Essence of Time Read Online Free PDF Page B

her mouth, grinding herself down against his lap. “You are amazing, Rob Frietag. You know that, right?” She whispered, as she nibbled her way down his neck.
                “Yeah? Then don’t leave. Stay here with me.”
                She stood, unzipped his jeans, lifted her skirt and settled herself back onto his aching flesh. She rocked against him, sucking his nipple, and by the time he rolled into a mind-bending climax he’d nearly forgotten her deflection. They decamped to the bedroom where he used his Christine-bestowed skills to bring her a series of shuddering orgasms with his tongue and fingers. Later, as she lay in his arms, tracing the line of blond hair between his navel and cock, he felt a wetness on his chest. He pushed her up, cupped her face between his hands. “You think I’m kidding? I love you.”
                “I know.” She let a tear drop onto his skin. He touched it, put the salt to his lips. “But, I can’t. You know that. I’m not staying here with you. Not with anybody. I have to…”
                He held up a hand. “Spare me. It’s okay.” His heart ached, but in some perverse way, he understood. He hated it. But he understood.
                A week later, she was gone. Rob spent the reminder of the summer before his senior year of college in a haze of regret and fury, pushing himself further at work and taking his body to the edge of its limits with daily ten-mile runs and weight lifting, driving himself to exhaustion every night. Mainly to avoid the dreams of her.
     
    ****  
     
    One Year Later
    “You are doing what?” He and Jack sat on their balcony, dressed in graduation gowns and nothing else, sucking back beer while watching the annual mayhem of graduation weekend unfold below them. They’d had dinner with the Gordons, enduring the evening only after fortifying themselves with a joint in the car before heading into the ritzy restaurant. The scowling, constant criticisms from John Senior were all par for the course. As soon as they could escape, they did. Heading back to their apartment, already demolished from a massive party the night before and laughing themselves sick about Jack’s step mother’s hand crawling up Rob’s thigh under the table.
    “Paris. France. You know, the country?” Rob lifted his bottle. The absence of Christine had formed a hole in his psyche; one he still had to manipulate daily just to resist calling her. But he had a new focus now. One that eased the pain somewhat.
    “Dude.” Jack tossed him another beer. “Uh, hello? Medical school? Endless nights studying for the MCAT? What the fuck? Cure for cancer and all that?”
    Rob sat back and observed his friend. Jack had grown in college, hit near six foot five, his body filling out and becoming ever more agreeable to the hoards of women they’d managed to amass in their four years in East Lansing together. His tastes had taken an interesting turn of late.  He’d invited Rob to join him at a “BDSM” party off campus. Rob was not entirely sure it was his thing, but Jack was grooving on it and seemed a natural, so who was Rob to judge? He pulled two pieces of paper from a folder on the table between them.
    “Ah, yeah, clean bill again, right?” Jack’s deep blue eyes locked onto his, making him uncomfortable.  He held up the PET scan report.
    “Yep. As a whistle.” He lit the thing on fire with Jack’s lighter, held it as long as he could then tossed it down to the dead lawn below. Then, he did the same with his acceptance letter from the University of Michigan's School of Medicine. Jack whistled, then slapped him on the shoulder.
    “You have a set of clanging balls my man. Clanging!” They hooted as the letter burned its way down to join its fellow, still-smoldering companion below. Rob felt a sudden lightness in his chest, a relief at the thought of taking the Cordon Bleu option—something his boss at the restaurant had even