Finding her way

Christine sprinted across the bridge, dodging around pedestrians. Mostly she wanted to catch up with the girl, who despite apparently walking somehow managed to stay ahead of her the whole time, but she was also trying to get away from everyone who was seeing her naked.

On the other side of the river was the entrance to an underground station, and next to the door was a stack of free newspapers. Christine grabbed one, opened it up wide, and wrapped it around her body. It was not quite tall enough to cover her crotch and breasts, nor wrap around to her backside. The best she could do was turn it sideways, cover her front, but still with a bare rear end.

Slightly more covered, flimsy though it may be, Christine looked around just in time to see the girl turn a corner ahead.

She ran after her, round the corner, and straight into a pair of female police officers. They stood in front of her, looking her up and down.

"Hello," said one, a petite dark-haired woman, "what's going on with you, then?"

"Oh, it's quite hard to explain." Christine stammered. She could still see the girl, who was apparently looking for a particular building.

"Where did your clothes go, then?" the second officer, a younger blonde woman, asked.

"They got taken off me, in New York."

"You got a plane over here from America, starkers?"

"No, of course not! Look, I've got to go." she could see the girl stop in front of a house, and start making some mystical gestures at the door.

"Miss?" Christine turned her attention back to the police officers as the first one spoke again, "I think you should come with us and we'll see if we can find you something to wear."

"Oh, I'd love to, really," Christine said, watching the girl enter the house and with her, any chance of getting a quick way back home, "but there's somewhere I really have to be."

"Oh, yeah? Where's that?"

Christine looked around, realising the universal urge everyone feels to take a look whenever someone gets stopped by the police. And that seemed to go at least double if the person being stopped was an attractive woman with a firm peachy backside poking out from a flimsy sheet of newspaper.

"You wouldn't believe me." Christine smiled slightly through her blushes.

"No?" the blonde officer took out a notebook, "Well, let's have something we would believe, starting with your name."

"It's, er, it's..." Christine realised she had ****. She could not get herself stuck in a foreign country with no money, no ID, and most of all no clothes. Despite the gathering crowd around her, she whipped off the newspaper from around her body and flung it at the officer's face. With her distracted, Christine ran off down the road.

She skidded to a halt in front of the house the girl had gone into, a terraced redbrick building with a large circular attic window which displayed an interesting spiderweb design on the frame. The door still hung open. Christine jogged inside, glad to be away from the staring eyes of the bystanders.

The house was ornately decorated, but apparently empty.

"H... Hello?" Christine called, relucant to attract any attention to her but wanting some help, although then second-guesing again in case the girl answered her. But there was no sound.

Christine pushed open the closest door, which led to a reception room, also empty. She padded across the thick carpet, a relief to her bare feet after a lot of pavement. Despite the decorations in the room, there did not seem to be a blanket or a throw or anything that she could cover herself with. A door in the side wall was slightly open, so she headed towards it.

As Christine opened the door fully she found herself being pulled forwards as if by a vacuum, her feet left the floor and she was flying forwards, a familiar shower of orange sparks around her.

Christine fell, now pulled by gravity towards the ground instead, and suddenly she was very wet.

Christine splashed about for a few seconds, trying to figure out where she was. There were a few flashes of colour. Her hands found something solid, realised it was glass, found a top edge, pulled herself up.

Soaking wet, pushing her limp hair out of her eyes, Christine sat up in what she realised was a large fishtank she had been dumped in. She was in the middle of a completely different city, and it was night now. She was in the window of a restaurant, packed with people, who all turned to her to see what was going on. All the people, with the exception of one or two, appeared to be Chinese.

"What the hell?!" Christine cried out.