April 2021

by Bob McNeil

     With the hesitation of someone about to get a root canal, Gene Serling entered a Manhattan office building on12 Solomon Northup Street.  Thirty-four months of returning to that job location did not please Gene.  Given the choice between going to work or looking at the cosmos on a spring evening, he would use a telescope.  In the lobby’s mirror, next to an elevator, he stared at his hair that was reminiscent of Bob Dylan on the Highway 61 album cover.  His tall, svelte body in black skinny jeans, high-top red sneakers, and a white Stonewall Inn T-shirt seemed prepared for a nightclub, not a market research business.  He looked at his pale twenty-five-year-old image and wished he was doing the one thing that his mind wanted more than anything else—writing science fiction novels. 

     Working at a statistical company was a path to pay a few bills.  He did some freelance work.  Certain journals, magazines, and newspapers published him.  Nonetheless, at that moment, gainful literary gigs were as rare as extraterrestrial sightings.  Therefore, he needed a couple of jobs to help him do this thing he wanted to do on a regular basis—eat.  Early each day, during fair or foul weather, there was taxi work.  At night, on a part-time basis, he was a market research rep on the phones reading survey questions.  Political polls, product polls, whatever, he did everything with unconcern.

       Once he rode the elevator to the twelfth floor, Gene remembered there was someone who made his job seem tastier than chocolate—Stephanie Stevenson.  Over the three weeks of her employment, gawking at Stephanie became a pertinacious preoccupation.  Throughout those shifts, Gene asked himself, “What made this sepia-skinned lady with shoulder-length brunette hair so interesting?”  To start, that person was 5’5, 120 lb pounds with a 34-26-35 figure.  Furthermore, she was a transsexual in possession of more femininity than most genetic women.  By the way, because of eavesdropping on Stephanie’s conversation with a seamstress, Gene learned some of that information.  Circumspection provided the other defining details.       

     As soon as Gene observed the attractive coworker in a sexy black asymmetrical lace inset Peplum Dress and matching high heel shoes, blood raced to his amorous appendage.  Usual levels of composure that would be expected of Gene were forgotten.  An almost adolescent excitement stole his whole body.

     Supervisors at the Omnium-Gatherum Marketing Company thought Gene was just an employee sitting in a beige cubicle. He was indistinguishable from any other employee wearing a headset, staring at a script on a computer monitor, and talking to a research participant about the upcoming senatorial election. Nonetheless, Gene watched his realistic thoughts disappear. Judicious concepts were being replaced with imagination-made videos starring the transsexual telephone interviewer. A particular plot in Gene’s fantasy unfolded. In his mind, Gene was on an imperial bed.  And, beyond the confines of his present reality, Stephanie disrobed in the manner of a well-trained stripper.

     “Do you realize that you asked me the same damn question three times in a row?”  The geriatric female with the voice of Joe Cocker asked.

     “I’m sorry, ma’am, my mind got derailed there.  Again, I apologize.  Are you going to vote?”  A second after the words left Gene’s lips, the woman hung up.

     Left unoccupied, Gene looked at Stephanie as if she were dessert.  His human Gold Cake was a few cubicles away.  Stressed by his shyness, Gene considered the best way to introduce himself.  Many times previous to that night, instead of speaking to Stephanie, he would go home frustrated.

     Unlike other times, on that night, something possessed Gene.  It was similar to a jolt of java in his body.  Resulting from this mixture, braveness was a superhero that replaced Gene’s timidity.  The young man had the moxie to address the source of his fantasies.

     While sitting in the breakroom, Gene gave Stephanie the same attention he would an enthralling movie.  Although she was close to other co-workers eating, drinking, and texting around an old, long metal table with matching chairs, Gene knew this was his time to approach.  Undeterred by people pushing to reach the refrigerator, microwave or vending machines, Gene spoke.

    “Hello, I will be your tour guide in the employment morgue.”  Gene blurted with a follow-up laugh.

     “You’re funny,” Stephanie replied as she tittered.  “Seriously, this job is pretty good.  I mean, there’s an awesome amount to learn.  By interviewing folks on gay marriage, conservative politics, liberal politics, race relations, and upcoming elections, I really learn a lot about this dimension.”

