “Now use your finger…” Her attempts at coaching her willing pupil dissolved into a flood of gasps and squeals as orgasm ripped through her body. “That’s enough!” she cried, pulling away. His face in the candlelight was flushed and dazed, and his cock reared hard against his belly. Jillie lay back and opened her arms. He launched himself over 30

The Portal her, and she felt his erection probing her thighs. She slipped her hand between them and captured it, then guided it firmly into place. “There.” She muffled a groan as he entered her, thrust three times and then shuddered. “Fu-u-ck!” he groaned. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck!” Jillie swallowed a giggle. “Don’t you have any other vocabulary?” she asked, swatting him on the rump. “Fuck, yes… I mean, sure I do.” He was heavy against her, and she could feel his perspiration seeping into the silk gown. “Only not when I’ve fucked up…screwed up…made a cock-up—Fuck! It comes into everything!” “You were fine.” She nipped his bare shoulder and he yelped. “Now, get off and let me breathe.” “I meant to last longer,” he said, rolling aside. “You’re fine. It’s fine. It doesn’t matter how long it lasts as long as you’re both happy with it.” “And were you? Happy?” “Couldn’t you tell?” she said. “You sure made a lot of noises.” He grinned. “But not as noisy as the chick in the video. Can we do this again?” “We’ll see,” she said. It felt odd, making an assignation with someone in a dream, but maybe if she got the hang of this lucid dreaming she would experience another episode. “I’ll go back the way I came,” he said. He gathered his clothes and bounced off the bed. Jillie, feeling rather limp, admired his stamina. Still, she had spent the day doing hard manual labor… 31

Lark Westerly Shay opened the closet door, blew her a kiss and stepped inside. White light gleamed for an instant, and she was alone. She felt sticky and relaxed. She should go to the bathroom and get cleaned up, but she was soooo… **** She spent the next day stripping the sitting room. The room was papered with a heavy flocked pattern she hated on sight, so after moving all the furniture to the centre of the room, she boiled water and began to saturate and scrape off the paper. It was hard work without a proper steamer, but she stopped infrequently. If she slowed down, she’d find herself thinking too much. Self-induced orgasms in the night were one thing, but this morning she had woken so sticky she would have sworn she’d had sex for real. And unprotected sex at that! Yet the room had been locked, the wooden snib fastened on the inside, and the window was far too high to admit anyone but the most determined cat burglar, who would have other things on his mind than taking advantage of a lone woman. Although she tried to keep her mind on the job, Jillie repeatedly analyzed the latest episode. She had coached a young lover, but he had felt he messed up. That, presumably, meant she felt she was teaching Seamus how to deal with his house instead of pretending it didn’t exist, while Seamus himself seemed ashamed of his inability to handle the situation. 32

The Portal That made no sense. She ripped the last of the ugly paper from the walls and raked up the remains. The room was far too damp to deal with now, so she bagged the trash and bundled up more dustsheets and drapes. A trip to the laundry in town was necessary now, and she would find somewhere to take a hot shower. This she achieved by buying a weekly membership in a gym and making use of the facilities immediately. She attracted some curious glances, perhaps because of the confetti of wallpaper in her hair, but she was too tired to socialize. By seven she was back at the house, rigging a temporary storage area in the kitchen. The drapes had cleaned up well, and she would re-hang them tomorrow. After another room or two, she would choose some patterns and begin paperhanging. She ate an early supper and retired to bed, wondering if she would encounter Shay again. His continuing education would be fun, but after the day she had spent she wondered if she would have the energy for more erotic dreams. **** She had blown out the candle and slept for some time. She was sure of this because the moonlight was falling directly through the window. She glanced towards the closet, but it was still closed. No white light tonight? A floorboard creaked, and she heard a sudden intake of breath. 33

Lark Westerly “Who’s there?” she whispered. She pinched herself, hard, gauging whether she really was awake. “Shay?” “It’s me, Jillie.” Her breath left her lungs in a sigh. “Seamus!” She sat up. “When did you get back?” “Just now.” She blinked, seeing him silhouetted against the moonlight. This was definitely not young Shay—his voice was deeper, and his tone less youthful. Though still lean, his silhouette was solidly mature. “And you haven’t said ‘fuck’ once,” she said. “Why should I?” Jillie took a long breath. Pleasure had flooded her at the sound of his voice, but now she remembered she was angry with him. “I suppose you came back from Japan because I turned my cell phone off,” she said. “Well, it’s your own fault. Why the fuck didn’t you tell me you had a house?” “Now who’s swearing?” She swatted at him then pulled back the covers. “Oh, get in, Seamus. You must be fucked.” She giggled. “I mean, tired. Come on, and tell me why you’ve been giving Nathan Trent the runaround with this house. Then I’ll decide whether I forgive you or not.” Seamus pulled off his jacket and tossed it onto the foot of the bed. He tore open his shirt. “Careful—you’ll have the buttons off!” said Jillie. “No buttons, it’s a press/closure.” “That’s new. You got it in Japan?” 34

