Time After Time Ch. 02

Where are u? I texted, my fingers click-clacking on the flip phone keyboard. Jean was supposed to meet me after school in the grocery store parking lot. Yesterday, she beat me to the rendezvous. Today, I'd been waiting so long that the windows of my car were fogging up.

This is embarrassing, but I can't come, she quickly replied. We'll have to go back through the door tomorrow.

>What??

>I know I know sorry - my parents are literally not letting me leave the house :(

>omg. How old are you again??

>either 33 or 18, depending on who you ask

>*when you ask lol

>we can go back to the door before class tomorrow morning tho. Just go to the church at like... 6 am and we'll be right back in the future where we started

>What am I supposed to do until then??

>Idk just whatever it is you do

>I don't know what that is!

The date was January 13th, 2011, and it was my second experience traveling back in time. Jean had given me a three day window to get hold of Mr. Hampton's house keys so we could start following leads in the case of her sister's disappearance.

The first day was unproductive. I spent my first few hours in the past familiarizing myself with the whole idea of time travel to begin with. After all, the amount of time between Jean's explanation of the situation and the moment I walked through the 'magic door' was about fifteen minutes. I guessed that was by design, since dwelling on the more terrifying implications of inhabiting my own teenage body was probably best avoided. But it was just like she promised. There was no physical sensation, and no serious disorientation, just the momentary sense of displacement that came with suddenly finding yourself in the middle of some moment fifteen years passed. I could see how her first experience felt like she had woken up from some dream.

But it was all real. The small things - the smell of the room, the buzz of the fluorescent lights, the fabric of my clothes - convinced me that this wasn't some sort of simulation or elaborate production, and it wasn't long before it dawned on me that my brain - just like my body - was fifteen years younger. I remembered my whole life's history, up to my thirties, but I was surprised to discover that I remembered things from being eighteen that I thought I'd long forgotten. It was startling to realize that I could suddenly recall my class schedule, my locker combination, and the names of people passing by in the hallways. I could even remember my friends' phone numbers, and smiled to myself as I felt a chunky old flip phone in my front pocket. But my impulse to get up and explore the 'past' was brought to heel by the fact that I was in detention.

There was no way I was going to get that key on day one. I spent the entire afternoon trying to act natural and get a feel for my new reality. After all, there was no training manual for time travel, and the idea that I had to figure it out on my own made me want to get used to things before I started running around doing detective work. My 18 year old body was surprisingly unfamiliar, and the uncanny reality that I was actually in the year 2011 took a little getting used to.

It was also uncanny knowing that Jean was out there somewhere, getting ready to meet up with me. She'd gone through the door just behind me, explaining that we'd meet at a nearby convenience store immediately after detention got out. We planned to debrief there and quickly travel back to the church. Since she wasn't ready to give me full access to the magic door yet, I could only get down to it if she let me in.

So while I was supposed to be working on thee case, I mostly spent the afternoon anxiously looking forward to seeing her. Part of me expected to see the Jean that I'd just had tea with in 2026, but my rational brain (or what was left of it) understood that it'd be the 18 year old version of her. That, of course, was the Jean I'd had a secret crush on, and who I had just found out had a crush on me. But when I got in her car, she was all business.

"What did you find out?" she asked quickly. "Did you get the key?"

I stared at her, dumbfounded. had forgotten how beautiful she was at eighteen - even wrapped up in her chunky winter coat and knit cap. She wore no makeup, but the chill of the January afternoon had pinkened her fair cheeks and the tip of her aquiline nose. Her soft, black hair was longer than it was in 2026, cascading over one shoulder and across her breast, and she ran her fingers through it nervously, twisting it around her unpainted nails. A golden cross necklace hung from her neck, resting softly on the swell of her chest, concealed by the thick, black wool of her cable knit sweater. I was instantly reminded of how many times I'd fantasized about the body she may have hid under those clothes.

She waved at me, trying to bring me back into focus. "Graham?" she asked. "Hello?"

"What?"

"Did you get the key?"

"Uh... no," I said dumbly.

"Okay," she said impatiently. "Did you see any way to get the key?"

