The XXX Time-Traveller - A Sequel

"Boo!"

Charise jerked forward in her chair, bumped from behind. Startled, she sputtered and spat up her ginger-ale, spritzing it on her desk and legs. Gawking at the mess on her lap, she snapped, "Dunlop! You asshole!"

"Apologies, Charise," the professor chuckled. The white-haired, wrinkled kook backed up in his wheelchair. "This thing has a life of its own."

Swatting the soda spray off her jeans, she smacked him with a side-eye frown and grumbled, "Why are you in a wheelchair? Your legs work better than your head."

"Because it's fun!" He spun around in a circle. "Look! I'm a roulette wheel. WEE-ooh!"

"Your brain is a roulette wheel, and it's missing its marble," she groused. "You're too frail to have fun. You'd sprain your lips just whistling."

"My dear, you will be surprised to know I am still quite limber," he said, stopping in mid-spin to flash a grin and twinkle his eye at her. "So are my lips."

He demonstrated by throwing a few puckered kisses at her like a guppy.

Charise removed her glasses to wipe them on her shirt and rolled her eyes up. "Yeah, jerking off to porn in your office keeps you very limber, I'm sure. You're gonna break your arm."

"You can always do it for me," he suggested with a chortle and a hopeful bounce of his powder-white brows.

She smirked, picked up her empty soda can, held it up in his face and crushed it with her hand.

Dunlop shuddered.

"I'm not that type of lab assistant," she grumbled, turning back to her desk. She waved her hands over a mess of papers and at her computer monitor. "I'm not any type of assistant. All I do is this bullshit 'data' entry, uploading your nonsense."

Her elderly employer, a self-identified inventor, bounced his head side-to-side and sighed. "You're right," he said, sounding surprisingly remorseful. "You deserve more productive endeavours."

"Yeah? Like what?" she scoffed, flipping her cherry red locks of hair back dismissively.

"Well, to be honest, we could use some cash," he said.

Charise paused, confused, then turned, eyeing him. "What do you mean?"

He shrugged. "I've run out of funds."

"What?" She frowned and shook her head. "You're out of money?"

Dunlop smiled and nodded. "I'm afraid so. Totally broke."

Charise blinked at him. His wistful expression did not jibe with the apparent urgency of the matter at all. While struggling to absorb the information, she glanced around their surroundings: a decrepit warehouse full of Dunlop's "inventions" and tonnes of other electronic hardware castoffs he had collected for years. Even though it was all junk, it must have cost him something to gather all of it plus fees for the warehouse, electricity, water...

And he had never sold any of his invention ideas or patents as far as she knew.

Suddenly, it started to make sense that he was broke.

"So... what does that mean?" she asked.

"Well, I'll probably start stocking up on cat food and then look for a cozy spot in the park by the public washrooms to set up a tarp tent," he said thoughtfully. "Hopefully with a view of the lake."

"Oh," Charise remarked.

"Then, I'll wither away and die, I suppose," he mused while stroking the white and grey stubble on his wrinkled chin as if contemplating the breakfast menu at Denny's.

"Sounds like a plan," she mumbled, looking off to the side, distracted.

"And, of course, we'd have to part ways," he added.

Still turned aside, she grimaced with mild concern. Despite all her griping, it was a good-paying job for pretty basic work. Not too demanding aside from fending off the professor's feeble attempts at sexual harassment.

"But, I do have an idea for getting a fresh infusion of cash," Dunlop said.

Charise chuckled at him dismissively, then jeered, "I'm not becoming a stripper."

"Oh..." He paused, blinking. "Well, then we can just use the time machine."

"Oh, God!" she groaned, throwing her eyes upward. "I told you I'm not doing that again."

A month ago, she and Dunlop completed their first successful attempt to send her back in time to 1985. True, the intent was to send her to 1984, but the fact that she went anywhere at all was astounding. After meandering around the era of hairspray, spandex and shoulder pads for a few hours and getting into some naughty mischief by accidentally walking into a guerilla porn video shoot, she returned with the unexpected Holy Grail of the incredible quest: chicken balls from a defunct Chinese take-out joint. She was not amused.

"It'd be a simple errand, Charise."

"Fuck off."

"A milk run, practically," he suggested.

"Go get your own frigging milk. I'm done going back in time."

"You would just need to find Barry..."

Charise paused, her mind suddenly alert. "Barry?"