     “Dimension, how do you mean dimension?”  Gene queried.

      “Sorry, I meant to say our country.”

      “Are you a sociology student?”

      “Why, yes, I am.  And you are a musician, I guess.”

      “Yeah, I’m Tito from the Jackson Five.”

      “You’re hilarious; that’s your classification.  No, really, aside from this, do you have another job?”

      “I’m a cab-driving writer.  My fare is fair.”

      “You know how to make a person laugh.”

      “And you two are going to chortle your way to an unemployment line,” a bald, pachyderm-big supervisor said while peeking into the room.  “Your break is over.”

     From there on, over the course of seven months, a courtship pattern developed.  At the job, restaurants, clubs, bars, poetry readings as well as movies, Gene and Stephanie were similar to salt and pepper dispensers—together all the time.  Certain co-workers discussed their disapproval behind the couple’s backs.  Unafraid of employment regulations, bigoted co-workers shared sexual epithets during work hours.  Those dissenters proved that socialization was a train they missed on their commute to maturity.

      Caught up in his porno-adorned visions of a relationship, Gene objectified Stephanie, but their platonic dates were anticlimactic.  He wanted something right from those internet sites that he watched on a nocturnal basis.  According to his point of view, witty conversations were meaningless in comparison to a carnal union.  Stephanie was a well of deepness.  She was well-read, well-traveled, well-bred and well-spoken.  Well, much to Gene’s disappointment, she was a lady, something more than an object on a mattress.

     No matter how thoughtful the dates, replete with bonbons and flowers, they all received a sisterly kiss or hug.   Pursuing Stephanie was on par with quantum mechanics—hard enough to mystify Einstein.  Here was a detail that was both hard and inscrutable: Gene always picked Stephanie up in a public place, such as Grand Central Station, Penn Station or Port Authority, but never at her home.  Furthermore, the dates always ended in public places as well.

     Based upon Gene’s opinion, Stephanie’s passion was a car engine, one she forgot to turn on.  Gene, however, was a Hennessey Venom GT racing to a lustful place.

     One night, across the street from their job, at the Elagabalus' Restaurant, they shared a plate of Carciofi alla Romana.

     “Don’t misunderstand, Gene, you seem nice, but. . .” Always a gaze-getting dresser, Stephanie’s words were eclipsed by her formfitting purple Capris, matching blouse and sandals.

     “Is there some other bull on the range trying to arrange a ride on his horns?”

     “No, but there is something else—my research—it is urgent.  Having traveled light years, I cannot let a relationship change my celestial course.”

     “Light years, that’s a hinky way of phrasing it.  Didn’t you say you were from Sarasota, Florida?  Furthermore, what kind of classes are you taking over there at NYU, anyway?”

    “Tonight, at the end of the shift, we’ll talk later.  But, our break is over now.”

     Quite a few hours later, Stephanie found an excuse to stay late.  Once again, the mysterious female wished Gene a goodnight.  Alas, as per usual, there was a promissory plan for a date tomorrow.  Alone, Stephanie always exited the building through the basement parking garage.

     Against his cerebral legion of logic, Gene decided to stalk Stephanie on that evening.  Mind you, he had no immoral plans.   He wondered why Stephanie always went to the basement by herself.  Ever the suspicious person, Gene thought his coworker had clandestine dates in the garage.

      Stephanie got off the elevator, walked to a darkish, desolate section and took something out of her purple Faux Suede Fringe Clutch Bag.  Assuming a pose that was similar to the Statue of Liberty, she held the object up, and concentric yellow light surrounded her body.  Next, challenging all sane concepts, just as the light faded, Stephanie was somewhere else.

     Alarmed, Gene ran over to the dark area, but she was missing.  Somewhere around one hundred fifty-one feet away, he ran to the guard’s station.  By banging on Plexiglas, he got the attention of a rotund olive-skinned, blue-uniformed guard.

     “Yeah, how can I help you, guy?”

     “A woman was abducted.  Can you check your surveillance camera tape?”

     “Shouldn’t the police do that?”

