August Moone
Timing is Everything
Chapter 9
Reunions

	One of the local Holiday Inns served as the location for the Class of 1980.  For being the middle of summer, the weather for the Flagstaff area was crappy.  One day was nice and warm, the following day Satan would be looking for someplace cooler, then the next it was the second coming of Noah.  
	August sat in his ride in the parking lot, a western tuxedo, new boots, fancy gold watch, manicure, trim, the whole nine yards.  The news of the town was still hot with the still unexplained disappearances of a county sheriff, the murder/killing of a helicopter pilot, and unexplained disappearances of an entire family.
	He didn’t know why but he had butterflies in his stomach, he felt nervous and at odds about attending the social gathering.  Something was amiss.  Something gnawed at him and he didn’t know what--or what to do about it--if anything.
	When the rain at last let up (some) he eased out of the panel and walked briskly to the hotel and paused just inside the corridor.  He still had that uneasy feeling and he didn’t like it.  He saw other peoples coming, going, and milling about listlessly.  It had been twenty years, people changed.  He recognized no one.  He wondered casually if the western cut cowboy tuxedo was a bit much…
	At length he made his way along following the signs Central High Class Reunion ‘80.  He was early, only a desk with nametags was out.  There was a sign-in book and a class year book.  Off to one side in a corner was a small open bar.  A lone pudgy Mexican manned it.  August got a Tom Collins then checked into the large room where the main shindig would take place.  A large open area for dancing and such, crystal ball, a mega stereo booth on a stage and a jillion tables scattered out in a large “U” shape.
	“Hi!” spoke up a voice from behind him.  He nearly came out of his suit.  ‘Son-of-a-bitch!’ he turned and there was a young woman he did not know, all smiles, curly red hair, well rounded face, some freckles (still), blazing eyes of fire, too much perfume, small-small chest.
	She had on a nametag with her high school picture--Kim Kopper.
	August searched his mind while focusing in on the picture and the woman who wore it.  Kim Kopper, she was one of the Twenty-four.  As he recalled she was not overly rude to him way back when, but not that friendly, either.  She ran with her own group and seldom acknowledged his presence.
	Regardless, she was on his List.
	She was way too chipper, and looked NOTHING like she did way back when.  But she was attractive, slim, perky, and thusly fackable.  Other schoolmates began to file in, August slipped away and leaned against the huge plate glass window looking out to the drenching rain sipping his Tom Collins.

	He watched carefully with scrutiny as five girls showed up, none of which he could recognize.  He began to doubt how this was all going to play out.  Until one of the unrecognized classmates made her way past him making for the restroom down the wide hall and around a corner.
	As she passed August nodded to her, smiling, and gave a quick eye to her just placed nametag.  Tammy.  Tammy Hewes.  Hmmmmm
	SHE had been the most kind to him during his tumultuous days of high school.  She had been friendly, very friendly, charming, but had never dated him.  She was flighty although flirty.  He had desired her then and he desired her now.  As soon as she turned the corner at the end of the hall he quickly made his way, too.
	The women’s restroom was at the far end of the private corner, the men’s was directly before him.  A bank of candy machines, cigarettes, and phones were here, too.  A man and a woman were utilizing the phones.  Someone else fussed with getting candy out of the multi choice candy machine.
	August pretended to use a phone at the far end of the phone bank, but instead used his Device Item 0110.  There was little to indicate if what he hoped was happening -- was.  He firstly had to waste precious time testing; clicking his fingers, coughing, dropping some change.  Those about noticed these things but apparently did not “see” him.  This was a good thing.  It meant that he was indeed “invisible” to their sight.
	He now made his way to the women’s bathroom.
	He hoped beyond hopes that his brain wave pattern was instilling enough power to make his body aura warble--thusly enacting self imposed invisibility without capturing the intended victim, Tammy Hewes.  She was already in a private stall.  Two other stalls were in “use” as well.
	He peeked into the thru the door cracks.  No one screamed so he assumed that for now (for now) he was safely still invisible.  But that notion was about to be seriously checked as he went to initiate another program initiative.  He knew that with his own laptop that instructing and running too many programs at one time sometimes caused a conflict and thusly an emergency shut-down.
	He risked it.
	He waited and peeked into the stall of Tammy.  She remained sitting on the toilet, panties at her knees, red tartan skirt hiked up, knees together, pretty eyes of blue closed seemingly in deep concentration.  According to the Device her brain wave was directly below his own.  From what he knew about such things she was his.
	He dared not risk too much so he didn’t have her open the door herself, he crawled under instead.  As she did not freak out at this intrusion he safely guessed that “this was a good thing.”
	Out of his tux slacks he eased his schlong and rubbed it against her pretty face.  For the most part she DID look like herself, that was a good thing.  Into her mouth he popped his organ and rocked there for several minutes until shooting a nice load of hot spunk.
	He then pulled her pink nylon panties off and eased her butt to the edge of the toilet whereupon he worked her legs up his body and began a serious bout of fingering her pussy.  Naturally she was not a virgin, she was married.  But he fingered her just the same then took a turn at diddling her bung hole; he was pleased to find that it was very “giving.”
	He paid no attention to the comings and goings of the other users of the bathroom, he turned the hapless Tammy about and re-positioned her over the toilet and took a quick turn at buggering her asshole.  When done he wiped her pussy and asshole with her undies and tucked them into his vest pocket.
	That was One, only twenty-three more bitches to go!

