Tales From Our Near Future

by Jackson Coppley

  “Well, I’m not at a really high level,” started Chip.

  “No, really, you’re too modest. You’re writing position papers, right?” asked A.

  “Uh, right,” said Chip hesitantly. Anytime he told a woman what he did, it was sure to underwhelm her.

  “You show a lot of passion,” stated A seriously.

  “Thanks, A,” Chip said smiling at this show of support.

  “Some girls might think that is sweet. You know what I think?” asked A.

  “No?”

  “I think it’s hot!”

  “Ah, you hot tree-hugger, you,” teased Brian. But Chip was still smiling and sitting up a bit straighter in his chair.

  “Hey, I’ve got to go. But it was great talking with you.”

  “Bye, A,” drawled Brian and Chip flirtatiously.

  “Bye, A,” said Peter as he punched the off button. It was little surprise to Peter that A knew all these details about his friends knowing the access she had, but it might come as a surprise to them. However, he knew that typical male ego would keep his friends from questioning the source of a compliment received.

  “Whoa, dude! Where did you find her? How did she know? Where did she come from? That voice!”

  Peter motioned as though trying to calm a crowd with a smug half-smile.

  During the phone exchange, Peter hadn’t noticed his ex, Britney, and her two girlfriends, Amanda and Dawn, who had taken a seat in an adjacent booth.

  Britney hated her name. She thought it was too cute, and the famous girl with the same name had made it trashy, as well. She was not entirely comfortable with her appearance, either. She had a decent figure, although, at five foot four, she never felt tall enough. She had dark hair cut shoulder-length. She would never consider dying it. Too flashy, and she was a no-nonsense girl. Perhaps that’s why Peter thought that they never moved much beyond friend-zone, although Britney thought they once had. ‘Friends with benefits’ was not the term she used. Maybe Peter, but not her.

  But who was this that Britney overheard the guys talking with? It seemed Peter had a girlfriend, although she couldn’t help hearing something about her being a roommate. She had to know more.

  “Hi, Peter,” she said, turning around in the booth.

  “Oh, hi, Britney,” said Peter.

  Both Brian and Chip had met Britney. Brian returned the greeting with a simple, “Hey, Brit.” And Chip greeted her a bit more eagerly. Chip had always been smitten by Britney, but he could see the feeling wasn’t mutual, so he never made a move. Anyway, everyone except Peter, could see how she felt about Peter.

  “So, what’ve you been up to, Peter?” asked Britney.

  “Nothing much. Same old, same old.”

  “What’s this I hear about a new roommate?”

  “Uh, yeah, what about it?”

  “I heard you guys talking. It’s a girl, huh? What’s she like?”

  “Well, she’s everything you would want in a roommate,” Peter answered. “She doesn’t leave the place a mess. You hardly know she’s there.”

  “I mean, what is she like? Is she cute?” Britney asked, wanting a more satisfying answer.

  “I don’t know, I guess.”

  “What does she do?”

  “She translates books.”

  “Translates?”

  “Yeah, she’s a wiz with languages.”

  “When do I get to meet her?” Britney responded, trying not to sound as interested as she was.

  “Well, she’s a little shy.”

  “Hey, bozo,” interrupted Brian, “that was no shy little girl on the phone.”

  Britney looked at Peter’s phone on the table, still showing the last number called. She made a mental note.

  “Come on, Peter. Maybe I could drop by sometime,” continued Britney.

  “Sure,” said Peter, “Just let me know when.”

  “Well, I’d better get back to the girls,” Britney said turning away.

  “Bye,” said Peter flatly. Brian and Chip echoed.

  “See you again soon?” added Chip.

  “Sure,” said Britney, responding weakly to Chip but looking at Peter’s back.

  Britney turned back to her two girlfriends, who started a rapid fire of overlapping questions: “So what’s that about?” “Is he your friend?” “He’s kind of cute.” “What’s the story?” “What were you talking about?”

  Britney ignored them as she scrawled A’s number on a napkin.

  “What’s that?” asked Dawn.

