Being a human ‘Guinea Pig’.

Based on ‘One In Ten’ by FinalStand, adapted into 17 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Explicit Novels.

The Titanic was sunk by snowflakes that fell long before mankind first forged iron

Once,

way before I was born, they might have called me a 'nice guy.’ I wasn't

sure what it would have meant back then but tonight it was a

weak-willed male who caved-in to the desires of the women around him.

"Compassion only goes so far," I struggled to articulate. "If I say no, what do you do next?"

"That's

the rub," she shared a secret smile. "Thirty years of research have not

been totally in vain. We know one of the key causes of the plague's

mutation, physical and mental stress."

I stared, I stared, I stared then I laughed loudly.

"You treating us like second class citizens is finally biting you in the ass?" I tittered insanely.

"We

made logical decisions designed to save the human race," Delilah

reasoned calmly. "There were factors we didn't take into consideration.

Besides, the majority of men don't seem to mind so much."

"If that was the case, we wouldn't be dying out," I countered.

"Still,"

I reasoned, "if women," at least the women in charge, "know, why aren't

they doing something to make the lives of men easier?"

"Please,

Israel," her eyes danced. "Where would it stop? Men would demand

everything and the female population has come too far to give into male

extortion now."

"We

are not going to roll back the clock two hundred years on women's

rights," Delilah said. "So we keep a lid on things until a cure becomes

available. That's where you come in. You are a very promising lead."

"A promising lead to what?" Maggy asked, rescuing me from this mortifying conversation.

"For finding happiness," Delilah smiled at me.

"Interesting. Does that apply to all of us, Dr. Fremont, or just you?" Maggy inquired.

"Neither," I fought for my center. My mind raced but my thoughts were focusing down to a few salient points.

"You have a jammer," I said to no one in particular.

"Of course," Delilah nodded in appreciation of my non-idiot-hood. "Not everything needs to be committed to electronic memory."

"That sounds positively criminal," Maggy purred.

"Lady, Maggy, you have no idea," I muttered. She found that utterly amusing.

"We will talk more about this later, Israel," Delilah winked. "Try giving Bethany one more chance. She could be useful to you."

"I look forward to having no other options," I gulped. Delilah laughed as she left me out on the balcony with Magdalena.

"From what I've heard, you are an oddity for one of these functions, Mr. Jensen," she said.

"First time here," I noted absently.

"For both of us it seems. That's not what makes you so appealing though, or your very fortunate lady friend," Maggy smiled.

"The fact that I'm acting like I don't want to be here?" I hoped.

"I doubt it. It is the fact that you are tip-toeing on the precipice of sanity, Mr. Jensen," she clarified.

"You can call me Israel," I suggested.

"You can call me Maggy," she reiterated.

"I

think I'll call you Magdalena. Maggy is a nice, warm, friendly name.

Magdalena reminds me that behind your glittering teeth is a soulless

carnivore," I told her.

"You really don't know who I am, do you?" Magdalena regarded me studiously.

"Nope,"

I shrugged. "I'm not terribly interested in knowing who you are either.

I didn't come here to get nice and cozy with the dark side of human

nature, sadly, I failed in that desire, and all of you have the

misfortune of being found both useful and morally pliable by Isobel

Diaz, which puts you all in the aforementioned 'dark side of human

nature.’"

"You

really don't know who I am?" she blinked in shock. "I would normally

assume you were a trap set by Isobel, but you really don't seem to give a

crap who I am."

"Good. We are on the same page," I noted.

"Israel,

I find you fascinating," Magdalena declared. "This doesn't happen

often. In fact, the last time a male truly interested me I was, nine."

"Oh,"

I groaned. "For the love of God, tell me what it is and I'll correct

it. Whatever it takes for you to turn around and walk back inside,

forgetting everything I've said and done that you find the slightest bit

interesting, please tell me what it is and I'll do my best to do it."

"No, I don't think so," she smirked. "I am a soulless carnivore, as you mentioned."

"I'm

not sure what it is about you that I like, but there is something

there," she mentioned. "Until I find out what it is, I'm going to keep

an eye on you."

When you build a levee to withstand a flood you do it in anticipation you know how high the river will rise.

From

the age of sixteen, the water had been rising. There was no design to

it; all chance. Chance had led me to Bethany Fremont. Bethany had led me

to Isobel Diaz. Bethany and Isobel had led me to Delilah Fremont.

Isobel had also led me to Magdalena, whoever she was, except in the

politics of female status, Magdalena had brought Isobel to task over me

and Isobel didn't like that.

This

might leave me to believe that Magdalena could shield me from Isobel.

Unless all of this was an elaborate psychological ploy to raise my hopes

only to slap them down at a time of Isobel's choosing. At that rate, I

wouldn't need for G E D to put me away; I'd fracture my mind all on my

own. To get out from under this, all I had to do was not take the bait.

Paraphrasing

what I had told Kuiko, using the lion to drive off the leopard doesn't

do the zebra any good. Even if Magdalena was a real enemy of Isobel,

giving her a tool to use against the evil sow didn't make me anything

better than a tool. I turned and leaned over the railing.

"You are not going to jump, are you?" Magdalena moved toward me.

"Are

you encouraging me and angling for a better view," I muttered, "or are

you trying to stop me on the off chance I've lost my mind?"

"I've

seen enough death," Maggy told me. "Normally I can tell the type, the

ones who have given up hope, but you are, what's the term, a Janus?"

"Do

we really want to discuss the state of my mental health or how it was

shaped?" I questioned. I caught some movement behind me, by the door.

"Wouldn't you rather explore your favorite body oils and silk sheets

versus cotton blends?" It was my two minders. "Oh look, your friends are

here," I turned to the two ex-military security types.

"They are not my friends," Magdalena informed me.

"I don't care. Four-ways cost extra," I joked feebly.

"How much would that be?" Magdalena regarded me.

"Not a clue," I sighed. "Until tonight, I had successfully avoided being a prostitute."

"Do you know the first thing about prostitution?" she stared intently, even angrily.

"I doubt four year old boys want to grow up to be whores," I stared back.

"How did you come by this insight?" she countered.

"I know what it is to be a man, have someone demand sex and not being able to say 'no'," I expressed with sad eyes.

"It

is a business after all," she pointed out. "As a chef, you don't always

get to determine who your clientele are either. You still are expected

to prepare a meal."

"You sound like a pimp," I enlightened her. Magdalena smiled and snorted in amusement.

"I've been called worse," she admitted.

"I don't think those two are going to leave us alone," she added. "We might as well go inside."

We

went inside and I vaguely remembered meeting various women, none who I

could have described five minutes later. It was a testament to how far

I'd fallen in the past few hours that I didn't even flinch when I was

'bid' on, all in the name of some charity, and bought.

Perhaps

I should have worried about Magdalena buying me for the evening. Maybe I

should have noticed how not very many women, or teams of women,

vigorously pursued the bidding for me. In retrospect, I should have been

impressed, but there were things I would only find out later that I

didn't know then.

As I said, I really didn't care what was going on until I was alone with Magdalena once more.

We

walked into the penthouse reception area, I'd come in the servants'

entrance, where we picked up two frightening women. They were dressed in

casual chic but possessed the characteristics of very hungry wolves.

