No Safe Word by Bud Pharo
Sam is a sci fi geek who has trouble getting second dates, until he finds a costumed speed dating event.
Sam had misgivings about attending a sci-fi-themed speed dating event, but he couldn't pass up another opportunity to dress up as his favorite type of cosplay character, a space pirate. Besides, he hadn't had a meaningful date or even a non-meaningful casual hookup in well over a Martian year, which is 668 sols or 687 Earth days. Either way, it seemed like an eternity for a young man in his early 30s.
Trying to be helpful, Ted, his older brother, conducted a dating boot camp to improve his brother's game. Ted coached him on the finer points of making a good first impression. He stressed the importance of treating women with respect. "Remember, Sam, try to be courteous, not cute. Make eye contact, say their name, and, most importantly, do not dominate the conversation."
Sam rolled his eyes as he endured yet another in a series of what he referred to as boring Brother Ted Talks. All the same, he desperately sought an answer as to why he had no luck with women. He was of average height, weight, and intelligence, and wasn't a serial killer, so statistically, there had to be an average, non-serial killer female out there who would find him moderately attractive and, perhaps, even interesting.
After his latest session with Ted, Sam reluctantly agreed to test his brother's dating tips by going on blind dates with a few of Ted's coworkers. Ted suggested they double-date so that he could serve as Sam's wingman and provide much-needed moral support. However, Sam vehemently rebuffed the offer. "I'm a grown-ass man! I don't need a wingman, a chaperone, or a babysitter - I'll be just fine." But without Ted there to provide much-needed conversational guardrails, the overconfident Sam didn't fare too well.
Despite Ted's dire warning to stick to areas of general interest, Sam would invariably start talking about his favorite subject, extraterrestrial visitors. Most of his dates maintained a polite, if not enthusiastic, interest - out of respect for Ted. Still, once he got lathered up into a frenzy over government cover-ups, Area 51, and aliens living among us, well, that proved to be a deal breaker when it came to the prospect of a second date.
For those women, once was more than enough when dating Sam. After each crash and burn, Ted sought feedback on what had gone wrong. The most benign comment described Sam as a "hapless sci-fi nerd," while another referred to him as "a clueless Jack who may never find a Jill," and the third said, "How in the hell could you do this to me? I thought we were friends." Of course, she was talking about Ted, not Sam. Ted's coaching notwithstanding, it was abundantly clear that Sam still had no idea how to converse with women in a social setting.
Frustrated by his lack of success meeting women IRL, Sam moved on to dating apps. Unfortunately, this part of the dating landscape proved no better, as his matches resulted in one of three outcomes: 1) They ghosted him after he sent them images of his extensive sci-fi action figure collection. 2) An unknown third party would contact him wanting to buy one or more of his action figures, or 3) He would receive extremely suggestive images and an invitation to view her pay-as-you-go private porn site, which, regrettably, he did until he maxed out his credit card. He began losing faith and wondered if all women online were not what they seemed.
As Sam was busy compiling a list of the pros and cons of monastic life, he received a message from one of the dating apps informing him of a new speed dating service tailored to assist socially awkward individuals with unique interests. The service hosted in-person events where attendees could dress up as someone or something other than themselves, thereby inspiring confidence and facilitating conversation among like-minded individuals.
The service's website listed several ground rules for participation, including nothing potentially offensive (e.g., Caligula, Satan, or politicians regardless of affiliation); no full or partially masked characters (e.g., werewolves, zombies, phantoms, or most male characters in superhero movies); and absolutely no real or simulated weapons.
Restrictions aside, Sam found an upcoming science-fiction-themed event that piqued his interest. He registered, paid his enrollment fee, and spent the next week anguishing over whether or not to attend. When the event night finally arrived, he donned his space pirate uniform, sans cutlass and blaster, and left to boldly go where hundreds had gone before.
Once at the hotel where the event was being held, he placed a last-minute call to Ted to shore up his courage. "I don't know, Ted - without my trusty cutlass and blaster, what if my potential date doesn't even know I'm supposed to be a space pirate - then what?"
"Relax, it's a sci-fi-themed event; of course, they'll know about space pirates," he said, stifling a nervous laugh, thinking that his brother's costume would be the least of his problems. "Now get in there and just be yourself," he said, while secretly hoping that for dating purposes, his younger brother would be anybody but his usual self.
Sam followed the signs to the event space. He was relieved when he read the posted fire marshal limit. Maximum capacity: 75. Whew, that's a relief; at least it's not being held in a ballroom. He scanned the room as he entered. So far, so good - not another space pirate in sight.
He signed in, picked up his brochure and nametag, and weaved through the character gauntlet until he found his table. Already seated at the table was a beautiful alien-hybrid female with long, jet-black hair in a single braid that cascaded over the front of one shoulder. Her smooth, pale blue complexion complemented her large, almond-shaped, cobalt-blue eyes.
Remember, don't monopolize the conversation; make eye contact; compliment her. "Lorelei, that's such a lovely name." He could see from her smile that his flattering remark was well-received. Ted was right - this stuff really works.
