Writer's Retweet

by Piers Anthony

  The men continued working, efficiently cleaning up the yard. But they saw everything, pretending they saw nothing. What a deal!

  The girls finished their shower, splendidly shook themselves off, and toweled each other dry. Then they started dressing. They put on their panties. The brunette put on her bra, filling it well, fastening it in front. The blonde's bra hooked in back.

  "Pause," the guard murmured. The men stopped working and just looked. The girls, it seemed, did not see them at all.

  The blonde glanced at the guard, and faintly nodded. Then she struggled to hook her bra behind her, but kept missing the connection.

  The guard looked at the biggest prisoner, nodding to the girl. "Tie that loose vine."

  Amazed, the prisoner just stood there.

  "Now."

  The prisoner dropped weed cutter and gloves and walked to the blonde, who remained facing away from him, struggling with her bra. He took the two ends of the bra straps, brought them together, and hooked them. The loose vine had been tied. He stepped back.

  The girl turned around. Wordlessly she stepped forward, kissed the prisoner on the cheek, and turned quickly away, blushing.

  "Resume," the guard said. The prisoners resumed their work, including the biggest, toughest one, who seemed to be in a daze. By the time the girls completed their dressing and primping, the men had finished cleaning up the yard. Both jobs looked very good.

  "Move out," the guard said. "Remember, we saw nothing. We just did our dull routine job." The prison crew moved out.

  "Maybe we can do it again sometime," the blonde said to the brunette, loud enough to be heard. "Though we saw nothing."

  "Maybe we can," the brunette agreed. "This yard looks just perfect!" The two of them stood there admiring the yard.

  The prisoners smiled as they returned to the street and resumed their work there. They knew what looked perfect. No one spoke of the incident on Dull Street, but thereafter the new guard had no trouble with the men. They understood each other. There had been no open deal. No one had seen anything. Even the kiss had not been stolen, but given as appreciation.

  The reporter pondered the matter. He realized that nothing could be gained by blowing this whistle. A guard might be fired. Prisoners might be restricted. Two girls might be perpetually grounded. And for what? Nothing had happened, really, had it?

  All he could do, maybe, was write it up as fiction, with a far-away setting. An incident that never happened. Who would believe it?

  “Forbidd

  en Fruit”

  This commences Tweet Story #5, titled "Forbidden Fruit."

  Edith was a 50 year old divorcee, reasonably set financially, but unsatisfied. She had lost her husband to a woman half her age. She knew that was the way men were, hopelessly superficial, always with eyes on youth instead of maturity. But still it irked her.

  She had moved to this apartment complex, but had not yet gotten acquainted with the other inhabitants, not even those on her floor. The prior occupant of this suite had cleared out all her things, but overlooked one: an odd fruit in a drawer of the refrigerator. Edith would have returned it to her, but the woman had departed for parts unknown. Uncertain what to do with it, she let it be.

  Until one day she discovered that the fruit was sprouting. It was roughly cubical, and the sprout was square in cross section. Curious, she took the fruit out and studied it more closely. It was striped with red and green bands and the growing stem was gray.

  She put it in a pot with good moist soil, by a window with morning sunlight, and it grew rapidly. The leaves were square and blue. Edith tried to research the fruit and plant, but could find nothing even close. It seemed to be one of a quite unusual kind.

  In a week it was about two feet tall and well filled out with branches and leaves. She was amazed by the velocity of its growth. Then it flowered, and that was another surprise. The blooms were cubic and black. She waited for the first one to open. It didn't. It just sat there, a glossy cube about an inch on a side, hiding whatever was inside. What was it waiting for? An invitation?

  There was no smell, no indication. It was a locked locket, secret. Finally Edith extended a forefinger cautiously and touched it. Then the flower opened explosively, releasing a small cloud of purple vapor. Edith accidentally breathed it. And paused, amazed.