The Portal “Jillie, are you sure about this?” “About what?” She patted the bed. “Fixing the house? Well, it’s what I do, and someone’s got to. It was a total wreck, except for this room and the bathroom. Someone else must have had a go at these…unless it was the girl from Trent, Trent.” “There was no girl from Trent, Trent.” He bent to remove his shoes then dropped his pants. “Someone’s been in here playing house,” she said. “Hurry up.” He got into bed beside her. “How do you know it wasn’t a girl from Trent, Trent who did this room?” she said. “Because it was me.” “You got the room tidied up? After refusing to answer Nathan Trent’s letters? But when—and why?” “I did it for you.” “You didn’t know I was coming. I didn’t know the place existed.” “It’s complicated,” he said. He lay beside her, but not touching. Jillie rolled towards him and bit his shoulder. “Stop talking in riddles. I’m not happy with you, Seamus. I might have to dig up my rose bush and move out.” She put her hand on his thigh, and then gave his balls a squeeze. “What’s this then?” Her finger and thumb slid up his cock, and she let her fingers dwell on the ridge of a vein. After the smooth young cock she’d been fondling in her dreams, this one felt experienced. “Oh, Jillie…” He rolled towards her and cupped her head in both hands, rubbing her temples with his 35

Lark Westerly thumbs. He kissed the corner of her mouth, flicked his tongue along her lips and kissed the other corner. Jillie gasped. It was a subtle caress, but she felt its erotic appeal right down to her toes. He went on kissing her, shaping his lips to hers then biting gently around her jawline. Jillie writhed, gasping, wanting his hands on her clit. She grasped his buttocks, dragging herself against him, expecting him to drive into her, but he simply curled one arm around her waist and held her gently. “Sssh, not so fast,” he said, and dropped his mouth to her breast. She wrapped her legs around his thighs, opening herself to him, but still he held back, sucking her breast, smoothing her hair and whispering love words she’d never heard before. At last, just before she thought she would shatter, he entered her, sliding slowly into position, lying on his back and drawing her down and over him like a glove. When he was firmly inside her, he drew back and then filled her again, rolling his hips to give her maximum pleasure. Just before she spun off into orgasm, he withdrew and slipped two fingers inside her. “Over on your back,” he said. “Now, just a moment.” His fingers twisted, and he brought his mouth down to suck her clit. His other hand pressed on her stomach, and Jillie shrieked as a climax rolled through her body. Before the sensations had ceased, he had moved up and over her and thrust inside, before gulping a huge breath and exhaling in a sigh. 36

The Portal Jillie lay limply. She was aware, somehow, that Seamus was different, but it wasn’t until he stroked her hair back from her brow and kissed her cheek that she realized something else. She was different, too, and he should have reacted. “Did you notice I cut my hair?” she asked abruptly. “You went to the salon while I was in Japan and dyed it red,” he agreed. “You also had a wax down here.” His hand brushed over her mound. “How did you know?” Seamus laughed. “It’s pretty obvious. So, you’ve been with Shay how often now? Once? Twice?” “Shay?” Jillie shot upright in horror. “You don’t mean he’s real? I thought he was a dream!” “I know,” he soothed. “It’s all right.” “Hell, Seamus, what is this? Is he your son, or what?” “No, no.” She heard him sigh. “I’d better explain…again.” “You haven’t explained anything to me!” “Yes, I have, but you haven’t heard it yet. This is the first time, for you.” He leaned sideways, lifting something from the floor. “Lights, level four.” The attic bloomed with light from some kind of lamp that hovered in the air, glowing with a soft radiance that cast no shadows. “What’s that?” she asked. “A PEC…Personal Environment Creator.” “Which you also got in Japan.” She blinked. “You have been busy shopping. Did you actually get any 37