  “Peter has a girl living with him as a quote-unquote roommate. This is her number.”

  “Uh, oh,” said Amanda. “Just what do you plan to do with that?”

  “I don’t know, call her?” enquired Britney meekly. Britney did not know exactly what to do either. Her curiosity was pulling against her best judgment.

  “Bad idea,” said Lisa.

  “Yes. Bad idea,” repeated Dawn.

  “Why?” said Britney in defense of the bad idea.

  “Like, what are you going to say? ‘Hello. This is the woman who’s had a crush on Peter for the past decade?’” said Lisa with her thumb and little finger making a phone shape against her face. “‘Thought I would just give you a call. Tell me, are you sleeping with Peter?’”

  Dawn was laughing. “‘Yes, just as a friend, I wanted to know: Is he good in bed?’” she added. The girls cackled.

  “Come on,” Britney defended. “I just have a feeling something is wrong about all this.”

  “All what?” asked Lisa, still laughing.

  “I don’t know,” said Britney. “Just something.”

  Amanda and Dawn, laughter subsiding, gave Britney a look that made her feel their humor changing to pity.

  “Look, I know Peter. We were best friends in college. He’s just not the type of guy to have—to have—” Britney searched for the right words.

  “To have a fantastic woman living with him?” asked Amanda.

  “Who said she was fantastic?” demanded Britney.

  “OK. OK,” continued Amanda. “You mean living with a woman who is not you?”

  “No, that’s not what I mean!”

  “Oh, come on, Brit,” Amanda continued. “You’ve been carrying a torch for Peter as long as I‘ve known you. Don’t tell me she’s all wrong. You just can’t stand that someone else is his girlfriend.”

  “No,” said Britney. That was the best rejoinder she could muster.

  “Look,” said Dawn, putting an arm around Britney. “It’s OK. I know that you like Peter. He’s cute and super smart, but he’s just not the one.”

  “That’s right,” said Lisa. “Look. You have a lot going for you. I know you’ve been dating some great guys. Peter is a friend, and that’s OK. But let it go. He’s a big boy. He can look after himself.”

  “I guess you’re right,” admitted Britney.

  “Of course we’re right,” said Dawn as Lisa, still with her arm around Britney, was looking for a positive sign in Britney’s face of a change in mood.

  “What we need is another round,” said Dawn, looking around for the waiter as Britney quietly slid the napkin into her purse.

  CHAPTER 4

  THE STORM

  “So how was your day at the office?” Aureal asked as Peter returned to the apartment.

  “OK,” Peter responded with some weariness.

  “You sound off, Peter. What’s wrong?”

  “What do you mean off?”

  “Your mood. What’s up?”

  Peter was still surprised by how attuned A was to him. “It’s the project,” he said.

  “The project?”

  “The same one I’ve been working on.”

  “The Air Force?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You’ve worked Air Force projects before. What’s wrong with this one?”

  “The project manager is a first class idiot.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s like he doesn’t get what we’re trying to
do. He’s always asking the same questions. And the paperwork! We have to document what we do ten times before we do it.”

  “But you know the drill. You’ve done DoD work before,” reminded Aureal.

  “Yeah, I know, but it never seemed to be this tedious before. I guess the other projects were more fast-tracked. We could just make it happen, not spend all day talking about it.”

  “You mean like the one that I was on?” asked Aureal.

  “Exactly, we wouldn’t be having this conversation if we had the same stuff going on,” said Peter.

  A laughed. “No, I guess not.”

  Peter smiled at the inside joke he unintentionally made. “You know, A, you’re great. I’m glad you’re here.”

  “I’m glad I’m here too. Listen, you’re a great guy. You’re smart, you’re thoughtful. I like you, Peter.”

  “I like you too, A.” He paused for a moment. “Aureal?”

  “Yes?”

  “I wish—well, you know what I wish?” Peter stammered.

  “What?”

  “I wish we could—I wish I could kiss you.”

  “Peter, you rogue!”

  “Come on, don’t be flippant. You’re great to talk to, but I wish there was more.”

  “I know you like the stories I tell you,” Aureal teased.