I blinked at her. "Er... no."

Jean groaned in exasperation.

"Hey," I said. "You might be pretty desensitized to this whole time travel thing, but this is my first time. I'm a little... I wouldn't say I'm freaked out, but I definitely need to get used to this before we do anything crazy."

Jean sighed. "Yeah, yeah," she said. "You're right. Okay."

"Okay," I nodded. "Can we just like, drive around a bit?"

But Jean was all business. Driving straight to the church, she explained that she had to keep her schedule, otherwise her parents would call her home right after school the next day, when it was important to at least come up with a plan to steal Mr. Hampton's key. Producing a key of her own, she let us in the bulkhead door, and in a blink, we were back in 2026. And while I was eager to spend some time with her, catching up and learning more about both her experiences time traveling and what she'd been up to for the last decade or so, she rushed me out and told me to come back the next afternoon.

Feeling rather put out, I spent the night trying to piece everything together, in order to come up with a plan for the next day. I found that I couldn't even think straight. Jean was at the forefront of my mind - after so many years, she suddenly occupied so much emotional space that I couldn't think of anything else. Given the circumstances, I'd have thought she'd want to reconnect a little bit more seriously. And more than anything else I couldn't deny that I was suddenly fixated on her, as if I was still that kid back in high school, keeping my fantasies to myself. She was still smart, still uniquely beautiful, still driven. I realized that it made perfect sense that... yeah, I still had a crush on her, silly as it was. Yet it seemed that to Jean I was more of a business partner than a partner in crime. I felt an ache, and that night, I tossed and turned as I tried to fall asleep.

The next day, we wasted no time going through the door. And, by some stroke of luck, I got hold of Mr. Hampton's key. There was only one other student in detention that afternoon, and he was fast asleep. When Mr. Hampton got up to go make some photocopies, I took his keyring from his backpack, slipped off the only housekey, and put it safely inside my wallet. It happened so smoothly, so quickly, that I could hardly believe it, and when the last bell of the afternoon rang, I made my way to our rendezvous site as quickly as I could, before Mr. Hampton could have possibly noticed anything missing.

Breathlessly, I texted Jean. But, as I mentioned, she couldn't make the meeting. To say that I felt deflated was an understatement. But I shared the news anyway.

>I was hoping to surprise you with this but

>i did get mr. Hampton's housekey

>what??

>no way

>how did you do it

>i guess I'll tell you when I see you lol

>back at the church before class tomorrow

>are you trying to guilt me? Lol

>i just thought you'd be excited

>obviously I'm excited. But seriously I can't get out right now

>how can you be a time traveler and still be afraid of your parents?

>it's hard to explain.

>but it is what it is ok??

>just stay busy and tomorrow we can meet up and go back to 2026

>it really feels weird to be doing this alone. Plus I want to see you

>what do you mean?

>i mean I'm not totally getting the hang of this

>it's weird to just be eighteen again... feels foreign I guess

>no I mean... what do you mean you want to see me?

>seriously?

>yeah seriously what do you mean

>i mean you come back into my life out of nowhere

>tell me you had a crush on me in high school

>then we literally GO BACK to high school and you get me wrapped up in some crazy conspiracy

>how could I not want to see you? Lol

>...

>what?

>nothing

>i had a crush on you back then yeah

>back then as in now? lol

>lol yeah

>i know it's all complicated

>some parts are yeah

>just some parts?

>listen I just would like to see you. Now or in the future or anytime I guess

>i know this is all crazy but I feel like you're holding me at arms length rn

>i told you I literally cannot leave the house

>i mean in the future or whatever too

> I liked you in high school too, I'd like to actually SEE you.

>For more than two seconds.

>fuck this is all insane

Jean didn't reply for fifteen minutes. I stayed where I was, sitting in my car in the grocery store parking lot, letting waves of anxiety flood over me. God, I thought. I'm so stupid. How could I have made this about myself right now? There's a point to me being here, and it's to help solve this mystery.

I laid my head down on the steering wheel. Every second that passed without a reply felt like an eternity. I wondered how badly I had screwed everything up by confessing my dumb teenage crush on her when we were supposed to be... I don't know. Doing a mission? Spying on people? Hunting down leads?

