500 words exactly, excluding the required words in the
first and last sentences...
Category 'Firsts and Lasts' (Original selection...)
Time of Our Lives
Once upon a time, I was foolish enough to believe he was a dark and stormy knight, battling against an uncomprehending world, though deep down I think that I always knew he was insane, but this time, perhaps because it was a dark and stormy night and we were alone in that old house, when the key turned easily in the lock of the door down to the cellar I knew it was time to be very worried indeed.
The door opened, ominously silently and he ushered me inside. There was a faint light below, by which I could make out a brooding shape which hummed faintly. And I could still hear thunder rolling outside.
Once the lights went on the creepy atmosphere receded somewhat, but there remained a wild glint in his eyes as he ran his fingers through his thick curly hair and expounded the theories behind his invention.
"It's the emotions, you see. They were the key. Time is in the mind, a function of your own perceptions, and we perceive that time rolls inexorably on. But the reality is that we can jump back, all it takes is the right trigger to free us to be anywhere..anywhen."
And with that he whipped the dustcovers away.
I gawped at the.. whatever it was. A light, open alloy framework, a plethora of winking lights and little switches and levers. And two seats. Two seats covered in a black rubbery substance moulded into hundreds of thin little fingers.
"Come on!" His enthusiasm was almost puppy-like.
A knight? Yeh: just the sort of person who'd have rushed to do battle with a thirty foot fire breathing serpent armed only with a pointy stick. I backed towards the door.
"No, ...naughty.." He waggled his finger at me and swept me into the passenger seat. My worries were increased by the observation that the harness didn't appear to be releasable without a key.
The fingers of the seat cover rippled with an oily life of their own. In fact I'm sure several of them surreptitiously pinched my bottom. The machine hummed and vibrated. The fingers rippled and tickled and pinched and patted and slapped and fondled.....
"Oh God, " I croaked: the fingers were elongating and massaging me from the sides. I looked at him but he was developing a far-away look.
"Think, dream," he murmured.
And all of a sudden, unbidden, my mind jumped back to one night in the dorm at school...the beds pushed together, the giggling and fondling and the hot adolescent emotional rush. And I swear it: there we were.... on the school stage just as the Headmistress was ranting at assembly about vile goings on in the dorm.
He yelled at me for thinking us there: I screeched at him for being a grade-A loony: Frosty-drawers foamed apoplectically and there we sat being fondled obscenely by hundreds of little rubber fingers as the scene slowly faded with the sound of the laughter that erupted in the hall echoing in our ears.
The humiliation: I could have died. But when we came back.. awoke...then the recriminations started. No, we didn't kill each other, but that's a whole different story...just like how curiously stimulating I found the exhibitionism to be - it was the *last* thing I'd expected to find turning me on: and back in the assembly hall the schoolgirls laughed until they cried....
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