She had gritted her teeth, rolled her eyes, kicked the wall three times, and counted backwards from 100, but none of it was calming her nerves. It had been going on all night, and she couldn’t get it to stop. Her brand new molecular transfer unit, housed neatly in the corner of her room, was malfunctioning. Not just malfunctioning, but sending strangers into her room in various states of undress because some moron had accidentally hooked her up to the swinger’s party frequency.
The girl with customer service had been no help at all, no matter how much Muriel had begged and pleaded to get someone to come over and turn the damn thing off. But it was no good. A repair man couldn’t get there for another six hours at least, so she had no choice. Trying to get as much sleep as she could, she huddled under her blankets and clutched her phaser gun, which was set on stun at the moment. Every time that now-familiar popping noise signaled some new deviant had arrived, she rolled over and pointed the phaser at them before giving them the choice of leaving on their own, or being stunned and forcibly transferred to a destination of HER choosing. Most of them just shrugged and returned to the flow to find another destination.
Glancing in the mirror on the back of her closet door, she sighed. So this was what a nervous wreck looked like. She sat up in bed and bent her knees, resting her feet on the mattress and her back against the headboard, closing her eyes a moment as the tears welled up. Maybe her family had been right...she couldn’t take care of herself in the big, bad city. No...she could do it. She HAD to. Steeling her nerves, she stretched out once more in bed, the covers pulled up to her neck, with her back to the corner where the transfer unit was.
It wasn’t so much the popping sound that announced his presence, as much as the strange feeling that came over her. She could literally feel him walking into the room as if someone had just turned on a heat lamp. Frowning to herself, she murmured “Short of hanging a ‘closed for business’ sign on my bed, how can I get you people to stop bothering me!” Rolling over, with the phaser in hand, she stopped. She was pointing the gun at the most stunning man she had ever seen in her life. And he was stark naked in the middle of her bedroom. He was sleek, and lean, and muscular, but not in a modern sort of way. More like....a Greek statue. That was what he looked like to her. Without a doubt, he’d be a model any sculptor would kill to get as a subject.