The door opens, emitting a waft of thick cigarette smoke and a man steps out. He is in his mid-forties but with a tall, strong stature wrapped in a stylish, 1950's-period suit and stubbled jaw, classically handsome. He looks like he just walked off the set of Mad Men. There is even a cigarette in one hand and a glass of scotch in the other.
"Do I really have to have these horrible things? I've never smoked before in my life," he grouchs.
"It's in the contract," the attendant says bluntly.
"That darn contract," he says, running his hand through his hair in exasperation, inadvertently knocking a shower of ash on to his dark, closely shaven hair. His eyes land on you, and his attitude brightens a little. "Hulloh! This must be my daughter!" He extends his hand. "Which I suppose makes me your father."
"Nice to meet you," you squeak through the effects of the spray constricting your airways.
You find your hand being shaken in his strong grip. The attendant speaks up. "Actually this is your wife for the duration of the experiment."
His eyes widen. "What! But she doesn't look a day over twenty-five!"
"'She' isn't supposed to," the attendant replies. "Many young women married older men." The scientists converse among themselves briefly. "Though we have no problems with aging 'her' up if you so wish. It will require assigning older children to you but that shouldn't be a problem."
The man, your new husband, ponders it for a moment.
Copyright 2000 - 2024 21 x 20 Media All rights reserved. This site is property of 21 x 20 Media
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.29 seconds at 8:18pm on Dec 23, 2024 via server WEBX1.