Test Drive Meme #2

[proximods]

You wake up in a closet. It's a nice enough one, clearly owned by someone with a large bedroom and too many clothes. There's a dim light on but no switch to make it brighter. As your eyes adjust and you come to the realization that this is probably not a dream, you notice you aren't alone. Locked in the closet with you is (at least) one other person who seems just as confused and disoriented as yourself.

On the door, you can both see a list with a possibly familiar title and a familiar set of rules; Seven Minutes In Heaven. The door will be locked for a probably very long seven minutes and it will not open no matter how much you try to force it. In the closet air is a hefty dose of aphrodisiacs that might be clouding your normal judgement. The longer you wait, the more you want to give in to the game.

Will they really let you out when the seven minutes are done? Or will the countdown start all over again until you consent? Only waiting will tell.

EDIT: Aphrodisiacs are OPTIONAL, not required. Also feel free to make your own scenarios, themes are merely for those wanting an idea.

Comments

[mostlyred]

I don't know, I mean... I'd hate to see you get bored around here. It's kind of my job to keep you on your toes.

Besides, they're like perfect training dummies. [No, Natasha. No they're not.]

[americanclassic]

[The look he gave her was flat and full of 'no'.]

Natasha... don't even think about it.

[mostlyred]

What? I wasn't.

[A soft sigh escapes as she scrolls back through the tablet. Clearly Steve wasn't gonna be any fun. She had time.]

I think the groceries should be here soon.

[Ha, groceries... Liquid groceries that fully support healthy coping with awful situations.]

[americanclassic]

Why do I get the feeling you're lying? Oh, right, because you are.

[He was wise to you, Nat. But he scoffed at the mention of groceries, almost afraid to ever look in her kitchen.]

[mostlyred]

Who, me?

[And her kitchen isn't in question right now. Honestly, it's mostly empty considering she was never home save for some non-perishables. Something told her her kitchen here would probably be close to the same.

Almost as if on cue, his tablet lights up. She doesn't miss a beat passing it over to him.]

[americanclassic]

[His look was answer enough. Yes, Natasha. You.

But the tablet blipped and he gave her a stern look before going over to the door, opening it and paying for her 'groceries' before accepting them and closing and locking the door and lifting the bag at her.]

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