Authors: Sandra Hill
Hilda was in another land… a land of magic.
Could it really be the future? Or was it just one of those fanciful places that the Norse legends spoke of where trolls and dragons and such resided. Not that she'd seen any dragons here… yet, though the lout did qualify as a troll.
Said troll was off somewhere getting his hog so that they could ride on it to a place called Hog Heaven. She did not even want to think about how they were going to ride a hog and live in a hog shed, but she'd already asked so many questions. And, after riding in that horseless carriage during the night, at an ungodly speed, she supposed anything was possible here.
Torolf and Slick were tired of answering all her questions about every little wonder in this bloody world during the past day and a half. They'd escaped the barmy sign-tiss at the hospitium, and Torolf had taken her to Slick's keep on the ocean.
Right now, she sat on the beach, watching the ocean and Slick as he ran up and down the beach, over and over. A barmy exercise, if you asked her, but no one did, of course. And, yes, her vision had returned gradually so she could see fine now.
Slick walked up and sank down to the sand beside her. He wiped the sweat off his bare chest with a towel, wearing only short braies that had been cut off at the upper thighs, appropriately called shorts, and special shoes made for running.
He was a good-looking man with dark hair and eyes and a well-muscled body, which seemed to be a requirement for all the SEALs, but he rarely smiled and was grim, much like Thorfinn had been. She wondered what tragedy he had in his past.
Then he checked a small black box lying on the blanket. "There's a text message from Max. He's on his way. Should be here in less than an hour."
"How did you… ?" She started to ask how he had gotten the message from Torolf, but decided her brain was filled with too many new ideas already. " 'Tis a beautiful spot where you have your keep… uh, cottage… but why are the cottages so close together?"
"Hey, this is Malibu. This place would be beyond my means if I hadn't inherited it from my great aunt."
She nodded. "I did not mean offense."
"I know you didn't." He tugged her lone braid, which hung over one shoulder.
"Wanna go for a swim?"
"Why would I swim… unless I had to? Like to escape from a sinking longship or to bathe."
"For pleasure?"
"You must be barmy. Besides, ne'er will I expose myself in that bathing garment you gave me. 'Tis wanton."
"That suit belonged to my ex-wife, and, believe me, it's tame compared to what she usually wore. It's not even a bikini. Like that bikini there." He pointed to a woman running along the shoreline, wearing two small scraps of bright yellow cloth, one across her breasts and the other barely covering her nether hair and buttocks. Her breasts bounced as she trotted.
"Do not tell me that is not scandalous."
"Not at all. I like it."
"And why not? You are a man, and men like to see a woman flaunting her bare udders." She looked down at the white tea-ing shert she wore over the bathing garment. "Except for me, who has no udders to speak of."
He laughed. "Big breasts are highly overrated."
"That is what Torolf said."
"Is that so?" Slick's mouth twitched with humor.
They stared ahead for a while. The sun beat down on them, hotter than any sun she'd felt before. Some children were feeding the seagulls. An elderly couple wearing matching long-sleeved sherts and braies walked by.
More people in brief bathing garments walked by, and there was even a young man riding the waves on a board. Amazing how he could stand on water using the board! Like the Christian Jesus.
Finally, Hilda had had enough of the blistering sun. "Mayhap I will swim a bit after all. 'Tis hotter than the pits of Muspell." She forced herself not to flinch under Slick's scrutiny as she shrugged off the shert, uncovering the red bathing suit.
"I'll join you."
Soon they were swimming in the cool waves. Well, she was attempting to swim.
He
was laughing at her as she kept getting washed ashore in the surf.
They were still laughing as they emerged from the water, walking up the sand to the blanket that she had been sitting on… until they noticed Torolf walking toward them, a frown on his face. The frown he directed at Slick. To her, he gave a hot once-over from her wet head to her bare toes, and lots of time in between. She raised her chin high, refusing to cower under his regard. Slick just chuckled.
"You two having fun frolicking out there while I'm running from the mad sign-tiss?"
"I do not frolic," Slick said with a laugh.
"The sign-tiss chased you?"