The

first one was tall, almost as tall as me. Her dusky skin spoke of a

parentage on four continents. She had black hair pulled back in a tight

ponytail that went half way down her back. She looked me over, then

through me, never saying a word and barely acknowledging me. I called

her Silent for lack of given name.

The

second girl was shorter, maybe 5'6 with tanned skinned, short cropped

black hair and barely contained rage. She had a flame tattoo that came

up the left side of her neck but the same design was also on her left

hand, making me wonder how connected they were. I called her Flame

because I felt that asking was the best way to get my head torn off.

We were in the bedroom of one of the tower apartments, two stories below the penthouse, when Magdalena finally spoke.

"Well?"

she inquired. I put on my best game face, slapped some asbestos on the

Hindenburg and got ready inside and out to perform.

I had my jacket on the back of the chair and the bow tie unraveled in my hands when she held up a hand.

"No,

I want the face," she insisted. Sensing a lack of understanding, she

clarified. "The face you gave to that woman this morning."

"Oh," I mused then, "That's not going to happen."

"Why

not? You walked off the elevator willing, didn't you? You didn't

protest when I paid for you, did you? So why can't you uphold your side

of the bargain, Mr. Jensen," she studied me angrily.

"You

haven't earned it," I shot back. "Hell, you weren't even supposed to

see that. It was a private moment between me and someone I hold honest

affection for. I have to accept that the image was stolen from me but I

don't have to like it and I certainly don't need to pay the thief for

the pleasure of them stealing it from me."

The two female 'friends' had appeared at the door. Perhaps I had been ranting a little too loudly.

"What do you mean 'I haven't earned it'?" she questioned.

"God, that you are even asking that," I shook my head. "You are a businesswoman," I tried a different approach.

"There

were over thirty people upstairs who were more than happy to spend the

night with you, if not the whole damn weekend, ready, able and most

likely, willing. Yet you chose to invest in a man clearly miserable with

the whole situation, who has shown no carnal, emotional, or social

interest in you," I explained.

"Now

you claim to be unhappy with what you paid for?" I countered. "You

didn't pay for the guy in that video. You couldn't afford him. No, you

paid for the poor bub who couldn't find a way out of appearing tonight,

who had to leave that woman and the warmth of her body next to mine, to

come here to be with a woman I neither know or care to know."

"The

man you claim to want is back there with her still. She's holding him

safe until I return and I get to be him once more," I glared. Magdalena

stared at me with very cold, almost lifeless eyes.

"Want me to beat him up some, Little M?" Flame asked Maggy.

Magdalena

weighed her response as Flame closed in. I imagined she expected me to

do something; defend myself, run, throw something, beg forgiveness,

something. I stood there. The physical options were pointless and I'd be

begging as soon as my pain threshold was breeched.

In

a perverse way, seeing how much more pain I could take this time was

all I had to look forward to. There was no winning, or showing them how

tough I was. I wasn't that kind of man and if there were any like that

anymore, they were keeping their heads down.

"Not the face or hands," Magdalena instructed and the pain began.

Physical

violence against men was a rather rare thing. Sure, I had been bullied

by girls in middle school. Girls are bigger and stronger at that age

plus they are working out their hormonal shift where boys are concerned.

Not only do teachers look out for you, but boys tend to form cliques

covering multiple age groups.

Since

we were so few, it was only natural that boys would create our own

little social order. It wasn't anything sinister or subversive. It was

our experience with being 'manly' and 'macho.’ We could roughhouse, talk

about girls, sports and do stupid guy shit that drove our mothers nuts

when they found out.

I

had no idea how many men Flame had beaten up in her career. Maybe men

and women are identical in the weak points in our bodies. Flame seemed

to know them all. To be somewhat fair to her, I forgot to scream until

after all the air had escaped my lungs. I was also somewhat obsessed

with the craziness of it all.

Who

beats up a guy for refusing to have sex with them, or has some flunky

do it for them? I had to wonder if I walked into situations like this,

was this my fault? Was there something about me that attracted the worst

kind of women?

"That's enough," Magdalena said. I was curled up on the floor crying.

"Wimp,"

Flame laughed at me. It took me half a minute to regain my breath then I

began laughing. For a second I believe they thought they'd broken me,

mentally. Too late for that.

"What's so funny Israel?" Maggy asked.

"All you bitches are getting exactly what you deserve," I laughed through gasps of pain.

Flame came back with a kick to my shin but I couldn't stop chortling.

"Wait. What do you mean?" Magdalena pressed.

"Oh,

just let Flame get back at me," I wheezed. "Someone might as well enjoy

themselves and it doesn't look like it will be you or me."

"Wow,"

Magdalena chuckled, "you would rather take a beating than have sex with

me? Damn, I suddenly feel ugly. Israel, why are you being so mean to

me?"

"I'll perform sexually," I winced, "but I'm not giving you my spirit."

"I'll take the one now then we'll see about the other," Magdalena smiled.

I

didn't question the audience, or her desire to have 'normal' sex at

that time. I gave it what I had left, after a serious beating. The

bruises and welts further depleted my strength. I loathed these women,

yet I had the sensation she was disappointed, as if my techniques

weren't enough, or worse, bored her. Afterwards, the culminated stress,

beating and sex had worn me down to the last of my reserves.

"Well," Magdalena sat up and pulled her knees to her chest.

"It doesn't take a psychic to realize you aren't happy," I acknowledged to her.

"You

could have done better," she looked at me. "I know you could have done

better," she held up her hand to stop me from talking, "and I'm used to

getting the maximum effort from the people around me."

"You

are not on the short, very short list of women whose opinions and

expectations mean crap to me, Magdalena," I replied. "I'm going to go

home and forget all about this night, your perceived failings of me, my

efforts and the beat-down Bad Ass Princess Barbie gave me. I am never

coming back to one of these things. The next time that swine Isobel

asks, I'm hitchhiking to Alaska."

Apparently

Flame didn't appreciate my 'Bad Ass Princess Barbie' comment but as I

pointed out earlier, I was on my last reserves and those were really

nothing more than fumes.

"Were

you not breast fed as an infant?" I regarded Flame as she came at me on

the bed. "Or did you choke out your mother the first time she tried to

burp you?"

Flame was on me in a blink of an eye, pinning me down by the throat while hauling off to punch me.

"Not the face," Maggy reminded her. I started giggling.

"Is he mental?" Flame addressed Magdalena. She looked at me for some answer.

"It is so fucking

ironic," I choked. "All this power and you refuse to save yourselves.

Fucking hilarious. Let loose Flame. Do the world a favor, go out and

punch every man you come across." If stress made men less fertile and

these women were our shepherds, it was better for all if we died out as a

species. Perhaps it wasn't all that funny, but I was past caring.

I

received two powerful punches to the ribs. I had to wonder if I was

becoming a masochist or if ten thousand generations of males refused to

go howling into that Final Night without some savage, simple-minded stab

at our enemies, which probably meant I had lost my steady decline into

insanity. I kept laughing though it really hurt laugh.

"We got you bitch," I rasped gleefully.

"What the fuck are you talking about, Dickweed?" Flame spat.

"That daycare center," I snickered. "If we could get to those kids, we can get to any of you. You aren't safe."

"What?" Magdalena intervened. "What are you talking about?"

