Part 12

Michael ignored her when she came back into the living room, keeping his eyes focused on the magazine in front of him. He had cleaned up the water dripping off of the couch and pooled on the floor before going through the mail to find something to read, but only because he didn't want the water to ruin the furniture or the hardwood floor.

"I suppose you only subscribe to that magazine for the articles?"

He looked up from the centerfold he had been admiring when she spoke, her voice laced with disgust. "If I say yes, I'm a liar, and if I say no, I'm just a pervert, right?" He slouched down further in his chair and unbuckled his belt. "Now, you can either go make breakfast or you can stay here and enjoy the show."

Maria rolled her eyes at the threat; despite the fact that he was completely disgusting and lacked any social skills whatsoever, she was fairly certain that he wasn't going to follow through with his… show. "What you have in your kitchen doesn't qualify as food; every single thing in there is lacking in any type of nutritional value. I have no problem cooking in exchange for being here, but I'm not making or eating the crap you've got in there. I'll be happy to make you a grocery list - "

"You can eat what I've got here or you can fuckin' starve." End of discussion as far as he was concerned.

"Then I guess I'll starve." That dumbass! She was starting to get fed up with him.

"Fine. Go throw a pizza in the oven; I'm still hungry." Michael watched her, fully intending to win this round.

"Did you not hear a single thing I just said?" Maria gritted out. It was taking everything she had to resist the temptation to strangle him.

Michael stood up and threw the magazine down on the coffee table. "I'm goin' out for a couple of hours; can I trust you to stay put or do I need to cuff you to somethin'?"

"Where do you think I'm gonna go?" she snapped. "You live in the middle of nowhere."

"Be sure to remember that."

"Yeah, I'll do that." Her gaze slid over him and she smirked as she met his annoyed eyes. "You might wanna remember to not go out in public with your pants undone."

Michael buckled his belt and cursed long and loud as he stalked around the house gathering his things so he could leave. He didn't want to forget anything because he had no intention of coming back anytime soon. "I'm leavin'." He paused in the doorway to stare at the back of her head when she didn't turn to look at him. "Don't touch anything, don't move anything, and don't do anything while I'm gone." He hurried out of the house before she could say something that would probably just piss him off anyway, needing to get away before he imploded.

Maria waited until the roar of the motorcycle's engine died down in the distance before she glanced around, wondering where to start her exploration. She wasn't worried about his threats; he was a jerk, he was mean, and he hadn't exactly handled her with kid gloves, but he wouldn't intentionally hurt her.

She decided to have another sandwich before she set off on her search. She needed to make a grocery list because he would eventually give in, she was certain of it. He didn't even have the most basic items that people had in their kitchens so they were going to have to start from scratch.

Paper, she needed paper. She went to the room that she had glanced into the night before, having identified it as an office, to look for paper. Of course nothing was out of place, no notebooks lying around or untidy papers in a pile anywhere; everything was carefully put away, out of sight.

It was almost creepy, she thought as she sat in the chair behind the desk. Her Michael was a slob; he was much better than he had been when they had first gotten together, but he still tended to think that things belonged wherever he dropped them. This man's house was meticulous, nothing was out of place and everything was so… sterile.

She shook her head as she finally found a notebook in the bottom drawer, but it was the sketchbook beneath that caught her attention. She carefully lifted it out, placing it on the pristine surface in front of her and opened the cover. Her Michael liked to sketch and she had been his favorite subject, but these were nothing like his sketches. She flipped through the pages, glancing over what looked like rough maps with notes scrawled in the margins. She had a feeling these were somehow related to his work with the military; they weren't drawings created out of a passion for the subject, there was no life in them and they lacked any personal influence.

She placed the sketchbook back in the drawer and closed it before leaning back in the chair and using her foot to slowly spin it around. She stared at the computer on the desk when she returned to her original position, knowing instinctively that it would be a waste of time because he would have protected anything of interest with a password. She would come back to it later, once she had spent more time with him; maybe then she'd have a better chance of figuring out his password.

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Michael slouched down in a corner of the small diner, his back against the wall as he glanced over the menu. He placed an order with the overweight, middle-aged waitress as he wondered what his life was coming to. He wasn't generally given to self-analysis, and this wasn't any different; he just wanted to know how he had suddenly gone from eating what he wanted, having sex when he wanted, and doing what he wanted in his own home, to being run out of his home, eating at the local diner that he normally avoided, and not having sex. He couldn't believe he hadn't had sex in a week! He hadn't been celibate for that long since he had discovered what sex was.