"Thank you so much. It's an old family name, but most people just call me Lori," she said. "So, should I call you Sam, as on your name tag, or do you prefer a swashbuckling space pirate nom de guerre?" she said with a friendly smile.
She's gorgeous, speaks French, and knows I'm a space pirate; I think I'm in love. Disregarding Ted's advice, Sam quickly reverted to his default conversation topic. "So, Lori, did you come here in your UFO?"
"Nope, took an Uber; how about you?"
"Escape pod from my damaged ship," he quipped, thinking himself clever. "But in all seriousness, do you think aliens are real, and if so, are they already here on Earth?"
"Duh, I'm right here, aren't I?" she said with a seductive wink. She leaned across the table, gently squeezed his hand, and whispered, "Sam, I have a great idea. Let's probe more deeply into that issue later tonight on our date."
Her touch sent a surge of electricity coursing through him. It had been a while since any woman, much less someone as beautiful as Lorelei, had shown interest in him.
He was dumbstruck but managed, "Ah... date... later tonight... sure, I'm looking forward to it!" he said with a broad grin.
"Okay, I'll pick you up later," she said. Just before the rotation bell sounded, she leaned across the table again and gave him a small peck on the cheek, shot him a sexually suggestive wink, and then walked out.
Wow, did that really happen? She left, so maybe she's not interested in meeting anyone else. In deference to her, Sam quit while he was ahead and left shortly thereafter. He hurried home, where he ruminated for several hours before deciding to call Ted to give him the exciting news.
Ted picked up after several rings. "Sam, it's near midnight. Did something happen to Mom? Did she fall again?" he asked anxiously.
"No, nothing happened to Mom. She's fine. I'm sorry for calling so late, but I just wanted to tell you about my unbelievable speed dating experience." He heard Ted sigh with relief as he began recounting the details of his seemingly perfect experience.
Then he heard Ted sigh again, only this time out of disappointment. "Oh, Sammy, you're right; it is unbelievable. Unfortunately, I think she may have been toying with you. She probably decided speed dating wasn't her thing, but rather than waste the entire evening, she decided to leave before the next rotation."
"Why are you always so negative when it comes to my chances with women? Maybe she has a thing for galactic bad boys - did you ever think of that?"
"Sam, let's analyze the situation. First, she said she'd pick you up tonight, but it's very late, and she's a no-show," he said. "Second, you never exchanged contact information with her, and, third - by your own description - she's way out of your league. Hence, I think she'll ghost you."
"Ted, you're a real joy-suck! Your anal-retentive analysis can be very depressing," a deflated Sam said, then hung up. In his mind, he knew his brother was probably right, but in his heart, he longed to see her and had a feeling they would meet again.
But what if Ted was right? Sam kept a flask on his nightstand to help him think through just such a dilemma. He sat on the edge of the bed and took several long pulls, then decided to call it a night. In the morning, he would try to find out more about her.
Two hours later, he awoke with a sudden chill as the curtains fluttered in the wind; but the window looked to be closed. Sam stumbled to the window, rechecked the sash lock, and when he was satisfied it was secure, climbed back into bed. He continued staring at the window for a few more minutes when he suddenly felt the bed shift slightly as if someone or something had gotten in on the other side. He felt warm breath on the back of his neck. Turning over, he expected to come face-to-furry-face with Rocky, his mother's bulldog, who loved to cuddle with him on cool evenings. However, even in the dim light, he could see it wasn't Rocky.
Although it had been many years since Sam had shared a bed with a lover, he recognized the distinctive outline of a woman - and not just any woman, but one he felt he knew. There, illuminated by the moonlight breaking through the window, he saw the perfectly symmetrical pale blue face of the beautiful Lorelei.
"Sam, darling, don't look so surprised - I told you I'd come by to pick you up tonight," she said, propping herself up on one elbow and giving him an alluring smile.
Wow, this might be the best dream ever!
"No, Sam, I'm afraid you're not dreaming; you're in a controlled metabolic state, which enables us to conduct our STAR experiments without you putting up a big fuss," she explained.
As he still believed he was dreaming, Sam saw no harm in playing along. Okay, Lori, I'll bite. What's a STAR experiment?
"You'll bite, huh? What a nasty boy!" she teased, smacking him lightly on the arm.
She likes my banter - I wonder if I'll get laid in this dream?
She rolled her eyes. "Again, Sam, it's not a dream, and, no, you won't be getting laid tonight unless you count being laid out on our exam table."
Sweet! Foreplay with an alien dominatrix! Dream come true. Hey, do I need to pick a safe word?
"For the third, and hopefully last, time, you're not dreaming!" she said, getting irritated. "You've been prepped for STAR, our semi-torpid anatomical research. We're studying humans because of all the species in the galaxy, yours is the most aggressive, and we're trying to figure out if it's an inherent survival trait or learned destructive behavior."
Sure, my blue-faced goddess, I'll play along. I'll be as aggressive as you like! God, I hope I'll remember this when I wake up!