					*****

	It took a while but he finally managed to sideline his main Subject Objective.  She wasn’t the most popular, certainly not the most attractive, or beheld many of the other redeeming values that send August’s cock to surging and balls a-cinching.  But, he had had a slight crush on her during their school years, he knew her sine the 7th grade, she was originally from Texas, daughter of a Baptist minister.  She was semi-cute, serious feathered hair, a member of the school choir, long and tall and damn nice.
	He had always wanted to bone her, but she hung with other friends and August could only assume that those boys whom he didn’t like and they didn’t like him were tagging her.  Twenty years hadn’t changed, not much.  She was still cute, damn cute.  Long super curly hair, a sweet smile, still popular with her clutch friends, putting on the persona that she was “all that.”
	It wasn’t until after the dinner portion of the reunion did August manage to waylay the bitch, sideline her and “direct” her to go outside and make for his ride.  Once there she was laid out on the inside whereupon he quickly closed the door and laid on her.
	A few deep tongue kisses and then right to the fondling.  She wore a semi-party dress, knee length, checkered green and white with a few lacey frills.  She smelled wondrous.  Her legs went up and panties came off.  He found a little “string” dangling from her cunny--he mulled it over, thought twice, massaged his cock then asked, “Do you care?” to wit his cock pulsed and indicated that it did NOT care that the bitch of his dreams was on the rag.
	He nailed just because.  Stripped her naked, photographed her, spanked her, then buggered her in the infamous doggie-style position.  When done with her he collected her undies, wiped her poon and backdoor and deposited the soiled garment along with the ten other pairs he had so far acquired.
	She was returned to the reunion and August continued searching for the remaining conquests.