Lark Westerly work…” Her voice trailed off as she got her first good look at him. “What happened to you?” “Nothing,” he said. “I just lived a bit.” A bit… She stared. Seamus looked like his own elder brother. Or possibly like his own dad. She knew he was thirty-three, but now he seemed twenty years older. His hair had darkened and was graying at the temples, and there were lines at the corners of his eyes. The hair on his chest was sprinkled with silver. “Don’t look like that,” he said, touching her cheek. “It isn’t flattering.” Jillie closed her eyes and groaned. She was dreaming again. This time, her subconscious had rustled up an older version of Seamus, one who was calm and understanding, and who wouldn’t ignore letters from Trent, Trent or keep secrets from his lover. “I’m losing it,” she said. “No, you’re not.” He smiled. “I’m not messing with your mind, Jillie. I’m going to explain everything.” “You just had to fuck me first?” “You always said I did, so I did. I would have anyway, just in case you had a thing about men over fifty.” “And how was I?” she asked with sarcasm. Seamus’s smile widened, and he rocked his hand from side to side. “A bit uncontrolled, but don’t worry. You mature into a very nice lay, and when you hit forty, fuck me! You’re sensational!” “I—” 38

The Portal “Enough jokes. I know you think you’re having a series of erotic dreams, but you’re not. You really did meet Shay. You were his first, and you spoiled him for anyone else. You’ll be meeting him again soon. You’re not dreaming, and you’re not crazy. It’s all to do with the house.” “I need a drink,” said Jillie. “I brought you one.” He bent again and produced a narrow-hipped bottle. He nicked the top with his fingernail and handed it to her. “Sip it slowly, or it’ll take your head off.” “What is it?” “A clit tickler. Slowly…” Jillie tilted the bottle and gulped, then uttered a startled neigh as heat spread through her groin. “I said slowly!” admonished Seamus, grabbing the bottle. “Just as well I didn’t bring you a dildo special or I’d be peeling you off the ceiling!” “What about this house?” She reached for the bottle again. She felt as if her head was floating, and waves of pleasure spread through her body. “Is it haunted, or what?” “Not at all,” said Seamus. “It belonged to my greatuncle, Alan Sperry, who was your general issue mad scientist. He invented a time portal.” Jillie groaned. “Please!” “Can we skip the chapter where I try to persuade you and you refuse to believe me, and leapfrog straight to the part where you accept the truth?” She nodded.

39

Lark Westerly “Good. The old goat installed it in that closet there, and then set out to test it on the bunny—his nephew’s son, who was providentially visiting for a few days.” “Shay?” “Right. That episode is over thirty years ago from my perspective, but I do remember I had no idea what he was up to when he told me to stow my gear in the closet.” Seamus sighed. “I suppose he didn’t tell me in case nothing happened. I came out and discovered you, sitting naked in this bed. I was horny as hell, and that must have shut off my intellect for a while. I thought you were gorgeous, and I fell for you, hard. When it happened I was knocked sideways, shattered…” “When what happened?” “You’ll know when it does. Anyway, after that, I never came near the place again, for years. I wouldn’t speak to Al again, either. Then, when he had the gall to leave the place to me—fuck, what could I do? Rent out a place where someone might fall into the future or the past? Sell a place where some creep might crawl out of the future into a kid’s bedroom? Time portals are dynamite, and this one has such a limited physical range it doesn’t offer much in the way of scientific enlightenment.” “You could have lived here yourself.” Seamus grinned. “Hell, no. Some creep might have crawled into my bedroom.” “You could have dismantled the portal.” “Bloody Al wouldn’t tell anyone how, and I’m no scientist, let alone a mad one.” “You could have burned the place down.” 40

The Portal “I thought about it, but what if the fire department got here in time? I hoped some vandal might do the job for me, but no luck. The best I could think was to dump the whole thing in the laps of Trent, Trent, as you call them, and pretend it never happened.” “Then what are you doing here now?” asked Jillie. Seamus pursed his lips. “Maybe I wanted to fuck a younger woman without emotional fallout?” Jillie swatted him, and took another big swallow of her drink. She was becoming used to the way he looked now. This was some dream. She must congratulate her subconscious on its inventiveness. “Why suddenly change your mind about the house after thirty-something years?” “Because I did. I met myself twenty years ago, and knew I’d be doing it, and when.” He kissed her temple. “Ginger. You really had me fooled in the supermarket. You were familiar, and I wanted to jump you right away, but you said you’d never had short red hair.” He stroked her bare mound. “Of course, if you hadn’t had that done, I’d have known you weren’t a natural redhead that first night.” “In the supermarket,” said Jillie. “You—he—didn’t know who I was?” “It was fifteen years after our last encounter, and you looked too different in some ways and too much the same in others. Would you recognize someone you’d seen a few times in candlelight, fifteen years ago?” Jillie grimaced. “I was ten.” 41