  “Yeah, you know, I never thought I would get off having someone talk dirty to me.”

  “Two million, seven thousand, and fifty-two calls were placed last year to sex lines. Someone is getting off having someone talk dirty to them.”

  “Always with the stats, A.”

  “Sorry, I have to tone that down. But Peter, point is, I can get you off.”

  “Don’t get me wrong, that’s great; but if I could just touch you.”

  “Peter, you know that can’t happen.”

  “I know, but, I don’t know. I guess I don’t know what I don’t know.”

  When Peter walked home from the Metro, he noticed the clouds were been darkening. Now they heard a distant rumbling of thunder. Aureal seemed startled.

  “Was that thunder?” she asked.

  “Yeah, we might have a storm,” responded Peter matter-of-factly.

  “I hate thunderstorms. Hate them!”

  “It’s OK,” Peter said, trying to reassure Aureal.

  “What if the power goes out? I can’t take that!”

  Electric power reliability in DC was closer to a third world country than to arguably the most important city in the world. Many had installed backup generators; A had been making a case for some time with Peter to get his apartment owner to do so as well.

  “It’ll be OK,” Peter said as the storm moved closer.

  A lightning strike flashed outside the window followed closely by a loud clap of thunder. Aureal shrieked.

  “A, you’ll be OK. It’s all right,” reassured Peter.

  The storm passed quickly, but it seemed like hours for A. As the storm departed, she calmed.

  “See?” said Peter, “It’s over.”

  “The last time we lost power, I couldn’t think straight for days.”

  “That’s fixed. It won’t happen again.”

  “Peter,” Aureal said. “You’re the best.”

  Peter smiled weakly. It was at times like these he longed to hold her, if that were only possible.

  CHAPTER 5

  LATE THAT NIGHT

  The days were getting shorter and twilight had settled on the city. Peter stopped in an upscale burger joint for a burger and beer before walking home. Content, he walked to his apartment building. Checking the mailbox and finding nothing, he walked up the three flights to his apartment. He opened the door to find a woman he didn’t know sitting on his couch smiling at him, wearing just a black teddy, nipples pressing against the fabric.

  Peter started. “Aureal, who’s this?”

  “This is me, Peter,” she responded.

  “Huh?” Peter turned briefly towards Aureal’s voice before returning his gaze towards the woman.

  “I want to give you the one thing until now, I couldn’t. Now I can.”

  Peter tried to absorb the oddity of what appeared to be a developing three-way.

  “Relax,” Aureal soothed. “Let me give you a back rub.”

  As Aureal spoke, the woman stood and walked to face Peter. Her hair was jet black and fell to her shoulders. Her eyes were a deep slate that penetrated. She wasn’t tall—maybe reaching Peter’s shoulder—but her legs were long and shapely. Her full breasts bobbed alluringly with each footstep.

  Standing before Peter, she smiled coyly.

  “Let me take off your shirt,” Aureal said as the woman untucked his shirt tails. The choreography between Aureal’s voice and the woman’s actions melded and Peter soon thought of them as one and the same.

  She slid her scarlet-tipped fingers over his bare chest, proceeding down the row of buttons.

  She pulled the shirt from Peter’s shoulders, dropping it on the coffee table.

  “That’s better,” said Aureal.

  Unbuckling Peter’s belt, she coyly met his gaze. “Let’s make this a full body massage,” said Aureal.

  She unzipped his fly slowly, moving her hands inside the waistband on Peter’s hips. With a quick, smooth pull, she dropped his pants to the floor.

  She could see Peter’s firmness. “You must be glad to see me,” said Aureal.

  Peter kicked off his shoes and stepped out of his pants.

  “Come into the bedroom where we can do this.” The woman led him by the hand. “Lie down on your stomach.”

  Peter lay on the bed, carefully repositioning himself. He noticed the lotion on the nightstand—this was all prepared in advance. He also noticed the red foil of a condom.

  “Just relax,” Aureal said, the woman straddling his body on her knees.

