Chapter One #7
“If all I could do was just sit and watch, yeah, damned straight, I would be!” Kyle said. “But it’s your fantasy, Nora. You can do whatever you want to do with me. You might say I’m your slave.” The quick smile flashed again.
Nora drew a long, slow, deep breath to clear her head.
She was almost dizzy with the possibilities he offered.
This was certainly the wildest dream she had ever had.
While she was a little afraid of it, it was also very exciting.
None of it was really happening of course.
It just couldn’t be. Yet, what if it was real?
No, she thought. It wasn’t real. Things like this just didn’t exist. But the thought of Mr. Gorgeous as her personal slave, her boy toy, made her giggle.
“Do you know Carla?” she asked him, suddenly curious.
He shook his head. “Only that she’s your best friend.
I’m your fantasy, Nora. Carla has her own fantasy.
Every woman is different. Every woman has her own secret and private world.
Some fantasies are sexual in nature, as yours.
Some noble, or just plain fun. Some people, I am told, enjoy reliving a happier time in their lives. ”
She grew quiet now as he stood silent in his white towel looking longingly at her.
How old was he? He was one of those ageless men with no hint as to his years.
And who was he really? Some actor probably.
But how would an actor know her name, and all her secrets?
Especially from the other side of a television screen.
What the hell was going on? How was any of this possible if she wasn’t dreaming?
Nora pinched herself, starting as she felt the painful pressure of her fingers on her flesh.
That was most definitely real. “Omigod!” she whispered again.
It was very real, and very Faustian to boot.
She looked directly at Kyle. “If,” she said, “and it’s a pretty big if, I came over to your side of things, what’s the price I’d have to pay for it?
Who controls The Channel, and what do they want in exchange for my buying into it? ”
“Your soul,” he said, and when she gasped he laughed aloud. “Just kidding. You’ll get charged three ninety-five on your cable bill for a movie every time you visit The Channel, or you can add it to your program package for twelve dollars a month. That’s all there is to it. Nothing sinister at all.”
“Suburban Cable just thought it would be fun for its bored, discontented, overweight housewives to have a little interactive amusement, huh?” Nora said caustically.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Nora, my darling, why can’t you just accept what’s happening? The apartment. Me. We’ve been created out of your deepest imagination. Why are you unhappy with us?”
“I don’t understand it,” Nora admitted to him.
“Do you have to understand everything?” he asked.
“Look, Nora, your friends turned you on to The Channel because they thought it was time, and they felt you needed it. Right now your reality sucks, and you need your fantasies if you’re going to survive what’s coming.
Isn’t that so? Damn, Nora, I want to reach out, take you in my arms, and comfort you.
This isn’t bad. It’s good. Put your hand on mine, darling, and come over, Red Rover.
I’ll make the sadness go away, I promise you.
I will.” He stood directly before her, filling the television screen, pressing his big palm, fingers outspread, up for her to match with his. “Nora,” he begged her, “please!”
This is not real, one side of her brain said.
You are not having a conversation with a man in the TV.
Well, if it isn’t real, then why don’t you put your hand on his and prove it?
The other side of her brain taunted her.
What if she actually put her hand up and was zapped into that dream apartment with this dream man, and he turned out to be a monster?
She laughed bitterly. Would he be any worse than the man to whom she was married?
Who was about to leave her for another woman?
This was a dream. It was! So she was going to put her hand on his, and maybe she would be in that apartment, and then what?
Go ahead, the little voice in her head pressed her.
Why are you always so afraid to try something new?
Whatever you do with Kyle, at least it’s only in your imagination.
Not like your cheating husband, who is probably banging his girlfriend right now without a thought for you, or the children you share.
She put her spoon aside, and arose from her recliner.
Kneeling before the television, she matched her hand to his.
One hundred and twenty pounds and a pair of perky boobs, here I come!
And Nora smiled to herself as she thought it.
Still it wasn’t going to happen, and she knew it.
But what the hell! It was only a wild dream.
A wonderful wild dream. And then her head began to spin.