She shook her head in disappointment. "You're one of the densest of the many dimwits we've abducted over the years. I feel sorry for those poor terrestrial women you've dated - it's no wonder you haven't had a date in nearly two years."
Wait, what? I never told you that.
"That's why we chose you; you're unsuccessful, pathetic - especially with women - and still living with your mommy; so you're perfect for what we have in mind. Cosplay speed dating events provide ideal venues for luring male specimens, like yourself, into our trap, where we catch, mark, and release you for future use," she said, smirking. "Then, late one night, we'll locate you, and, well, you can probably guess the rest."
Wow, this dream is really getting bizarre! It must be a nightmare. Yeah, that must be it.
"It's not a bloody dream - well, it may get a little bloody later, but just remember, as you nerds say, resistance is futile!" She winked, then flashed a mischievous grin that would have made the Cheshire Cat envious.
So, if it's not a dream, then how do you know what I'm thinking?
"We're telepaths, so reading minds is kind of like our thing. We use audible speech only when communicating with lesser species like yourselves. However, we do occasionally use guttural grunts and moans while copulating."
So, you want me to be your hybrid baby daddy? If so, I'm in - sign me up!
She wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Yuck! If I were inclined to mate with a human, it certainly would not be you. Brad Pitt, maybe, but not you," she said. "No, when I held your sweaty little hand, it wasn't because I was attracted to you! The touch is how we infuse sub-dermal nano-bots into your system, hence the jolt of electricity you felt when they entered your body. The bots enabled us to track you and disable your motor functions. That's also why you can't move or talk, but I can use telepathy to read your mind - what little there is of it."
What the hell's going on here? Why am I floating? Where are you taking me?
She smirked. "Don't worry, Sammy, you'll be back within a week with just a couple of scars but no memory of what transpired. So relax, you'll be failing miserably with women again in no time."
Hey, what about my safe word?
Later, as he lay on the exam table aboard the mother ship, as promised, Lorelei began probing more deeply - not into whether aliens exist, but into the internal organs of Sam's immobilized body. His enthusiasm dampened as he realized it wasn't a dream after all, and there would be no safe word.
Ten days later, Sam awoke in a hospital bed tethered to an IV line and several wires originating from somewhere under his gown. He moved his arms and legs and patted down his torso. Whew, no damage. What the hell happened to me?
His brother Ted, sleeping in a chair next to his bed, stirred as Sam began moving around. "Oh, my God! You're awake! I'll get your doctor!"
Soon, a doctor and a nurse bustled around, checking Sam's blood pressure, listening to his heart, and giving him a quick once-over, as Ted looked on. Once Sam completed the doctor's version of Simon Says by moving each body part as requested, she then asked him a series of questions; she nodded affirmatively after each correct response.
When the doctor was satisfied with the results of her preliminary review, she said, "Well, Samuel, you appear to be in miraculously good condition, considering you were found lying comatose in a dog park last week."
Puzzled, Sam frowned. "What? Found at a dog park? That makes no sense."
The doctor cut him off. "Look, Samuel, since you seem essentially okay, maybe your brother can fill in the details. Right now, I've got to attend to other patients, but the staff neurologist will stop by shortly."
Ted beamed at hearing the doctor's pronouncement that his little brother, whom he loved dearly, was okay. Once they left, he leaned across the bed and hugged Sam. "You scared the hell out of us; we thought we had lost you."
"So, who found me?"
"Well, lucky for you, Rocky still has to take a shit even during family emergencies. So, when I took him to the park for his morning constitutional, he picked up your scent and bolted. I eventually caught up with him - that little bastard is still pretty fast. I found him sitting next to you under a weeping willow. Just think, you probably owe your life to high-fiber dog food!"
Sam chuckled and shook his head in disbelief. "Right. Who would've thought I'd owed my life to the regularity of our dog's bowel!"
"Oh yeah, I almost forgot; Rocky may have hiked a leg and pissed on you to mark his find," Ted said, with a deadpan expression.
"Ha, ha!" Sam laughed, then reflexively sniffed under his hospital gown for the odor of dog piss. Whew! Nothing.
"I knew you'd check!" Ted chuckled.
"I only checked because I haven't been letting Rocky in my room at night, and he can be a vindictive little son-of-a-bitch when he doesn't get his way. He's second only to Mom when it comes to holding a grudge."
Ted nodded. "You're right about that!" he said, and they both laughed. "But seriously, Rocky probably knew you were in some kind of trouble; dogs have a sense about those kinds of things."
"Ted, did the police say anything to you or give you any information? Maybe something unusual, or weird?"
"Not really. They said they didn't find any evidence of foul play - or fowl play for that matter because there's lots of goose shit in that park." He waited for Sam to laugh; he didn't. "But seriously, they noticed several small puncture scars on your abdomen, so they assumed you were a drug addict. I told them that's bullshit because you're afraid of needles and you only take pills and drink booze - can you believe the nerve of those guys?" Ted grinned.
Sam winced. "Ted, I'm not sure that's such a ringing endorsement of sobriety, but I appreciate the thought."