  Because suddenly she had a phenomenal new awareness. She could see around corners. She could hear the faint thoughts of neighbors. Her feet lifted from the floor. She could float and fly! She could move objects merely by looking at them and willing the motion. She tried it with a heavy couch. It rose an inch, moved, and settled down a little to the side. She had telepathy and telekinesis!

  Did she really? She went to the couch and checked. It was definitely in a new place; she saw the old marks of its feet on the floor. Maybe these were psionic powers, super science or magnetism or whatnot. Mind control of physical things. But it seemed like magic.

  Or was she hallucinating? That seemed far more likely. She needed a more objective judgment. But there was no one else to ask. So she continued to experiment. She became invisible, including her clothing. She walked through a wall, ghost-like. What next?

  Then she got a wicked idea. She made herself half her age. Suddenly her dress was loose about her waist and tight about her chest. Edith looked in the large bathroom mirror. Then she stripped naked and looked again. She was definitely a healthy 25 year old woman. She turned in place, admiring her well-formed breasts and her firm shapely buttocks and her nicely fleshed thighs. Wow! Perfection!

  Unless it was just her foolish imagination. She just had to have the input of another person, who had not breathed the purple vapor. Well, why not? She walked through the door without opening it and down the hall to the apartment of her handsome young neighbor.

  The plaque on the door said KENT. She knocked. In a moment the door opened. Kent stood there, staring without speaking.

  Then Edith realized that she had not dressed again, after the mirror. She was flashing him with a perfect nude 25 year old woman.

  Well, in for a nickel, in for a dime. "Hello," she said. "I think I need a friend."

  "I didn't know Edith had a daughter!" he said.

  Oops! He recognized the resemblance. Her face had not changed as much as her body. "I'm not exactly that," she said cautiously. Meanwhile she was thrilled to verify that he did see her, and saw her as young not middle aged, and that they could interact. So the magic was real; it was not her personal hallucination. Not imagination. He had just alleviated her most worrisome doubt.

  "Oh, her niece?" he asked. Edith grasped at that. "Yes. I'm—Eden. Visiting for a few days." Because he'd never believe the truth.

  "But you're naked!"

  Edith thought fast. "Yes. That's why I need help. I was going to take a shower, but stepped out the wrong door." Would he buy that story?

  “And got stranded without the key," he said.

  He was accepting it! "Yes. It's awkward. Could I come in?"

  "Of course," he said. He opened the door wide, and she stepped into his apartment. "Let me get you a robe." He hurried off.

  Edith breathed a silent sigh of relief. Not only was she verifying the reality of the magic, she was learning Kent was a nice guy.

  He returned in a moment with a somewhat scruffy bathrobe. "Sorry—this is all I've got."

  "It's fine," she said, putting it on.

  "Can I get you something to drink?" He paused, embarrassed. "Like water?"

  Edith did a quick assessment. Was he coming on to her? More important: was she interested? She knew what healthy 25 year old women did. They captured the interest and passion of men. Now she was one of those sirens. Why shouldn't she enjoy the perquisites? Also, she was curious about the limits of this conversion. Could this body perform the way it promised?

  There was one way to find out. "Do you have wine?" That was a fairly open invitation.

  Kent jumped to oblige. He fetched two glasses and a bottle of cheap wi
ne: what he could afford. He poured it out and proffered one.

  She took it. "Thank you," she said, smiling fetchingly. "You are most hospitable." And realized that she was speaking her real age. A young woman would be far less formal. "I mean, cheers." She lifted her glass to him, then sipped. He matched her, mesmerized.

  She realized that even though he was young and handsome, he probably did not get many really nice dates, because he wasn't rich. She could be a really nice date. She wasn't rich either, but she was comfortable. What she lacked was adventure and romance. And here it was. She had but to grasp it. If it didn't work out, what had she lost? Something she had not thought to have anyway.

  "Uh, are you single?" he asked. He was eager yet hesitant, which meant she could control this relationship. She liked that also.

  "I am single," she agreed. "But maybe not exactly what I may appear to be." She didn't want to lie outright, so was purposely vague.

  "You look like the woman of my dreams."