Lark Westerly “Besides, from my point of view, you—Ginger— should have been forty or so by the time I saw you in the supermarket, not still twenty-five. I might have thought you were Ginger’s daughter, but you’d said your family was all blondes.” “But wait,” said Jillie. “You said you got the room ready for me. Why would you do that if you were in Japan and didn’t know I’d turned into a redhead?” “I did it today, from my perspective, as a birthday present for myself. You see, I knew I had done it, and I knew when.” She was beginning to feel dizzy. “I knew you came down to the house the day after I went to Japan, and I knew that was the first time you could have been here.” Jillie was silent. “Well?” Seamus gave her a slight shake. “What are you going to say?” “You tell me,” she snapped. “You claim to have played this scene before.” “No, this is my first time here with you like this. I can only remember what has already happened, from my perspective. And when you meet Shay again, he won’t have any idea he’s going to meet you in the supermarket years on and get a huge hard-on that will make him hold the basket in front of him all the way to the car.” “Did you…he?” “The semantics are awkward, aren’t they?” said Seamus. “To you, my eighteen-year-old self is Shay, and to him, you were Ginger. The one you met in the supermarket is Seamus, who remembered Ginger and 42

The Portal who knows you as Jillie, but didn’t understand you are the same person. And I—” “Gray Shay.” “I may be gray, but I can still take you on in your naughty forties.” “You mean we stay together for years?” squeaked Jillie. Seamus put his fingers to her lips. “I won’t tell you any more. Just one thing… did you recognize the roses I brought you?” Jillie glanced at the vase on the sill. “And I thought it was such a subtle touch,” mourned Seamus. “They’re from the bush you planted at our apartment—oh, getting on for twenty years ago.” He gave her a hug. “Now, we’d better get to the bathroom and clean up.” “But—” “That’s what you said we did.” Jillie watched him get out of bed, and stared as he snagged the floating PEC. “We can use it to warm the water,” he told her. **** Washed and dried, Jillie returned to the attic to find the bed remade with fresh, crisp sheets. “Who…?” Seamus looked perplexed, and shrugged. “I don’t know. Could be you… or me, after I go home. I don’t remember doing it, but that doesn’t mean I won’t.” “It must be you. No way I’d be making you a love nest to share with a red-headed bimbo.” 43

Lark Westerly Seamus narrowed his eyes. “You think I like sharing you with a horny kid and a fucked-up yuppie?” “Seamus is not fucked-up!” “No? It’s normal to have a house and let it fall apart?” “Seamus is—” Jillie groaned. “Go away, Gray Shay. You’re annoying me.” “Yes… you’d better get some rest, Ginger,” said Seamus. “You’re going to need it.” He peeled back the sheets and helped Jillie in, kissed her and left via the closet. “That was some dream!” she said sleepily. She was just dropping off when the closet glowed white again. Who the fuck??? She sat up and lit a candle. “Ginger?” It was Shay, blinking in the light. “Are you okay? No psychic stress from wandering into the future to fuck an older woman?” He cocked his head on one side. “Future? What do you mean?” “The closet is a time portal,” she informed him. “No it isn’t, Ginger. Al says it’s a portal to an alternative reality—this one. That’s why the house is different out there, and why you’re here sometimes and not others. It’s how that bed can be here in your reality and not here in mine. Can we…?” He gestured at the bed. “Why not?” said Jillie, and added diligently, “Only, if I don’t come right away, it’s not your fault. I made other arrangements.” 44

The Portal Shay’s face lit up. “Fuck, so did I! I wanted to last longer for you, so I jacked off before I came. Now we can have more time.” He peeled off his clothing and tossed it on the floor. “I should have brought you flowers.” “I already have some,” said Jillie. “You brought them, sort of.” He picked a rose from the vase and sniffed it, then used it to tickle her nipples. Then he tossed it aside, and climbed into the bed. “Ginger…” He pressed his face against her breasts, and she felt him shake a little. “I think I love you.” She put her arms round him. This was a dream… but what if it wasn’t? What could happen that Shay would find so traumatic he’d let his legacy fall apart rather than risk seeing the future again? “Ginger?” He raised his face from her breast, and she was touched and uneasy to see his hazel eyes were wet with tears. “What’s wrong, Shay? You said you were okay.” “Al’s kicking me out. He says I have to go home. I can’t keep using the portal.” So, the mad inventor had finally grown some integrity! “It’s all right,” she said. “We’ll be together again one day, Shay.” “How? When?” “We will.” She kissed him. “I promise you. Now, do you want to fuck me, or shall we just cuddle up?” He got up, and pressed his hands over his eyes. “Fuck. I’ll just go to the bathroom and wash my face. 45