"We

are dying, you stupid cunts. Men have started figuring it out too," I

humored them. "When is the next man, or group of men, going to figure it

out and decide to come at any of you with a knife, or a car, or a

truckload of toxic chemicals?"

"You

lose Flame because fear only works if there is hope. You are tearing

the hope away from us so all that is left for us is hopelessness and

rage," I continued. "The hopeless ones will take care of themselves, but

the ragers,"

"You fight like babies," Flame ridiculed me but at least she'd stopped hitting me.

"Have

fun dodging shrapnel," I coughed. I probably needed to see a doctor.

"Those three in Denver blew themselves up. A car bomb isn't that much

harder and I'm sure some poor, over-worked and underpaid girl working at

a chemical depot isn't going to turn down a little sex for a favor or

two." I was getting tired of repeating that I was at the top of my

class. No one cared.

Flame looked up from where she had me pinned, to Maggy.

"This is one sick puppy," Maggy snorted in amusement. "I like him."

So Bethany’s mom is amused. I have a psycho fan, and here I had thought this night would be a total waste.

"Interesting Israel; I think it is time to take you home," Magdalena said.

I

had confessed to genocidal thoughts toward the female gender by means

of high explosive terror weapons and her response was to send me home,

"Can I get dressed first?" I requested as Flame dismounted my prone form.

"Of course," Magdalena grinned suspiciously. "We are not animals after all."

Getting

my clothes on went normally if you considered dressing with three sets

of female eyes studying you as you get dressed normal. We took the front

elevator down to the first sub-basement where a limousine was waiting.

"Where is my ride?" I inquired without expecting an answer I would like.

"I'll drive you home," Magdalena informed me.

"Can I at least call somebody who might miss me?" I desperately tried to sound more flippant than terrified.

"Do you have a phone?" she reposed.

"No, I'd have to borrow one," I sighed. Maggy looked over at Flame.

"It's

'boxed' in the car, Boss," the hood responded. 'Boxed' probably meant

the same sort of device that Sgt. DeMosa had placed my phone in on the

ride over.

"You can walk home if you want," Magdalena told me. "I'll leave your phone fifteen blocks down along your home route."

"I was planning to take the metro," I shrugged.

"Do you have any form of I D?" she regarded me smugly.

“Outside of my bracelet, Nope," I groaned.

"Still walking home?" she smirked.

"Sure.

I doubt the local cops will know what to make of me, a person, not in a

car, walking around," I made one more stab at levity. "Maybe they will

assume I've slipped my leash and some frantic old lady is out looking

for me."

Flame slapped me on the back. "You're funny. I like you. Boss, can we keep him?" Flame chuckled.

I

was making a fool of myself, but not in order to entice a brutal

psychopath. Sprinting for the exit was looking like a better plan every

second and that was a definite disconnect from reality. For the love of

God; they had a running car sitting right here. They could either run me

down or get ahead of me and repeat the bedroom beating, this time on

concrete instead of silk sheets.

"No

Brigit," Maggy replied. "We know where he lives and what metro he

rides. He'll be easy enough to pick up if we feel like it." Oh,

psycho-Flame's name was Brigit; how poetic. That was pretty much a last

gasp attempt at exhibiting any control over my life. I obediently got in

the car then we drove away.

For most of the way, Flame listened to music, Silent kept scanning our surroundings outside the car and Magdalena studied me.

"What's your story?" she finally asked.

"What do you mean?" I shrugged and exhaled a puff of breath.

"You

fight then you fold up. You fight then fold, again and again. There is

no rhyme or reason to it that I can fathom," she stated.

"Normally

I fold up," I reasoned. "This whole fighting back thing is new to me. I

never knew that freedom would be so, so painful."

"Beyond

numerous physical agonies and violations, I've lost my aspirations, my

comfort and most likely my sanity. Still, now that I've tasted it, I

wouldn't ever want to live without it," I revealed. "Monday morning, I'm

going to slap the crap out of the first woman who touches me, unasked

for. There is a small likelihood I may still have a girlfriend."

"I'm

going to wear my own damn pants too, none of that tight shit. If the

press corps wants to see how happy I am to see them, they'll have to

take me to dinner first," I spouted my nonsense. "If Isobel fires me,

well fuck her,

figuratively speaking, of course. I think I've gone through so much

crap I actually could stomach spending time with, another, strange woman

if it meant leaving this place behind."

"I thought we could be friends," Maggy smiled seductively sweet, and lethal.

"Seriously?"

I gasped in horror (genuine). "What the hell gave you that idea?"

Brigit Flame punched me in the arm proving she was paying attention.

"Ow!" I rubbed my latest injury. "Magdalena, did your last boyfriend

commit suicide, or was he shot trying to escape?"

That outburst earned me two more blows from Brigit, but it felt oddly worth it.

"What makes you think we didn't part on good terms?" Maggy inquired playfully.

"Got it, shot while trying to," I got punched again, "Ow!, escape."

"See, that's what I don't understand about you," Magdalena shook her head.

"This

resistance makes no sense. You can't win. You are clearly being hurt by

Brigit when you act out," she stared at me, "yet, you keep fighting

back with no goal that I can foresee."

"That's

the magic," I coughed, I was really in some serious pain. "I can't win.

If I play along, I lose. If I fight, I lose. At least if I fight, I

feel better about myself as a human being."

"Magdalena,

Brigit, Silent," I grinned. "We are all going to die and I don't mean

everyone in this car, this city, or this country. The whole Human Race

is doomed. That's not me ranting. We really are headed for extinction.

Now, if there is a God, and he or she remembers us, after the last of us

are gone, how do you want to be remembered?"

"For

me, it is easy. Do I want him to see me alone, in a dark basement,

raped and violated and really questioning if another day of life is

preferable to death? Or, would I rather be remembered for standing up in

Isobel Diaz's office and telling her to her face in a loud voice that

she was a sow and a monster, knowing none of you women had the guts to

do that," I related.

"Do you really believe in a Divine Power?" Maggy's eyes bore into me.

"This

world is a retched Hell," I shrugged. "If I didn't believe in some

nebulous spiritual presence and the hopes of a better afterlife, I

couldn't see the point of carrying on. I don't expect any sort of

revenge in this world or real justice."

"This

isn't a struggle of Good versus Evil. It is Evil versus Banality and I

don't give a crap which one of you wins," I pointed out, "which I guess

is a victory for Banality."

"You

are very interesting," Magdalena made up her mind. I had failed utterly

to impress upon her my fading sanity. Maybe that's what she liked about

me. I wanted to scream.

"I'll

call you later this week, we'll get together," she informed me. There

was nothing for me to say, no response that was appropriate since this

was an order, not a request. "Oh, I almost forgot," she added. She took

out her phone and scanned my bracelet. I thought this was supposed to be

some sort of secret affair, but what did I know.

I had no clue where we were until the limo pulled to a stop.

"Get out," Brigit barked. If I saw her again, I was going to call her Flame, fuck her.

After I got out, Flame threw three things at me rapid fire. It was my

phone, my battery and my phone chip. I dropped the battery but it looked

okay. I was in front of my complex.

"It

was interesting meeting you, Israel," Magdalena said before the door

automatically shut. I stood there as the huge vehicle drove away. I

stood there for a minute as the reality came crashing in. I had

survived. I wasn't some quivering mound in some psych ward. I wasn't a

plaything dragged off somewhere to be a toy until Monday morning.

