Stratus Fear

Chapter 10

He brought me over to the big loft window that overlooked the heart of the city, and then wrapped his arms around my shoulders as we stood and gazed out.But instead of focusing on the twinkling lights of the city streets below he shot his gaze upwards, past where the night sky ended for us and the golden rim of Terre Celeste began.Thankfully, a Santa Ana wind had blown in earlier to flush away the thick, yellow haze that continually settles over the city during the day.We have the yellow muck and those above always count on clear, blue skies.It wasn't fair, certainly, but none of us on Terre Cite had the means or the funds to bring about a more equitable climate, a blue sky now and then, a clear, light rain instead of globs of dirt.

"Someday very soon," Rogue promised as he pressed his finger to the top of the grime-encrusted window, "we're going to have all the good things we want, including a beautiful house right up there.We're going to be somebody, lovey, a couple with money and loads of class.And everyone will respect us for our sinfully rich lifestyle.We'll have diamond studded furniture, solid gold bathroom fixtures, and two hovers for each of us, sporty and aero-dynamic, yours in platinum, mine in sterling silver."

I simply nodded.After today my estimation of glam city and its affluent residents had slipped a few notches, and I entertained a few doubts about moving on up to the big time.For one, we'd be creating a new set of headaches on top of the old.Like the gangsters of old, many of the profiteers had tried to infiltrate the second tier because they had the money, but instead of being accepted by Terre Celeste's discerning citizens and welcomed into their exclusive clubs, they had been shunned as riff raff and literally run out of town.To be accepted as one the chosen few meant you had to have an honest pedigree and a clean slate--at least to begin with.But if Rogue wanted to fantasize about diamond encrusted recliners and 14-carat gold toilets, I couldn't deny him the opportunity.

Now his hands slid down to my waist and tugged me back against him.I could feel his warm, meat-infused breath on my neck and I shivered with growing desire.Unfortunately I still had work to do.

"The andron," I murmured as a reminder, "I need that information."

"Later," Rogue whispered."Let's have the cake now and save the icing for later."

"How much later?"Giggling, I raised my fingers to caress his smooth cheek.

"Oh, give it about an hour or so, just so we can digest our meals."

Turning my head, I glanced up to meet his gaze.I loved the fact that Rogue stood about a half a foot taller than me, coming in at six-foot-four.On him it looked real good, but my five-foot-eight frame had given me lots of trouble back in school.The boys never liked to dance with a girl who towered over them, especially one with braces and a skinny bod.I didn't fill out and gain the right curves until college, but I still thanked the fates for allowing me to blossom, albeit very late in life.I wore my hair about shoulder-length up until late last year when I decided a shorter 'do would be less of a hassle.Rogue hadn't liked it at first, but grew to love my auburn shag, calling my hair sexy and sassy, a perfect compliment to my amber eyes.

Now I smiled fondly at my lover and friend."Sure we won't get cramps if we take a dip too soon?"

Rogue offered his signature roguish grin."I'll risk it if you will."

"All right, but be gentle with me.I've had a long, hard day."

He chuckled."Yeah, yeah, yeah.I'll play the violin for you, a song of sorrow and woe."

"Hey, after that luscious meal I have no more sorrow and I'm woe-be-gone.Besides, you don't play the violin."

"Blimey, I can always learn!"His years of living here in America and adapting the lingo had more or less eradicated his Cockney-Brit accent, but occasionally Rogue liked to revive it when it suited his purposes.

Now our discussion promptly ended when he whirled me around, swept me up in his arms, and headed for our generous bed behind the screen.Once there, Rogue threw me down on the foam-spring mattress, nothing gentle or innocent about it.He needed that quick, rough attitude to spur his arousal, and I gladly relented to his savage strength.Wrestling with me, he managed to hustle my tank top over my head and pull it off.In turn, I flipped him over, almost pinning him to the bed, until his mouth closed over my breast and his hand flew between my legs.I started to burn, the heat almost impossible.

"You are balmy," I gasped, out of breath."Let me have a time out."

"No can do, baby."With a wicked grin, he worked my polymer slacks down my hips to my knees, trapping my legs so I couldn't lash back at him.He found me already wet as his fingers played me to an easy ascension.His lips closed over my n****e, tugged and prodded while his hand nudged me to the peak.

I fell hard and fast, right into a violent wave that consumed and tossed me helplessly towards the next crest.When I called out his name, told him to take me now, Rogue simply laughed, gripped my hands and drew them over my head.