It was all her fault, he thought, annoyed. If she wasn't there he'd be out getting laid and doing what he normally did. But, instead, he was stuck with some insane woman who was convinced she was from another reality where she had been involved with some guy who was a commander or something in some alien military. Oh, and just to make things more interesting, the guy looked like him.

Apparently that wasn't enough incentive to make her have sex with him though. He dug into his steak omelet smothered in sautéed onions and fresh jalapenos, as he considered the crazy woman staying with him. He didn't understand her; it made no sense to him why she wouldn't take advantage of what he had to offer. Besides, he was the one who would be making the sacrifice… if she ever gave in and agreed to have sex with him they'd probably end up fucking a couple times a day for however long she was there. Definitely his sacrifice, he thought with a nod. He had never lived with a woman and he made it a rule to never get involved for more than a night. He frowned at the word and shook his head. He wasn't interested in getting involved, he just wanted satisfaction from something besides his right hand, and if she was gonna be there anyway, what was the big deal?

It was obvious from the pictures he had seen that the young couple had been in a sexual relationship, so it wasn't like she was protecting her virtue or saving herself for the guy. She had to miss sex, right? He had no idea how long it was going to take to figure out what was going on with her alternate reality theory, but the longer it took the more she would miss having sex. If she was right - and he wasn't saying she was - but, if she was right and the kid in the picture was him… well, if the kid was anything like him in the sack, she would be going through withdrawal soon.

His mood lifted with those thoughts and he dug into the stack of pancakes on the right side of the plate as his appetite reasserted itself. Under normal circumstances he'd have already lost interest in nailing her, but she was a challenge and he never backed down from a challenge. He was confident he would win; she was eventually going to give in and beg him to fuck her, he just had to wait her out. In the meantime though, he needed to find a woman he could fuck because he didn't know how long she was gonna hold out and he sure as hell wasn't interested in forming a long relationship with his right hand.

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Maria walked along the back deck, her gaze searching the land surrounding Michael's house. Curiosity had her walking along a well-worn path to the red barn situated back behind the house. He didn't strike her as the type of individual who would have animals of any kind; he was too wrapped up in himself and his own wants and needs to have the time or consideration for any other being.

The double doors were locked and a heavy chain was laced through the metal handgrips and padlocked to keep intruders out. She sighed and walked back to the house, bored from hours of searching for anything of interest. She had been all over the house and the garage, but other than his collection of weapons and the stash of porn tapes and magazines on a shelf in his bedroom she hadn't found anything personal. She had hoped to find something that might give her a clue as to why the Granolith had chosen this place to send her to, but she was beginning to think that it had made a huge mistake.

She turned her head to the side when she heard the rumbling of the motorcycle's engine as Michael returned home, wondering what kind of mood he was going to be in. He had been gone for hours and the sun had already started its descent in the west, marking the coming end to another day.

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Michael slammed the door behind him and grabbed a bottle of beer from the refrigerator on his way into the living room. He had been gone longer than he had anticipated and he still hadn't gotten laid. Oh, he had found the perfect piece of ass for a quick romp; she had been hot, wet, and ready to go in no time, but his dick had apparently had other ideas. Stupid bitch had even suggested that maybe he needed to see a doctor for his condition.

So, he was in no mood for a confrontation of any kind with the woman sitting in his living room. He paused beside the coffee table and picked up the television remote, aiming it at the flat screen and putting the basketball game on before dropping it and snatching his magazine up. He completely ignored her in favor of slouching down in his chair and propping his feet up on the table.

He watched the game until it broke for a commercial and then turned his attention to the magazine in his lap. He opened it up, his gaze scanning over the glossy pages filled with naked women posed in various sexual positions. He glanced up at the television from time to time and he frowned when he looked back down and found two sheets of paper folded in half between the pages of the centerfold.

He dropped the magazine and opened the papers up, and his temper flared when he realized what it was. "What part of don't touch anything did you not understand?" he yelled as he slammed his beer down on the table beside him. He was so pissed off he didn't notice the liquid sloshing out of the bottle and pouring over his hand to pool on the polished surface.

Maria looked up when he started to throw his fit, but she remained silent as she waited to see what he would say next.

