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    Well Timed
    Well Timed
    Well Timed
    Ebook198 pages3 hours

    Well Timed

    By Sharon L Reddy

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Alain decided he was more likely to stay sane through twenty years reign as emperor, if he went into the past and chose his brother/best friend himself. The time machine was configured as a 1963 Corvette and he liked the car and what he'd read about the young people of the time. He noted the setting in 1964 had been visited, but not explored. Some things just don't show up in a history search.

    "Fat, weird Gordan" didn't know why the movie-star-looking guy seemed to have decided they were going to be friends, but he rather liked it. And the guy kept calling him "man." He definitely liked that.

    Mac laughed at herself and worked to fit her age into the conversation. She knew how young she looked. She wasn't sure why, but she'd rescued lost puppies before and the two were as cute as any of those.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherSharon L Reddy
    Release dateOct 19, 2012
    ISBN9781583389942
    Well Timed
    Author

    Sharon L Reddy

    I write science fiction romance, but it's the literary definition of romance. Swashbuckle, Baby, in "white tie and tails." High romantic fantasies, million word mysteries, family sagas, statesmen, gurus and wise immortals. Loving dads, sons and brothers, and of course, the women who understand and appreciate them. High fashion and landscape design. Materials and art, the books are built to be read very fast, specifically for the way women visualize. Research on the soap operas of the fifties, trends in international populist (fan) fiction, technological development, and above all, long-term entertainment value. It has to be good in reruns. The intent is create a body of work that's just fun to read, in spurts or bursts over decades. Ethics, responsibility, nobless oblige, the power of money, the use of prestige. I write good guys win. Period. They're fantasies for women. Men with lots of muscle say, "I love you," a lot.Most of what is currently published was written in the first decade, 1991-1999, before Mother Nature changed my personal definition of "mature audience." I hope you'll remain with me as I and my work mature and enjoy the second decade of my work now being published, as well.I've lived many places and visited far more. My current residence is on a high mesa in New Mexico, in the United States, where I am engaged in a habitat restoration project.Explanation of the Pilots Group:Some of these works have been sitting on my hard drive close to twenty years and they're no fun for anyone just sitting there. They're exactly what they've been titled, pilots, like for a TV series. It is my intent and hope that other writers will choose to continue the adventures of the characters. There are only three restrictions. Don't kill off my heroes, don't make good guys bad guys and give my story credit if you publish. Yes, you may publish and make money on your stories. I loved reading and writing fan fiction, but the limitations on it could be frustrating, so... Have fun with these works that specifically don't have them.

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      Book preview

      Well Timed - Sharon L Reddy

      Sharon L Reddy

      Well Timed

      (c) 1997, 2004, 2012

      Target Yonder

      Smashwords Edition

      ISBN 978-1-58338-994-6

      Chapter One

      There wasn't much doubt he was in the right place. Or time. The music blaring out of the speakers was good, but the speakers were terrible. He sighed and started looking. If he was going to have a life companion, he was going to pick him out himself. They'd have sixty days to become friends before the friend was declared his brother and pumped him while his first semen collection was taken, in front of a live audience of sixty thousand women and a tri-planetary broadcast hookup that made it over a trillion.

      He was the emperor. Selecting him a brother was the only thing for which the time travel device was used. Alain had a feeling the note he'd left, saying he thought a committee of five would disturb the past more than one boy and he'd pick a nice one, would shake things up a bit. He wasn't quite as well under control as they thought he was.

      Alain ran a hand through wavy blond hair the population had chosen for their emperor when he was planned. An emperor's appearance was always selected by popular vote. A large number of the next generation would look like him. When he announced his retirement, which was allowed after two years, his semen and a selected ova would be brought together and genetic surgery would be done to give the next emperor the hair, skin, eye color and body shape the people chose. Eighteen years later, he could retire when his son was old enough to become emperor.

      He looked around the country club poolside dance party for the boy who would add his seed to aid the survival of his civilization and keep him sane for about twenty years while he did. His father wasn't. Neither was his grandfather. The problem wasn't genetic. It was the job they were born to do. He intended to survive it intact. The year was nineteen sixty-four in the old system and he was looking for someone whose removal from the period didn't change history.

      The girls, of course, had already noticed him. He was tall and slender, had lots of muscle, big green eyes, a terrific tan, and blonde wavy hair. He'd chosen a period and place where he'd fit the physical ideal for male humans. Language wasn't a problem. He just relaxed his jaw a bit and the translator chip in his brain used his vocal apparatus to produce the words in the correct language. He was also wearing the appropriate black pants and white coat with flower on the lapel. He had an extra flower in his pocket. He was looking for someone who didn't have a date, but had enough 'stuff' to come to the last dance of the summer alone. The boys who were alone all looked too young. He needed someone almost eighteen.

      A particularly loud pop from the tinny pool speakers set on poles made him wince and turn. The breeze suddenly whipped girls' skirts up, swung lanterns and put out candles, then was gone.

      Alain looked at the boy who'd just walked into the pool area, sighed and decided to pretend the gust had been an omen. The boy looked about the right age. He wondered if he should have let the committee choose him a brother after all, but he liked what he'd read about the time period and wanted someone from it, and they'd been planning on a fellow from twenty-four fifty-eight.