I

had survived. I had to cling to that because otherwise the hammer blows

to my mind would send the whole mad house of cards crashing down.

Returning to Angel.

I put my phone back together and made my way inside.

Angel

being such a light sleeper was a huge pain in my ass. I had barely

opened my door when there were several shapes moving around my living

area, some rising and one coming right at me.

"Israel?" Angel sound scarily worried. I must have looked as bad as I felt.

"I

need a shower," I muttered. I could make the shower. I knew I could

make it to the shower. On the periphery I noticed that none of the women

I had left here had departed in my absence. I had no idea what they

were expecting to see when I got home, but I don't think me in my

current state was it.

No

one blocked my way down the hall, so I made it to the bathroom okay. I

puttered around for a few seconds unable to come up with a cohesive

plan. I gradually formed the idea that the tuxedo shouldn't end up on

the bathroom floor, so I retired to my room, got a few hangers for it

then returned to the bathroom.

I

was piecing things together by the time I exited the shower. I had made

it home a little past midnight, showered for maybe ten minutes and

finally realized that I was both thirsty and starving. With a towel

wrapped around my waist, I stupidly exited the bath and started down the

hall toward the kitchen or living room divide.

All the girls were staring at me with a mixture of horror and awe.

"Oh

God, Israel," Roni started coming at me, "what happened to you?" What

had happened to me? I had to think about that for a second. Roni

gracefully felt around my bruises. "Maybe we should have you checked out

at a hospital."

"Been

there, done that, not doing it again," I muttered. "I've pain-killers

and bruises heal and fade. I don't need the domestic hassle with the

police right now." Angel was painfully quiet and I could feel her

anguish. She kept telling herself that she was supposed to protect me.

By default, every wound on my body was a failing on her part in her

eyes.

"What happened?" Kuiko was already crying.

"I wouldn't give the woman what she wanted so she had an associate beat me," I shrugged then winced.

"Why didn't you give her what she wanted before they did this to you?" Venus worried.

"I

couldn't. She wanted me to look at her the way I look at Angel," I

informed Venus. "They hacked this morning's security feed for my

apartment then posted it for the client's viewing pleasure. I understand

that Angel, my liaison, was quite popular."

"Wait, don't they need a warrant, or something like that?" Samantha gasped. "Angel?"

Angel grabbed her badge and gun, spun and headed for the door. I had to do something.

"Angel, if you go out that door, you are doing it for yourself, not for me," I told her. Angel spun around and shouted at me.

"I have to do something!"

"Welcome

to my life," I was looking at Angel but addressing the room. "If you do

something, they win. If you do nothing, they win. The object is to do

the things you can live with the consequence of." I let that sink in. I

didn't know if any of them believed in heroines, but I didn't.

"What do we do?" Aniqua asked. I had to think over the whole concept of 'we.’

"We

celebrate the fact that I walked through that door under my own power

by grabbing some food and drink then crashing for the night," I

outlined. "Tomorrow will be better and we can go from there."

"Maybe there can be more than two in bed?" Venus prodded hopefully.

"Venus,

I'm going to bed to cry, a lot. My nightmare only ended with

Magdalena," I related. "It started much earlier, like begging a certain

cop to not give Angel crap over pointing a gun at her head."

"Magdalena?" Samantha furrowed her brow. "That's an odd name."

"Well her associate called her 'Little M'," I mumbled as I turned back into the kitchen. There was a deafening quiet behind me.

"Israel, did you sleep with her?" Roni asked. I gave a reply in the positive. "Did she scan you?" I repeated the positive reply.

"Let me see," Kuiko moved up and scanned me. "Oh fuck," Kuiko meeped. "Magdalena Keverich."

"So, wait, that name sounds familiar," I tried to focus.

"Maggy Keverich is head of the Keverich crime family," Angel murmured.

"Oh, one of Maria's kids," I guessed. "What the fuck was she doing at Isobel Diaz's soiree?"

"Wow, I never thought they would be trying to identify my remains after being missing for twenty years," Samantha shakily joked.

"I think that is a question none of us need to be asking," Aniqua referred to what the fuck Maggy was doing with Isobel.

"Does she know about any of the rest of us?" Venus inquired fearfully. I had one shot left in me.

"Well,

she saw Angel on the video and I kept screaming out Kuiko's name as I

pounded her doggy-style, but the rest of you should be okay," I stated

coolly. By the deflating of tension around the room, everyone knew I was

joking, except Kuiko.

"You

really cried out my name during sex?" she excitedly beamed joy and

happiness while minutely hopping up and down. "That was so awesome!"

"It will be awesome right up until they put a bullet in the back of your head," Aniqua teased.

"Alright,

everyone else clear out," Angel took command. "We have our man back.

Now go away and no ringing of the doorbell until nine o'clock."

A

short time later I had put as much food and water into my stomach as

that protesting organ could endure. As I turned toward the bedroom, I

took Angel's hand.

"I can stay on the sofa, if you want," Angel offered.

"When it was at its worst, getting back here to you was one of the things that kept me going," I confided.

"Looking

back on that moment when Isobel told me what she'd done to our private

time, I think I realized that she didn't understand and would never

understand what we had there. They could have been a hundred thousand

miles away, or in the next room, but they weren't with us," I explained.

"That intimacy is ours and no batch of electrons will ever change

that."

"I don't get you," Angel shook her head but she gradually smiled.

"Join the club," I agreed.

"I'm furious and you seem to be taking this so well," Angel noted.

"I'm

furious, heart-broken and sad Angel, but letting that master me now is

admitting they got to me again," I related. "I'm tired of that. I'm

going to get back at them."

"How?" she asked.

"For

starters," I sighed, "we find a place they can't listen in on." Angel

nodded. Crawling into bed after that was easy. I rolled over and faced

the far wall and the blinds covering the window while Angel sat on her

side, staring at my back. She sounded awake anyway.

At

last the tears came, a sniffle, a few tear drops sneaking passed the

eyes until the dam burst. Angel was good. She waited until I rolled over

and rested my face into her chest before trying to comfort me. I cried

until I ran dry but still the sobs went on until sleep finally took me.

It was with some trepidation that I woke to my phone ringing.

"Let

it ring," Angel counselled me. If it was this late, past four in the

morning, it might be important so I crawled over my friend and retrieved

my phone. It was from a 'Mary Wollstonecraft.’ I didn't know her.

Still, I'd made the effort so I took it.

“Israel

Jensen. We are friends. If you are tired of your current life and wish

to escape to an uncertain, hopefully better future, we can help you. If

you do not reply or reply in the negative, we will understand but can

never contact you again. If you wish our help in 'vanishing' then type

'yes' and we will initiate further contact. This message will delete

itself from all call logs in fifteen seconds.”

Trap, or escape hatch, I didn't know for sure.

Yes

I had made the pledge to abandon my society. The message deleted itself.

"Who was it?" Angel mumbled. I couldn't tell her the truth. She was still a cop.

"Wrong

number," I yawned. I double-checked my call log and, as promised, there

was no record I could access of the call ever coming in.

The

fantastic nature of it all allowed me to go to sleep within seconds.

