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Gustavo Bondoni

Gustavo Bondoni, Author of Timeless
Gustavo Bondoni is an Argentine writer with over two hundred stories published in fourteen countries, in seven languages, and is a winner in the National Space Society’s “Return to Luna” Contest and the Marooned Award for Flash Fiction (2008). His latest books are The Malakiad (2018) and Incursion (2017). He has also published two science fiction novels: Outside (2017) and Siege (2016) and an ebook novella entitled Branch. His short fiction is collected in Tenth Orbit and Other Faraway Places (2010) and Virtuoso and Other Stories (2011).

TWITTER: @gbondoni

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Timeless by Gustavo Bondoni

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Timeless by Gustavo BondoniJournalist Marianne Caruso is in Athens on her first investigative piece: finding the reclusive author of a best-selling novel about drug smuggling in the Aegean. She goes out for a night on the town with a good friend, Karina, who disappears after leaving the club.

Marianne’s journalistic instinct, combined with a re-reading of the novel, makes her suspect the kidnapping is linked to her investigation and that the book describes real criminals and events—criminals desperate to keep her from publishing her findings. Now even more determined to locate the author, Marianne teams up with Karina’s family to speak to underworld contacts and discovers the author is a monk at an ancient monastic complex forbidden to women.

Medieval misogyny be damned, Marianne arranges a secret meeting with the monk, but the criminals ambush her. Separated from her companions, she runs for her life with only the monk himself for company, a man who might hold the key to rescuing Karina, but whose past holds secrets that might make him just as dangerous as the men she’s trying to escape.

Word Count: 72451
Buy at: Smashwords (all formats) ~ Barnes and Noble ~ Amazon
Price: $ 4.99


Chapter 1

Marianne Caruso was convinced the Air Brasil steward was gay. Tall, with at least some black blood in there and absolutely beautiful, but gay. He was much too familiar, much too flamboyant for anything else.

So she did what came naturally. She flirted outrageously and told him just how handsome she thought he was. It was not an issue; the latest global financial crisis was keeping first-class cabins empty enough that no one was in earshot over the drone of the engines. Even the usually packed Sao Paulo/New York run was feeling the crunch.

So the note she received with her after-dinner coffee came as a bit of a surprise.

Meet me by bathroom in back of airplane in half an hour, if you’d like.

She could hear his accent, the incredibly sensual tones of the tropics, even in this tiny sample of his writing. She folded the paper in half and smiled, understanding that the overt homosexuality was either protective coloring or just part of the guy’s pickup routine. If that was the case, it wasn’t really necessary.

So, what to do?

On one hand, she really resented the implication that she would jump at the guy’s invitation, but on the other, she really wanted to. This was the kind of story her friends relied on her to supply—foreign men in exotic places—and it wasn’t as if her relationship with Kyle would ever lead anywhere.

She began to wonder if she looked all right, but caught herself immediately. She had the slip of paper, and that steward didn’t look like the type to choose an easy target—he would come after the ones he liked. Besides, she’d gone straight to the airport from interviewing Sandrino, and she’d looked fantastic for that interview, even if the pants and shirt look weren’t exactly evening-gown glamour.

What the hell, she thought, and undid her seat belt. She made her way toward the back with little difficulty, heart pounding in her ears, stomach trying to climb out of her throat. But she could also feel the heat in her loins, just from imagining the feel of his hands on her body. Her legs, seemingly of their own volition, strained to redouble their pace. She only controlled herself because she refused to look desperate in front of a mere cabin steward.

The restrooms at the rear of the cabin were typical airplane facilities. Two folding doors made of some light grey plastic just in front of the galley. One of the restrooms was occupied, so she pushed the door to the other. It folded neatly inward, and the light came on, but the tiny cubicle inside was empty. She shrugged, paused only to make certain that her dark hair was perfect and there were no bags under her eyes, and turned to look down the aisle, when a hand encircled her waist and she felt soft skin rubbing hers just below her left ear.

“I am going to make you very happy you came,” the smooth tones of tropical Brazil whispered as the man pushed her into the cubicle. “Very happy.”

Feeling the ripple of his muscles beneath the uniform as the he maneuvered her in the enclosed space—not too roughly, not overly gently—Marianne was already happy she’d come and was thankful once again for the roar of the turbines. Something told her that this one was going to make her scream more than just a little.

One of his hands pushed the door closed while the other moved from her waist to the nearest breast and began to squeeze. His body pressed against her ass was more than ready to get it on. And by the way she felt, she was sure it wouldn’t take much foreplay to get her ready either.

But when he turned her around and knelt in front of her, she didn’t argue all that much, but pushed her hips forward, trying to get his tongue to go as deep inside her as she could, and thanked every power she could think of that she was living in the twenty-first century.

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