      He'd hit the selector catalog for the nineteen sixties and gotten two preliminary survey listings for the decade. He'd chosen the pool party in the United States in sixty-four, not the military R and R base in Korea in sixty-nine. He didn't want to pretend he was a soldier who understood war. The two dates had been surveyed almost two thousand years before. The fact they'd never been investigated further made him curious too.

      He managed to look forward to meeting the slightly plump boy with thick glasses, who was wearing the wrong thing. Semi-formal didn't mean a checked suit and brown shoes. Well, the eyes would be genetically corrected and so would the plump, if it needed more than exercise to do it. Alain suddenly wondered why the boy had come to something he didn't look as if he expected to enjoy.

      Hi, I'm Alain. I've decided you're the person I'm waiting for because I feel silly waiting for someone any longer. Did that make sense?

      You need someone to sign you in as a guest before they tell you to leave.

      A brilliant deduction, sir. Since the young lady of my dreams seems determined to stay there, waiting for her at parties someone else is taking her to would seem to be foolish. Your name?

      Gordan Schultz.

      My ears hear an odd spelling?

      Yeah, most Gordons are D O N, not D A N.

      But you're not called Dan?

      You're kidding, right? I'm a born Gordan. My father still calls me 'Danny Boy' once in awhile, but not often. He's sending me to learn Atruscan.

      Say what?

      A bad joke, but with a grain of truth. Punch?

      Thanks. Here, have an extra flower.

      This is a guy's flower.

      There are times providing the other male in a group of four a flower gets a bit of appreciation from three people, two of them girls. I do know women.

      Not very well or you wouldn't have been stood up.

      Now, now, I refuse to acknowledge that situation. You've been my official companion for the evening since you got me officially into this thing. I came to meet you and that's settled. No more talk about specific girls. The subject of women in general will probably be pursued at length this evening. As I said, I know them well.

      Gordan relaxed a little. If the life-guard movie-star type wanted to talk about girls, he wasn't one of those guys. Then the subject of chess came up. Eventually it did in any conversation with Gordan. Alain decided he could handle having him around twenty years when he pulled a battered portable chess set out of his pocket and grinned widely when Alain quickly set it up, and said he was the hero who always wore white, if he could get away with it. Gordan made him choose a hand. He got white.

      They ended up with an audience. Alain was trained to gather them. He got Gordan in on it. Alain moved pieces smoothly across the board and Gordan picked his up and placed them very deliberately. They played with a clock, which had also been making Gordan's pockets bulge. Alain played to Gordan and he knew it, and because it was the last time he'd see any of the kids he'd known since he was a freshman, he played up being big intellect off to private university on scholarship. Alain opened the discussion.

      A-truscan?

      Ah, you caught it. I was sure you would. I'll be studying Egyptology in the United States for a museum position, which is already waiting for me to get done fast.

      Studying Egyptology anywhere but Egypt seems silly if one is on the same world.

      No, the school is the one I want, at least to begin. I just wanted to spend a year in Egypt first.

      This would be the time to go.

      You see it coming too?

      I see something. What do you see?

      Disagreement and disillusion. Hands raised against one's fellow man. People beaten because their skin is a different color. A dead president and a war which has no reason I understand, but it's growing and I think we're going to be choosing sides in this land. Check. Your move.

      You have defeated me. Mate in five.

      Mate in five.

      You have also interested me. This is where we stand up and take a bow. I'm sure we both bow better than the Russian chess players.

      We do have an audience.

      They bowed to their audience, primarily of rather young teens, and chatted a bit with fourteen-year-old girls who thought they were both 'cute.' Kids began to get reminders by chaperones their feet had to be moving to be dancing and rocking back and forth in one place was still a clinch.

      Alain really liked everone he met, especially the chaperones. He realized he was beginning to feel rather guilty and suddenly made up his mind not to just make Gordan disappear after the party as he'd originally planned. They'd feel terrible. He'd figure out some other way than inviting him for a ride and just taking off with him.

      Gordan liked the guy, but there was something strange about the way he talked. He wondered if he was hearing someone who'd overcome a speech impediment. He rather liked having the young kids look up to him and the little girls thinking he was cute. He found himself trying to make an impression of wisdom and warn them about things. He pulled out his meerschaum and grinned around the stem when Alain gagged and choked theatrically, then rolled off his chair. Some of the effectiveness was lost when the chaperone reminded him the party was no smoking and he'd have to go outside the fence to do it.

      Are you eighteen?

      Yes, I have been since April. You?

      Sixty days and I'm not looking forward to it.

      I did not register for the draft and do not intend to do so.

      What?

      I have a firm belief further commitment in Asia is wrong. I would be exempt as a student, anyway, and I'm not breaking the law, yet. When I get to that point, I will decide whether or not to enlist, or ask to be excused as a conscientious objector. I won't be drafted.

      You'll end up in jail.

      No, I'll probably end up with a student deferral. My mother will send the registration in for me if I forget for too long. I had to learn to forge her handwriting to sign my name on things, otherwise nothing I signed would have been accepted.

