HYPERSPACE
Standing in a far corner, his bright blondness distinguishing him and his self-imposed distance removing him from undesired attention, Jason is observing and mentally commenting to himself concerning surrounding occurrences, as constant feelings that he should not be there are impinging. was up to three packs a day in the navy he'd said0 Watching the boss speaking to several salespeople–holding his cigar, oblivious to the emanating pollution–Jason is recalling his navy friend's comment at the other job: had to quit . . . i couldn't breathe air anymore, never mind smoke . . .0 Continuing observing the scene before him as his navy friend's voice is trailing off into his memory's recesses . . . 0 "Why are you all alone Jason? Why don't you have some fun?" a light, pleasant female voice, breaking into his thoughts, is asking. Turning left slightly, viewing a blonde, pink female form in blue standing before him . . . 0 Beyond her, in small groups throughout the rectangular room, he is observing people milling about. 0 "Are you looking off into the mysterious foggy future?" her soft pleasant voice is playfully asking.
"No! Actually, I'm looking at the big boss' odoriferous mechanism of atmospheric toxicity." She is breaking into a gay irrepressible laugh, he smiling. "You do have a way with words, Jason, don't you?" Continuing smiling, her womanly appearance is confronting him with her long bright blonde hair descending, strands resting on her ninety-nine percent bare shoulders, large waves streaming in a flow behind her . . . 0 . . . he viewing in her incomparable hazel eyes laughter-born moisture, a penetrating visceral warmth suddenly overwhelming him. Beaming in his eyes is the lush shining brightness of her astonishing blonde hair warmly blending with her radiant light pinkness, her perfectly womanly shape being revealed in a manner more evocative for its subtlety than for any pretentious flamboyance; in her simple light blue dress, somewhat loose so that it is flowing with her motion or, were it present, with a breeze, but far from billowing; with its two parallel rows of sewed blue and pink flowers running crosswise in waves, the lower row dancing just above the petite fullness of her braless breasts, the upper row flowing across the fabric's edge, at various points petals or leaves virtually kissing her radiant skin; all being lifted by two thread-thin shoulder strings of blue. Viewing the mostly pink flowers above her girlish breast–the several of a turquoise hue barely contrasting with the ocean of fabric from which they grow, the lucent calyces of light green allowing her pinkness to filter through–his eyes, wandering slightly down, are not failing to note, to the left and to the right, protruding nipple points clearly defining the fabric. Nor are they failing to consider, as they are wandering farther downward, the hemline of her dress falling halfway only to her perfectly formed feminine thighs, her shapely legs descending further in his view. "Why don't we leave here Jason? Come over to my place where we can talk without all this horrendous racket." Ossifying the pleasant warmth currently infusing Jason is a sudden chill. "Where do you live?" his voice sounding distant to him.
"Oh, not far. In the neighborhood . . . a few blocks, actually."
"Ok," while feeling deeply penetrating knife stabs, his intellectual assessment that he is committing an extremely serious error dominating his thinking even while flashing through his mind is an image of office laughter that he is refusing such an offer, with ensuing questions amongst personnel as to what exactly is wrong with Jason. "C'mon!" Pat is saying, while with unexpected suddeness she is reaching out grabbing his left hand in her right; he, perceiving a flashing in her eyes, internally freezing. 0 His viscera in turmoil he is feeling her small hand holding his, his vision centering on her perfectly proportioned slim girl's shape as she is beginning walking, he trailing slightly behind, a tiny hand-chain of two blond links wending its way through pockets of people standing or moving about in the center of the large room. Seeing Tony and Jill in the periphery of his vision to his left, each holding a drink, they waving to him; Jason, turning slightly, mechanically raising his free hand, waving in response . . .? . . . especially tony the macho-man? . . .0 <. . . are they looking and wondering0 Approaching the wide passageway preceding the apartment's entrance, Pat, releasing Jason's hand, is walking to the coat rack against the wall on the left, he watching her slim girlish form, bare arm reaching, small hand of short-cut clear polished nails closing upon a light blue jacket. As, swirling her jacket around over her shoulders, he is viewing her petit breasts quivering with motion beneath their covering, instantaneously an internal electrical bolt is slamming him, dissipating all mental meanderings. Turning towards him, smiling, her hazel eyes gleaming in his direction . . . "Ready?" . . . her soft friendly tone sounding in his ears seemingly implying much more than mere readiness to leave . . . "Yup!" 0 . . . he is feeling the entire room's eyes burning into the back of his neck while she, opening the door, is exiting, he following her into the hallway. In the hallway he is continuing following her, passing the elevator, the stairway approaching in his sight, now walking down behind her, the minuscule up and down movement of her golden hair (shining in his eyes) duplicating the rhythm of her step-by-step descent, a hypnotic effect transfixing his gaze, his mind, his viscera. Following in a trance a path being set for him which he has no desire to follow is concerning him on another level of mind while feeling a claw digging into and tightening around his intestines, he placing one foot, then the other, on consecutive steps in what is seeming to him an unending descent of one flight; reaching the mid-landing with a huge square window, top section being swung slightly open jutting into the night, then the ground floor. Seeing her ahead of him, small hand tightening around the flat steel bar running horizontally across the aluminum framed glass entranceway door, pushing it open, walking into the night, he is following, grabbing the bar and pushing, wondering at her not waiting for him . . . ?0 . . . stepping outside, watching her turning around, she smiling at him with a brightness matching her golden persona. "Come on," she is saying, feigning a whine. "You don't want to be up all night, do you?" Instantaneously transmitting through his neuronal wiring is a powerful electrical shock stunning him into a frozen, almost paralyzed state by his sudden and full awareness of the current situation into which he is stepping, as if into an escape-proof trap, he hating himself for his stupidity, gulping reflexively, the intestinal claw tightening around his viscera. Walking up to her, the tight claw relentlessly clenching within, they are descending down several concrete steps to the sidewalk. Turning left, continuing half a block to the corner, turning left again, beginning walking down a semi-lit street, a phalanx of evenly spaced oaks lining the curb paralleling their direction, Jason is feeling a light cool breeze slicing through his blazer cutting his flesh as he is viewing someone speedily approaching through the darkness, drawing near, breaking into the narrow parameter of his sight. Watching him slithering by like a shadow, seeing the shadow slowing its pace, observing it taking notice of them while continuing walking in their direction, viewing its presence adjacent to Pat, the shadow-become-substance is sweeping his eyes up and down her form whistling and, looking at Jason for less than a second, picking up his speed. "Lucky bastard," are words ebbing into the darkening evening's silence as Pat's right hand is enclosing around Jason's left. "C'mon luv. It ain't gettin' early!" 0 As they are walking down the next block, feeling her small hand in his . . . 0 . . . he is groping for an answer, feeling her girl's flesh in his while turning left at the block's corner. Walking past two three-family houses, turning into the entrance of the third, he is anticipating that she will lead him up the front stairway. Wheeling into a narrow side path of polished stone they are standing before a side entrance, he feeling her hand loosening its grip, pulling away, he watching for several seconds as she is groping in her hand bag until, the hand rising with a ring of keys, she pushes one of them into the lock hole. "Jason, look!" indicating with her chin that the lock should be the object of his attention, he watching her pulling the key partially out, pushing it in, pulling it out, pushing it in with quick jerking motions. Looking up at him with a broad smile . . . "See how easy it is?" she is rhetorically questioning, while in a second gagging is constricting his throat. With the door swinging open and the lights switching on at the behest of Pat's hand waving over a switch, Jason is dumbly following her into the house.