	Stephanie Harp.  He fondly recalled her during their high school days, she was another who was at least kind to him, acknowledged his presence, was cordial and friendly.  But they never dated.  She was far too pretty for the likes of him to be seen with.  She did admired his ability to write--back in his high school days he was a writer, posing pieces of prose and poetry and speaking for the school during social events in far away places.  (Speech & Debate.)
	She recognized him and out of most of the class she was the one who actually retained most of what she looked like way back when.  She was still reserved, semi shy, still damn cute, though.  And was standing alone drinking a beer by the reunion ball room entrance.  A long red shiny dress, wedding ring, nice ass, great tits.
	August came up to her and chatted, smiled, drank her in, and zapped her easily as no one was out in the outer hall.  It was pouring rain so he nixed making a run out to his truck, he misguided the zombiefied interest to a side store room and balled her good.  He didn’t strip her down, her dress outfit was too complicated for that.  But he moved it up and panties down (and off.)  there after he banged her silly and found her backdoor just as fuckable  as the front.  She was a mother of three and wife of one.
	She was another conquest and August stuffed her undies into his pocket.  His cock was getting tired and not sure if it could go on.  There were still several bitches yet to “encounter.”  he rested a bit, downed another Tom Collins then waylaid Denise, Carla, and Wendy.
	One by one the bitches fell to his willing desires.  Some shagged in the store room, some in their own bathroom--nothing was sacred.  Some were escorted out to his truck regardless of the pouring rain.  Shawnra & Leisha he got as a two-fer.  And was quite pleased to learn that they were “lovers.”  they were already hot for one another and didn’t mind tongue lashing one another poons.  August fucked their assholes and the girls willingly cleaned them, sucked his balls and were very dirty.
	Donna was having an on-going sexual affair with best friend Trela’s husband; Claudia was in re-hab for drinking and drugs; Brenda was an ex-con--ten years state pen for stealing, selling stolen merchandise, and prostitution.  Julie was a nuclear physicist and into child porn.  Vicky and Lisa were lesbians (but their husbands didn’t know it…)
	August was more than gleeful.  His Device was now seemed to have the wondrous ability to glean information from his Victims--he could Ask a Question and they seemed to very willingly provide the Answer!  It made screwing them all the better!
	Of the male members of his group he wondered who among them were equally hiding something--who were perverts, child molesters, rapists, murderers, thieves, ex-cons.  A assumed a few of them were, he didn’t know the whole male class and didn’t care to.  
	His last conquest for the reunion nite was Mary.  Mary Cambick; who became so drunk and wasted that by midnight most of the male members of the class of ‘80 had fucked her at least once.
	August took his turn then took his leave.
					****

	He was still plagued with that though he did enjoy sinking his bone into the Twenty-four, he would have preferred doing so back when they were in high school.  Now there was not so much of a conquest.  They were far prettier back then, and younger.
	The Device remained “on” and August wondered how long that would last.  He wondered if it was a problem, would it overheat, would it finally shut-down and never turn back on, again?
	Deciphering the Device’s intricate idiosyncrasies was a notable (and futile) attempt.  It was a virtual crap shoot.  Sometimes it “just happened” that something of note would come to light, sometimes he managed to make sense of regardless.
	And sometimes the damn thing would just do it!
	He had to assume that on those occasions that it was a “time-thing.”  The programming of the Device “released” its programming intermittently for some unknown reason.  Too much of a good thing all at once?
	The following day AFTER the reunion fiasco shindig August noted that the Device Item 0110 was still “running.”  He felt of it--for overheating purposes--and found that it was still relatively cool to the touch.  There was a slight “hum” to be heard and a new Program Line had been decrypted.
	“Elementa Time Sequential”
	It still didn’t make much sense despite the fact that he could now read it.  1) More than 100 chemical elements-substances that cannot be decomposed or broken into more elementary substances by ordinary chemical means-are known to exist in the universe. However, several of these elements, such as the so-called transuranium elements,have not been found in nature and can only be produced artificially
	2)  Time Is, Time Was, Time Past;  Time & Tide Waits for No Man
	      A particular time notable for its distinctive characteristics. Often   		      used in plural: age, day, epoch, era, period.
	      NOUN: TIME, duration; period, term, stage, space, tide,      	                  	      span, spell, season; the whole time, the whole period.
	3)   Following one after another in an orderly pattern: consecutive,    	     	      sequent, serial, subsequent, successional, successive.
                Any measurement of time is ultimately based on counting the cycles of some regularly recurring phenomenon and accurately measuring fractions of that cycle. The earth rotates on its axis at a very nearly constant rate, and the angular positions of celestial bodies can be determined with great precision.