I rubbed my eyes. It occurred to me that, since I was in my eighteen year old body, I was probably dealing with eighteen year old hormones. Was it actually impossible for me to keep my feelings to myself? Or was the insanity of this whole situation just getting the better of me? I thought about what I should do. If Jean was really pissed, I could be stuck here for a long while. Here as in now, like, 2011. It could be a few days, or even weeks, before she might decide to let me back in through the door. I tried to focus on what I should be doing. After detention it made sense to go home, right? Just like... eat dinner with my parents, go to bed, the normal routine. Just as I was resigning myself to that, my phone buzzed again. I nearly dropped it trying to read the next text.

>will you come to my house tonight? Late?

>the place by the church?

>no, dummy. Like my parents house

>?

>i don't think they'd be okay with that, right?

>well if you come late they won't know

>they'll be asleep

>like I want you to sneak in

>lol

>that seems dangerous

>maybe we had better just wait like you said

>or maybe I just hid a ladder behind the house

>conveniently close to my bedroom window

>are you serious

>"serious" seems to be our favorite word huh

>yeah I'm serious

>come at like 10:30 if you think you can make it

>14 Rose Ln

>i can make it

>we can talk about all this then. Whatever you want

Whatever happened the rest of the afternoon was a blur. I drove around a bit, explored the McKinley of 2011. It being January, the boardwalk and arcade were closed up, and since I was only eighteen I couldn't exactly kill time at a bar. Without a smartphone I couldn't kill time scrolling, and I didn't want to go home and face my parents yet. I thought about texting one of my old friends to hang out - but interacting with more people from the past felt overwhelming. I knew that I was about to go do something that my teenage self would never have done. Even though that teen self was, well... me. Right now.

I decided to go to the movies. The movie theater downtown was showing True Grit and The Social Network. I only had a little cash, so after I saw True Grit I snuck into the other theater, sitting way in the back in case I saw anyone I knew. I could barely pay attention, but at least the hours went by quicker.

By the time 10 PM came, I could barely contain my impatience. How funny was it that even while time traveling, it felt like time was out of my control? I exited the theater onto a deserted, frigid Main Street, dirty snowdrifts frozen to the edges of the sidewalks, and got into my car. I could see my breath, and I rubbed my hands together before starting the engine. Every other streetlight had been turned off for the night, and my car thermometer read just fifteen degrees.

I knew where Rose Lane was. Out on the cape just south of town, where the wealthier kids lived. I'd have to park my car far away from the house so I didn't wake anyone or be seen by nosy neighbors. I parked a block away and made careful not to be seen, practically tiptoeing down the icy street. Almost no houses had lights on, and I had to squint when I reached number 14, to make sure I was at the right place. The Whitaker family home was more modest than the surrounding houses, but still betrayed the family's wealth. It was large, with a gabled roof, a wraparound porch, and an impeccable air of small town Americana. I walked by without slowing down, casing the property, trying to figure out how best to get around back. Without seeing any obvious entry points, I waited until I was in a relatively blind spot and hopped the fence.

The snow in the yard was soft and powdery, and I stayed close to the flower bushes by the house so that my tracks wouldn't be obvious. Just like Jean said, there was a wooden ladder leaning against the house, hidden in the shadows beneath a big beech tree.

I tried to be quiet as I climbed. It wouldn't have surprised me if my heart was beating loud enough to wake up her parents, or the neighbors, or a neighborhood dog. And I moved as slowly as I possibly could, so that I wouldn't attract attention, that I figured someone must have seen me even as I fretted about motion-activated lights. But, miraculously, I made it to the top without being spotted. Jean's window was closed shut, and for a moment, I was arrested by what I saw.

Jean's room showed no sign of her personality. In fact, it looked like it had been decorated by one of her parents - beige walls, plain furniture, and none of the posters and clutter that I would have found in, say, Piper's room. There were a couple of photos on the dresser beside the bed, and a big landscape painting above it, but the room contained none of the trappings of a typical teenage girl. I remembered how Jean described her family: repressed, controlling, and I took note of a small cross beside the bedroom door. It made me sad, knowing that such an intelligent, curious person was probably not allowed to do much of her own decorating.