      Ow.

      Mom's wonderful, but does mother a bit more than some others. She's sure I'll get into trouble if she doesn't.

      She's obviously right. How'd you like to go to a place that has no poverty, no famine, no war, no racial prejudice and be asked to make love to as many beautiful women as possible in a day?

      And not be sacrificed to the volcano at the end of the movie?

      Sacrifice to fertility gods is silly. One makes love to please them. Twenty years and retirement anywhere on the world with celebrity status and a palace with servants. The only requirement to maintain this lovely lifestyle is not father more children. I should warn you the schedule is grueling and twenty years is exhausting. Let's see, I'm the emperor of this lovely... group of worlds. Earth is one of them, so this is the future. Emperors are male, because the emperor has to fertilize thousands and thousands, not because women aren't considered equal. It's strictly biology.

      This is an outrageous story, Alain. You're strange. Don't stop now. I've had hard-ons under the table before.

      He's top male on three planets and you get a tax credit for buying the emperor's seed for your baby. It's expensive, but guaranteed to be the best. The emperor, of course, would be lonely, so a brother would be found for him. This is where we get back to I'm the emperor. I paced my rooms today and thought over the situation. I, personally, didn't want a committee of five in their eighties picking me a best friend. So I left a note five were a bit many to be tottering around the past and hopped in my little time machine to pick my own best friend. If I'm going to have somebody around the rest of my life, I'd prefer he not be boring. The people on the committee all are.

      Oh, agony. This is where I come in?

      Exactly. The search catalog gave two dates in the sixties. One, in the future, at a crowded bar in Korea filled with lonely boys resting between the battles of a war they don't understand. The other was a country club dance the last week of summer in nineteen sixty-four. A gust of wind shook the lanterns, blew out candles and gave some nice views when it blew the girls' skirts up just as you walked in. Considering the nature of the story, we have to consider girls squealing and trying to get their skirts down an omen.

      It does seem ominous.

      Yes, I'd have to take you away without you saying goodbye to anyone. I could let you leave a note you weren't missing, just gone, but that's about it. After this ominous omen, I learn you play chess. This is a highly prized skill in someone I'm going to have around all the time for twenty years. The glasses you don't like and the food you do are whisked away with a potion that repairs the pesky genes that caused glasses to slide down your nose and food not to slide past your waist. It takes about three days for the glasses and sixty for the food. Tennis every day will help.

      I'm being told to get more exercise again. I like mental activities.

      Fun things that are good exercise will be arranged while you become naturally lean and muscular. This won't take long and you don't have to work anything off. You just want to establish a nice amount of muscle and be healthy, so you can stay that way without thinking about it. I need more muscle than you because I have to have the stamina to come several times a day every day. You get to pick your women and set your schedule. My seed is the best which can be purchased and yours is the best which can be received as a gift. Only you can give it of course. Now the plot, of course, isn't that simple. Let's see, I wasn't going to say cock, cunt, cum or fuck in this story, but it's getting harder. Oh, there's a plot twist coming. I can feel it. Oh, no! It got me. Poor emperor. He doesn't get to, uh, put it in anything but a collection tube for twenty years. Thousands of women scream for his body and bear his children, but he can't dip his cock. Now I just said I wasn't going to say that word and I had avoided fuck so well. So, the emperor, me, though I'm not sure this part is going to be as much fun as it sounded like a moment ago, is searching in the past for the one friend who can keep him sane. His daddy isn't and neither is his grandfather. They got jacked off for twenty years and never got pussy and we all know that's a prescription for insanity. So, are you still a virgin, too?

      You ask weird questions. The story is rather strange, as well.

      I can't help it. All my fantasies end up with me sure I'll be fantasizing for another twenty years.

      I thought I'd never get laid. I was very surprised when I did. No questions. I won't tell who or how, but she is older.

      You... Tell me the story. I won't know her. Her name wouldn't mean anything to me, so there's no point in using it.

      I met her at the grocery store. Then I saw her around a couple places. We always said hello and talked a little. Then one day, I was sitting in a restaurant with a boring day ahead and she walked in. After a while, she said she was too full of coffee to get any more down and too broke to buy lunch there. I just knew it was the right time and kissed her when we got to her apartment. We talked politics and art, had lunch and she offered to give me a massage.

      You, not being stupid, said yes and offered to return the favor.

      I stuttered and nodded. She fucked my brains out. I got home at one in the morning.

      Have you seen her again?

      Yes, she calls me when she gets lonely. She needs someone who understands her commitment to making the world a better place. I do and it gets me laid. I mean, I would have, anyway.

      Which is the real reason you got laid. This kind of woman would know the truth of your own dilemma and personal commitment and admire your depth of understanding. Besides, real women see past the surface and she saw the real you, a hot young stud who could go for hours and hours and appreciate every invitation to do so.

      "You've decided we're going to be friends and I don't know why. I look at you and don't know why. Girls keep turning and looking this way and the other guys are all thinking about comparing jock stories and straps to see if they can get their attention fully back on them and you're over here in the corner with fat

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