This story is based upon a short, humorous SF story I read years ago. Unfortunately, I don't remember its title or the author. While the beginning is pretty similar, the middle and end go their own way. For those wondering, this is not autobiographical. No tentacles were harmed during the writing of this story.
I work for Shoestring & Fleischman as a secretary class III. In the morning, I take bus 264 to the Evergreen stop. From there it is bus 78 to the town centre.
In the evening, it is the other way round. Bus 78 gets me, hopefully, on time to Evergreen. I only have a 5-minute window to get the 264. If I miss it, I have to wait another 40 minutes for the next one. Due to traffic jams, this happens a few times a week, despite separate bus lanes on the main streets.
Evergreen is a so-called transfer stop. Its only function is to relay these two bus lines. It lies in the middle of nowhere. There are some fields nearby, and the closest house is a fifteen-minute walk. I've often wondered why this stop was put exactly there and not a few miles earlier or later. It's one of the many mysteries regarding the bus system in our city. Twice a day, the stop is crowded with schoolchildren, but for the rest of the day, hardly anyone waits there.
For months, there was only me waiting at night. But a while ago, I was joined by a man who takes the same route. We never speak, but we give each other a nod. He's there every day, except when he's on holiday, I suppose. When we miss the connection and have to wait for the next bus, 40 minutes later, we stand in silence.
He's a cute man. I guess he's well in his late fifties. Perhaps he did some sports as a junior, because he looks muscular, without being fat. To kill time I started fantasising about him. You know, training at the gym, sweaty bodies, showers, and lots of soap.
The fantasy started following me at home. In bath. In bed. I realised this was going a bit too far. But I had reached the point of no return.
If I ever wanted to start talking to him, it was now too late. I wouldn't know how to handle myself. He is probably married anyway. Or gay. The nice ones are always gay.
And why didn't he just talk to me? Probably because I could be his daughter. I'm twenty-two. I've got a cute face, I've got boobs and some ass. I can't understand why I am still single. Probably because I never go out to meet people.
That particular night, the first bus was too late, as always, and we had to wait. Philip was standing a few metres from me, at his designated spot. I call him Philip, but of course, I don't know his name. Let's stick with Philip.
That's when the sky turned black. I looked up and saw this huge flying saucer that looked exactly like all the flying saucers we have seen on TV. Except for the flashing lights, this one had no flashing lights. It was the kind of dark blue that is darker than black. A sinister, dark doomsday machine.
All the sounds had gone and it was completely silent. I screamed but couldn't hear my voice. Then it went black in front of my eyes.
I woke up, lying on the grass of a huge garden. I felt completely disorientated. What? How? What is this place? Why am I naked?
It was useless to stay on my back, staring at a blue sky without a single cloud. There was no sun either. No sounds, no birds, no insects. Not a single flower in the grass. That made me freak out. What is this place, Star Trek's fucking holodeck, made by Aldi? I decided to walk to the end if there was an end.
I remembered a theme, used by plenty of SF authors. I could be a species in an extraterrestrial zoo, taken prisoner for the amusement of paying greys. Or this could be an enormous Petri dish, with me the specimen to test. I could be an avatar in a computer simulation. An outsider in the matrix.
Think, you silly cow. Occam's razor. This is a mere hallucination. A plane fell on me, and I'm lying in a coma in hospital. They're probably working on me. Open-heart surgery. Who's going to feed my cat, meanwhile?
I walked for a few minutes on the grass and reached a small brook. I crouched down in the water and drank a bit. If it was poisonous, so be it. The moving water made me want to pee. I just let it flow. At least my body was still functioning.
I thought: what is so peculiar about rivers? They always lead to somewhere, up to the source, down to the sea.
What about food? Shouldn't there be some food, somewhere? Will my hallucination starve me to death?
I walked and walked, following the river downstream. At least I wouldn't be walking in circles, like those lost in a desert. Would my hallucination have a day and night cycle? It didn't look like it. No wind either. I saw something in the distance. A stone, perhaps. A menhir, or that creepy black obelisk from 2001. It was a silhouette. Something living. A human, an alien? Stop thinking about aliens, silly.
It was a man. It wasn't a random man. It was Philip. My Philip.
"Philip," I shouted, running towards him. I didn't care about my nudity. I stopped in front of him, panting. My breasts were going up and down while I tried to catch my breath. My lover tried to hide his member, by putting both hands in front of it. He tried not to look at my boobs.
"Philip!" I gasped. "Thank god I found you here."
He looked at me with his steel-blue eyes and a very puzzled look on his face.
"You must be mistaking me for someone else, miss," he said. "I'm not Philip. My name is David. Excuse me for appearing like this. It is most aggravating."
His body was muscular, as I had always suspected. I knew it was probably a useless question, but I asked him anyway if he knew where we were.
He didn't know either. He had seen the flying saucer as well, passed out and found himself in the perfectly cut green meadow. His glasses had disappeared, and because he had such bad eyesight, he simply waited, next to the streamlet, for something to happen.
He believed an alien force had abducted us. He had decided he would just wait apathetically for their next move. He didn't believe he was part of my hallucination as he -- so he said -- had his own thoughts, his own free will. He looked very depressed, frightened, concerned. They had taken his bowler hat and umbrella away and what was left was a shadow of the man he used to be.
We sat down in silence, with at least two meters distance between us. To kill the time, I told him about myself. My name, my age, my job, my history. Everything except my naughty fantasies about him. He reluctantly told me about himself. He was a bit of a loner like me. It appeared to me, that he was slightly autistic, glued for ages to an uneventful series of habits and mannerisms. He only came to life a bit when he started to talk about his miniature train set. A fucking miniature train set!
For the entire conversation, his face was pointing down. He didn't dare look at me. My nudity was taboo. It certainly was taboo at Shoestring & Fleischman, but here, in this artificial garden of Eden, it was of no use to hide our nakedness. I caught a glimpse of his manhood. It looked pretty neat to me. Thank you, hallucination, for getting that detail right.
I knew we would never match in real life, me being a young sex-starving woman and him a bookkeeper in mind and manners, waiting for his retirement. But I decided to jump him anyway. My hallucination, my rules.
I crawled over to him, like a tiger approaching its prey. His face was even more frightened than before when he saw my breasts dangling from my chest.
"I have been fantasising about you from the day you arrived at my bus stop." I hissed. "This may be my only chance."
I grabbed his dick, ignored his protest and forced my tongue in his mouth. He could have easily pushed me away, but even in his protests, he was a wimp. I have no one in my life right now, but I'm not a spinster either. I know how to handle a man.
"But, but, the aliens?" he stuttered.
"Let's give them the show of their lives," I said. I pushed him down with a perfect wrestling move. If there were alien anthropologists taking notes, they would certainly be puzzled by our mating ritual.