"Hey, my phone's charging at the nurses' station, and I need to call Mom. I'll be back in a flash." Just before leaving, he contemplated kissing Sam on top of his head, like their mother did when they were ill as children.
"You're not Mom," Sam blurted out. "So don't even think about kissing me!"
Ted laughed. "Dude, I'm glad you're okay, but I wasn't going to kiss your sorry ass," he lied. Just how in the hell did he know that? Was it the look in my eye or something?
"No, it wasn't the look in your eye," Sam answered, then realized his brother hadn't asked a question yet.
Confused, Ted tilted his head slightly, but smiled and said, "Like I said, my phone's charging and I have to call Mom - I'll be right back."
Ted left the room just as a dark-haired young woman entered carrying a flower arrangement. She wore a white lab coat and had a stethoscope around her neck. She placed the arrangement on the windowsill.
"Are you the neurologist?" Sam asked.
"Nope, are you?" she quipped with a knowing smile, which seemed oddly familiar.
When Sam saw her jet-black hair and mesmerizing cobalt-blue eyes, he was overwhelmed by an eerie feeling of déjà vu. He racked his brain as he tried to remember where they had met. "Do I know you?" he asked as slivers of recognition began creeping in. "Wait, but, but... I thought I wasn't supposed to remember anything?" he stammered.
"Oh, Sam, darling, I lied - something humans do routinely. I thought you would've been used to that from your experience with dating apps." She flashed her Cheshire Cat grin. "I changed my skin tone to blend in so I could do a follow-up and see how you're feeling."
"I'll feel much better if you leave!" he said, pointing to the door.
She smiled. "Oh, don't be like that. Besides, I even brought you a gift and some flowers - pansies, I believe."
"But I have allergies!" Sam snapped, wishing he had not remembered her.
"Darling, don't be like that, or next time I'll bring you a corpse flower." She winked.
"What next time? I thought this was one and done," Sam said.
"No, Sam, while 'one and done' aptly describes your dating history, I'm afraid we'll be a regular thing from here on out. You can think of me as your galactic steady. Meanwhile, enjoy the gift."
"I hate flowers!"
She rolled her eyes. "No, silly, not the flowers, the gift of telepathy." She winked, blew him a kiss, and left.
Ted entered the room. "Wow, that's one extremely hot doc! When I saw her in the room, I waited outside the door until she left, but you didn't say anything to each other. Did you fall asleep or something?"
"No, I didn't fall asleep, and no, she's not my doctor, and yes, we talked." Sam thought perhaps it was Ted who needed to see a doctor.
Ted cocked his head, looking confused. "Look, believe me, neither of you said a word, nada, zilch, nothing."
"We talked."
"Okay, I think I figured it out," Ted said, pleased with his analysis. "I bet she's one of those benevolent strippers who do good deeds by visiting strangers in the hospital. So, that's why you guys didn't talk. Did she at least flash her boobs? And if so, did you pop a chubby?"
"No, Sherlock, she's not a stripper. If I told you who and what she was, you wouldn't believe it - hell, I don't believe it! This is exhausting, so can we please change the subject?"
Ted could tell from Sam's ashen appearance that his brother was quickly losing steam. However, he kept going. "Are the flowers from the stripper?"
"Again, she's not a stripper! Not a doctor! But yes, the flowers are from her," he sighed wearily. His brother could be so dense, he thought. But maybe it wasn't his fault. Maybe like that aggression gene Lori was looking for, it's a genetic trait passed down through the ages from one generation of dimwits to the next.
"Then why so glum? She's beautiful, and whether she's a doctor or a stripper, she has a good-paying job, so what more could you ask for? You going to see her again?"
Sam nodded wearily. "Oh, if you only knew... if you only knew." He slumped back as he realized this was not the type of repeat date he had hoped for.
Ted picked up the flower arrangement. "Hey, there's a note. Beautiful handwriting - probably a Catholic school grad. Can I read it?"
Sam grew increasingly annoyed. "Fine!" he snapped. "Read the damn note!"
Ted plopped down in the chair, put on his reading glasses, and read the note aloud:
Ted reread the note to himself several times. Wow, that's bizarre! Blue-faced Goddess? Weirdly sexy, but I still think she's a stripper.
Sam spoke up. "For the last time, she's not a stripper! But yes, Ted, she really can be quite bizarre; you have no idea."
Ted seemed more excited than Sam about this turn of events. "Wow, she called you a star and possible baby-daddy. Plus, she seems cool with an open relationship. She sounds too good to be true. Where did you meet such an extraordinary woman?"
"Speed dating," Sam replied glumly. "Speed dating."
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| Image generated with OpenAI |
Trying to be helpful, Ted, his older brother, conducted a dating boot camp to improve his brother's game. Ted coached him on the finer points of making a good first impression. He stressed the importance of treating women with respect. "Remember, Sam, try to be courteous, not cute. Make eye contact, say their name, and, most importantly, do not dominate the conversation."
