Jessica clutched the lab coat over her heaving bosom, years of particle physics expertise unable to contain the violent processes taking place in her heart. Everything she had ever known told her that Stud must never hold her. His rough upbringing in the magnetic field coil workshop, his rivalry with the jealous Professor Grantwriter, his reversed charge and baryonic numbers which would cause them to annihilate in a blast of mass-energy release at the slight touch. But touch and release where all she could dream of, couch it as she might in sub-clauses and innuendo.
She found herself in the room holding the magnetic containment chamber. Because sudden transitions help us skip to the good bits. She didn’t know why she was wearing a bodice under her lab coat, or how she’d fit the corset between them, only that both would surely disappear the instant he touched her touch her.
Stud glowered gruffly through the oscillating magnetic containment field which kept him hovering in the center of the room. Which wasn’t hard, as magnetic fields aren’t visible to the human eye.
“You know we can’t do this” he glowered regretfully yet caringly, because adjectives are way easier to write than small talk.
“But we must! That’s why we were put here! I mean, literally, that’s why we were written in the first place. So literally-squared. But what about your wife?”
Stud turned his head to the side, sucking in a breath past a bitten lip of agonized recollection (adjectives!).
“My wife …. is String Theory.”
“Yes. She’s beautiful, but there is absolutely no observable evidence of her existence.”
Jessica knew then what she wanted. She was getting to a good bit in the book and couldn’t wait any longer. She strode forward, powerful and womanly, pushing through the magnetic fields with an inner strength which really wasn’t necessary because she wasn’t wearing anything metal and didn’t have a pacemaker.
Their kiss was, well, they don’t know what the kiss was like because their brains were hit by the lightspeed shockwave of annihilation gamma radiation long before any nervous signals could make the same trip. But god-damn it was hot.
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