Conway Jack

I seemed to be riding an older model, sporting a limp and a hearing aide. I also noticed that I was a good ten inches shorter than I was used to. Twice I had stumbled just because my stride was not matching my mental commands. How could it? Given any physical situations, I would have to be aware of this. This old horse wasn’t going to do what I was accustomed to. I was already feeling the aches that came with the package.

Scanning the room, I didn’t see my body anywhere. It was time to narrow the search.

I looked around me and saw three doors leading off of the main room. All three were closed. I chose the one the brunette had retreated behind; figuring that package to be the most volatile.

I looked at my watch. It wasn’t there. Neither was my wrist, or the rest of me, for that matter. I found a clock on the wall and was stunned. Had it only been 6 minutes since the Jack? This was going to be some hour. From the other side of this equation an hour had sounded like such a short time. I imagined that some in the party would still feel that way, while some would never feel any way again.

I could visualize conversations like, "Thanks for letting me borrow your body. Sorry I rode it so hard." Or, "What’s the big deal? You weren’t that good looking anyway." Or, "If I were you I would have myself tested for Clyteria."

Bad Ju-Ju abounded when this was done with a crowd of strangers, in an uncontrolled situation. I could imagine it being a wonderful experience however between two lovers, or friends or other combinations of that nature. But this was none of that. This was an event staged as much for the observer as for the observed. This, I decide, would have to be addressed at the end of the event. Certainly not while I tottered around in this body.

I reached the door where my little homicidal female friend had retreated to and opened the door. Her back was to me, and once again she was up on her knees. This time, however, she was completely naked. The breathing, moist slapping sounds and moans were at about equal volume and in the mirror on the side wall I could see she was riding her hand for all she was worth. She had no idea that anyone had entered the room.

I stepped into the room and closed the door a little harder than was completely necessary.

The brunette spun around and stared at me in complete shock. There were several things I expected, but none of them occurred.

She raised her hand to her mouth and began licking her fingers. I did not find it erotic and her eyes held no invitation. What they held was greedy possession and a frenzied hysteria. Probably the same look was reserved for the mosque and the Koran. When I just stood my ground, she got up and moved into the small bathroom on the left of the room, closing the door behind her. The moist slapping sounds began almost immediately.

It has always amazed me, the depth of hypocrisy that is exhibited by those who profess to know the greater, more glorious good, but this scene was way off the scale. I was certain that it would be the common example displayed by persons from almost all aggressive religions and belief systems, rather than the exception. I was also certain that evolution had done as they had asked, and passed them by.

I had determined what I needed to know, however. I was not in the room. I re-entered the primary entertainment area.