But although the room was cold, Jean's presence warmed it. She was siting cross legged on her bed, laptop across her thighs, the light of the screen illuminating the walls of her bedroom. Her hair was tied back in a loose bun, and even in her cotton shorts and baggy t-shirt, she looked radiant. Maybe it was the simplicity of her clothing, or her pose, or just how unguarded she looked... but to me, her natural beauty was surreally at odds with the barebones decor and the uninspiring, plain furniture. I stared for just a moment at her milk white thighs, her relaxed face, the obvious swell of her chest. And then, gently as I possibly could, I knocked on the glass.

Her eyes flitted up at me. They were wide, and surprised, as if she hadn't actually expected me to come. For a moment it seemed as if she were deciding whether or not to even let me in. But after glancing at the lock on her bedroom door, she slipped quietly off the bed and hurried over to the window. As she rose, her oversized t shirt slipped over her legs, hiding her shorts.

Carefully and quietly, she slid the window open, the warmth of the room practically inviting me in. It felt like every noise was deafeningly loud.

"Come on," she whispered, her small hands bracing me as I awkwardly lumbered over the window frame. "Be quiet."

Slowly, I let myself down onto the carpeted floor. There was snow on my shoes, already rapidly melting, and I stifled the urge to kick it away.

"Oh, Jesus," she said. "This was a bad idea, wasn't it?"

"Maybe," I smiled, my face reddening. "But look what I got." I fished in my pocket for Mr. Hampton's key, and held it out to her on my palm.

"You really got it," she grinned, and bit her lip. "Good work."

"Thanks," I said, putting it back. "I didn't have a plan, I just... grabbed it when he left the room."

Our eyes locked, and for the first time since we'd reconnected, her grin cracked into a wide, genuine smile. And in one swift motion, she hugged me. It took me by surprise, and for just an instant I froze - as she threw her arms around me, I could feel her chest pressing into mine. She was as soft as I'd always imagined, and I could smell her shampoo. First she hugged me, then she squeezed me a little tighter, her temple resting against my jawline. Composing myself, I put my arms around her, trying to hold her close for just another second. As she broke the hug, I lingered for just the smallest of moments, and then let her go.

"You did amazing," she said quietly.

"I'm worried that Mr. Hampton will put two and two together and..."

Jean shook her head, silencing me. "We'll worry about that later," she said. "I just... thank you. This means a lot to me."

We stood awkwardly for a moment, facing each other. A cold breeze blew through the window, rustling her curtains. "Uh," I said. "I'd better close that..."

Jean's hands rose to touch my face, her fingers framing me. "Graham," she said.

"Uh... yeah?"

"I want to kiss you."

"O-oh," I stammered. "Let's do that."

It was the dumbest thing I could have possibly said. Whether it was the unfamiliar teenaged hormones coursing through my body, the exhaustion of a long, stressful, crazy day, or just my natural lack of awareness around girls, I worried that I'd dropped the ball. But Jean just stifled a laugh. She paused for a second, thinking. "Yeah," she finally said. "Let's do that."

She craned her neck up to kiss me, her thick, soft lips hot against my frigid ones. It was just a peck at first, our eyes fluttering shut. But when we opened them to each find the gaze of the other, we kissed again, a little longer. And then her fingers threaded into my hair and she kissed me long and hard, the wetness of her mouth flooding into mine, and I found my hands on her hips, the tips of my fingers grazing the unbelievable softness of her t-shirt.

"I wanted to tell you-" I began, but she shut me up with a kiss.

"We have all the time in the world to talk about... everything," she whispered. She spun me around, and with the gentlest of touches, sat me down on the bed. She shut the window gingerly, condensation quickly forming on the glass, before turning back. "But we need to be careful," she said. "We have to be quiet. Promise?"

