Oh, stop thinking about sex. – Jump

Ten points if you can recognise the quote in the title.

If you write a book it may be the case that you have to face the prospect of writing a scene which is set in someone’s bedroom and may have allusions to matters of a sexual nature.

I thought a fair bit about how I was going to approach this scene and decided that discretion was the better part of valour, so I wrote the scene around a conversation about how the time machine works, which was handy because one of the characters is the physicist who invented it, the other is not a scientist in any way and so it has to be delivered in laymans terms, which is a useful way of writing it so the reader can get  a handle on it. Also so I could figure out, while I was writing, if it all seemed to make sense or not.

I did vaguely mention the fact that the two people may be partaking of exciting, personally gratifying activities, but being a bit of a prude myself I couldn’t bring myself to consider writing about the deed itself!

If you find it in any way titillating I do apologise!


The small lamp on the bedside table didn’t really cast enough light to read by, it was just bright enough to make everything look like it was in soft focus, which Emily considered was just as well. She was lying next to Michael, who had his hand across her stomach. The light covering of hair on his arm was tickling her, but she was quite enjoying the sensation so hadn’t attempted to move. She was absently surveying the room, while they were talking about whether it was a good idea to reveal what they had just done, obviously not in detail, to the other members of the team. They decided against it, on the grounds that it was probably best to be discreet until they actually knew what was going on with the team and the project.

They lapsed into a contented silence which Michael broke, asking if she would like anything else to eat, ‘No thanks, although I’m quite thirsty, I might get myself a drink of water.’ Michael was off the bed, into, then out of the kitchen before Emily had a chance to tell him not to worry and that she would get it herself. He apologised once again for the lack of appropriate crockery, handing her a pint glass three quarters full and placing another down on his own bedside table. After drinking enough to slake her thirst and watching him do likewise she asked, ‘What’s the tattoo?’

Michael craned his neck in a failed attempt to look at his shoulder blade, where there were numbers, mathematical characters and symbols which obviously denoted something. Although some of the characters were from languages she understood she had no idea what to make of the overall design. ‘Oh yes, I’d kind of forgotten about that. I got it when I was certain that my calculations were right. It’s the mathematics that run the Jump Box. Do you like it?’

Emily stared at the intricacies of the physical equation and was lost in thought for a while, ‘It’s amazing. Is that really what makes it work?’

‘Well, you obviously need the relevant hardware but without these numbers it couldn’t function. When I finished working on the equation I was impressed by how it looked. I’d always wanted a tattoo so I figured, why not? The other nice thing is that I have a dated photograph and a receipt from the place that did it. Which means that I can, at least, prove it was my discovery.’

‘I never knew physics was such a cutthroat world?’

‘It’s not really, I was just trying to give myself another excuse.’

‘Well I like it, you’re right it does have a certain symmetry, or maybe that’s not the right word, perhaps I mean elegance. You could put it on t-shirts and people would pay good money for it.’

Michael climbed back under the covers and Emily rested her head on his shoulder. ‘Probably wouldn’t be a bad idea, I suspect the equations will never be released though. I’m the only one who knows them in full. Celia has a fair idea but she’s more interested in the application and theory of the measurements. All I want is to make sure it works right.’

Emily moved her arm, took his right hand and suggested something unrelated to physics. They agreed the conversation had reached a suitable place to adjourn.





About Dan Ladle

Part Man, Part Machine, All Diabetic. 1 Wife, 1 Son, 1 Daughter, 1 Cat, 1 Insulin Pump, Type 1 Diabetic, Writer, Musician, Web-Monkey, Idiot. View all posts by Dan Ladle

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