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I watched as Marc placed it in his sports coat. He was wearing a black pin stripe suit. He patted Charlene ass as she walked back to the stage. She looked at me sitting in my small metal chair.She curled her finger in her mouth. She looked down as the next song began to play. She pushed my legs open. She shook her long hair in my face. Next she walked around my chair. She ran her hands over my wide shoulders. She traced her long red finger nail on the back of my neck. She leaned down to breath in my ear. She moaned as she flashed me her smile. I could feel her corset touch my shoulders as she ran her fingers through my short hair. Next she ran her finger nails down my right arm to my hand. She giggled as she felt, I might be ticklish. I was trying with all my might not to pass out or have my erect cock burst my jeans.I heard Marc get off his bar stool. He got closer to the stage. He was still far enough back not to see him in the lights from the stage. I turned my attention to his. But I was still hoping this was some incredibly complicated dream. Then an awful thought occurred to me: doesn’t your life pass in front of you when you die? Was I reliving my entire life, compressed into the final seconds of my life? For a minute or so my mind worried at this possibility – until the differences in this world brought that train of thought to a halt. I surely would not be reliving such a subtly different world whilst I died.Finally, I realised that as I did seem stuck here, I would need to act as if this were a permanent arrangement or there could be big problems. I would need all the experience of my ‘old’ brain to make this work. Pondering all of this nearly caused me to miss my stop and I had to rush to the exit as the doors closed.The driver gave me a surly look. “Pay attention, young ‘un.” He grunted as he recycled the doors. As I walked down the road, I gave what had been Col’s house in my old life a thorough look over, but nothing struck me as different, just.
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