     “Damn it, dude, she was my mother.”

     “All right, hold it.”

     Inside the cramped room, the two men viewed the tape.  It revealed something that made Gene question his mind's accuracy.  On the surveillance video, the elevator door opened and no one exited.  Despite inspecting the footage many times, Stephanie was nowhere on it.

     The next day, Gene was in the parking garage early.  Something told him Stephanie was going to return through that area.  Gene’s supposition paid off.  The same light appeared in that same area of the garage. The perplexing lady, this time in a black denim outfit, appeared once more.  It was the kind of thing Houdini would have conceived.  Gene marched over to Stephanie.  Aware that he could not make a spectacle of the confrontation, he spoke to her in a harsh but whispered tone.

     “Let me ask, Steph, on your résumé, did you list escapology?”

     “Gene, why are you here?   You don’t drive to work.”

     “No, but you’ve been wheeling me down a weird road.  You know the one, that road where you disappear.”

     “Fine, fine, although it’s against the rules, I’ll tell you.”

     “Rules, which rules?”

     Again, by extending her right hand with the device that had the shape of a trapezium Smartphone, light encircled the two and steered them through a portal.  A beam, which was in the shape of a window, opened and the couple climbed through one dimension, the parking lot, then stepped into a realm that had a ship.  The vessel, at least from the inside, reminded Gene of a submarine, but smaller, more compact.  It had grey metallic walls, doors, panels, ladders, rooms, knobs with flashing rainbow colors, and giraffe-necked computer screens poked out of various desks.  A lavender leather armchair sat in the middle of the menagerie.  The seat was there, Gene imagined, so the captain could navigate this Nautilus. 

     Most people would be afraid of an unearthly being with bizarre technological devices.  Sweat, heart palpitations or other forms of unexpected human functions might follow an intergalactic encounter.  Dissimilar to them, Gene, urged by romantic motivations, found his composure, even at the moment a copper-colored robot entered the room.   It was over six feet and possessed the appearance of something like a muscular bodyguard in armor and a motorcycle helmet.  Considering the fact that it was smooth as an action figure in the crotch area, Gene felt less threatened.

      “Do you require the Aphasia Inducer, Mistress?”

      “No, Atla-Herc, attend to our engineering needs.”

      “As you wish, Mistress.”

      Bereft of any qualms, the iron-muscled thing went elsewhere in the ship.  A door that opened and closed like eyelids separated the two sections.

     “You’re from an outer borough, aren’t you, Stephanie?”

     “If nothing else, I will miss your humor, Gene.”  While considering her retort, she paused to laugh.  “You got me, dude, I’m from Brooklyn.”

     “Yeah, I could tell by your choice of rides and friends.  Honestly, Steph, does the Personnel Department know you’re an alien?  And, define this whatchamacallit inducer?”

     “First off, I’m from Earth, just another version of Earth.  Of course, my irreverent friend, my alien status is unknown at the job.  You see, Gene, Earth resides in various dimensions, a meta-universe or a multiverse, if you will.  Some versions are similar to this one; others, on the other hand, defy anything you can mentalize.  Now, to answer your other question, the Aphasia Inducer basically prevents a person from mentioning me or anyone associated with me.”

     “That thing of yours wanted to use mesmerism on me.”

     “He’s my sentry, that’s all.”

     “Okay, so, why the commute?  There are no hot, abysmally poor writers in your part of town.”

     “My sociology thesis brought me here.”

     “You’re a student doing research.”

     “Honestly, among other things, yes, I am.”

     “Your dimension has the ability to be fairer, but you insist on letting puerile things detain your progress.  Let’s circumspectly search DNA.  Color is the smallest difference in our genetic codes.  Yet, according to racists, supremacists, and nationalists, hues are unclimbable mountains.  Along with these mountains, young people treat older individuals the same way they would bug-housing beds, things to be curb-banished.    Mull over this, your gender nourishes its misogyny, when intelligence proves that men and women are equal.  Homophobia, despite legislative leaps towards equal rights, is still striking defenseless gay men, lesbians and transgender people.  Lest not forget that all too many cisgender people are unsympathetic to the gender identity discrimination individuals like me confront.” 

