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Writer's pictureDaren Gillingham

Gone Fishing...

Jack cast a line into the ocean and relaxed back in his chair. Just as he was about to take a sip of his beer, a gorgeous blonde wearing a scanty red bikini walked up to him.

She looked at him with hungry eyes as she licked her ruby lips.

“Hello there…” she purred as she approached.

Jack swallowed hard and awkwardly clambered out of his chair, his foot slipping slightly in the sand. He cursed himself for how foolish he must look and feared the woman would turn away.

But her smile only widened and she beckoned him closer. Her eyes held promises that made Jack’s blood run hot. He all but raced up to her. When he stood close enough to feel the heat of her body and stare at those ruby lips, he hesitated. His mouth felt dry. His knees weak.

He was sure she wanted him, but he needed something more. Something to prove he wasn’t about to make a complete fool of himself…

She kissed him. A fierce kiss that made him moan not from pleasure but from a sharp agony that seemed to pierce his lip as she wrapped her arms so tightly around him that his ribs ached.

Then, he and the woman were yanked upward with startling speed. He tried to reach for something to grab hold of, but there was nothing. He flew upward. The ground beneath them shrinking until the world looked like a map laid out at the corner of his vision.

His heart fluttered in his chest and he held tight to the woman, terrified of falling.

He broke through the clouds, coming to a stop in front of a massive alien fish with arms and legs sitting on the edge of a spaceship that seemed to hover in place. In its enormous hands was a fishing rod with a line that led straight to the woman holding Jack in the air.

“Ha! Another one!” said the enormous fish creature, “it must be my lucky day.”

He swung the enormous pole and dangled Jack over a white container the size of a house. The woman released Jack and he dropped into the box, landing with a thud that rattled his bones. He lay there groaning and heard the whir of a line being cast out once more.

Jack massaged his lip as he came unsteadily to his feet and found himself surrounded by men that seemed to range from bored to outraged and panicked.

Jack shuddered.

One of the men sat with his back propped against the wall. He looked like he’d been mauled by some feral beast. His clothing was torn and his face and body was covered in wicked cuts. The man looked up at Jack.

“The blonde?” asked the man.

Jack nodded.

“Be glad it wasn’t the redhead,” said the man.

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