(To read the story from the beginning, click here)
In the middle of all this… “stimulation,” I guess food should have been the last thing on my mind, but let’s face it – I’m an all-day eater, and it was just about dinnertime. Not wanting to spoil the proceedings, though, or for that matter not really sure that there was anyone really “there” to hear what I had to say, I was unsure about how I would go about getting food. While I silently debated with myself (when I could think, that is), my stomach made its desires known… it started growling.
The first growl elicited a momentary sweep of invisible fingertips along my abdomen. After the second, which sounded something like a wounded cat, fingertips began playing with my navel… while the other hands continued their activities, both tickling my legs and other activity further up.
The next growl was quite a bit louder and longer than before. It was time to say or do something. “Um, I could use something to eat…?” I know I must have sounded unsure to whoever or whatever was listening, because it sounded rather iffy to me.
In a few moments, I heard what sounded like pots and pans being moved around in a distant room, and soon after that I could smell the welcome aroma of food cooking, though I couldn’t really tell what was being cooked. I wondered what I would be fed, but before I was able to find out, I heard a British-accented female voice calling out, “Hello!”
The first voice I’d heard other than mine since the whole ideal started! For half a second it scared me out of my wits… thought I’d jump out of my skin. My heart immediately sped up to jackhammer speed and force, and didn’t slow down any when I realized that I didn’t hear footsteps, only a voice that seemed to be getting closer and closer, calling out, “Hello? I know you’re in there! I saw the autos pahked out front, and I can smell something cooking!”
That told me two things: First of all, obviously whoever this was knew I was here, but also the entities putting me through this ordeal evidently didn’t belong here, or at least their van wasn’t usually here. But… a British accent? That means that… these are… people playing with me? Earthlings? Extraterrestrials, maybe? They always seemed to have British accents in the movies… But then, why were they driving cars?
All tickling activity stopped, except for the movement of the hands on my nether areas. My mind began reeling from all the questions rolling around in my head (and from the hand treatment) while the voice steadily grew closer, and closer. Finally, the voice seemed to be coming from the doorway of the room I was in. “Oh, there you are – Oh my goodness!” I turned toward the voice, and froze.
There was nothing in the doorway but a pair of gloves.
A pair of black leather gloves, looking like of like those Isotoner gloves they used to advertise on television all the time. And I have to admit, they looked quite stylish… but they weren’t attached to anything! They just floated there, filled out as if there were hands inside, at about the level they would be at if someone had been wearing them.
“I trust my crew has been treating you well,” the voice said, and I got the impression that the unseen speaker had turned her face away.
“You know me?” I said, incredulously.
“Of course I know you,” the voice said, in a tone that said the speaker wasn’t to be toyed with. “We had an appointment this evening. I just hadn’t expected you to be here this early… or that my crew would have gotten to you in quite this way.”
“Uh, I think maybe there’s some mistake,” I said, wanting to tell “her”(?) that they had the wrong person. “You see -”
“Pssht, not another word,” the voice said. “I’ll have my people clean you up, and then we can get down to business.”
“But I’m -” I started.
“Ah-ah,” the voice countered, shushing me. “Let us take care of everything.”
The gloves floated off in one direction, while I was carried the opposite way, to a shower adjacent to the rec room. My undershorts were finally pulled off, followed by all the ropes, as I floated towards the shower stall, which opened by itself. I floated in, and the door closed behind me. The water started out cold! I tried to run from the cold stream of water, but the hands held me to the spot. After about half a minute, the knob to the hot water turned by itself, and the shower began to warm up. Invisible hands lathered themselves and then spread the lather all over me (and I mean ALL over), followed by a floating washcloth. I looked closely and didn’t see any sign that water was bouncing off any body but mine, and yet there was plainly someone (or something) in the shower besides myself.
A bottle of shampoo rose from a shelf next to the shower and its cap came off. The bottle tilted, and a bit of shampoo pooled in the air just outside the stream coming from the shower head. More hands turned me around so that I was facing away from the shower, and then they began to spread the shampoo around my hair and massage my scalp. While I was being shampooed, other hands grasped my wrists and held them behind my back while yet more hands began keeping Mr. Johnson and his downstairs neighbors company. It wasn’t long before the actions of the “neighborly” hands had turned my legs to jelly, prompting a couple of unseen arms to grab me around the chest so I would stay upright in the shower.
Finally, the shower was finished. All the hands pulled away as the shower door swung open again and I was floated out. A towel wrapped itself around me and began drying me off, again paying special attention to my crotch. Another towel wrapped itself around my shoulders and began drying my hair. I didn’t feel anything like hands moving these towels; it was as though they had come to life and were drying me off by themselves.
Once I was dry, a pile of very familiar-looking clothes floated up to me… they were my clothes, the clothes I had been wearing before the whole incident started. They had been freshly washed and dried. I took them and put them on myself. I’m sure it would have been fun to allow my captors to dress me, but for reasons I’m still not sure of myself, I decided to dress myself.
When I emerged from the shower room, there was a single latex glove floating in the doorway to the rec room, beckoning me. I followed it as it directed me through the house to a sitting room, where the leather gloves awaited.
“Ah, I see you’ve been properly tended to,” the voice said. My stomach growled in response. I walked over to a couch and took a seat. “Once we’ve concluded our business, I’ll provide a fitting reply to that growl. But first things first, Kenneth. What is the frequency?”