Lark Westerly I’ll be right back. I’ve got a present for you, so you won’t forget me. Ginger, do you love me?” Jillie hesitated. Did she? She loved Seamus, but Shay was just a horny boy. They were the same person, though… “What’s not to love?” She leaned forward and dabbed a kiss on his penis, which bobbed in response and began to stiffen. “Soon enough, my young sprig,” she said, and kissed it again. “I’ll give you the sucking of your life.” Shay clutched at his groin and retreated into the closet. Jillie sighed. She was having a very busy night, and it was not over yet! **** The next white light came through the window, wheeling across the wall like a searchlight. Seconds later, the darkness returned. Jillie sat up. If that was a car, it had stopped outside. Well, no one knew the code for the gate, so she was safe from intruders. From some intruders, she amended as a screech of timber sounded from downstairs. Someone was trying to force aside the table barricade. Correct that, someone had forced it aside and was tearing up the stairs, swearing all the way. A heavy body hit the attic door like a battering ram and burst into the room, stumbling forward to the bed. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Jillie? Jillie?” 46

The Portal “Seamus?” For the third time that night, Jillie reached for the matches. It was the Seamus she knew best, the version that should have been in Japan, and he was staring at her with a kind of indignant horror. “What the fuck have you done to your hair?” “I dyed it red. I also waxed my cunt.” She stared back at him. “You look dreadful, Seamus. What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in Japan.” “And you’re supposed to be at the apartment! I told you to get away from here—God, Jillie! I’ve been going mad since you turned your cell phone off! And when you weren’t at the apartment or at the supermarket, I got the first flight out. You still weren’t at the apartment and fucking Trent said you were here.” She held her arms out. “I’m quite okay, Seamus. You’ve been making a big fuss about nothing. I’m quite safe.” “You don’t know what this place is! You’d be safer sleeping on a railway track!” “It’s your house,” she said. “If you’d sorted it out properly in the first place you wouldn’t be panicking now. And there’s nothing to panic about, anyway. This is my third night here, and you can see I’m fine. I’ve done two rooms up already, and I’m quite comfortable.” “I can see that!” he snapped. “Fuck it, Jillie, of all the places in this house you had to pick this room to sleep in!” “It was the only one that wasn’t covered with dust, unless I wanted to bed down in the bath,” returned 47

Lark Westerly Jillie. “Stop being tiresome, Seamus. You’re worn down, so get into bed. We’ll talk about it in the morning.” He gave her a hunted look. “You said you never had short hair!” “I hadn’t, then. I have now.” She put her hand on his arm, feeling the taut tendons. “You’re all tensed up, so let’s leave this until morning.” It took her five minutes to coax him into bed, and by then she was worried. This was her Seamus, but he had lost his deprecating charm. He seemed within an ace of falling apart. Holding him seemed to have no effect, so she pushed back the sheets and set her lips to his cock. It stirred and sprang to life, hard and rigid against his belly. She heard him groan. “If it’s worth doing…” she murmured, and set to work, kneading his thighs with her hands while she sucked and licked his cock. He was reaching for her, but she drew back. “No, you just lie there. You’ll feel better soon. I promised you this a while ago. Better late than never.” She went back to work, drawing the erection into her mouth, licking the tip then tugging it with her lips. He was moving his hips now, struggling with some invisible force, drawing deep breaths and groaning. “Hold still.” She planted her hands on his thighs and leaned her weight on them, pulling back on his cock. Seamus gasped, strained towards her and cried out incoherently. He rolled his face sideways to bite the pillow. 48

The Portal “Let it go,” she mumbled, kneading his balls with one hand. Seamus cried out again. “Ginger! Oh, fuck!” Jillie went cold. Seamus couldn’t possibly have said that. He had his teeth anchored in the bedding. Suddenly dry-mouthed, she let go and glanced over her shoulder. Shay stood in the closet, staring at her in grief and horror. “Ginger… Oh, fuck!” “Shay, it’s all right,” she began, but he had slammed the closet door. “Jillie!” Seamus reached for her again, and Jillie, still chilled with remorse, rolled to meet him, holding him tightly in her arms as he pressed into her, arching his back and crying out as he spurted. Afterwards, she drew the sheet over them and held him again while his breathing returned to normal. He relaxed, and then gave a sheepish chuckle. “I lost it there. Sorry, Jillie. I don’t know what got into me!” “You just flew home from Japan, harassed Nathan Trent, drove three hours, broke into your own house and then tried to have a row with me,” she pointed out. “I didn’t mean that.” He stretched. “I know why I did that… and I didn’t break in. I let myself in. The codes are burned into my brain.” “What did you mean, then?” “I lost it when you went down on me, and I heard myself...” 49