The betrayal of my tiny group of 'friends' didn't bother me. I was

hardly making their lives better. If I had meant anything in their

lives, they would treat the next man they came across with the same

sense of respect and understanding they'd shown me. If not,

The

doorbell went off a bit past seven in the morning. I flicked on the

monitor to see who was there while Angel sat up muttering various

expletives. I didn't recognize the two women but I was becoming familiar

with the clothes emporium the gang used.

"Good morning," I yawned.

"Mr. Jensen, Detectives Riga and Kwan of the G E D," they introduced themselves. Angel snatched the remote from my hand.

"Po, this is Angel," she spoke up. "Make a note that I am on premises."

"Sure thing Angel, duly noted," Detective Kwan grinned.

"Kwan

is a friend," Angel gave me a tired smile. Her friend maybe, but as her

partner Seneca had proved, being a friend of Angel didn't seem to

transfer over to me. Kristi took her badge and gun from beside the bed

and headed out to the door. I heard her activate it and the two cops

come in. Me, I was more concerned about a dozen things including my

little text message that was only a few hours cold.

I

slipped on some jeans and a long sleeve t-shirt before going out to my

'guests.’ Our exchange was curt. I was tired and tired of cops. I didn't

warrant civility from their perspective.

"What is this about?" Angel inquired.

"It is a 33 0 7," Detective Riga responded. That was rude.

"Under-age

sex?" Angel seemed confused. "I'd like to watch over this one, if

that's okay?" It was odd to hear a cop requesting something from a woman

that wasn't a request. Riga was resisting.

"Sure,"

Kwan nodded. "You are his ghost after all." I assumed that 'ghost'

meant the minder the Metropolitan police had placed on me.

"Let me get some fresh clothes on and I'll be right back," Kristi told them.

"Sure," Kwan agreed.

"What's

he like?" Regina smirked as Angel passed her. Angel jerked to a halt

and I could sense the tension boil up inside her. "You haven't posted

any reviews yet."

"Have

you ever considered how demeaning that is for him?" Angel turned on

Riga. Their faces were only inches apart. "We are all in the same room

and you are treating him like a piece of furniture or a slab of meat."

"Back off," Riga glared. "All the guys have them. It is no big deal." Angel laughed.

"No big deal?" Angel snorted. "How many did we lose last night?" Riga balked.

"Eight," Kwan revealed softly. I wasn't shocked, I was past caring. I did smile.

"Shit," Angel muttered.

"What are you smiling about?" Kwan glanced my way.

"I

hate you, cops that is," I grinned. "Every loss for you is a victory

for mankind in my book. Detective Riga, I'm sure if you come home this

evening and find that someone broke into your home and stole your TV,

you'll miss the TV more than any of the nameless men that are no more

than a case file on your computer."

"Your attitude was noted in your file too," Kwan sighed.

"I'll be right back. Israel, try to not start anymore fires," Angel groaned. She departed for her condo across the hall.

"My distain and distrust for police is in my file?" I kept grinning.

"Good,

I'd hate for us to get off on the wrong foot," I said. "I'll tell you

right now, I'm going to be as little help as possible because I have

zero belief you have my best interest at heart. If you'll let me, I'll

get some socks and shoes on. Then I'm going to call my lawyer. I'm

pretty sure that at 7:15 on a Sunday morning, she's got nothing better

to do." I started heading for my bedroom.

"Jerk,

you need to be adjusted," Riga growled. I turned around and walked

right at the two G E D detectives. Their hands gravitated to their

Tasers.

"Back off," Kwan cautioned me. I stopped, staring into Riga's eyes.

"You're pathetic," I sneered. She popped me in the ribs. It was an automatic response to having her authority mocked.

It

wasn't particularly hard. The blow was meant to shock me and erode my

willingness to resist. I gritted my teeth and fell over, all the way

over. The two cops stared down at me.

"Oh

come on," Riga chuckled. "I didn't hit you that hard, you wimp." I came

back with a feral grin. I forced myself painfully back to my feet.

"A

pathetic, evil, brutal thug who would rather beat up a defenseless man

than save a life," I ground out. Riga looked to Kwan in confusion. "Come

on Cop, your partner will never report your abuse. Why are you stopping

now?"

"What is your problem?" Riga studied me.

"You punched me for giving you a poor job review," I grunted, "and you are asking what my problem is?"

"Go

get your shoes, Mr. Jensen," Detective Kwan commanded. I retreated,

making the call to Capri O'Hara, my Public Defender lawyer, once I was

there.

She

didn't ask. It was clear that I'd woken her up and she was a bit cranky

about it, but she agreed to meet me at the G E D offices. Angel was

coming in from the front door, looking a bit disheveled, when I came

from the back.

"He's really annoying," Riga commented. "I don't know how you put up with him."

My most recent bout of pain must have shown on my face.

"Israel, are you okay?" Angel studied me.

"We had to tune him up," Kwan answered. "He got in our faces." Angel flinched.

"Who hit him?" Angel asked in a low growl.

"It is not worth it," I begged her.

"I hardly touched him," Riga confessed.

"You hardly touched him," Angel repeated, still looking at me. "Israel, lift your shirt."

"No," I sighed.

"Israel, they'll never learn if you don't try," Angel pleaded with me. I lifted my shirt.

"Mother-fucker," Kwan whispered. "What happened to him?"

"There was no report on this," Riga added. My torso was a roadmap of pain.

"You still think he's mouthy?" Angel grumbled.

"He's

not jerking your chain," she glared at her fellow cops. "He really

hates us and he has no faith in any level of professionalism from those

in our occupation. After spending a few days with him, I have to agree.

We treat men like shit. No one cares and by the way you are looking at

me, like I've lost my mind, I can tell you don't understand."

"Damn

it Angel, I told you to take this to therapy," Kwan intervened. "This

guy is screwed up, but your reaction is normal. You want to protect him,

but this isn't the way. He needs professional help. Write him up." That

was terribly chilling.

"Po, he never crossed the line. You know that," Angel said with a level of disbelief.

"Angel, I think we are back to why I don't trust any of these bitches," I tried to sound defiant.

"Mr.

Jensen, Israel, I believe you were raped in college by forty-one women.

You never received treatment for that tragic event, but you clearly

need it," Po Kwan regarded me. "You need help." I laughed. It hurt, but I

had to.

"No

crime so this is not your jurisdiction," I stared back. "If there is a

crime, draw up warrants for the rapists and the security personnel who

covered it up. Start making some arrests. Those women are hardly master

criminals." Kwan didn't immediately respond. "You are not going to do

that which leaves you with a dilemma."

"You

can't legally commit me because you women cover for each other," my

face twisted in distain. "You may think I'm nuts, but without admitting

the root cause, the police are powerless to act on that information. My

lawyer will bust open your ovaries if you try to put me away illegally

and I won't voluntarily commit myself."

"Angel, help me out here," Kwan urged.

"I

think we are back to why I don't trust any of those bitches," Angel

parroted me. "Po, you can't get a sexual exemption without a criminal

charge to present to a judge. We both know that. That means you are

willing to drug him, basically wiping out the man he is."

"You

didn't used to be like that," Angel bashed her friend. "You are

supposed to be a freaking expert on Male Rape and Recovery. I brought

Israel's case to you because you used to consider the man in the

equation. Now you are coming across as a flesh peddler."

"That's not fair. There are mounting pressures to get results," Kwan replied.