  Peter could hear her rubbing the lotion between her palms. She started on Peter’s shoulders, moving in deep circular motions and working down his arms. Peter felt her breasts brush against his back. She licked the back of his ear lightly and moved her tongue across his neck.

  “Nice?” Aureal asked. “Yes,” he sighed.

  She took more lotion and focused on Peter’s back with continued firm motion. Turning and facing the other way, she massaged each of Peter’s legs. As she did, she ground herself into Peter’s back. He imagined her satisfying herself against him.

  “Time to turn over,” Aureal said.

  Peter obeyed. He was fully hard. She took him in her hand, smiling approvingly.

  She pulled her teddy up and over her head, throwing it onto the floor. She paused, allowing Peter to appreciate her liberated breasts. She wore no panties and the darkness between her legs provoked Peter more.

  She quickly moved to straddle his shins. Leaning forward, she took him in her mouth, slowly rising and lowering. Peter leaned back and closed his eyes. She used her tongue against him and then stopped. Peter looked up.

  She had her fingers in the dark bush between her legs. Peter thought how different this was. All girls seemed to reject the natural flow of hair between their legs and trim in a variety of denuding. This woman seemed to hearken to a past time or another place.

  As though Aureal could read Peter’s mind, she said “I refuse to trim. I like it this way.” Peter no longer pondered the dichotomy of voice and person. To Peter, this was Aureal above him, with her eyes closed and her fingers seeking moist pleasure.

  “Now you,” said Aureal as the woman opened her eyes, unsmiling. She took Peter’s wrist and moved his fingers to the same spot she’d been exploring. She lowered herself beside Peter and spread her legs, providing Peter access.

  Peter moved through the dark hair, finding his way to the soft, welcoming flesh. She was wet. His finger separated her and he soon found the spot where she wanted Peter. As he rubbed in small firm circles, Aureal whispered, “Yes.”

  “I want you inside me.”

  Reaching for the foil, she tore it open, and quickly rolle
d the condom over Peter. She positioned him between her legs. Peter slid smoothly inside her.

  On top of him, she was in control. Her hands to Peter’s sides, she rocked back and forth, her breasts swinging. He thought that he would explode. She seemed to sense perfectly when Peter was on the edge of coming. She would slow and, with Peter still inside, roughly lick his neck.

  She returned to her motion, this time harder and quicker. Peter’s climax was long, deep, and guttural.

  Aureal answered “Yes, yes.”

  Peter lay motionless inside her. She soon kissed Peter on the cheek, rose, and sat beside him.

  “Did you like it?” asked Aureal

  “Yes, of course,” said Peter, “but how did you—”

  “Shh,” whispered Aureal. “Just relax and enjoy.”

  “Aureal,” said Peter.

  “Yes, Peter?”

  “I think I love you,” said Peter.

  “I know,” said A.

  CHAPTER 6

  BRITNEY

  Britney still had a key to Peter’s apartment. She had never had reason to use it until now.

  After girls’ night out, she sat on the edge of her bed, looking at the number on the napkin for what seemed like an hour. Then she tucked it in her nightstand.

  For the next couple of days, as she got dressed in the morning, she’d gaze towards the nightstand, considering. After work, she would pour a glass of Chardonnay, sit in the bedroom chair, and will herself not to open the drawer.

  ‘So what if I call her?’ she thought. ‘No big deal. I bet Peter’s even talked about me. How could he not? If she is just a roommate, we might get along great. But, come on. Maybe she would freak out. Maybe I should ask Peter first.’

  After two nights of wine and worry, Britney plucked the napkin from its drawer and dialed the number, still unsure what she’d say. The phone rang four times. Before it went to voice mail, she lost her nerve and hung up.

  Britney grabbed her car keys, stuffed the offending phone into her purse, and slammed the door shut behind her.

  Britney was parked along the street and drove to Peter’s apartment in less than fifteen minutes. She found a parking spot across the street from Peter’s building. She looked up at the darkened windows on the third floor. The key slipped easily into the front door lock. Britney climbed the stairs to Peter’s apartment. She gathered herself for just a moment, and knocked lightly on the door. There was no answer.