Lark Westerly “You heard Shay,” corrected Jillie. “Seamus, I was going to save this for morning, but we really do need to talk. Do you remember when you were eighteen, and you came here to stay with your uncle?” “Yes.” He was lying still. “I had a psychotic episode and—let’s say I spent three years in therapy. Who’s been talking, bloody Nathan Trent? Or someone who knew my uncle?” “The only one who said anything about that is you,” said Jillie. “I don’t believe you had a psychotic episode.” “I most certainly—” “Hush. Let me tell you what I know, and you fill in the gaps.” He nodded warily. “When you were eighteen, you came to stay with your uncle. He was some kind of inventor, and he promised you a present. You put your gear away in the closet in this room, and when you came out, you fell over a bed with a redhead in it. You called her Ginger.” “Yes. And if you’ve cut your hair to try and recreate some scenario from my youth, I’m not amused.” “I cut my hair because I wanted a makeover after I found out you had a house you’d never mentioned. Concentrate, Seamus! Your uncle fed you some rubbish about that closet being a portal into an alternative reality—” “I told you I had a psychotic episode.” “—and then you fell in love with the girl. It wasn’t all that surprising. She was your first, and you had 50

The Portal fantasies about older women. Your uncle tried to put a stop to things, but on your last visit here you went back through the portal to get a present. When you returned, you found your girl in bed with another man. She was giving him oral sex.” Seamus was silent. “You were upset. You dropped whatever the present was and bolted back to your time. I don’t know what happened after that, but I expect you went to fight with your uncle and probably knocked him out. You freaked, anyway.” “You could say that,” said Seamus in a tight voice. He sat up, and peered at her. “You are Ginger. But I don’t understand. You were older than me. You should be forty or so.” Jillie licked her lips. “I’m not forty because all this happened—for me—over the past three nights. The portal had nothing to do with alternate realities. It’s a time portal. Shay—you—came fifteen years into the future to be with me now. Your uncle got it wrong, or lied to you.” “Fuck!” He shuddered, and screwed his eyes shut, then opened them again. “I remember. It was…I’d got you a present, and I came back and there you were with this man. You were sucking him off and he was thrashing about… and that man was me. And for you this just happened a few minutes ago?” “Yes,” muttered Jillie. “Oh, poor Shay. I feel so bad! No wonder he—you—freaked when your uncle left you the house!” Seamus shrugged. He still looked exhausted, but no longer shattered. “I remember,” he said, “but now 51

Lark Westerly I’ve been on the other side of the fence I can’t see why I was so traumatized.” He bit his lip. “Unless it was because seeing you like that with the other bloke— me, just now—gave me the biggest hard-on ever. I got back in that damned portal and thought my balls were going to explode!” “Did you ever see me again?” ventured Jillie. “Not until I went into that damned supermarket six months ago.” “In that case, it’s no use trying to make it up to Shay. If he’d ever had a threesome with us, you’d remember it, wouldn’t you.” Seamus’s lips moved soundlessly while he worked that out. “Hell, I don’t know. Maybe it will still happen.” “I don’t think so. You remember things that happened to Shay, but he had never met me before. If he’d ever met me again, after he saw us together and freaked, you’d remember it now.” “Enough with the you and the he,” said Seamus. “I was Shay, and it never occurred to me the bloke you were sucking off was me. How do you know so much about this damned time travel thing, anyway? Did you just put three redheads together and come up with five?” “I’m not that smart. You explained most of it to me.” “I did not. I thought it was a psychotic incident—” He looked suspiciously at her. “You’ve been here three nights…No. Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.” 52

The Portal He lay down and turned his face to the pillow. Jillie, sighing again, blew the candle out and settled beside him. He had accepted Shay’s appearance reasonably well, perhaps because he hadn’t seen the appalled expression on his younger self’s face. She wasn’t sure if he was ready to accept the idea of an older version of himself, or the revelation that the two of them were destined to be together for at least the next two decades. **** In the morning Seamus refused to go back to Japan, or to return to the apartment. When Jillie informed him she intended to finish renovating the house, he said, grimly, that she could do as she liked. “But if you’re planning to sleep in that room, I’m sleeping with you,” he said. “I know I never came back here after that night, and I wouldn’t have hurt you anyway, but who knows who else might decide to use that closet?” “No one else knows about it,” reminded Jillie. “Al did.” “He’s dead. Or are you going to tell me he vanished under mysterious circumstances?” “He wasn’t dead until twelve years ago.” “What would you do if he did show up here?” “Punch him for putting me through the worst experience of my life! Or maybe shake his hand for setting me up to meet you. I suppose you’re determined to renovate this death trap?” “Yes,” said Jillie. 53