Sam rolled his eyes as he endured yet another in a series of what he referred to as boring Brother Ted Talks. All the same, he desperately sought an answer as to why he had no luck with women. He was of average height, weight, and intelligence, and wasn't a serial killer, so statistically, there had to be an average, non-serial killer female out there who would find him moderately attractive and, perhaps, even interesting.
After his latest session with Ted, Sam reluctantly agreed to test his brother's dating tips by going on blind dates with a few of Ted's coworkers. Ted suggested they double-date so that he could serve as Sam's wingman and provide much-needed moral support. However, Sam vehemently rebuffed the offer. "I'm a grown-ass man! I don't need a wingman, a chaperone, or a babysitter - I'll be just fine." But without Ted there to provide much-needed conversational guardrails, the overconfident Sam didn't fare too well.
Despite Ted's dire warning to stick to areas of general interest, Sam would invariably start talking about his favorite subject, extraterrestrial visitors. Most of his dates maintained a polite, if not enthusiastic, interest - out of respect for Ted. Still, once he got lathered up into a frenzy over government cover-ups, Area 51, and aliens living among us, well, that proved to be a deal breaker when it came to the prospect of a second date.
For those women, once was more than enough when dating Sam. After each crash and burn, Ted sought feedback on what had gone wrong. The most benign comment described Sam as a "hapless sci-fi nerd," while another referred to him as "a clueless Jack who may never find a Jill," and the third said, "How in the hell could you do this to me? I thought we were friends." Of course, she was talking about Ted, not Sam. Ted's coaching notwithstanding, it was abundantly clear that Sam still had no idea how to converse with women in a social setting.
Frustrated by his lack of success meeting women IRL, Sam moved on to dating apps. Unfortunately, this part of the dating landscape proved no better, as his matches resulted in one of three outcomes: 1) They ghosted him after he sent them images of his extensive sci-fi action figure collection. 2) An unknown third party would contact him wanting to buy one or more of his action figures, or 3) He would receive extremely suggestive images and an invitation to view her pay-as-you-go private porn site, which, regrettably, he did until he maxed out his credit card. He began losing faith and wondered if all women online were not what they seemed.
As Sam was busy compiling a list of the pros and cons of monastic life, he received a message from one of the dating apps informing him of a new speed dating service tailored to assist socially awkward individuals with unique interests. The service hosted in-person events where attendees could dress up as someone or something other than themselves, thereby inspiring confidence and facilitating conversation among like-minded individuals.
The service's website listed several ground rules for participation, including nothing potentially offensive (e.g., Caligula, Satan, or politicians regardless of affiliation); no full or partially masked characters (e.g., werewolves, zombies, phantoms, or most male characters in superhero movies); and absolutely no real or simulated weapons.
Restrictions aside, Sam found an upcoming science-fiction-themed event that piqued his interest. He registered, paid his enrollment fee, and spent the next week anguishing over whether or not to attend. When the event night finally arrived, he donned his space pirate uniform, sans cutlass and blaster, and left to boldly go where hundreds had gone before.
Once at the hotel where the event was being held, he placed a last-minute call to Ted to shore up his courage. "I don't know, Ted - without my trusty cutlass and blaster, what if my potential date doesn't even know I'm supposed to be a space pirate - then what?"
"Relax, it's a sci-fi-themed event; of course, they'll know about space pirates," he said, stifling a nervous laugh, thinking that his brother's costume would be the least of his problems. "Now get in there and just be yourself," he said, while secretly hoping that for dating purposes, his younger brother would be anybody but his usual self.
Sam followed the signs to the event space. He was relieved when he read the posted fire marshal limit. Maximum capacity: 75. Whew, that's a relief; at least it's not being held in a ballroom. He scanned the room as he entered. So far, so good - not another space pirate in sight.
He signed in, picked up his brochure and nametag, and weaved through the character gauntlet until he found his table. Already seated at the table was a beautiful alien-hybrid female with long, jet-black hair in a single braid that cascaded over the front of one shoulder. Her smooth, pale blue complexion complemented her large, almond-shaped, cobalt-blue eyes.
Remember, don't monopolize the conversation; make eye contact; compliment her. "Lorelei, that's such a lovely name." He could see from her smile that his flattering remark was well-received. Ted was right - this stuff really works.
"Thank you so much. It's an old family name, but most people just call me Lori," she said. "So, should I call you Sam, as on your name tag, or do you prefer a swashbuckling space pirate nom de guerre?" she said with a friendly smile.
She's gorgeous, speaks French, and knows I'm a space pirate; I think I'm in love. Disregarding Ted's advice, Sam quickly reverted to his default conversation topic. "So, Lori, did you come here in your UFO?"
"Nope, took an Uber; how about you?"
"Escape pod from my damaged ship," he quipped, thinking himself clever. "But in all seriousness, do you think aliens are real, and if so, are they already here on Earth?"
"Duh, I'm right here, aren't I?" she said with a seductive wink. She leaned across the table, gently squeezed his hand, and whispered, "Sam, I have a great idea. Let's probe more deeply into that issue later tonight on our date."
Her touch sent a surge of electricity coursing through him. It had been a while since any woman, much less someone as beautiful as Lorelei, had shown interest in him.
