Club music blasts from the surrounding speakers, with a mixture of smartly dressed people; the majority are in their early twenties, dancing to the musical beats. Everyone is enjoying themselves, drinks flowing, hips swinging, bodies grinding, lips caressing. At the busy bar, a female bartender is pouring out a cocktail into a fancy-shaped glass. People waiting to order are shoulder to shoulder. Max is in the process of ordering a drink for himself and a lady he has just met. The young muscular, mixed-race barman puts a colourful cocktail beside a glass of rum and coke. Max leans over the bar to ensure he hears, cupping his right ear.
“That will be thirteen pounds seventy, please!”
Max hands him a twenty-pound note; while the bartender goes to get his change, Max has a swig of his drink. I’m sure you know he didn’t pick up the cocktail. He is nodding his head to the music.
Shouting over the noisy atmosphere, “Here is your change, bro!”
“Thanks, mate!” Shouts Max as he receives his change in his open left hand. The bartender has moved on to serve the next person while Max is putting the coins and note into his jeans' dark-blue bum pocket.
Suddenly with a snoring inhale, Max has awoken from his slumber. Only a little bit of sunlight is shining through a slither of the open curtains; even that bit of sunshine seems too much to handle, so he turns away while closing his eyes for a few seconds. His head must be pounding along with spinning after a night of drinking. Music is still ringing in his ears, but none is playing, just silence apart from electrical humming from objects within the room. He moves his head back, staring up at the white ceiling as he tries to gather his thoughts, thinking about what must of happened last night. His tongue tries to wet his lips, but I can imagine it feels like sandpaper; cotton mouth is horrible, especially when you don’t have a drink at hand, don’t want to be near anyone talking to them with it, make you feel self-conscious of bad breath.
Still, a little slurred from the night before, “I need a drink.”
An arm slides over the sheets cuddling up to Max.
“Good morning, my handsome Husband.” Her sweet voice whispers.
“Good morning, babe.” Max’s voice croakily responds.
It takes him a few seconds before he realises he’s not married. Max jumps out of bed, confused as he looks down, noticing he is clutching onto a full, unopened bottle of water. Max is wearing tight white boxers, just for the people who fancy men; you can see his bulging boxers; he has a bulky member, I say with a wink. Before Max confronts the woman, she seems to be going back to sleep; she looks so snug, like a bug in their bed, hugging the light grey duvet, with her silky smooth leg over the duvet exposing her bum cheek. He opens the water bottle, sniffing it first to ensure it is water, and takes a little sip to confirm, gulping and getting rid of his cotton mouth. Once Max has drunk all the water, the bottle just disappears, which shocks him that an object can just disappear. But that isn’t important to him right now; he needs to know how he went to bed as a single man and woke up married. Is this a dream, he wonders.
“Did you say, husband?” Max asks in a confused tone.
“Well, yes, that is what you are. We have been married for a few years. Are you alright, babe?”
Max looks around to see if someone, maybe one of his friends is playing a prank on him. He notices the wedding ring on his finger. She sits up, her finger combing through her luscious blonde hair; I mean, if you was married to her, you wouldn’t complain; she is gorgeous, even I am admiring the pulchritudinous blonde, her cute button nose, she has beautiful green eyes with gold flecks within.
“Married for a few years?” He still can’t believe it. “You are not even the woman I danced with last night in the club.”
“I bloody hope you weren’t dancing with any other woman.” She strictly says.
“You were here all last night, babe. You must have had a dream.” She continues to say with confusion in her tone.
Before Max can respond, the curtains suddenly begin to open. Max looks on, amazed at the curtains opening themselves; more sunlight shines into "their" bedroom.
“Oh, it must be half eight; now the curtains are opening.” She continues to ask for “Water, please.”
A bottle of water appears out of thin air in the woman’s hand for her to open for sipping. Max can’t believe his eyes, looking around the room, noticing the bed is hovering in the air.
“Wha, what the fuck is going on?” Max stutters in disbelief.
“What do you mean?” She asks.
“I mean the curtains opening by themselves, a bottle of water just appearing out of nowhere, that shit doesn’t happen; I mean, even the bed is fucking floating.”
“Alright, hun, calm down. We might have to take you to the hospital. It isn’t the year 2023; you are not a caveman anymore.” She says with a chuckle.
“What year is it then? Because 2023 is the time I am from.” Max asks perplexedly.
“It’s 2073; you are acting so weird this morning.” She continues to explain, “Not everyone has it, but we got the implant a year back; that is how you get what you ask or need instantly. I don’t know why I am telling you, considering you are the one that convinced me and paid for it.”
Max mutters, “It’s 2073, but how can it be, in one night, just jump to that year? Maybe it was Mr Bunsen, that is the only person….”
Before Max can finish what he is saying, his wife butts in saying.
She politely demands, “Television on, please.”
Opposite their bed from the ceiling, a faint spotlight appears, shining down as pixels start appearing in midair, forming a rectangular shape.
Max looks confused as he tries to process everything. The woman offers Max the bottle of water, which he takes; while he has a few gulps, she climbs out of bed. This bit is for the people who are attracted to women; she has a fantastic figure, the only thing she is wearing is a pink thong, curves all in the right places, her breast are perfect, just everything about her is, no imperfections in sight, you would think God handcrafted her. She walks around the bed, smiling at Max, who is slightly sobering. Seeing floating cars whizz past their bedroom window. Which catches Max's attention, but for her it seems it’s normal. She walks up to Max and begins to kiss him; well, it would be rude if he didn’t kiss her back. They are married; after all, his hands wander around her soft skin, fingertips lightly touching her nipples as her hand caresses his bulge. She starts kissing down his neck and his chest after down his toned abs.
“This should give you some clarity.” She seductively says with a wink.
She kneels before Max, looking up at him while pulling down his boxers.
Merci pour la lecture!
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