Lark Westerly “Even though it’s throwing good money away on something we can’t sell or rent out?” “Have you thought of nailing the door shut and papering over it?” “I have. And you can bet whoever bought the place would compare windows to rooms and come up with one short. Or else Al or someone else would come through and un-nail the door from the other side. If it really is a time portal, anything could come from any point of the house’s existence. Locking the doors won’t help.” To her surprise, he turned out to be a good renovation partner. He cut the jungle in the garden and fetched supplies from the town. He even helped her paper the sitting room in a design of clocks and sundials. “Cute,” he remarked. Day-by-day and room-by-room, the house regained the charm it was meant to have. Jillie said nothing more about dealing with the portal—it was Seamus’s house, and if he decided to burn it down at some future date, she supposed that was his business. However, she had good reason to believe he wouldn’t do that. Seamus-the-elder had seemed resigned to its continuing existence, so it must exist for at least the next twenty years. She continued to feel bad for young Shay, especially when she found the gift he had intended to give her—a photograph of himself, lying where it had fallen on the floor of the empty closet. “You were cute,” she said. 54

The Portal Seamus looked at the photograph and curled his lip. “I hope you’re not lusting after him? He’s unfinished.” She shook her head. “Funny thing, though,” continued Seamus, squinting at the paint he was applying to a cornice, “I can’t see why old Al bought that bed in the first place. He was more the iron bedstead type.” He didn’t, thought Jillie. You probably bought it twenty years from now, and brought it through the closet piece-by-piece. She almost told him so, but he was in a strange mood already. He shared the velvet bed with her each night, but although he put an arm around her and kissed her cheek he never suggested sex. That last time had obviously left an unhealed scar on his psyche, twice over. “Do you like my hair like this?” she asked. He looked confused. “I like it, but it reminds me a bit too much.” “You don’t have to stay here.” “But you won’t come back to the apartment until you’re finished.” “No.” “Then I’ll stay, too. I don’t trust you not to go wandering off into time.” It seemed an impasse, and she would have been afraid it would never be broken if it had not been for one thing. There were fresh roses on the sill that night, and fresh sheets on the bed. Someone had faith in their future as a couple. 55

Lark Westerly She was lying awake one night when the closet lit from within. About time! she thought, as Seamus-theelder emerged, carrying his PEC. “About now, by my calculations, I was behaving like a total prick and a dog-in-the-manger,” he said, and smiled engagingly. “Where am I?” “In the bathroom. Probably jerking off. He hasn’t touched me since that first night.” “Oh, good.” Seamus put the PEC on the chest and commanded it to a low level of light. Then he removed his clothing. “You were wearing a satin slip when I came back to bed,” he said. “The green one, I think.” He tossed one of the gowns towards her, and she put it on. “What now?” she said. “Are you going to have it out with him?” “In a manner of speaking.” Seamus-the-elder lay naked on the bed. “I’m going to enjoy this, young Jillie,” he remarked. “Down you go.” Jillie frowned. “Suck me,” said Elder-Seamus. “Don’t be shy. You’ve done it before, even from your present perspective.” Jillie was tired of the impasse with Seamus, so she complied, laving his scrotum with her tongue and steadying herself on his thighs. He was not as relaxed as he pretended, and she took the tip of his cock in her mouth and sucked it hard. He moaned and arched his back, but he was less aroused than his younger self had been on his return from Japan. 56

The Portal “Keep going,” he instructed. “I’m—” The door opened and Seamus came in. “Jillie! What the fuck?” The older man raised his head from the pillow. “You know what she’s doing, and you know how good it feels. Got a hard-on yet?” “You—” “Yes, I’m you, and I’ve been exactly where you are now, so I know what you’re feeling. And any moment now you’re going to join us in a threesome!” “Like fuck!” roared Seamus. “Jillie, get away from him!” “Come on,” taunted the older version. Seamus sprang forward, and Jillie felt the bed dip as he landed on it. She sucked harder, mildly insulted that Seamus-the-elder could concentrate on a mocking conversation with his junior self while she was ministering to his cock. She felt Seamus grasp the skirt of her gown and turn it up, and then his hands nudged her thighs apart. He was kneeling behind her, letting his erection press between her legs. It was as taut as a truncheon. She panted, and let the cock she was sucking pop out of her mouth. Seamus put his arms around her and flipped her onto her back so she lay beside the older man, who rolled to take one of her nipples into his mouth. She cried out, flinging her legs apart, but Seamus grabbed one thigh. He dipped a finger into her cunt, trailing the moisture away down her leg. Then he ducked forward and hoisted her ankles to his shoulders before pressing his rigid cock slowly into her. 57

