Her eyes got bigger as she tried to comprehend the situation.
“It wasn’t so bad, really. They make you do busy work and stuff. Those people you see out on the highway picking up trash? The ones in the orange vests? That was us. It wasn’t so bad.”
“Do they keep you behind actual bars?”
“There were bars on the windows. I mean, they locked us in our cells at night. They always had guards watching us.”
Her eyes were still awful big, trying to imagine what it must have been like. “So what are you going to do now?”
“First thing, I’m trying to hook up with my cellmate. She got out a couple weeks ago. That’s why I wanted to see Sophie, I thought she might be staying with her.”
“Was she a friend of hers?”
“No, but she needed a place to stay. I wrote Sophie a letter, asking if she could stay with her for a bit. But I guess she never got it.”
Sharon wrinkled her brow, trying to sort it all out. “Well, she must be staying somewhere else then.”
“Yeah. I tried a couple places today, but she wasn’t there either. She must be someplace, though.”
“So you and her are like . . .”
“Yeah. I guess you’d say so.”
She nodded. The situation was becoming a little clearer. I noticed, though, that her eyes were getting droopy. She must have had a long day.
“You must be tired,” I said.
She didn’t deny it.
“Why don’t you just go to bed then. Don’t mind me. I’ll be all right.”
“I’ll make up the couch for you.” She went and got some sheets. That’s what people do, I guess, when someone stays over. But it just seemed so . . . lonely. Her little apartment, her little couch . . .
“No need to go to all that trouble,” I said. I took the sheets from her. “At the Facility you get kind of used to sharing a bed.”
She wasn’t exactly sure what to make of that. I put the sheets down and went into her bedroom. The dresser was all cluttered with stuff, the bed unmade, her work clothes scattered on top. She snatched them up and put them on the hamper.
“It’ll be cozier this way,” I said. “OK?” I swear to God that all I was thinking was that it would be like it had been with Dolores, the two of us just sleeping together in the same bed.
She still wasn’t exactly sure, though. I started to undress. I’d sort of gotten used to not wearing underwear, so it didn’t take me very long. She cautiously undid the sash of her robe. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath either. She was a little embarrassed. We’d never seen each other naked before.
She had a little extra padding about her hips and tummy. Waitressing must not give you the best type of exercise. Her breasts were nice, though, full without being droopy, with perky nipples, the kind that just naturally call attention to themselves. Her pussy wasn’t shaved. I was a little surprised. I’d seen my share of unshaven pussies at the Facility, but somehow I had it in my mind that women on the outside mostly all shaved down there these days.
We got into bed. She looked at me, timidly, but not shrinkingly. My heart went out to her. I thought again about what a good friend she’d always been. She deserved better than this loneliness. I put my arm around her and pulled her into a little good-night hug. Her skin was soft and fresh from her shower. Even though we were just going to be sleeping together, my cock perked up and pressed itself against her thigh.
OK. I guess it was pretty naive of me to think that the only thing on her mind after I’d gotten her to take her clothes off and get into bed with me would be sleeping. It was just that that was the way it had been at the Facility, and I’d gotten kind of used to it.
Up until now our relationship had always been platonic and cousinly. But now it must have seemed to her that something had changed on my part; that somehow I now had needs that had to be met, and that I’d come to her to get them taken care of.
That wasn’t it at all, of course, but, nevertheless, there I was, holding her in my arms, my cock pressing ever more firmly against her thigh. It wasn’t like she was doing anything to move things along. Well, except for being there, for letting her soft, fresh skin lie against mine, for giving my cock a thigh to press ever more firmly against.
It had gotten to the point that it would have been pretty rude of me to pull away. What was I going to tell her? My bad? I thought you were somebody else?
Fuck it. Why couldn’t I just cherish her, the way she deserved to be cherished. Why couldn’t two people just shut out the loneliness, for this one night at least.
I kissed her forehead. She looked up, slowly, still timidly, but letting me see that she was there for me in whatever way I wanted. I stroked her cheek with my thumb. I kissed her gently on the lips.
I ran my hand over her shoulder, down her arm, over her hip. I cupped her breast, petting it gently with my fingers, touching her nipple gently with my palm. I kissed her again, and this time she kissed me back.
OK. So there’s certain rules that cannot be overlooked. I disentangled myself enough to reach over and fish out a condom from my pants on the floor. “Courtesy of the County,” I told her.
She blushed. “You don’t really need it,” she said, shyly.
“Probably better if we do, though. Just to be on the safe side.”
I put the thing on and stretched back alongside her. I ran my hand along her arm and hip. I wove my fingers into her curly patch of pubic hair. I let them slip down along her slit, reaching gently in to touch her wetness. I knew what Rachel Ramirez liked—up and down, firmly at the bottom, wispily at the top, teasingly, encouragingly. Sharon wasn’t as easy to read as Rachel, so I just had to hope for the best.
Finally I moved on top of her and she helped me in. I kissed her again, and started stroking, slowly, fully, trying to make sure that every stroke brushed against every part of her, trying to make sure she knew that this was for the two of us, not just for me. Rachel had taught me a few things, I guess.
She came, cozily, beneath me, a bit surprised, I think, to find herself so swept up, holding on tight to bring me along, to share the deliciousness. And that’s exactly what she managed to do.
—
In the morning I went back over to the east side and strolled around a bit to show myself off in case Dolores was there somewhere. I went in a couple shops where I thought someone might know her, but no luck. I waited until her old high school let out, but had even worse luck there. I don’t know if it was because I was older than most of the kids or because I still had a whiff of the Facility about me, but they were pretty suspicious and didn’t want to have anything to do with me,
I trudged back to Sharon’s apartment, and then I had an idea.
There were three Carlsens in the phone book. I recognized Mrs. Carlen’s voice on the second number.
“Mrs. Carlsen! It’s Hector. From Logan.”
“Hector? Are you in trouble?”
“No, no, I’m fine. I’m out, but I guess you know that. I was just wondering if you might know where I could find Dolores. The place I thought she might be staying, well, she’s not there. Her stepfather hasn’t seen her. Annie’s boyfriend doesn’t know where she is. I was hoping that you might be able to help me track her down.”