He was dumbstruck but managed, "Ah... date... later tonight... sure, I'm looking forward to it!" he said with a broad grin.
"Okay, I'll pick you up later," she said. Just before the rotation bell sounded, she leaned across the table again and gave him a small peck on the cheek, shot him a sexually suggestive wink, and then walked out.
Wow, did that really happen? She left, so maybe she's not interested in meeting anyone else. In deference to her, Sam quit while he was ahead and left shortly thereafter. He hurried home, where he ruminated for several hours before deciding to call Ted to give him the exciting news.
Ted picked up after several rings. "Sam, it's near midnight. Did something happen to Mom? Did she fall again?" he asked anxiously.
"No, nothing happened to Mom. She's fine. I'm sorry for calling so late, but I just wanted to tell you about my unbelievable speed dating experience." He heard Ted sigh with relief as he began recounting the details of his seemingly perfect experience.
Then he heard Ted sigh again, only this time out of disappointment. "Oh, Sammy, you're right; it is unbelievable. Unfortunately, I think she may have been toying with you. She probably decided speed dating wasn't her thing, but rather than waste the entire evening, she decided to leave before the next rotation."
"Why are you always so negative when it comes to my chances with women? Maybe she has a thing for galactic bad boys - did you ever think of that?"
"Sam, let's analyze the situation. First, she said she'd pick you up tonight, but it's very late, and she's a no-show," he said. "Second, you never exchanged contact information with her, and, third - by your own description - she's way out of your league. Hence, I think she'll ghost you."
"Ted, you're a real joy-suck! Your anal-retentive analysis can be very depressing," a deflated Sam said, then hung up. In his mind, he knew his brother was probably right, but in his heart, he longed to see her and had a feeling they would meet again.
But what if Ted was right? Sam kept a flask on his nightstand to help him think through just such a dilemma. He sat on the edge of the bed and took several long pulls, then decided to call it a night. In the morning, he would try to find out more about her.
Two hours later, he awoke with a sudden chill as the curtains fluttered in the wind; but the window looked to be closed. Sam stumbled to the window, rechecked the sash lock, and when he was satisfied it was secure, climbed back into bed. He continued staring at the window for a few more minutes when he suddenly felt the bed shift slightly as if someone or something had gotten in on the other side. He felt warm breath on the back of his neck. Turning over, he expected to come face-to-furry-face with Rocky, his mother's bulldog, who loved to cuddle with him on cool evenings. However, even in the dim light, he could see it wasn't Rocky.
Although it had been many years since Sam had shared a bed with a lover, he recognized the distinctive outline of a woman - and not just any woman, but one he felt he knew. There, illuminated by the moonlight breaking through the window, he saw the perfectly symmetrical pale blue face of the beautiful Lorelei.
"Sam, darling, don't look so surprised - I told you I'd come by to pick you up tonight," she said, propping herself up on one elbow and giving him an alluring smile.
Wow, this might be the best dream ever!
"No, Sam, I'm afraid you're not dreaming; you're in a controlled metabolic state, which enables us to conduct our STAR experiments without you putting up a big fuss," she explained.
As he still believed he was dreaming, Sam saw no harm in playing along. Okay, Lori, I'll bite. What's a STAR experiment?
"You'll bite, huh? What a nasty boy!" she teased, smacking him lightly on the arm.
She likes my banter - I wonder if I'll get laid in this dream?
She rolled her eyes. "Again, Sam, it's not a dream, and, no, you won't be getting laid tonight unless you count being laid out on our exam table."
Sweet! Foreplay with an alien dominatrix! Dream come true. Hey, do I need to pick a safe word?
"For the third, and hopefully last, time, you're not dreaming!" she said, getting irritated. "You've been prepped for STAR, our semi-torpid anatomical research. We're studying humans because of all the species in the galaxy, yours is the most aggressive, and we're trying to figure out if it's an inherent survival trait or learned destructive behavior."
Sure, my blue-faced goddess, I'll play along. I'll be as aggressive as you like! God, I hope I'll remember this when I wake up!
She shook her head in disappointment. "You're one of the densest of the many dimwits we've abducted over the years. I feel sorry for those poor terrestrial women you've dated - it's no wonder you haven't had a date in nearly two years."
Wait, what? I never told you that.
"That's why we chose you; you're unsuccessful, pathetic - especially with women - and still living with your mommy; so you're perfect for what we have in mind. Cosplay speed dating events provide ideal venues for luring male specimens, like yourself, into our trap, where we catch, mark, and release you for future use," she said, smirking. "Then, late one night, we'll locate you, and, well, you can probably guess the rest."
Wow, this dream is really getting bizarre! It must be a nightmare. Yeah, that must be it.
"It's not a bloody dream - well, it may get a little bloody later, but just remember, as you nerds say, resistance is futile!" She winked, then flashed a mischievous grin that would have made the Cheshire Cat envious.
So, if it's not a dream, then how do you know what I'm thinking?