'Barry' was also known to her as 'Apollo Cream', a hunky, dreamy porn star she just met during her 80's sojourn. Well, 'just met' was an understatement. She fucked him... under an hour of meeting him, too... in front of a goddamn video camera and film crew. She tried to convince herself that she had been coerced into doing so, but the word 'LIAR' crackled in her brain like a neon sign whenever she did.

"Barry has money?" she asked. She closed her eyes and shook her head, agitated. "Wait a minute. Who the hell is this Barry guy to you, anyway?"

Dunlop turned in his wheelchair, shrugging. "Just a person I knew, once," he said as he wheeled away through a maze of cluttered shelves and junk. "He's a means to an end to provide funds to sustain our little operation here."

Charise remained in her chair, her lower lip protruding and shifted aside as she thought. It wasn't as if meeting with Barry again would be an altogether bad thing. God, the way he could twist his tongue like an auger, not to mention his delicious cock...

"Stupid! Stupid!" she berated herself, suddenly, banging the heels of her palms against her temples. "You can't possibly be thinking of agreeing to do this again!"

Oh, she was, indeed.

"If this works," Dunlop called out from somewhere in the warehouse, "I'll double your salary!"

She shook her head again and sighed with self-dismay. "Double and a half!" she shouted back and stood up to shuffle after him. She had some pride, afterall.

Right. She was doing this for the 'money'.

Charise found Dunlop already waiting for her by The Chrono-Jump Chamber, an old refrigerator jerry-rigged with wires, bulbs, meters, conductors and other techno crap. She didn't acknowledge the cocky, puppet-master grin he was throwing her way.

"So what year am I tripping to?" she asked.

While regarding his tablet, he tapped the screen and replied, "1985."

"Again?"

"Well, last time that was an accident, if you recall. It was supposed to be in 1984 you were to have arrived. Not to worry, though. My calculations..." he paused to give his tablet a stiff whack with his hand. "My calculations are perfect this time."

It didn't exactly fill her with much confidence the way he continued to shake and smack his control tablet.

When he was done, he looked up, smiling. "You'll be arriving on November 28th, four months after the last time."

Charise rolled her eyes. The 80's again. Yuck.

As she limbered up, stretching her arms and legs, getting ready to climb into the fridge, she asked another question: "And once I'm there, I go meet Barry, then what?"

Dunlop reached into his lab coat pocket and produced a sealed envelope. Handing it to her, he said, "Give him that. He'll know what to do."

She regarded the plain white envelope suspiciously. "This isn't going to screw with the timeline when I get back?"

Dunlop held up Scout's Honour fingers. "There will be no screwing," he replied, then leaned forward and winked, "unless, of course, you want...-"

"Shut... up!" she interjected and pointed back to her work area. "Remember the soda can?"

He shuddered again but couldn't hide a sheepish grin.

"I just don't want to be a part of anything amoral," said the woman who agreed to be in a porn video faster than it took to sing Happy Birthday.

As she prepared to get into the fridge, he said, "Oh. I've made a few upgrades to the chrono-synchronizer band since last time."

"Pfft. Chrono-synchronizer," Charise scoffed.

The modified Fitbit was her anchor to the present. It pulled her back from the past when her time was up.

"Like what?" she asked while strapping the device to her wrist.

"Well, for one thing, you can stay longer in the past. Eight hours," he noted. Then he pointed to a little red button on the side of it. "That's your time-hiccup button."

"'Time-hiccup'?"

Dunlop nodded, appearing pleased with himself. "It's a one-time repeat mechanism. The band has enough power to send you back once by about an hour while you're there."

She regarded the button and nodded. "Well, that could actually come in handy," she thought. Not that she would give the old crackpot the satisfaction of knowing he came up with a useful idea, so she just shrugged and asked, "You couldn't think of anything better to call it other than a 'time-hiccup' button?"

"Time-belch? Time-burp?"

"How about something not emitted from your mouth?"

Dunlop looked up and away, grinning crookedly. "I suppose I'm just fixated on my oral proclivities when I'm thinking of you."

"Fuck..." she sighed and stopped herself. She hadn't the wherewithal to waste a breath on "you".

She stepped into the fridge, Dunlop shut the door behind her, and she settled in crouching to fit. As she recalled from last time, she'd only disappear from the present for a few minutes.

"Ready?" Dunlop called from outside.

"No."

After a moment, the interior was illuminated by blue light as the Chamber went into operation with a loud hum. Charise suddenly recalled an important question and knocked on the inside of the door. "Hey, Dunlop! Am I gonna find Barry at the video repair shop again?"

The humming grew louder. A charge crackled along her fingers, up her arms.