I nodded, my eyes filled with wonder as she bit her lip, smiled again, and walked towards me. She pushed her laptop onto her nightstand, the light of the screen saver turning the wall beside the bed into a field of shifting colors, and then crawled up to straddle me. It was the oddest sensation - her motion, the way she held her body and moved about the room, were so... experienced. Grown up. But the Jean that settled into my lap, threw her arms around my neck, and pressed her nose to mine was the high school senior I'd spent a million hours of my adolescence thinking about. It had never, ever occurred to me that she might be the one taking charge, or that I'd be so happy to be led along.

She kissed me again, parting my lips with hers, taking breaks to nuzzle noses and breathe deeply. I did the same, luxuriating in her scent, my hands timidly holding her hips and trying hard not to make too much noise.

"You okay?" she whispered. "Nervous?"

"Yes and yes," I said quietly, nodding.

"I'm sorry if you thought I was avoiding you," she said. "I'm nervous, too."

I bit my lip as her hands found my face again, her fingers tracing the shape of my ears.

"I didn't want things to move too fast," she added. "And, um... I'm worried about changing the future."

"Too late," I laughed under my breath.

"Too late," she smiled back. She pressed her lips to my forehead, kissing it, then placing one softly on my nose. The moisture tickled for a second, then dissipated. "And, uh, I didn't know if you wanted... this."

"I wanted this then," I said quickly. "And, er... now."

"Okay," she said simply, "me too."

This time, the kiss was more forceful. As my lips parted, she pressed her mouth against mine eagerly. The smacking sound filled the room, and she backed off bashfully, trying to be quiet. "Fuck," she said. "I don't want to wait."

"We don't have to," I said, finally finding the nerve to curl my fingers around the hem of her shirt.

"I know," she whispered. "I know." She clumsily pushed my fingers away. Before I could feel any disappointment, she tenderly pushed me back onto the bed, and then held up her hand to prevent me from sitting back up or speaking. Just as quickly, she crossed her arms and pulled her shirt over her head, biting her lower lip in a nervous smile.

I drew my breath in. She was braless under her top. How many times I'd tried to picture what she hid under her clothes, well... I'd lost count. Nothing could have prepared me for the reality. Just like in my fantasy, she flashed that shy smile, her cheeks red as she tossed her soft shirt onto the pillow. With her last bit of restraint, she cupped one of her breasts with her hand, her arm crossing over the other to hide the full view. But there was no hiding them. Her chest was massive, bigger than I had ever dared picture, and the soft flesh spilled over her arm and her fingers. Her belly was soft, and just the tiniest bit plump.

"Be nice about them," she said, still blushing and looking away.

"Of... of course," I stammered, watching with awe as she slowly let her arm fall away.

They were massive. Words like "heavy" and "full" would have been an understatement, but were the only words my brain could summon as this girl - the girl of my dreams, I began to admit - arched over me. Her slightly puffy nipples hardened at their first taste of the cool bedroom air, and goosebumps rose on the porcelain white flesh of her chest. For a moment, I was hypnotized, only barely aware of the heat building between my legs and the throbbing of blood in my groin.

"Are they, um... are they too big for you?" she asked, visibly nervous.

"No," I said quickly. "No, no. It's just... they're as stunning as the rest of you."

Jean rolled her eyes. Whether she was flattered or embarrassed, I couldn't tell right away. She brushed a strand of loose hair behind her ears. "Graham..." she whispered.

"I'm serious," I said.

"There's our word again," she whispered. "The future..."

"Should we stop?"

She shook her head adamantly.

I took a deep slow, breath, and craned my neck up to kiss her chest once, then twice, and then again on her nipple. I shiver ran through Jean's body, and her hips jerked forward. I felt her pubic mound grind against mine, and felt the heat between her legs. A nearly silent whimper escaped her lips.

I kissed her nipple again, then the other, feeling the weight of her chest against my chin, the warm skin against mine. Her hands landed palm down on the bed, and she lowered her torso to me. I nuzzled her breast, the soft skin enveloping my nose and lips. I nibbled, and her nipple hardened even more.

"That okay?" I asked.

She nodded, her face flush, her breathing shallow. She ground her hips against me, deep and sensually slow. "Off, off," she whispered, tugging at my sweatshirt. She balanced herself against me as I sat up, quickly taking it off, followed by my t shirt. My skinny 18 year old body was hot to the touch, and my breath was as heavy as hers. Our eyes locked, feral and wanting, her massive breasts pushing into my chest with every little gasp.