"Did you lose him?" Slick asked, no longer laughing.
"Damn straight I did. Two dingbats in a van marked National Center for Alien Research followed me all the way down I-5. I lost them before I got off the Escondido exit. Good thing I left my car in Coronado, though. Now that they've got my license number, they'll be able to track where I live."
"I'm gonna go in and fix us some lunch," Slick said.
They waited till Slick was some distance away. Torolf took her hand, starting to walk along the beach. She should have pulled her hand out of his grasp, but she rather liked the feel of his palm against hers. He wore the blue braies many men in this country seemed to favor and a green tea-ing shert which said, U.S.
Navy.
She knew what it said because he'd told her earlier. She was self-conscious about walking about in the scant bathing garment but did not want to call attention to herself by protesting her almost nudity.
"We need to talk," he repeated.
"Every time you say that you want to talk to me, I end up in trouble… either on my back with you betwixt my legs… or in another bloody country."
He grinned at her. That is all. He just grinned.
The lout.
It's a vibrator, no matter what you say…
As long as he lived, Torolf would never forget the image of Hilda walking out of the surf wearing a wet, red, one-piece swimsuit molded to her body.
He knew that Hilda had issues about her body and her sexuality, but, good God, if she could only see herself the way he saw her. Being close to five nine, she had very long legs. The suit wasn't overtly suggestive, more like the tank suits that Olympic swimmers wore, but it clearly outlined her narrow waist and the flare of her hips. And her small breasts with their jutting nipples… He had to stop looking there, or no telling what he would do.
"When can I go home… to The Sanctuary?"
"I don't know."
"I do not like the sound of that. Explain yourself."
"Hilda, you're in the future. I swear to God you are. Don't ask me how it happened. I haven't a clue, except to say that miracles happen sometimes."
"So, call up another miracle and send me back."
"I'm not sure I can. Each of our time travels has happened in a different way, and never on demand. As far as I know, it's only happened in my family, until this latest incident with my buddies and you."
"Perchance, if you take me back to the Norselands, the miracle will happen for me there, as it did for you."
"I will… eventually."
She stopped and narrowed her eyes at him.
"Norway is far away, Hildy. I would need to get plane reservations and—"
"What is a plane?"
"Uh…" He looked up at the sky and pointed. "That up there is an airplane. It probably has two hundred people in it and is headed to an airport in L.A."
She gasped. "Are you saying we would have to travel up in the sky?"
He nodded.
"Oh, that is just wonderful! What have you done to my life? I swear, I have had naught but trouble since you came back."
That goes both ways, cupcake. "I got rid of Steinolf."
"Yea, you did. I should not be so ungracious. Still, you have nigh ruined my life by bringing me here."
"I didn't do it deliberately. It was an accident."
"An accident is falling and breaking a leg. An accident is spilling a pail of goat's milk. An accident is a longship sinking. Sending a person through time and across lands is not an accident. It is a disaster."
No kidding. "I'm sorry."
"Do not be sorry. Do something about it."
Nag, nag, nag. "I'm trying. First, we have to get you in hiding. Don't get excited. It's just for a short time till these kooks are out of the picture.
You
have to know that they think you're an alien, a person who lives up in the sky on one of the planets… um, other worlds up there."
"Hah! 'Tis no worse than being from a thousand years ago."
"In any case, they would like to take you to a place where they can study you…
really study you. Like cut you open and see how you are different. They would never let you be free again."
Horror overcame Hilda, and she sank down to the sand, putting her face in her hands.
He sank down beside her and put an arm around her shoulders. "Don't worry, honey, I won't let that happen. You'll go into hiding… hopefully just for a few weeks. I'll go back to the base, go on assignment as if nothing is out of the ordinary. Then, when the coast is clear, I'll try my best to get you back to The Sanctuary. In the meantime, enjoy yourself."
By nightfall, they were on their way, riding his Harley up I-5. It was a balmy night, the stars were out, and Hilda sat behind him, wearing jeans and a sweatshirt and sneakers that had belonged to Slick's ex. She held on for dear life, and he kinda liked her being up close and personal to him like that, unable to talk over the roar of the engine.