"What the fuck is this?" He threw the papers on the coffee table and paced restlessly. "Are you gonna answer or have you suddenly forgotten how to speak?" He snatched the bottle up and took a long drink. "Answer me! Because I somehow doubt you've lost the use of your vocal cords since I left this mornin'."

"What's it look like?" she snapped. "It's a grocery list."

"I told you I'm not goin' to the store - there's nothin' wrong with the food I've got here."

"What you've got here barely qualifies as food."

Michael prowled around the room, the normally spacious area suddenly feeling confined and too small. He was gritting his teeth so hard his head was starting to hurt and he had to force his jaw to relax. "I am not goin' to the store while there is food in this house and unless you were lookin' through that magazine for tips I'd suggest you keep your hands off of my stuff."

"Sticking the grocery list in the centerfold was the best way to get your attention; I have a feeling putting it anywhere else would've been a waste of time."

"Puttin' it there didn't make a damn bit of difference because I'm not goin' to the store." He glanced down at himself and swore under his breath. Three hours ago he'd had a willing woman who wanted to be fucked and his dick had refused to cooperate, and now there wasn't a willing woman in sight and he had a raging hard-on.

His eyes darkened when she snorted derisively and folded her arms over her chest as she stared at him. "Why don't you explain somethin' to me."

Maria looked up at him when he cornered her on the couch, his hands braced against the back of the couch on either side of her shoulders. His eyes were so dark they were nearly black, he was breathing hard, and she could smell the beer on his breath. "What?" She cursed her voice for sounding so weak.

"This guy that you think I look like - "

"I didn't say you looked like him, I said you are him, just in a parallel universe."

"Yeah, whatever, that's not important. If I'm supposed to be him then we look alike, right? And you were with him, sexually - "

"That's really none of your business."

"Just answer the fuckin' question! We look alike and you fucked him."

"Obviously you look alike." She shook her head at his lack of understanding. "It's a parallel universe; events may have happened differently, and there may be subtle differences in appearances, but basically - "

Michael held his hands up, requesting silence. "You fucked him."

Maria had to grit her teeth at his continued use of the graphic phrase. "What Michael and I have goes much deeper than just base, animal - "

"I thought you said he's dead."

The reminder hit her like a physical blow and she struggled to keep breathing.

Michael was oblivious to her pain, unused to trying to decipher people's emotions and too focused on getting an answer to his question to search her reaction to his callous words. "I wanna know why you could fuck him but you won't fuck me. What's the difference if we look alike?"

"You want to know why…" Maria shook her head at his stupidity. "You look alike but that's where the similarity ends," she shouted, ducking under his right arm and moving away from him. "You're nothing like him! He was good and kind and decent; he had a horrible childhood and he still grew up to be a man with a strong character and a good heart. Yes, we made love, but I never fucked him." She glared at him from across the room. "And you can think what you want but I'm not gonna have sex with you just because you look like my Michael. You're not half the man he was and you never will be."

Michael turned to watch her, his right hand clenched around the bottle so tightly he was surprised it hadn't shattered from the pressure. He hadn't asked her to measure him up against his counterpart who was obviously perfect; all he wanted to know was why she wouldn't agree to fuck him. "Fine, the guy was a saint and I'm the scum of the earth; all I wanna know is what the big deal is since we look alike?"

"Have you ever had a single meaningful relationship?"

"I have single, meaningful, one-night stands; I have no interest in anything beyond that." He emptied the bottle and looked at it for a moment.

"I'm not gonna have sex with you; I'm in love with Michael and obviously that's a concept you can't wrap your tiny brain around, but I will eventually figure out how to return to my universe and fix things so the accident never happens, and I'm not gonna cheat on him while I'm waiting for that to happen."

"You're not gonna cheat on him?" he repeated, confused. "If I'm him, only in another universe, how is that cheating?"

Maria was getting frustrated with this conversation. "I'm not gonna stand here are argue semantics with you all night. I'm not the one-night stand type anyway, so you - "

"You don't have to worry about that; we can have sex every damn day. I mean, you're gonna be here anyway, so it'd be convenient."

"I'm not having sex with you." What language did she need to speak for him to get it?

"What happens if you're stuck here? Huh? What then? Say for whatever reason, this trip was one-way and you have no way to return home… what then?" Not that he wanted her to stick around; he enjoyed his freedom too much. She would have to go soon, but that didn't mean they couldn't have sex in the meantime.

