The Time Grinder

I was staring at this woman's arse when time ground to a halt.  She wore a pair of stripped black and yellow trousers. Vertical stripes on a stretchy material that made her arse look more like an abstract painting than a human form, all curved lines about a triangle.  She was standing at the counter in Costa purchasing her coffee and time seemed to drift away from me. It was like I was looking at a Bridget Reilly getting lost in the painting enjoying the lines going wavy.  A form of meditation but with a nagging feeling that I should not be meditating on this woman's arse.

The thing that made me start to realise something was strange was when I noticed the sound changed.  Like the Doppler effect, the pitch of the steam making the woman's espresso dropped from a whistle to a growl, and the music they were playing slowed down as if someone was holding the turntable.  It brought back a sudden intense need to tell my cousin to stop messing or he would break the turntable but, of course, I wasn't back in my childhood, I was sitting in the coffee shop pretending to be working on my illustrations while looking at the women's arses.

So I was listening to the weird sounds when I realised it was just like they portray someone on acid in the TV so I figured there must have been some LSD in my tea.  I tried moving to see if I was still in control of me. It took a little thought but I seemed to move fine. I had to think of my muscles tensing, then they would tense and my arm moved.  I felt clumsy but figured I would be ok if I could keep on concentrating.

I got up to talk to the barista, probably to confront her, to accuse her of poisoning me.  I wove my way to the counter, landed my hand on it before looking at them, the woman in striped trousers and the barista.  They were barely moving, there was something a little dead about them. Their eyes didn't sparkle. Their eyes had no life.  I touched the woman in the striped trousers. She was hard, real hard. Not quite as hard as a statue but hard and cold.


I looked at the espresso machine, the coffee was frozen in position falling down.  I concentrated, no, it was pouring just very very slowly. Then it clicked, time was grinding to a halt.  Or perhaps I had just sped up incredibly. The woman was cold and hard because I had only touched her for a micro millisecond in her time.


So, I have to be honest here.  The most amazing thing happens to me and I become the stupidest teenager imaginable.  It was just a little thought but it completely occupied my mind until there was nothing I could do bit submit to the thought. I drew a cock'n'balls on the woman in striped trousers.  First I tried to draw it on her cheek with my pen. Nothing, the pen didn't work as I was moving it too fast, so I wove and wobbled back to my table, grabbed my magic markers and went back to the women at the counter.  I suddenly thought it such a shame for the cock'n'balls to be on her face so instead I pulled down her stripped trousers. They were the stretchy type, the type that come off in a micro second in a moment of passion, which is why with a great deal of struggling I managed to get them down off her arse.  Just like I had thought, she was wearing no knickers. Then I set to work, It was beautiful, you should have seen it, though I guess if you were there you wouldn't have seen it, just me and whom ever she undressed in front of. Imagine that. How would she explain it.

A beautiful multi-columns cock.and balls on her arse.

I struggle to pull her trousers up again and wobbled back to seat.  Exhausted. I put my head on the table and fell asleep. I don't know when time started up again, the next thing I know is I wake with my face lying on my open magic markers.  I went to the toilets and in the mirror I see a big old smudge that looks remarkably like a cock'n'balls.

And I laughed.



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