"Results? Israel has been operating above and beyond code," Angel countered. She was referring to how often I was having sex.

"Did you listen to your boy on Thursday?" Riga rejoined the clamer.

"That's politics," Angel fought back. "Since when did the G E D handle First Amendment issues?"

"Since

the very existence of the G E D's bothers me, why don't we figure out

why they are knocking on my door so I can get back to my life?" I

interrupted.

"Excellent

idea, Israel," Kwan sighed with relief. Since no one complained, off we

went. I traveled with the two G E D officers and Angel followed behind.

In

short order, I found myself in an interrogation room downtown at the

Police Plaza station. Even early on a Sunday morning there seemed to be

hundreds of cops around. I'd made my desire for legal representation and

Angel had assured me she'd be close by, monitoring the situation.

That

stopped helping after a few minutes. I was alone in the presence of my

enemies, on their home ground and at their mercy. My rational mind was

telling me that a race was on. They would want to talk to me before my

lawyer arrived. Kwan and Riga came into the room, acting casual and

trying to put me at ease. Riga offered to upload something to my

computer.

"You want me to surrender my right to counsel?" I snorted. "No way."

"Very

well," Kwan graciously allowed. "Detective Riga and I are going to have

a conversation while we wait for your lawyer to arrive. Don't mind us."

They began to go over my case. Apparently, me, or someone using my

identity, had lured two fifteen year old girls to a club for the purpose

of sex.

The

girls met someone who was supposedly representing me. He had tried to

lure them from the club, but one of the girls became concerned and

contacted security. Security grabbed the guy, questioned everyone

involved and contacted the police. Thirty minutes with the G E D and the

culprit had folded like an origami crane.

Why

had they waited so long to contact me? Well, they had tried. My phone

wasn't working. They had progressed logically and made a bracelet I D

request. Routine right? Their plea went straight to the EPD (Executive

Protection Detail) of the same Metropolitan Police Force and got no

farther. My alibi for not being involved seemed to be a non-starter.

Then

my bracelet logged my sex act at midnight with Magdalena "Little M"

Keverich, one of the biggest mobsters in the city. Theoretically, that

was an alibi but it seemed Magdalena wasn't returning G E D calls at the

moment. Had I been terrified as opposed to emotionally numb, their

little dog and pony show might have worked.

I rested my head on the desk so Riga slammed her palm down next to my head.

"I thought I saw a cockroach," Riga grinned. I smiled back.

I

wanted make a snappy comeback like 'you must have been looking in a

mirror,' but that was more than my shot nerves could deliver. Instead, I

mustered up enough defiance to cross my arms on the table and rest my

head on them. Riga tried to get the banter flowing once more, but her

partner stopped her. She knew I was past being tricked into a

questioning session.

They departed and fifteen minutes later Capri arrived looking harried yet alert.

"Don't

worry, Israel," Capri smiled warmly. "I've looked over the case and

they already have a complete confession from a co-worker of yours, Troy

Berry."

"What?" I struggled back to clarity.

"Your

co-worker hacked a few of your files, found pictures of you in college

and created a Sexbook page for you, but with his contact numbers," Capri

kept her tone gentle.

"Why?"

"Well, as I warned you, have less impressive sex," Capri tried to joke.

"Troy's

reviews were, hmmm, less than stellar," Capri stated. "Okay, apparently

he's a freak with a hair-trigger. He likes women to do degrading

things. Added to that, he had a 'virgin' porn collection that even the G

E D found to be, extensive." 'Virgin' porn was basically a girl's first

time sexual experience.

I

had heard some went beyond normal. Things like slavery (the male

enslaving the young woman, women holding men in captivity was a totally

different 'healthy' genre), rape (man on woman), the mythical male

sexual dynamo disguised as a neighbor or teacher or hitchhiker, and even

'long lost father' scenarios.

"Troy

used your identity on Sexbook to attempt to entice under-age girls for

sexual encounters. According to what I was shown, he or you were

romancing ten girls in the local area. They seized your home and work

computers, both of his, plus Sexbook handed over their records," Capri

informed me. It was taking me a few seconds to digest all of this.

Troy

had moved fast, but then Sexbook was clubbing on steroids. I had made

the news Tuesday. On Thursday, I had my rant on National Television. By

accident, I had become a bad boy, a firebrand preacher cursing the

establishment.

"At last count, you have over 17,000 friends," Capri added.

Not only did I not want the attention, some shithead had been talking to God knows how many women, promising things in my name.

"Can I see Troy?" I mumbled.

"I don't advise that on the grounds you'll try to kill him in front of numerous witnesses," Capri gave her legal opinion.

"Why did he do this?" I wondered while meeting Capri's gaze.

"He's a pervert and you are a young, good-looking guy who tries to treat women decently," Capri reasoned.

"Fine, where did he get any pictures of me? I don't keep any," I told her.

Capri dialed up her tablet and showed me 'my' page.

"First off, what is this thing still doing active?" I asked bitterly.

"The account is in your name," Capri stated. "They can't cancel it without a court order or your consent."

I had 324 unanswered 'requests.’ My chat log was a hydra nightmare. How the fuck did fifteen year old girls even get on this site?

"How do I cancel this?"

"Call them first thing Monday morning and, use the proper credit card, whoops," Capri gulped.

"I'll

start on a court injunction now," Capri said. I nodded as I opened my

picture page. I shivered and was profoundly grateful I hadn't eaten yet.

"Israel?"

"These,"

I gulped, "are Bethany Fremont's, they are from the collection she took

of me when we were dating." Some of these were really, really private,

barely on the correct edge of pornography.

It

would have been easy to believe this was done on purpose. Bethany

wanted to hurt me so that I would behave. She didn't want to share me

with the world.

"Have

the police check to see if Troy hacked Bethany's system too," I told

Capri. "After she dumped that video of me, he probably figured she had

other tidbits of my past."

"We

don't need to," Capri suggested. "They are not going to bring charges

against you and you’re not required to assist them in their job." The G E

D wouldn't want to climb the legal barricades that defended Bethany's

home system but her work computer was more vulnerable.

"Sure," I shrugged. "Can I leave?"

"There

is the matter of a member of the Organized Crime Taskforce wanting to

talk with you," Capri smirked. "Care to tell me what that is about?" I

showed her my wristband. A scan and a whistle later,

"I

am not holding you responsible for any of the shitty things that have

happened in your life, but have you ever considered that you live under a

curse?" she poised.

"That joke isn't funny," I mumbled.

"I wasn't joking," she said in all seriousness. "Your luck is horrible."

"Thanks for pointing that out. I am not talking to any more cops if I can help it."

"I'll go tell them," Capri stood. She exited and was gone about three minutes.

"Now they want to give you a physical," Capri questioned. "Is there anything I need to know?" I stood and took off my shirt.

"Oh God," she gasped. "What happened?"

"I don't want a talk about it and I don't want a physical," I responded. "What can you do?"

"Have any of them seen you like this?" Capri asked.

"Yes, Detective Angel Kristi had me show G E D Detectives Riga and Kwan."

"Okay,

saying 'no' is wrong," Capri mused. "They'll charge you with

self-endangerment. Let their doctor look you over, determine these are

not self-inflicted, then refuse to press charges."