Lark Westerly She moved frantically, but the angle was wrong. He was leaning back, rocking his balls against her. And then the older man fastened his lips over the top of her cunt, sucking gently, while rolling her nipples between finger and thumb. She tried to buck, but hands still held her thighs, so finally she lay still, whimpering, letting them do as they liked. A scream was building through her, and suddenly the almost idle flicker of the tongue across her clit strengthened, driving her over the brink in a crescendo of sensation. She heard one man cry out, and the busy mouth drew back. Her legs were released and she was rolled onto her side. A long body, damp with perspiration, lay hard against her back, and another, almost identical, drew close, sandwiching her and pressing a strong erection between her legs. With a thrust he entered her, and cradled in four loving arms, Jillie found herself building to a second orgasm that left them all sweating and panting. Spent, she lay on the rumpled velvet, watching the two versions of her lover eyeing one another in the soft light from the PEC. “Good, wasn’t it?” said Seamus-the-elder. “I remember enjoying it very much once I got over my snit. I also remember being annoyed because it was the sucking that got her off.” The younger Seamus bared his teeth. “If I thought I was going to turn into you, I’d go back through that damned portal and drown myself at birth.” “You won’t, though,” said Elder-Seamus, “because you didn’t. I’d remember.” 58

The Portal “I’ll come through to your time and knock your block off,” said Seamus. “No, you won’t, because I didn’t. I’d remember if I had. Face it, boy. You can’t do anything I didn’t do.” Seamus was breathing hard. “Are you trying to say I can’t do anything you don’t remember doing? For the rest of my life?” “That’s it.” Elder-Seamus sounded smug. “But, fuck, boy, I’ve stood where you are now, and been lectured just the same, and you’ll be doing this for yourself in about twenty years, from your point of view. What goes around comes around.” Jillie sat up. “Stop it, both of you!” She turned on ElderSeamus. “This is your fault. You put the bed here, and the roses, and these gowns. If you hadn’t wanted to play sex-in-the-attic-with-a-younger-woman, none of this would have happened!” “It would, though,” said her own Seamus unexpectedly. “The bed was here when I came through fifteen years ago, and so I—he—had to put it there. If he hadn’t, it wouldn’t have been here.” “Et tu, Brute?” said Jillie. “Can I expect any more versions of you to come visiting me? Will we be enjoying foursomes and fivesomes?” “No one younger than me will turn up,” said Seamus-the-Elder. “I’d remember, if I’d come back before tonight, but as for older versions…hmm.” He winked at Seamus. “Let’s just say our lady is just as horny as a grandmother as she is now.” “A grandmother?” cried Jillie. “What did I have? When?” 59

Lark Westerly “That’s all the info you’re getting, Ginger-Jillie. I’m going back home to Jillian now, because that’s what I remember happening when I was in your Seamus’s shoes.” He chuckled. “You and he will go another round, and I’m hoping to do likewise with Jillian.” When Elder-Seamus had vanished, Seamus took Jillie back in his arms and began to laugh. “I can’t believe you were willing to have a threesome with that prick! If I ever show signs of getting that smug, I want you to throw cold water over me.” “I mightn’t be there to do it,” said Jillie. “You will. We obviously stay together, otherwise Bugalugs there wouldn’t be so pleased with himself.” “He’s got reason to be smug,” said Jillie. “That’s a very nice technique he has with the tongue.” Seamus gave her a sour look. “I suppose you had a better time with him than with me?” “He taught me a couple of things, but there’s no need for you to look like that. It was me who taught you in the beginning…only at the time I thought it was an erotic dream.” She cleared her throat. “Seamus, you do realize we’ve had unprotected sex?” Seamus hugged her. “I was too strung out to think of protection.” He slipped his hand down between them and cupped her mound, rubbing gently with his thumb. “What now?” asked Jillie. “He said we did it again, and who am I to fight fate?” **** 60

The Portal Months later, rocking little Rose in her arms, it occurred to Jillie to wonder which of the acts of that busy week had resulted in conception. Who was Rose’s father: Shay, Seamus or Elder-Seamus? “I never did find that out,” said Jillian, unpinning her silver hair as she emerged from the closet, “but you might like to know Seamus has never lost his taste for older women, younger women, women of any age…just as long as her name is Jillian Emmett O’Mara.” She smiled. “Jillie… be happy. I’ve come to mind Rosie while you go fuck our man.”

61

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

L

ark Westerly lives in the island state of Tasmania, a place of wind and rivers, wild places and hidden delights. She enjoys walking over the hills, gardening, collecting china dogs, listening to music and wallowing decadently in a hot bath. Lark has been married for some years, and has two grown children. She writes under a variety of names, and lives in many worlds- most of which don't bear much resemblance to the 21st Century.