  Oh, great! She smiled, letting the bathrobe fall open slightly. She saw his pupils dilate. Oh, it was fun being 25! Having the wherewithal to fascinate a man in an instant. What phenomenal power! She took a deep breath.

  Kent seemed about to faint. He licked his lips, his gaze locked. It was time. "Kiss me," she said, standing, not closing the robe.

  He didn't hesitate. Ah the impetuosity of youth! He enfolded her and kissed her. The kiss was amateur but nevertheless electrifying. Because his unfeigned ardor was a potent turn-on for her too. In her marriage sex had become routine, then unsatisfying, then rare. She knew exactly how to do it, but the excitement had dissipated. Yet this seduction, with Kent, was daring, new, and exciting.

  After a brief eternity it ended. He drew back a bit and gazed into her eyes. "Oh, Eden, I don't know you, but I think I love you."

  She laughed. "If that's what you tell all the girls you date, it's effective." She was pretty sure it wasn't a line; he was serious.

  "You're just so great!" He took a breath. "I can't help myself. I've got to have more of you, Eden. Tell me to quit and I will."

  Edith knew she should tell him the truth, now, before they went further. But either he would not believe her, so what was the point? Or he would believe her, and be turned off, and she would lose her chance to put this marvelous body through its ultimate paces. So she was silent. After all, "Eden" was supposed to be here only for a few days. She could disappear without awkward complications.

  Kent kissed her again, and again it was electric. This young body of hers reacted much more powerfully to stimuli than her own did. Soon they were both naked on his unmade bed, and he was all over her, kissing all over. She did not protest. In fact she cooperated.

  Then he paused. "Last chance, Eden. Tell me to leave off."

  "No," she whispered.

  "Is that no don't do it?"

  "No."

  "You sure?"

  "Yes."

  Then they were in the throes of it, and it was every bit as wonderful as she had dared to hope. This body definitely was for real.

  "Now I know I love you," he said as they lay beside each other on the bed. "You really ring my bell, Eden."

  She squeezed his hand. "I'm a belle," she agreed. "I love you too, in my fashion. But—" Could she actually tell him the truth now? If not now, when?

  Then she became aware of something else, awful. The magic was fading! Like Cinderella, she had to get out of here immediately. “But I must go," she said, scrambling to her feet. "You're perfect, it's been great, but I've got to get to the—the bathroom now."

  "But you can't get in without your key," he protested. "You can use mine."

  But she was already barging out into the hall, desperate. She ran to her door while he was still scrambling into his clothes. Then his words sank in: she couldn't get in to her apartment. She was about to become a middle aged woman, naked in the hall. She had not escaped embarrassing discovery; she had made it worse.

  Then she suffered a flash of near genius. With the last of her dissipating magic she conjured her clothing from the bathroom floor. Her key was in her dress. Now she could open the door, get inside, and collapse in relieved reversion. But there was a problem.

  In her haste she had gotten details of the conjuration wrong. She had her clothing, and her key, but the devil lay in those details. Her dress was on backward. Under it her panties were wrapped around her chest and her bra was supporting her buttocks. Ouch!

  Then Kent barreled out of his apartment, buttoning his shirt. Edith was still fumbling for her key. It was too late to escape.

  She got another flash. She faced Kent. "Have you seen my niece?" she asked him. "She disappeared, and I can't find her anywhere."

  "I—I—" he said, flustered.

  "She's so impulsive!" Edith said. "She must have wandered away, yet her clothing remains here."

  "I—I may have seen her," he stammered. "But she left. I—I really want to see her again."

  Edith seized the initiative. "And?"

  "And we kissed," he said. "I think I love her."

  "You kissed her?" she demanded. "You say you love her? You don't even know her!"

  "It's crazy, I know. But she's my dream woman. I've got to find her. Please, if you have any idea—" He broke off, observing her. "What happened to you, Ms. Edith? You look as if you were mugged. Your clothing is all fouled up. Were you—were you raped?"

  "No, of course not. I just—" But how could she ever explain? She knew she was a frightful sight.