"Don't

give them anything," she continued. "Don't make anything up. Tell them

your lawyer has advised you not to make a statement at this time. Screw

them, force them to make a case first. Since they don't have a

cooperative victim, they need a crime scene or witness. Is that going to

happen?"

"Not likely," I looked down.

"Fine;

let's go then," Capri reached for the door. "Your cop friend Angel,

she's not your friend. You wouldn't be going through this latest

indignity if it wasn't for her." It was nice of Capri to express that,

but I'd already figured that one out.

She

still wanted to punish the people who had abused me, but she'd

sacrificed me to do it. The OCT cop was pissed at being blown off by

Capri. Riga, Kwan and Angel went down to the medical office with Capri

and me. Angel tried to talk with me, to be supportive but I ignored her.

I was being petulant, but then I would have been going home if it

wasn't her stunt with me showing off my bruised chest.

The

exam and resulting argument was fatiguing. Capri was my strength; my

sword and shield who refused to give an inch in my defense. In the end, I

kept my anger and sobs to myself and exited the station in one piece.

"Let me take you home," Angel said, touching my elbow.

"No," I looked her over, too tired to give a fuck.

"You go home. If you are going to let the shit go when I tell you to

let it go, come by once I'm home. Until you can do that, stay on your

own side of the walkway, please." Angel blinked then turned violently on

Capri.

"What the fuck did you tell him?"

"I

told him that by showing your G E D buddies his bruises, he was forced

to endure yet another strange women running her hands over his body, you

idiot," Capri shot back. "That's great instincts if you are a cop,

lousy ones if you are his friend."

"Israel had the crap beaten out if him," Angel countered. "Detectives Kwan and Riga had to know what shape he was in."

"Why?" Capri snapped. "Why couldn't Israel tell them? Why did it have to be you?" Angel had no immediate response to that.

"It

was because Riga hit me," I filled in the blanks for Capri. "She wanted

to show both of them that it wasn't okay to pummel me, because someone

had beat them to it."

"Do you want to go back inside and press charges?" Capri stopped us.

"Ms.

O'Hara, if the woman who tells me she loves me isn't going to arrest a

cop who beats me up the moment that cop confesses to the deed, why in

the hell would I waste my time making charges that never could be

proven?" I sighed. I looked at Angel. "I'm not asking you to not be a

cop. I'm not asking you to be someone else. I love you the way you are,

but I do ask that you be honest about what you do and what that means to

me," I looked upon her with weary eyes. Capri was far less polite.

"Angel,

next time you are about to do something questionable, ask yourself

this; would you do it to the Mayor on live television?" Capri growled.

"If

the answer is 'no', you should ask yourself why the hell you are doing

it to somebody who needs your protection a whole lot more," Capri kept

going.

"It is not that black and white and you know it," Angel glared.

"Why not?" Capri jutted her chin forward.

"Listen

Detective Kristi, I think you are a good person. I think Israel likes

you, though I can't fathom why," Capri explained. "But you and I are

faced with compromises every day, choices Israel doesn't have. It is

only grey because you let it be grey. That is the reality of the

situation. I've chosen to keep this case and my career is over because

of it."

"I

know exactly what I'm doing and it's not because I have a fatal

fascination with Israel's irrational personality," Capri grinned

viciously. "Not a single lawyer in the Public Defender's office wants to

consult with me on this case. I find that disgusting. They tell me we

need to survive as a race. Wrong. What we should be asking is do we

deserve to survive as a race."

"Not everyone can afford the price of your morality," Angel stated. "Are you sure Israel can? Israel, can you?"

"With

me it is easy," I said. "Morality costs me nothing because I stopped

caring about what they are going to do to me. I have no future here

anymore. If there is an 'us', it won't be in this callus society."

"What are you going to do?" both women asked.

"Live free of fear for starters," I felt relieved to get those words out.

"Let's get you home," Angel requested.

"It will take me twenty-seven minutes," I responded. I took the metro every day after all.

Angel gave an anguished groan then stormed off. Capri walked me to the station.

When

I got home, Angel was waiting on the sofa. My 'freak out' neurons were

so flat-lined I simply walked past her and got lemonade out of the

refrigerator and took my place in the corner of the living room.

"Israel, I have to be a cop. It is the only thing I know how to be," she started.

"I understand," I shrugged.

"Then let me help you," she insisted.

"Angel,

you need to understand that in most cases you can't," I met her eye to

eye. "I don't want you to. You have to accept that. If there is a legal

problem, you aren't in the room with those people, your friends and

colleagues, I am. If there is a prosecutor, she's one of them. If it is a

judge, the same. A jury, twelve of the same people who see me as an

ejaculation machine who gives 'good sex.’"

"I

don't want you to beat yourself up over this," I continued. "You make

me very happy and that's something I wasn't sure I'd ever experience

again. The reality is that you can't watch over me twentyfour seven. It

will be the same commuters, the same cops like Riga and those two

patrolwomen, and morally bankrupt leaders like the Mayor."

"If

you really care about me and my free will, let me fight this war with

the skills I've earned dealing with this prejudice all my life," I

stressed.

"Israel, look at yourself," Angel came to me. "You aren't winning."

"I'm not winning in a way you would understand," I looked up at her. "Trust me, I'm winning the only victory I can achieve."

I

finished the lemonade then answered my messages. It was the 'usual'

gang plus a few co-workers, commuters and Ms. Silverhorn, my boss. I

invited the girl gang over, lied to Francesca about how last night went

and how I was looking forward to work on Monday. The ladies responded in

different ways to Angel's anger with me.

Venus,

Samantha and Aniqua sensed an opportunity. Roni was sticking with Angel

while Kuiko hovered around nervously. In that moment, I wanted to go

back on the drugs and let all of this go away. I could commit myself and

all of this would stop. Confronting this terrible weakness breathed the

dwindling spark in my intellect back to life. Top of my fucking class.

I had been sitting in my corner when I popped up.

"Ladies,

please give me some forbearance. There is something I need to do. I

need to get some items from the store then I'll be right back. I'd

appreciate it if you went back to your places, get your computers and

return here," I looked them over.

"What is all of this about?" Venus was sitting cross-legged on the floor.

"I

can't tell you everything yet," I evaded "but I plan to make myself a

pain in the ass for as long as I can get away with it. I need help

getting the ammunition to fight with."

"Is this going to be illegal?" Aniqua asked.

"Eventually. I withhold comment because I don't want to lie to you," I answered.

"Sounds

fun," Kuiko nodded with a grin. "Come on girls, what do we have to look

forward to? Thirty-five years at a lousy job, maybe a child and ending

up in some retirement complex exaggerating about the four or five sexual

encounters we had in our lives?"

"Crazy-K,"

Aniqua sighed. "This isn't a game and there ain't likely to be a happy

ending." She stared at her friend for several seconds. "All for some cock we have never had?"

"Aniqua,

you were the one who told me how furious you were when you saw the fear

in Israel's eyes," Kuiko reposed. "Feelings are pointless if we never

act on them."

"I'm

going to regret this," Aniqua groaned. The rest of the group looked

around to see who was going and who was staying. No one was making for

the door.

"Okay Israel, it looks like we are all in, to what I have no idea," Roni smiled. "Next?"

"Computers for the rest of you," I instructed.