When he pulled into the parking lot of a diner two hours later, he helped her off the bike and had to hold her up for a second to steady her legs.
They sat down in a booth and placed their orders. Hilda looked really cute sitting there, staring at everything in wonder. Even the menu amazed her.
And when their food came, two Italian hoagies with a side of fries and two chocolate milkshakes, she just stared at everything and watched as he took a bite of the hoagie, then dunked a fry in catsup and popped it into his mouth.
"Now what?"
"My mouth is big, but not that big," she protested, gazing at the huge sandwich.
I know exactly how big your mouth is, and what it can do.
"And what is it with you and hogs? We ride a hog, we will be staying at a hog haven, and now we eat hog-ees."
He laughed and told her to open wide. When she did, he pressed the edge of the hoagie against her lips and said, "Bite." She did, messily, but at least she understood.
And he barely restrained himself from leaning over the table and licking the oil off her lips… maybe even her tongue, too.
She liked the fries better, never having heard of potatoes before, and the milkshake… well, it thrilled her. Of course, she had never experienced ice cream, either, but when he explained that it would be like adding snow to sweet cream and adding flavoring, like strawberries, or his favorite, chocolate, she understood perfectly.
Torolf found that he enjoyed showing off all these things to her, recalling how he'd felt when he'd come here more than ten years ago.
"How did you like the ride?" he asked as she continued to sip on her straw.
"I thought we would be riding a real hog."
"I know."
"You did not warn me that it was a self-pleasuring hog." Torolf's jaw dropped.
"What… did… you… say?" "What? Why are you gawking at me like that? Do not try to say that spreading your legs over a vibrating object did not pleasure you?"
"Hildy, Hildy, Hildy." He put his elbow on the table and rested his chin in his palm, staring. This woman had a knack for pulling the rug out from under him all the time.
"And did you climax, there behind me?"
"Nay, but I tingle."
Tingling his life away…
By the time they arrived at Hog Heaven, it was one a.m., and Torolf had been sporting a hard-on since they'd left the diner.
How could the witch tell him she tingled and then expect him to not think about that tingling… a lot? He was a man. When a lady tingled, a guy got turned on.
Eve probably tingled a lot, just to tease Adam.
Despite the lateness of the hour and the mostly dark trailers and RVs, Spike and Serenity were waiting for him. The eccentric biker couple, married for well over thirty years, had sort of adopted him for a short time a few years back when he'd suffered a head concussion and memory loss following a bike accident.
Spike
was a former Microsoft engineer who sold Harley parts on the Internet and did body piercings on the side. Serenity was a tattoo artist, with blonde hair accented by black roots hanging down to her leather-clad butt, eight rings in each ear, two gold studs in her nose, and tattoos up one arm and down the other.
A match made in heaven.
"Max." Spike shook his hand. "Good to see you again."
"Maxie," Serenity squealed and ran down the steps of their trailer to give him a huge hug. Then she leaned back and looked him over.
He took Hilda's hand and pulled her forward. "Hilda, this is a good friend of mine, George Morgan."
"You can call me Spike, honey."
"And this is his wife, Serenity Morgan."
Hilda was gaping at Serenity's earrings and tattoos, not to mention her short-sleeved, red-lip-imprinted white nightshirt.
Grabbing her in a big bear hug, Serenity hugged her warmly, saying, "Aren't you the prettiest little thing, sugar? I've been waiting a long time for this boy to bring his lady here."
"Uh, she's not really my lady," Torolf started to explain.
But Hilda jumped right in. "We are betrothed."
Oooh, I knew she'd get back at me for sayin' that.
"That is wonderful!" Serenity was practically jumping up and down, her big breasts bouncing. "We can celebrate your engagement at Spike's big fiftieth birthday bash on Saturday night at the Stump Hollow fire hall. All the old gang is coming in. You two got here just in time."
Hilda glanced at him, waiting for his cue… for once.
This nightmare just gets worse…
"Your friend Cage called tonight, to see if you got here yet. I invited him and your other buddies to come, too."