     “Well, I imagine in your dimension these issues are non-existent for the LGBTQ community.”

     “No, where I am from is not utopian. However, our first Native American President, Akima, is quite progressive.  Her administration is dedicated to finding paths to better human relations.   Acts of ageism, racism, sexism, homophobia, and religious persecution are at an all-time low.  Reparations for people of African descent as well as better employment opportunities for women and the transgender community created roads to a greater era.  Also, our American trans sisters and brothers serve in the armed forces.”

     “Was transitioning and coming out difficult?”

     “No, at age five, similar to thirty-eight percent of transgender people, my mind understood the kind of female I was.  Patiently, I awaited my time to let my seed mature.  Thirteen years later, my family members respected my decision to be a preoperative transsexual.  But, my parents didn’t want my transition to delay my studies.  Today, this twenty-one-year-old person before you is a proud transgender woman. I don’t want to sermonize, but the freedom to exist the way you want is psychological gold.”

     “In your studies, did you consider that I was falling in love with you?”

     “That part of my studies requires tutoring.  You see, I am here to observe your dimension, nothing more.  Determined by the rules of dimensional travel, I am not allowed to reveal certain details.”

     “A solar year’s worth of cultural differences won’t change this feeling of love.  Don’t intellectualize it, experience it.”

     Quicker than Stephanie’s ability to stop him, Gene kissed her.  Beneath the force of his lips, the fleet of battleships around her heart dispersed and sailed elsewhere.  Between her ears, a treaty that allowed her to explore both love and lust was signed.

     “Yes, yes, yes, my love, I do want you.  It’s just that a Dimensional Flier is not the right place.  Let me take you to a spot that’s perfect.”

     Considering its size, the ship could accommodate two or three travelers.  Aware of that fact, Stephanie pushed a series of buttons that made a chair materialize.  Upon some circumspection, it appeared that metallic globe skimmers built it.  Within seconds, a black leather seat with a safety belt was provided.  Having completed their work, the miniature builders flew back to some hive in the ship’s walls.

     “Wow, explain that freaky space stuff.”

     “Don’t be freaked.  They are Luciferites, minuscule robots, basically.  Hey, when a girl this hot is traveling, you need help.”  She stopped to view a screen.  “Good, you are healthy.”

      “How’s that?”

      “Oh, it’s something that I surmised earlier, a diagnostic report from the Luciferites.  Strap yourself in and hold on.  Soon, we’re going to move very quickly.”

     Together, the two sat in front of a long control panel.  That structure had various knobs, switches, buttons, and lights with every color in a rainbow.  Gene and Stephanie felt the power of rapid movement.  The speed they were traveling made their flesh ripple the way waves do in an ocean.  Affixed to his seat by the movement’s power, Gene’s skin became arctic with apprehension, and his heart repeatedly kicked his chest.

     To the left, right, and front of the travelers were windows.  They provided various views of the cosmos.  The couple saw all-surrounding light.  Adding to Gene’s trepidation, from each view, it appeared that the ship was passing through a series of massive golden triangles. 

      When the ship came to a stop, Gene was pleased that his body no longer quivered in the manner of a gelatinous dessert and the storm in his stomach passed.   Unaffected, due to frequent dimensional excursions, Stephanie hopped out of her seat. 

     “Come on, baby, you’re going to adore this gorgeous land.”

     Able to focus on his location, Gene saw bright green rays emanating from the sun.  In addition, the ship was in a forest composed of pink trees and reddish grass.  Following Stephanie, Gene walked down a series of iron stairs.  Down on the terrain, he saw pink human-sized, feminine-shaped flowers walking.  Unsure, Gene thought the procession was some kind of courtship.  Although the creatures were aware of the observers, they continued their constitutional.

     Around then, Gene saw the ship from the outside.   From the exterior, it reminded him of a Stealth Bomber.  Stephanie’s vessel had the same color design of Monica Helms’ Transgender Flag, though.  Irrespective of the decorative difference, her ship appeared to be the equivalent of a one-bedroom apartment.