"Look

up any birth records for the past ten years; forget North America. Look

at South America and Asia primarily. You need to look for abnormalities

like duplicate figures or low production for male child products."

"What would those be?" Venus asked.

"No

clue. I've never even contemplated caring for a child," I shrugged.

Long, long ago, childrearing was 'women's' work. Society was moving away

from that model with men taking greater parenting responsibility when

the plague broke out. In this day and age, having a father at all was a

rare luxury. Women took care of their offspring because no one expected

the man to hang around.

"Angel, we need to go get some supplies," I requested.

"What are we going to get?" she inquired even as she stood up to join me.

"Less

surveillance," I gave a wan smile. She nodded. We'd had a part of this

discussion earlier. For the government to access a home security system

took a warrant but it was ludicrously easy to find a judge who would

grant one on a male for the flimsiest of excuses.

The blind spots in external systems were much larger in neighborhoods like ours, places where we could talk openly.

"I'm not going let you run off a cliff, Israel," Angel announced. I shook my head in resignation.

"Why is it so hard to believe I plan to live a life worth living?" I regarded her.

"You

are a wounded individual. You've made some life choices I have a hard

time understanding. You are picking fights with cops," Angel looked

pained.

"Why

haven't you written me up yet?" I murmured. "It would be a lie, but no

one would call you on it. If I'm out of order, shouldn't a police

officer have me corrected?"

"It is not that easy, not with you," she admitted.

"I'll

make it easy on you," I said. "Are we in a safe place?" Angel nodded.

"The 'Vanishers' contacted me last night. I took them up on their offer

to get out." Angel put a hand on my chest and stopped my forward

process.

Her

face went through the permutations of 'was he kidding', disbelief and

finally that sick sense of despair that I had abandoned everything she'd

devoted her life to.

"Israel," she whispered. She didn't ask why.

"Your

lack of faith in my love for you is disappointing Angel Kristi," I put

my hand on hers. "I love you. I'm not bailing without you, and as many

of the others as I can convince to come along," I tried to smile.

"They don't take women," she was clearly back to thinking I was unhinged.

"I'm

not going with them," I chuckled painfully. "They're just another bunch

of women telling me what to do. Fuck that. I'm saving myself."

"But, what, why agree to their help?" Angel sputtered.

"Do

any of us have the skills to disappear?" I smirked, painfully yet

again. "I don't think so. That means, to escape, I have to use them as

much as I can without being snared."

"This is completely insane," Angel tried to convince me.

"Angel,

you are questioning me running, but the only other option is to see

whether they break my body before they break my mind," I explained. "I

need to disappear to survive. Think about it. Besides, all I need them

to do is get me out of the city. I already know how to defeat the

bracelets."

"How?" Angel still looked disbelieving.

"Angel, I was held prisoner for 87 days. How come the cops didn't find me if I had a bracelet?"

Angel blinked and her mouth opened in surprise.

"Oh fuck, how?" she inquired.

"There

is a flaw in the system, not the hardware," I related. "If you cut the

bracelet, or forcefully remove it, the device lets off an emergency

alarm, unless the wearer is both dead and verified by a corner to be

dead."

"She killed you," Angel muttered. The 'she' was the Aurora Slasher. Angel was a pretty good detective too.

"Yep.

She injected me with God-knows what which flat-lined my vital signs.

Four minutes later, the bracelet dutifully recorded my death and went

into storage mode. It was given a coroner's code, shut down and then she

cut it off me, no problem. Finally, she revived me," I told her. "That

didn't work on all her victims, some didn't make it back."

"If the authorities know about the flaw, they would fix it," Angel reasoned.

"Recall

eight million bracelets? Over a flaw that even most cops don't know

about?" I pointed out. "Only licensed coroners and Federal Investigators

know that trick. There simply aren't enough male homicides for others

to figure it out."

"Ugh,

you've pretty much annihilated any hope of me getting a good night's

sleep for the next week or so," Angel murmured. "Is there anything else

you want to hit me with?"

"Yes, I want to have sex with Kuiko," I said as I started walking again.

"We are not attached," Angel got out a few seconds later. "You don't have to ask."

"I respect your feelings Angel. I don't want to hurt you," I shrugged. "I know I do, but I don't like it."

"Okay, but why Kuiko? Aniqua is, more of my body type," she was studying me.

"Several reasons," I related.

"I

think it will help the group's tension level if I'm with someone

besides you occasionally. I also think she's trying really hard to

respect my space. Lastly, but most importantly, I think she'd be fun in

bed," I finished.

"You are slipping," Angel stated softly. She was referring to my mental state.

"Yes.

Either I go full throttle, or I go numb," I tried to make her

understand. I was a rape victim. I would never stop being a rape

survivor, but I could try to stop being a victim. Full throttle wasn't

fighting through, it was stealing something good from the demons. It was

a little more fuel to keep the fire going.

I

had no illusions that the demons would be banished by a woman's

embrace. That was a fantasy. As Angel said, I was wounded, but I wasn't

dead; not yet.

"Okay,"

Angel conceded. "I'll stick with you, but I'm still going to give you

hell when I think you are acting crazier than whatever the fuck is normal for you. Deal?"

"Deal," I smiled. Maybe she was starting to understand me, or trust me.

The

journey to the store and back again was comparatively easy. Angel even

agreed to front the bill though she couldn't figure out why I wanted

surgical tape and wooden curtain rods cut into twelve inch sections. I

told her 'I have a plan' which did nothing to ease her mind.

When

we returned, the rest of this little troupe was actually working

diligently at the task at hand. Once I had the supplies stashed away,

except for the dowels, I was working on those, I put the 'Kuiko Method'

into play. Venus was the first recipient. I quietly moved up behind her

and began massaging her shoulders.

She was about to come back with a snarky remark when she turned and realized it was me.

"You

seem tense," I said. "Would you like a massage?" Venus nodded. In

reality, you went after men until you got one. Only in romance novels

were men overtly sensual. Venus was working cross-legged beside an end

table as I maneuvered behind her.

I

knelt behind her, my legs spread to either side of her hers, my crotch

against the small of her back while my hands caressed her shoulders. I

moved along her upper arms, neck and mid back while Venus murmured

contentedly. After roughly fifteen minutes, I finished up by wrapping my

arms around her abdomen and kissing her on the nape of her neck.

"Are you okay?" I asked gently.

"Oh, oh yeah, thank you," she sighed happily.

"Thank

you," I responded. I pushed off her back and stood. All the other women

were looking at me with varying degrees of desire. Only the twinkle in

Roni's eyes revealed that she had figured out what I was really up to.

I

moved as sedately to the bathroom as I could. Once inside, my resolve

slipped and I shivered. It was not their fault. It was none of their

faults. I had to believe that. I had to shore up my mind with that

understanding. I couldn't fold up. I had to keep it together. I went

back out. It was Aniqua's turn. A smile, a few words and some light

contact. I could do this. Compared to what I planned to do on Monday, I

had to shore myself up now.

(Monday)

Angel

told me to stop whistling as I got dressed. She had stopped arguing

with me about what I was going to wear last night. I think in the old

days it was called a hymn before battle and I was certainly prepared for

a fight. I called Kuiko before I left and asked if we could have

privacy at her place for about an hour when she got off work, provided I

was still eluding police custody. She was more than happy to oblige.

To be continued

By FinalStand for Literotica