Free Closest Encounter by E.G. Wiser

program. Stands for Computer Engaged… Uh… And some other words. I’m not good at acronyms. It’s seriously hampered my career, if you want to know the truth…”
    The blank wall flickered to life in front of them—a mosaic of unclear images that gradually came into sharper focus. It was a dozen or more different scenes—scenes of translucent flesh or glowing tentacles and appendages, of bright colors slick with a universal wetness, of a black ocean writhing with living waves. It was a myriad of entangled creatures, and without even knowing the biology of them, it was plain to Beth what they were doing.
    Brad whispered in the dark of the theater. “They used the object to sort of reverse engineer this thing so it shows all this, but really, they’re not even sure what we’re looking at. This could be scenes from another planet or dimension, alien memories or even some technologically generated hallucination. They… We all think there is something…um, familiar about what’s going on up there, but—”
    “I’m pretty sure it’s fucking, Brad.”
    “Yeah. That was kind of my theory, too, but I didn’t want to say.”
    “I think you guys have managed to make an intergalactic peepshow.”
    “Oh. Okay.” He slumped a little in his chair. “I don’t see how useful that’s going to be.”
    “I don’t know. I’m sure there are plenty of xeno-crypto-science type-A people that would love to take a look at that feed. Maybe you could even sell tickets.”
    “Somehow I don’t think that was the answer GITI was looking for.”
    “They’ll get over it. Now pretend to yawn and put your arm around me.”
    He did.
    She leaned against him and nodded at the screen. “And if you play your cards even a little bit close to right, there may be some of that for us at the end of the day. In a bed even, this time.”
    “In a bed,” he said wistfully. “That’d be great.”
    “If we do it right.”
    “We haven’t done it wrong yet.”
    They were quiet for another moment while what looked like an orgy of neon amoeba was taking place on the screen. She leaned against him. It felt good. Better than anything she could remember. And she could remember a lot.
    “I really do love you, Brad,” she said. “I mean, I know you said it first. I don’t want you thinking I just said it back to you to be polite.”
    “Is anyone that polite?”
    “I’m not,” she said. “I love you.”
    “I love you too,” he said. “And I said it first.”

 
     
    Also available from Totally Bound Publishing:
     
    Samantha Lytton: The Dimple of Doom
    Lucy Woodhull
     
    Excerpt
     
    Chapter One
     
     
    Accountants should not be so sexy.
    It all started at the office Christmas party, as many terrible hangovers do.
    My palms began to sweat at the sight of The Accountant walking in my direction. His shining eyes said, I wanna spread your sheet , his masterful gait said, Damn, I’m masterful , and his tantalising smirk said, I’ve read the Kama Sutra— all the way through .
    I swallowed the lump of lust in my throat and twiddled with the tablecloth of the catered buffet table. My usual party plan involved making winsome eyes at the food, but tonight I salivated over more than just the pigs in a blanket.
    “Potato ball?” he asked. Sam Turner, aka The Accountant, held the fried offering palm up on a festive red and green paper plate.
    I had the hots for a dude named Sam. My name is Samantha. Samantha ‘n’ Sam. It was the stuff of obnoxious wedding invitations.
    What colour were his hazel eyes today? Glancing up, I slid into hormone heaven. He stood, eyes mossy green pools of sensual seductiveness, and offered me the Garden of Eden apple. Except it was a potato ball.
    Cocking my head, I posed in an alluring manner that I hoped brought Marilyn Monroe to mind. I should say something. Something not stupid.
    “I love balls.” Oh, damn. “And potatoes!” Did I just tell him I loved to eat balls? “I mean I love to eat food! In