     “The things your eyes deem important mystify me, Gene.  All of this splendor before you and all you can think to do is stare at my ship.  Look at this blest terrain, instead of that celestial vessel of mine.”

     “Trust me, my love, I am trying to look at everything.  If I had a million eyes in my head, some of the amazing details would still elude my sight.  Does this planet have a name?”

     “Early explorers from planet Ebowatu called it Naturaheavena.”  

     Seeing a place that anyone would describe as paradise, Gene wondered why there were no other visitors or inhabitants who were a bit more humanoid.

     “Are we the only humans here?”

     “No, once we pass The Golden Brook, you will see other vacationing humanoids, a lot more.  Intelligent plants are the indigenous life forms here.” 

     As promised, other beings were found.  There were a lot of other people.  Some of them, with their jade-hued gills, were from an unfamiliar place.    Above all else, they were wet and naked.  Stranger still, no matter the race or species, they all had a lavender shimmer.  Gene surmised it was because they walked through the same colored waterfalls.

     “Behold, the Exalted Falls and Beaming Stream.  The water purifies bodies.  No communicable germ can survive the medicinal power.  Moreover, this water has the most powerful aphrodisiacal effect on people.”

     “Hey, Steph, I don’t need any of those things and neither do you.  A racehorse would envy my healthiness.  I am a vault when it comes to sex.  It’s always safe.  Right here, somewhere in my wallet, I brought a rubber sock to put on my groin’s foot.  Excuse the crude joke.  I am sorry.   But, no cosmic waterfall can provide the passion that my libido feels.”

     “Partially, you’re right.  On the ship, the Luciferites did a med probe of you.  Your health, if it were a power source, would fuel New York City.  And, no different than you, I, too, am healthy.  Furthermore, my passion won’t need a stimulant, either.  The Exalted Falls will give us something else.  Come, venture into an adventure with me. Believe me, baby, such an experience never inspires regret.”

     Gene’s confidence was rocket-fueled by the fact that other beings in proximity harbored no interest in either Stephanie or him.  Euphoria was all over their countenances.   Their smiles had all the exuberance of slot machine winners.  Coupled off with gay or straight lovers, everyone was holding hands, speaking in foreign languages, and sitting on the grass.  Since taking a dip in that water elicited those reactions, Gene surmised it was time to wade in the wonderment.

     “Provided all otherworld visitors respect the land, by that I mean, never pollute or exploit nature, the plant life allows us to coexist,” Stephanie proclaimed while disrobing. 

Filled with sprightliness, she continued: “A long time ago, some corporation started drilling and mining here.  That crap ended when an army of poisonous plants showed the off-worlders the severity of this planet’s justice.  Let’s put it this way: The plants did their version of a corporate takeover and that company went the way of the smilodon.”

     Half able to acknowledge Stephanie’s words, Gene stared at a fashion-magazine-worthy body with an above average penis.  Compared to the sight of flesh, all utterances around Gene were secondary.

     Trying to catch up with Stephanie, Gene ripped off his blue denim jacket and jeans the way someone would if their clothes were on fire.  Taken aback by the symmetry and slenderness of the young writer, Stephanie was pleased.   Impressed with Gene’s endowment, the transsexual traveler could no longer conceal her nether area’s arousal. 

     After jaunting towards each other, they kissed.  Besides the movement of their tongues, their hands explored their lustful frontiers.  Almost nothing went untouched. Every portion of their bodies was caressed with all the precision of masseuses. 

     “Wade with me.”

     “Sure, if that’s your wish.”  

     Hand in hand, they sauntered into the shimmering water.  Sensations, perhaps best described as tingling currents, ran through their bodies.  Unable to determine the reason, Gene realized the water was as warm as a sauna.  Doubting his first observation, on second thought, he believed it was his body that was heating up.  While the water ran around and over his flesh, his breathing became rapid.  A thirst to taste Stephanie’s mouth overwhelmed him.

     On par with the rate of a racing train, Gene’s penis felt an engorging rush.  It resulted in the strongest hard-on that he ever had in his life. Consistent with that excitement, his heart was speeding as well.  