"Oh, right! That reminds me. I made another upgrade," the professor called from the other side. "You'll not only be tripping back in time, but to a different location."

"What?" Charise yelled, frowning as the machine trembled and her entire body tingled while icy blue tendrils of electricity enveloped her. "Where the hell am I..."

Ffz-ZZT!

"... going?!" Charise yelped, stumbling forward, the fridge suddenly disappearing around her. She would have fallen flat on her glasses if not for her head landing against someone's chest.

"Watch yerself, missy," the person said, catching her by the arms.

Her eyes rolled around as she froze against the man's chest for a second. Then, she immediately jumped back and apologized, "Oh, shit! I'm so sorry! I... uh?"

"Easy there, darlin'. You look all shook up."

She adjusted her glasses and frowned at the man. "Aren't... aren't you Elvis?"

The guy took a step back. Dressed in a white, high-collared, bell-bottomed jumpsuit and sporting that legendary pompadour-styled hair, he propped his upper lip aside and pointed at her with double-pistol fingers. "That ah am, missy. Uh-huh."

Charise's face tightened, sour and confused. She thought Elvis died in the 70's. Did the professor fuck up? She smirked at herself. Of course, he did.

"Excuse me, missy," someone else said, tapping her in the back. She turned and faced another doppelganger Elvis, a bit chubbier and wearing sunglasses but decked out in a similar jumpsuit, baby blue and covered in glittering rhinestones. He struck a gunslinger pose and pointed at himself with his thumbs. "But if you're looking for the King, he is in the building, right here in the living flesh. Thankyouverrahmuch."

Charise's red lower lip flopped open. "What. The. Actual. Fuck?"

She slowly turned her head and gawked down a line of Elvises --Elvae?-- a baker's dozen in all, all striking poses, waggling their hips, curling their lips and declaring themselves to be the true King of Rock and Roll.

"Here ya go, little darlin'." The first Elvis handed her a ticket: "The One and Only Elvis Revue (Las Vegas Chapter)."

"Compliments of the King," he said with a cheeky click of his tongue. "Now, you be sure to come out and Elvis personally promises you a night of magnificence that cannot be denied. Glory, glory Halleluuu-jah!"

Then the 'Elvae' strutted away down the aisle lined with casino gaming tables and slot machines, spectators snapping photos and asking for autographs.

Charise watched them go in a daze as they disappeared around some potted palm trees. Then, she looked up and around, finally fully taking in her surroundings. Judging by all the gaming tables and slot machines, the ornately decorated furniture and wall, the barmaids in short skirts and stockings, she was in a hotel-casino in Las Vegas.

She sneezed as a woman brushed past her, nearly knocking her over with the linebacker shoulder pads of her pastel-pink jumpsuit, the hairspray in her frizzed up hairdo setting off Charise's allergies.

A group of women wearing frilly black lace dresses, stretched tops and fingerless gloves walked past her sniggering. They eyed her Plain Jane orange sweat top and jeans.

The men around her were similarly attired in mid-80's style, brightly coloured, blocky suits and low neckline t-shirts. Almost all of them proudly sported wavy mullet hair and the fuzz of five o'clock shadow.

Olivia Newton-John, Linda Ronstadt, Barry Manilow and other crooners were all on the marquee and bulb-lit posters that lined the walls, while Duran Duran played over the sound system.

Charise ruffled her red hair with a drag of her hand and sighed.

She stopped a passing barmaid. "Excuse me. What's today's date? Um... and year, too," she asked just to be sure.

As she chewed her gum, the barmaid replied, "November 28, hon'... 1985." She didn't seem bothered at all by the question about the year, though she did give Charise a quick onceover, and simply walked off in her spiked heels to hawk more complimentary drinks.

Charise sighed again and pouted. Yep. Back in the 80's again.

She wandered the casino and hotel for almost an hour, the bells and whistles of the slot machines tickling her ear, the smoke clogging up her lungs. Giving the professor the benefit of the doubt, she presumed he had intended to send her to Las Vegas and maybe even this particular casino, but how the hell was she supposed to find Barry?

"Cherry?" someone called out from behind. It took her a moment to realize that they were speaking to her. "Holy cow. Cherry, is that really you?"

She turned and faced a dumpy, curly brunette dude with bushy brows and a broom-head moustache. Tilting her head back, she frowned and said, "Parker?"

The man unexpectedly reached out and hugged her. She immediately shoved him back and away, cringing.

Parker was the director of the porn film she inadvertently participated in during her first jaunt to 1985. He always had a mildew of sleaze about him.

