Stories

The Ring, Part Four

I found a gold ring that transported me to a parallel world, where I was captured by Mongol Amazons. My captor just saved my life, I think, and now she's telling me about herself. (The story begins here.)

* * *

“And that all happened just a few years ago?”

“No, it was the 1950’s. I’m older than I look.”

I’d say she was older than she looked; she looked to be in her early twenties, of Asian descent and muscular build. Her skin was a deep tan, and it was becoming apparent as she undressed that that she was also very fit.

It took a moment to register. “Why are you taking off your clothes?”

She kept her back to me. “I’ve been fighting. I have to check for small wounds and change my inners. They’re soaked, and sweat isn’t good for the leather outers. Anyway, can you guess my age?”

“Both old enough and young enough that stripping in front of a twenty-two year old man is quite an invitation.”

“I’m safe; you’re all tied up right now. But you didn’t answer my question. How old do you think I am, Boy?”

“Well, you look twenty-something, but I’m guessing around fifty.”

“Ha. My body is twenty-seven, but I’ve lived for just over ninety years. Do you want to screw a girl who’s older than your grandmother?”

“I…” The short answer was yes, in a heartbeat, but I couldn’t explain why without sounding extremely shallow. I settled on a different train of thought.

“So how do you stay so young looking?”

“Time travel. It’s rare, but it happens. When you go to some place where you already exist, the two of you get merged into one: something to do with energy. You end up with the older mind and the younger body.”

“Sounds convenient.”

“Not really. I’ve been through puberty three times. You didn’t answer my question, Boy.”

“Question?”

“Do you want to screw me?”

“Um… uh…”

She turned toward me, which gave me a good view of what she was offering and made my body’s answer totally obvious. But my brain wasn’t keeping up; all I could do was make inarticulate sounds.

“Your loss.” She pulled on a loose cotton undershirt then wrapped a cloth band just beneath her breasts. “These people’s idea of a brassiere.” Finally she wrapped an hourglass-shaped cloth into a pair of panties.

After that she fed me some scraps of leather that tasted like strawberries and beef. I nearly choked on the first piece and she scolded me.

“Don’t eat like a dog! You have to chew.” She demonstrated; it definitely took a lot of chewing. It was tough and dry, but actually tasted okay.

After supper Jessica stoked the fire a bit and went out of the tent. About an hour later she came back with a couple of blankets. She threw them over me, then carefully tucked them under. Finally she crawled in and snuggled up way too close for comfort.

“Jessica?”

“For warmth. Now shut up and go to sleep.”

I pride myself on waking up early, but she was already gone when I came to. It took me a moment to realize that my hands and feet were untied. I reveled in my newfound freedom, stretching my fingers and toes, then went out to find Jessica.

She was sitting in front of the tent brushing her hair in the morning twilight. Instead of the tangled mess that seemed to be the local style, it was now neck-length and coloured a sleek, satiny black. She looked less like an extra from a caveman movie and more like the oriental girls I’d worked with.

“Finally up, sleepyhead?”

“Yeah. Thanks for untying me. I’m glad you’re finally starting to trust me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. We’re going to a new world this morning; if we have to run for our lives I don’t want to carry you.”

She handed me a leather bag which turned out to contain nuts, berries, grain and dried meat. “Eat this, enough to fill you but not enough to stuff you.”

I sat down next to her and did as I was told. It was actually fairly filling, and I ran out of space a lot sooner than I thought.

“You done, Boy?”

“I’m done. Jessica?”

“What is it?”

“Do you even remember my name?”

“Your name is Roger. I call you Boy.”

“Why?”

“Because you are a Boy. You think you’re an adult but you know nothing about what you’ve gotten into. You depend on me like a baby hanging off my breast. You don’t know that when a woman offers you sex you take it, unless it’s a trap. Now I’m going to take you to a different world where anything could happen. We could be dead in a few minutes and you haven’t even lived yet. That’s why you’re a Boy.”

“Uh, …”

“That’s what I mean! Use words not grunts. Stand up Boy.”

I did, and that’s when I realized how short she was. I’m over six feet; she’d need heels to make five. And yet somehow she was taller than I was. She was like a little porcelain doll with a blackjack inside.

She crushed herself against my chest. “Hold me tight, Boy.”

I wrapped my arms around her.

“Tighter! Pretend your life depends on it.”

I hung on tighter. “Does it?”

“Yes.”

I’d expected a jolt or an impact or a burning sensation; there was nothing. I blinked and we were somewhere else. Specifically, we were falling off a bridge.

(Part Five)