"We're telepaths, so reading minds is kind of like our thing. We use audible speech only when communicating with lesser species like yourselves. However, we do occasionally use guttural grunts and moans while copulating."
So, you want me to be your hybrid baby daddy? If so, I'm in - sign me up!
She wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Yuck! If I were inclined to mate with a human, it certainly would not be you. Brad Pitt, maybe, but not you," she said. "No, when I held your sweaty little hand, it wasn't because I was attracted to you! The touch is how we infuse sub-dermal nano-bots into your system, hence the jolt of electricity you felt when they entered your body. The bots enabled us to track you and disable your motor functions. That's also why you can't move or talk, but I can use telepathy to read your mind - what little there is of it."
What the hell's going on here? Why am I floating? Where are you taking me?
She smirked. "Don't worry, Sammy, you'll be back within a week with just a couple of scars but no memory of what transpired. So relax, you'll be failing miserably with women again in no time."
Hey, what about my safe word?
Later, as he lay on the exam table aboard the mother ship, as promised, Lorelei began probing more deeply - not into whether aliens exist, but into the internal organs of Sam's immobilized body. His enthusiasm dampened as he realized it wasn't a dream after all, and there would be no safe word.
Ten days later, Sam awoke in a hospital bed tethered to an IV line and several wires originating from somewhere under his gown. He moved his arms and legs and patted down his torso. Whew, no damage. What the hell happened to me?
His brother Ted, sleeping in a chair next to his bed, stirred as Sam began moving around. "Oh, my God! You're awake! I'll get your doctor!"
Soon, a doctor and a nurse bustled around, checking Sam's blood pressure, listening to his heart, and giving him a quick once-over, as Ted looked on. Once Sam completed the doctor's version of Simon Says by moving each body part as requested, she then asked him a series of questions; she nodded affirmatively after each correct response.
When the doctor was satisfied with the results of her preliminary review, she said, "Well, Samuel, you appear to be in miraculously good condition, considering you were found lying comatose in a dog park last week."
Puzzled, Sam frowned. "What? Found at a dog park? That makes no sense."
The doctor cut him off. "Look, Samuel, since you seem essentially okay, maybe your brother can fill in the details. Right now, I've got to attend to other patients, but the staff neurologist will stop by shortly."
Ted beamed at hearing the doctor's pronouncement that his little brother, whom he loved dearly, was okay. Once they left, he leaned across the bed and hugged Sam. "You scared the hell out of us; we thought we had lost you."
"So, who found me?"
"Well, lucky for you, Rocky still has to take a shit even during family emergencies. So, when I took him to the park for his morning constitutional, he picked up your scent and bolted. I eventually caught up with him - that little bastard is still pretty fast. I found him sitting next to you under a weeping willow. Just think, you probably owe your life to high-fiber dog food!"
Sam chuckled and shook his head in disbelief. "Right. Who would've thought I'd owed my life to the regularity of our dog's bowel!"
"Oh yeah, I almost forgot; Rocky may have hiked a leg and pissed on you to mark his find," Ted said, with a deadpan expression.
"Ha, ha!" Sam laughed, then reflexively sniffed under his hospital gown for the odor of dog piss. Whew! Nothing.
"I knew you'd check!" Ted chuckled.
"I only checked because I haven't been letting Rocky in my room at night, and he can be a vindictive little son-of-a-bitch when he doesn't get his way. He's second only to Mom when it comes to holding a grudge."
Ted nodded. "You're right about that!" he said, and they both laughed. "But seriously, Rocky probably knew you were in some kind of trouble; dogs have a sense about those kinds of things."
"Ted, did the police say anything to you or give you any information? Maybe something unusual, or weird?"
"Not really. They said they didn't find any evidence of foul play - or fowl play for that matter because there's lots of goose shit in that park." He waited for Sam to laugh; he didn't. "But seriously, they noticed several small puncture scars on your abdomen, so they assumed you were a drug addict. I told them that's bullshit because you're afraid of needles and you only take pills and drink booze - can you believe the nerve of those guys?" Ted grinned.
Sam winced. "Ted, I'm not sure that's such a ringing endorsement of sobriety, but I appreciate the thought."
"Hey, my phone's charging at the nurses' station, and I need to call Mom. I'll be back in a flash." Just before leaving, he contemplated kissing Sam on top of his head, like their mother did when they were ill as children.
"You're not Mom," Sam blurted out. "So don't even think about kissing me!"
Ted laughed. "Dude, I'm glad you're okay, but I wasn't going to kiss your sorry ass," he lied. Just how in the hell did he know that? Was it the look in my eye or something?
"No, it wasn't the look in your eye," Sam answered, then realized his brother hadn't asked a question yet.
Confused, Ted tilted his head slightly, but smiled and said, "Like I said, my phone's charging and I have to call Mom - I'll be right back."
Ted left the room just as a dark-haired young woman entered carrying a flower arrangement. She wore a white lab coat and had a stethoscope around her neck. She placed the arrangement on the windowsill.
"Are you the neurologist?" Sam asked.
"Nope, are you?" she quipped with a knowing smile, which seemed oddly familiar.