"No way! I cannot believe it's you! Here! In Vegas!" he declared, unfazed by the odious look she was giving him. "What the hell are you doing here? Did you see our ad?"

"Uh, no," she said flatly. It was a misunderstanding with one of their stupid ads that got her into trouble the last time. She didn't bother to explain why she was in Las Vegas and turned the question back on him. "Why are you in Vegas?"

"We're shooting another movie!" Parker replied.

"'We're'...?" Her eyes widened with hope. "Is... is Barry here, too?"

"Holy smokes," Parker remarked, openly admiring Charise's figure, "I'd almost forgotten what a total hard bod you had!"

"Parker!" she snapped, waving his attention back to her face and then pointing to her mouth. "Is. Barry. Here?"

"'Apollo'?" he replied, referring to Barry's porn alias. "He sure is!"

"Thank fuck!" she exclaimed, "I need to see him."

"For sure!" Parker replied with a thumbs up. His enthusiasm was still peaking at an eleven. "I'll take you to him right now. He's so gonna freak when he sees you!"

He led her through the casino towards the hotel lobby, jabbering more nonsense which Charise filtered out. They stopped at an open seating area where the chairs faced a wall of televisions. Various horse races around the country were broadcast.

"Judd! Yo, Judd!" Parker hollered.

The person he seemed to be calling to didn't turn, just hopped around in his seat anxiously while watching one of the races.

"Judd! Goddamn it!" Parker yelled.

A porcine young man seated in one of the bucket chairs reluctantly looked away from the televisions.

"Kid's got a goddamn gambling addiction," Parker grumbled under breath. He pointed at Charise. "Look who it is!"

Judd squinted at them, then his eyes finally lit up. He looked back at the television for a moment to see the finish of the race and appeared to curse. He threw a crumpled piece of paper at the screen, then shuffled quickly over.

"Hi, Judd," Charise said. The earnest Porky Pig fellow was kind of squirrely and still perpetually glowing with perspiration, but not nearly as off putting as Parker.

"Cherry!" he said with a plump smile as he approached.

"Charise," she corrected.

Parker and Judd regarded each other, nodding slightly. Then the latter said, "Right. Charise. Hey, I can't believe it's you!"

She rolled her eyes and chuckled bemusedly. "Yeah, well, apparently, no one believes it's me."

Parker nodded to Judd. "Go get the camera. Let's take her to see Apollo."

"He's gonna freak when he sees you," Judd remarked.

Charise sighed again. "Yep. I heard that, too. Plenty of 'freaking' to go around."

Judd scurried back to his chair and grabbed the video camera.

"He was supposed to be getting pick up shots of the casino for the movie," Parker explained, shaking his head.

As they rode a hotel elevator up to the top floor, Parker couldn't stop gushing about how excited he was to see Charise again while still blatantly ogling her body. She gave up, but just didn't pay attention to him, choosing to watch the floor numbers light up instead.

Almost immediately after stepping out of the elevator then turning down a long corridor, she spotted another familiar figure leaning against the wall outside the last door. This was a more appealing sight for her weary eyes. He was in a white suit and pink shirt with the collar popped. She tried to steady her lip as the edges of her mouth twitched upward and her heartbeat and step quickened.

"Apollo," Parker called ahead, "look at who we ran into down at the casino!"

Charise wasn't surprised that Barry, aka Apollo, didn't 'freak' when he looked up and saw her coming. Cool and crisp like a tall glass of New York Seltzer, he pushed up from the wall, turning and smiling his sparkling whites at her. She appreciated that much more than if he had freaked out.

"Hey," she said with a pleasant grin, keeping it simple. His hair was a little longer than before, wavier, and more a warm golden colour than frosted. Those blue eyes and sharp, handsomely boyish features of his remained unchanged and still sent Charise's heart and nether regions aflutter.

"It's Charise," Judd noted. She caught him winking at Barry.

"Charise. Great to see you again." Barry tilted his chin and nodded with a welcoming grin. "Yeah, nah. I wouldn't forget you. My homegirl who tastes like cherry."

Charise tilted her head down and aside, hoping to hide her smile and eyes behind her glasses. Fuck, two seconds in, and he already had her blushing. Yeah, that whip-like tongue of his had done a real number on her.

"Hey, you ran off with my chicken balls the last time," he noted, chuckling.

On her first trip to the 80's, she had returned to her present time the moment he handed her the container of Wicked Wok chicken balls to the delight of the professor.

"Oh... right," she said, wincing sheepishly. "Sorry for just... disappearing with your balls."