Maria refused to think about his theory. No way. The Granolith had to have a reason to send her here. "You're not him and even if I couldn't go home, I couldn't be with you. You have his name and his face, but you're everything he isn't, and my heart could never let me be with someone like you."

Michael was already pissed off and listening to her tell him how he wasn't as good as some dead guy and she'd never consent to having sex with him for that reason made him so angry he couldn't see straight. He paced around for several minutes before he suddenly swept everything off of the end table next to his chair, picked it up, and threw it through the sliding doors that opened out onto the deck.

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Michael lay in his bed hours later staring sightlessly at the ceiling in his bedroom, trying to figure out why he had let her get under his skin. He had always had a bad temper and most people realized that and backed down, but she continued to provoke him past the point where anyone else would have known to stop. Now he was going to have to spend the next day going into the city to buy replacement doors and installing them.

It was well after midnight and he hadn't been able to sleep despite hours of lying in bed surrounded by silence. His mind kept going over the conversation… argument… he still wasn't sure what category any exchange of words he'd had with the infuriating woman fell into.

She had kept going on about his counterpart who was apparently the model of perfection while constantly pointing out that she was not going to have sex with him. He really wanted nothing more than to call it her loss and forget about it, but his dick had taken an interest in her that he just didn't understand. Granted, it wasn't imperative for him to necessarily like a woman to fuck her, but the fact that his dick was refusing to cooperate unless she happened to be around was a new and completely unwelcome experience.

He shoved that thought aside and focused on what she had said about his counterpart in her universe… God, he was starting to buy into this bullshit, he thought. What had she meant when she had said that the Michael in her universe had had a horrible childhood? His childhood hadn't been any bed of roses but he wouldn't exactly call it horrible; lonely, maybe, but not horrible. He snorted and shook his head. Please… how bad could the guy's childhood have been? It couldn't have been that bad considering her belief that he was such a saint.

Yes, we made love, but I never fucked him… I'm in love with Michael and obviously that's a concept you can't wrap your tiny brain around… No, he couldn't wrap his mind around such an antiquated concept; love was just a word that people used to explain the ridiculous urge to form a relationship based on sexual compatibility. It was such a stupid notion and he didn't know how seemingly intelligent people allowed themselves to be lured into that trap. Why couldn't they just call it what it was? Why did they have to go and romanticize it? Did they really think changing the terminology would civilize that animalistic-driven lust and make it somehow more acceptable? That by calling it making love instead of fucking it somehow tamed that base instinct to find satisfaction at every possible opportunity? He shook his head; he didn't want to think about any of this any longer because it was only making his headache worse.

He rolled over and punched his pillow before settling into a new position and wishing for the oblivion of sleep. He slept much better after having sex but until he figured out how to control his dick that was going to be a problem. Jerking off wasn't anywhere near as satisfying and after a week of that he was bored with it and he craved the physical exhaustion that came after a long night of fucking.

He finally had to give up after another two hours of tossing and turning and he went out to the shop to find something to work on, hoping it would take his mind off of things. He eventually lost himself in the intricacies of an engine that he was repairing and he forgot all about the woman in his house and all the problems she had brought into his life.

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Maria stared at the wood covering the sliding doors the next morning and wondered if he always reacted so violently when things didn't go his way. He had left the room after throwing the table through the glass doors, returning several minutes later to clean up the glass that was everywhere. Afterwards he had boarded the doors up and gone to his room, slamming the door and not coming out again until morning.

She had heard him leave the house about an hour ago, taking his truck instead of the motorcycle, and not bothering to wake her rudely like he had the day before. The grocery list was still lying on the coffee table and she was certain he had left it there on purpose. He refused to go to the store because he felt there was plenty of food… A slow smile spread over her face as her mind began to formulate a plan. Oh, yeah, he was going to the grocery store tonight.

For the next couple of hours she worked on carrying out her plan while her mind turned over the events of the night before. The sad thing was she didn't think Michael was kidding or being a smartass; he was genuinely confused and didn't understand why she wouldn't have sex with him. It was evident by his behavior that he was used to getting his way and he acted like a spoiled child when he was denied what he wanted.

Once she had finished ensuring that he would have no choice but to make a trip to the grocery store she went to take a shower. She only had a couple sets of clothes and she was wearing her last clean shirt; she had one more pair of jeans, but she needed to find something to wear while she did a load of laundry.

It was the only solution, she thought as she opened the door to the closet in Michael's bedroom and turned the light on.