     Stephanie held the back of Gene’s head with her left hand and drew him close for a kiss.  Further proving her dexterity, Stephanie grabbed both of their genitals with her right hand and stacked one on top of the other.

     The next thing that took place was beyond Gene’s comprehension of biology.  Their once different hues took a lavender color.  Next, their two bodies started to merge into one body.  They melted into each other.  That initial kiss made their heads form a single cranial structure.  Soon their chests, arms, hands, genitals, legs, and feet united.  They became a bright blob.  Neither person could be distinguished from the other person.   

     Since Gene and Stephanie were never biology experts, certain physical reactions were difficult to define for them.  Therefore, the exhilarating things that affected their bodies had no language to express themselves.  Unaware of their existence, oxytocins stimulated their prostates.  Endorphins, acting as opiates, eliminated their stress and gave their confidence a lot of force.  Their combined adrenaline could make the speed of light seem slow.  The trinity of pleasure, the vascular system, the nervous system, and the endocrine system, was giving the couple more orgasms than intercourse or mutual masturbation ever could.

     There, merged in a lavender mass of flesh, they had well over one hundred thirty-four orgasms.  Phenylethylamine set their dopamine free.  Waves of paradisiacal bliss washed over them. Their fused bodies squirmed and oozed orgasmic fluid into the flowing water.  Had someone told them their homes were on fire, their serotonin would make them laugh the report away.

      Alas, three hours elapsed, prolactin was released and they were able to separate.  Consequent to achieving their own personal cohesive forms, they fell into the water.  Sinewless as cooked spaghetti, they drifted in the liquid.

     “Th-th-that was the most incredible sexual experience of my life, Stephanie.”

     “I enjoyed you equally.”

      “Next time, though, in a regular location, perhaps my apartment, a hotel or something, can we have each other the way Earthlings do?   That hotrod ride was too much on my hooptie of a heart.”

      “Next time, love.”

      Their reconstituted bodies were fully relaxed.  Once their legs felt stronger, they took a walk.  Between observing flying green leaves, spores waltzing, Gene and Stephanie discussed their lives.  Beneath a pinkish sky, they covered subject matter that ranged from childhood experiences to future aspirations.  Besides that, Stephanie explained why the Exalted Falls’ healing properties lose their potency outside this planet’s environment.  Even though the explanation mystified Gene, he listened.  Of course, as expected, they discussed who they were to each other.

     “Stephanie, I don’t want to impede your research, but my need to be with you is really sincere.  Please, is there any way we can coexist without breaking some kind of dimensional rule? Maybe we can travel to some time period and ignore rules.”

     “Time travel, Gene, is unrealizable.  It was attempted by individuals by far smarter than I.  Each attempt was disastrous.  All we can do is use our present time as if it were a bank account.  Each second has value.  And, this time, I say, the rules are cheap watches and we should smash them.  We will travel together.  Perhaps, with a bit of subterfuge, no one in my dimension will know from where you came.”

     “Provided you don’t mind, I can help with that paper of yours.  Admittedly, you’re the resident polymath in comparison to my autodidactic abilities, but I can still offer some meritorious words.”

      “Call this conversation a contract and we finalized the agreement, Gene.”

      Back in the ship, showered, dried and fully dressed, the couple prepared to leave the planet.   Right at their side, assisting their travel, the robot was ever present.

     “Ma’am, in your absence, I called your job twice.  First, I imitated your voice.  Later, I imitated Gene.”

      “Whoa, that machine did what?”  Gene exclaimed.  

      “Explain yourself, Atla-Herc.”

      “Quite convincingly, I told your employers that both of you were sick and unable to work today.”

      “Thank you, my metallic cutie.  My father programmed you well.”

     “Yeah, thanks, guy.  That is one smart Tin Man.”

      “I have to be smart about my next decision as well.  Give me some more time to finish my thesis.  After completing it, I will show you my version of Earth.”

     “Give me an eternity at your side and I will be fine, Stephanie.  As T.S. Eliot wrote, ‘Let us go then, you and I, when the evening is spread out against the sky. . . .’”

     Accelerating through the multiverse, the couple traveled to the most mysterious places in the whole cosmos—their hearts.



The End

Copyright 2018