When Sam saw her jet-black hair and mesmerizing cobalt-blue eyes, he was overwhelmed by an eerie feeling of déjà vu. He racked his brain as he tried to remember where they had met. "Do I know you?" he asked as slivers of recognition began creeping in. "Wait, but, but... I thought I wasn't supposed to remember anything?" he stammered.
"Oh, Sam, darling, I lied - something humans do routinely. I thought you would've been used to that from your experience with dating apps." She flashed her Cheshire Cat grin. "I changed my skin tone to blend in so I could do a follow-up and see how you're feeling."
"I'll feel much better if you leave!" he said, pointing to the door.
She smiled. "Oh, don't be like that. Besides, I even brought you a gift and some flowers - pansies, I believe."
"But I have allergies!" Sam snapped, wishing he had not remembered her.
"Darling, don't be like that, or next time I'll bring you a corpse flower." She winked.
"What next time? I thought this was one and done," Sam said.
"No, Sam, while 'one and done' aptly describes your dating history, I'm afraid we'll be a regular thing from here on out. You can think of me as your galactic steady. Meanwhile, enjoy the gift."
"I hate flowers!"
She rolled her eyes. "No, silly, not the flowers, the gift of telepathy." She winked, blew him a kiss, and left.
Ted entered the room. "Wow, that's one extremely hot doc! When I saw her in the room, I waited outside the door until she left, but you didn't say anything to each other. Did you fall asleep or something?"
"No, I didn't fall asleep, and no, she's not my doctor, and yes, we talked." Sam thought perhaps it was Ted who needed to see a doctor.
Ted cocked his head, looking confused. "Look, believe me, neither of you said a word, nada, zilch, nothing."
"We talked."
"Okay, I think I figured it out," Ted said, pleased with his analysis. "I bet she's one of those benevolent strippers who do good deeds by visiting strangers in the hospital. So, that's why you guys didn't talk. Did she at least flash her boobs? And if so, did you pop a chubby?"
"No, Sherlock, she's not a stripper. If I told you who and what she was, you wouldn't believe it - hell, I don't believe it! This is exhausting, so can we please change the subject?"
Ted could tell from Sam's ashen appearance that his brother was quickly losing steam. However, he kept going. "Are the flowers from the stripper?"
"Again, she's not a stripper! Not a doctor! But yes, the flowers are from her," he sighed wearily. His brother could be so dense, he thought. But maybe it wasn't his fault. Maybe like that aggression gene Lori was looking for, it's a genetic trait passed down through the ages from one generation of dimwits to the next.
"Then why so glum? She's beautiful, and whether she's a doctor or a stripper, she has a good-paying job, so what more could you ask for? You going to see her again?"
Sam nodded wearily. "Oh, if you only knew... if you only knew." He slumped back as he realized this was not the type of repeat date he had hoped for.
Ted picked up the flower arrangement. "Hey, there's a note. Beautiful handwriting - probably a Catholic school grad. Can I read it?"
Sam grew increasingly annoyed. "Fine!" he snapped. "Read the damn note!"
Ted plopped down in the chair, put on his reading glasses, and read the note aloud:
To My Darling Sam,
You're truly my shining STAR and wannabe baby-daddy. Hopefully, you'll be able to put the little gift I gave you to good use because I've always found it helpful to know exactly what people are thinking. That will come in handy since you'll be seeing other people until I return.
Best wishes for a speedy recovery.
Love,
Your Blue-Faced Goddess, Lori.
Ted reread the note to himself several times. Wow, that's bizarre! Blue-faced Goddess? Weirdly sexy, but I still think she's a stripper.
Sam spoke up. "For the last time, she's not a stripper! But yes, Ted, she really can be quite bizarre; you have no idea."
Ted seemed more excited than Sam about this turn of events. "Wow, she called you a star and possible baby-daddy. Plus, she seems cool with an open relationship. She sounds too good to be true. Where did you meet such an extraordinary woman?"
"Speed dating," Sam replied glumly. "Speed dating."
I started the story hoping for Sam (probably out of some form of misguided "nerd solidarity.") After a while, though, I started sympathizing with his "cosplay" partner. Either way, this one a was funny and engaging way to deal with the very real and abysmal state of relations between the sexes, especially the younger generations, who appear to have given up even online dating for the most part.
ReplyDeleteMark Twain used to say that the highest compliment a writer can receive is to be read. The second highest (I think) is to crave a sequel. I want to see how Sam deals with this gift / curse in another installment.
Icon Diversity: Players can pilot various vehicles, including the classic Cube, the gravity-defying Ship, the zig-zagging Wave, and the brand-new Swing Copter. geometry dash 2
ReplyDeleteI was sorry when it ended! Loved the humor! Loved the premise and Sam. And his brother! Terrific!
ReplyDeleteLori's churlish appraisal of same was funny, one put-down after another. It might've been sad, had Sam not in fact been such an insufferable dip. Ted was in his own way as clueless as his brother. I had some fun with this dweeb-focused fiction.
ReplyDelete