"Keep going?" I asked. Jean nodded, her hands fumbling with my belt buckle. With shaking fingers, I guided her, carefully holding her hands to help her undo the clasp. The clinking sound of the buckle seemed impossibly loud in the quiet, dark house, and I held it shut as I slid my pants down. Jean rocked forward on her knees to give me room, and used her free hand to desperately tug at the waistband of my underwear.

"Everything," she whispered, and I complied. When my cock sprung free, it slapped against my lower belly - another echoing noise - before twitching upward, fully hard. This time, she stifled a giggle. "Quiet," she hissed.

"Shh," I laughed, kicking my underwear to the floor. The moment I was fully naked, my fingers tugged at her cotton shorts. She rolled onto her back, sliding them, alongside her panties, down her legs, and kicking them to the side. Her pubic hair was freshly trimmed, and her labia was red from the grinding, and soaking wet.

I only got a quick glimpse before she rolled back on top of me. Before I could catch a breath, she kissed me as deliriously as she could, pushing me onto my back once again. My heart throbbed, and I could practically feel the hormones pumping through my system. The anticipation was nearly unbearable, the skin of my cock grazing agonizingly against Jean's soft ass. I could feel wetness there, and between her thighs, and I took hold of one of her cheeks as I tried to guide myself into her.

"Hold on," she whispered, leaning over to the nightstand. Her fair skin glowed, changing colors in the screen saver light. I watched her fish a condom out of the drawer and hold the wrapper between her teeth, tearing it with one hand. She held it out to me. With my free hand I rolled it onto my aching, twitching member. "Okay," she nodded. "Now, now."

She lowered herself onto me in one motion. The sensation of warmth and wetness nearly was overwhelming at the first stroke, and we drew our breath in at the same moment, our eyes locking in a moment of feral, desperate need. I bottomed out inside her, our hips gnashing together, and before she could cry out, Jean kissed me long, and hard. I felt her hum silently, lips buzzing, her body jerking a little bit as she tried to feel me deeper.

When she broke the kiss, our eyes met again. "You okay?" I asked.

"Yeah," I she nodded breathlessly. "You okay?"

I nodded. "Ready?" I asked.

Without replying, Jean began to lift her hips. Her knees shook as she tried to find a pace, and I could tell that she wanted, or needed, to moan. Instead, she bit her lip, and shook her head, eyes shut tight. One of my hands rested on the long curve of her ass, the other searching again for her breasts. She batted that one away.

"Too much," she breathed. "We can do that later. Just... just fuck me. Slowly."

That free hand landed on her ass, too, and as silently as we could, we rocked our bodies against each other. Her wetness was overwhelming. Though we tried to keep the bed from creaking or the headboard from hitting the wall, just the moisture between her legs made a slick sound. We slowed our pace further, each stroke agonizingly, deliciously slow. We held each of our foreheads tight against the other, the only other sound in the room the wavelike rhythm of our ragged breath.

We held that rhythm for what felt like one blissful eternity, terrified to speed up or slow down, too scared to explore too much of the other's body, lest we lose control and destroy the fragile peace of the house. Every few minutes, or maybe just seconds, our eyes would meet, and we would find that eternity again in each other's wide eyes.

"Do you think this is going to mess up the future?" she whispered, as I kissed the lobe of her ear.

"I don't care," I moaned under my breath, feeling the strength in her legs as she lowered herself onto me languidly. "I don't care... if it does we can just come back here, and stay forever."

Forever lasted for a while. When we came, we came together, with me holding my hand against her mouth as she whimpered through a long, trembling orgasm. My own orgasm came with a shudder, numbness prickling up my legs, my toes curling as I held onto her tight, my fingertips scratching against her velvety soft back. For a long time we laid there, motionless, listening to each other's breathing, listening to the creaks of the house and the winter wind outside. It was only with a massive effort that I finally peeled myself away, dressed, and made my way back down that ladder with the promise that I'd meet her first thing in the morning, to travel back into the future.