"No can do," he told me again, his breath now thick and ragged as he stared down at me, a glint of humor and lust in his cagey gaze.

His hand worked between us to unzip and unleash.Then, thrusting himself inside of me, he surged over my body.With a grunt and a pull, I released my hands from his grip so that I could give back as good as he gave.I ripped away the shirt fabric so I could caress the smooth flesh of his chest, my mouth needing to take his.Our kiss became a greedy play of lips and tongues, until he broke free to taste my flesh with lavish greed, from chin to throat, from neck to shoulder.I shuddered and bucked beneath him; and when he rammed harder, I hooked my legs around his waist and forced him deep inside.I continued with wild piston thrusts of my hips, his strokes hard and rough.

He plowed into me like a wild man, keeping me open by pinning down my thighs with his strong hips.I experienced a system overload, my senses scrambled, and my breathing in tatters.He had placed my body under siege, holding my mouth and loins captive to his onslaught; and the more I arched to him in surrender, the more I experienced the most sensitive and exquisite pleasure, almost akin to pain.

"Now," Rogue murmured, pausing, "you can take me down and out with you."

Then, tensing, he shot forward just as I met him at the peak.We fell together in a glorious shudder of limbs, our fingers clenched tightly to each other's slick flesh, our hearts revved to a rapid-fire beat.

It took some time before we both settled back to a normal pattern of breathing, of living.All the while the fan next to us whipped out air and flowed across our hot, spent bodies.Several tries later I propped myself up on my elbows and contemplated a nice, soothing shower.As if heeding my non-vocal desire, Rogue climbed off the bed and headed for the bathroom.Moments later I heard the steady stream of water as it hit the fiberglass tub.

According to our leasing agent, this building had to be at least a hundred years old, its stucco and brick fa?ade still sturdy despite the wear and tear from the harsh pollution.Over the years a few upgrades had been implemented to keep the place running at maximum efficiency, including an overhaul of the plumbing system.Yet, despite their aqua-dynamic, insta-flow design, our pipes still moaned and groaned on occasion, the water output dependent on residential usage during certain times of the day and night.Right now I felt certain we could count on a nominal flow of warm water, at least for the next fifteen minutes.So, shoving myself off the bed I joined Rogue in the shower-tub unit.This time we took it slow and easy, our caresses meant to clean and cool, not excite.

When finished, we both stepped into the drying tube and allowed the warm air to tickle and prickle our skin.I stayed in the bathroom to tend to my hair while Rogue donned a pair of white undershorts and went to tackle McAllister's computer at the dining table.For a moment, I stood in the doorway and watched him work, the flesh of his back stretched smooth and lean over hard muscle.He tended to hunker over his work as his intensity increased, his gaze narrowed to slim slits as he concentrated, the glow of the computer screen usually painting his handsome face a gray-green.During this time, I knew not to disturb him but go my own way until he deigned to join me once more.

Therefore, I put on my short, scrubby robe--certainly not as pretty and stylish as Arianna's wrap, but just as warm and comfortable--poured a glass of white wine, and then settled on the sofa to watch the nightly news. Of course Gavin McAllister's murder claimed the top spot, even though most people down here wouldn't think a bigwig's death from up there merited a mention.

The woman broadcaster said something about the Senesco Institute, and I perked up to listen.Her report quickly segued to a spokesman for the institute who claimed McAllister had served as a senior vice president in charge of advancing the institute's research and development program.That was about it, a somewhat vague report filled with a lot of public relations hype; although I did make a note of the spokesman's name, Bishop Dane Merrick.I planned to speak with someone at the institute anyway, and Mr. Merrick seemed to be the one I would begin with, and then work my way up the corporate ladder.From experience, I knew the person in charge of a company's public relations always took the front line position, all smiles and good will and full of double-speak.Still, I needed to form a much bigger and better picture of Gavin McAllister, the private man and the corporate professional--and do it with a modicum of investigative speed if I wanted to solve his murder any time soon.

Sometime during the course of a late movie, I must have fallen asleep, my journal and pen since slipped to the floor.The next thing I knew Rogue was walking me back to the bedroom, my mind and body in a quasi-somnambulate state.Sleep--the need for deep and dreamless slumber--claimed my attention now, my curiosity about what he found in Gavin McAllister's machine put on hold until the morning.