  "This is weird," Kent said. "First Eden runs this way, and now here you are, all messed up. Did you collide with her?"

  "Something like that, maybe," she said. He was starting to catch on. He wasn't stupid. Ordinarily she would have liked that too. "Kent, I think we must seriously talk."

  "You bet," he agreed grimly. "Your place or mine?"

  That made her pause. His place had the open bed. Her place had the magic plant. "My place," she decided. "Just give me a moment to put myself in order."

  In due course they were seated in her petite living room. "It began with the strange fruit," she said. "I found it in the refrigerator, and when it sprouted I planted it out of curiosity."

  "Forbidden fruit," he said.

  "Yes, perhaps. It grew rapidly and flowered, and when I sniffed a bloom, it gave me magic for a while."

  "Magic?"

  "This is where it becomes difficult to believe," she said. "Suddenly I could fly, and move objects with my mind, and—"

  "And turn twenty five?"

  "Yes. But I feared it was just my imagination, so I walked through the door and looked you up. To verify."

  "Eden is you?"

  "Yes. I didn't like deceiving you; I just wanted to be sure that I really was young again. Then I got carried away."

  "So did I," Kent said. "Eden was such a lovely creature, and somehow she knew how to push my buttons. I still think I love her."

  "Until this moment," Edith said. "Now you know she's not real."

  He shook his head. "She is real. Just not in the way I thought."

  "But she has no separate identity. She's just me as I wish I could be." She sighed. "If I could have gotten away cleanly I'd have—"

  "You'd have what?" he asked.

  "I'd have sniffed the next bloom tomorrow and visited you again as Eden. I really enjoyed our tryst." There. She had said it. How would he react?

  "As Eden," he echoed.

  "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be a cougar. I acted impulsively."

  "As Eden," he repeated.

  "Yes," she said. "I'm just so hungry for meaningful interaction, especially of the romantic variety."

  "Even the sex?"

  "Especially the sex. That young body is alive. I enjoyed it as much as you did, I'm sure. I would have continued."

  He was silent. How was he reacting? She decided to go for broke. "And I would still do it, if you accede. Tell me to quit."

  Finally he spoke. "I'll be blunt. It's Eden I
want, not a cougar. You will do for a friend, not a lover. That may be shallow of me. But it's the way I am."

  "But you can't have Eden without knowing that mentally she's a middle aged woman. Can you stand that?"

  "If you can handle my wanting your young body, I can handle your mature mind."

  "I'll be darned," she said. "You really don't care what's in a woman's head as long as her body looks good?"

  "Did you care what was in my head as long as my body was yours?"

  "Touché!" They both laughed.

  "But it's not quite as simple as that," he continued. "Eden is you, and my knowing that doesn't make her suddenly less attractive. What I knew of her was you. I fell in love with that aspect of you. Without you she would be less."

  "I'll be darned," Edith repeated. "Well, come here tomorrow and watch me change. Then do me if you still want to. I'm willing."

  "You're on! I'm really curious about that plant, now, too."

  "Well, come see it now." She took him into the kitchen where it was.

  "It's an odd one," Kent said. "It must be from an alien world."

  "Maybe so," she agreed. "But how did it get in my refrigerator?"

  "Somebody must have put it there."

  "But where did she get it?"

  "No, I mean someone else. Put it there for you to find. To plant."

  "Put there for me to find," she repeated, awed. "Maybe that makes more sense. But why would anyone waste such a treasure on me?"

  "Maybe he has dozens of them, so they're cheap, for him." He paused to look at her. "Maybe he wants artificial young women."

  Edith mulled that over, intrigued. "Who would do anything he wanted, just to be young again. A stable of eager captive mistresses."

  "It's the way men think," Kent said.

  "But suppose a man rented the apartment?" she asked.

  "Well, some men like men," he said.

  She shook her head. "There are many ways to buy men and women, far simpler than this. It must be something else."

  "I suppose so. But there must be a price. You might not like that price, when the fruitier comes."

  She shuddered. "That scares me."