	On the command board (along with the QWERTY board input) there were odd shapes with symbols.  These August Moone had strongly resisted messing with lest he get into something he knew nothing about.
	(like that had stopped before…)
	There had always been (from the beginning) five of these symbols illuminated--now there were as many as a dozen more.  Carefully he traced down these symbols, making small notes, mental notes as to their placement, time of being, characteristics, everything.  He studied the symbols and did nothing for several days.  Several.  He determined at length the symbols had a purpose.  Just exactly what still eluded him.
	He noted that there were Circles, Triangles, Squares, Boxes (cubes) and variations of the four with small minute intricate designs to each one.  He searched intently for a pattern; and found one.  They were not in a particular order, but of the Blue Field there were Five Circles with various designs.  In the Red, Yellow, Orange, and Green there were the same Five Circles.  Close-close scrutiny did reveal that the Circles all beheld the same minute intricate designs.
	So was said of the Triangles, Squares, and Box-Cubes.
	There was some significance to this.  A mathematical significance.  August Moone was NOT a mathematical significant genius.  He mulled, contemplated, considered, re-considered, thought, hummed, talked to himself, and called for a pizza.
	One Hawaiian-Pepperoni pizza and a six pack of Bud Light later…
	He noted no sound of any kind when pressing the Green Triangle with what looked like a Cat’s Tail curled while dangling.  He found the same-like symbol in the Blue, Red, Yellow, Orange field and pressed them as well in sequence.
	Voila!
	In the Command Prompt registry screen:  DESTINATION?
	This was a beginning.	
	To what?  To where?
	This was going to require thought.  And lots of it.  It required another pizza and another six pack.  Followed by a walk in the rain.  Destination?  He was just a little more perplexed.  What did it mean?  What COULD it mean?  Or did it mean anything at all?
	Well, of COURSE it meant something--but what?
	Destination.  He could only sigh, eat pizza and drink beer.  And since he was out walking in the rain he eat his pizza and drank his beer inside a local pizzeria.  Casually he observed the kiddies, the young adult females, strongly observed the young in the bathroom while the two made use of the pisser.  But did nothing more--his mind consumed with DESTINATION?
	While slurping down his third beer he was privy to overhear a convo going on behind him:  “Man, if I could go back to my old high school…”
	August heard no more of the conversation.  He didn’t need to.
	His mind went into a whir (and a blur) as he stumbled out of the pizzeria and nearly had to swim his way back to his new humble abode.  “Man, if I could go back to my old high school.” the words burned into him.  His sentiments exactly.  His 20 yr reunion had been a good thing, but he longed to have his way with the 24 (and then some) while they were still IN high school.
	Time.  Could it be possible?  Time.  Why would it ask such a thing?  Time.  It was foolish, a foolish notion; not possible.  Time.  But then, yet again, the Device HAD proven itself to be more than anything August could possibly conceive.  Time.  What a concept.  Was it possible?
	He took a shower, a hot one then a cold one then a hot one again.
	Out on his bed butt naked for a good hour before he sat up and brought his attention back to the Governmental Issue Device Item 0110.  His eyes lingered over the wondrous object, his fingers resting on the QWERTY style keyboard.  With lips pursed, a big sigh, carefully he began inputting:  Central High School, Flagstaff, Arizona.
	Which thereupon there came yet another surprising prompt:  YEAR?
	A more substantial gulp followed by a long-long pause.
	Then he typed in--1980.
	In the Command Prompt screen:  Central High School, Flagstaff, Arizona, 1980 A.D.  Y/N?
	August gulped yet again and pressed the appropriate alphabet letter (Y).  To wit the screen blanked out to be replaced by:  PRESS ENTER WHEN READY.
	August was more befuddled than ever.
	What the fuck?  What the fuck did THAT mean?  What he assumed he shook his head to.  It wasn’t possible.  Sure the Device was a marvelous invention, sure it could manipulate another person’s mind, make him invisible, and so on and so forth--but Time Travel?  That was a bit much.
	But then again…
	Semi excitedly, a lot concerned (for his welfare) he clenched up and pressed the pulsating gray ENTER sensory touch button.