Lunatic Fringe

by Allison Moon

  Lexie herself was accustomed to hearing odd things, but such hallucinations were far easier to dismiss as a byproduct of imagination blended with insomnia. As the sunset shifted and Archer’s face distorted and pulled at the bounds of reality, Lexie didn’t know what to think.

  “I . . . I have to go,” Lexie stammered. Archer chuckled as though she were joking; Lexie could hardly believe it herself, but she still scooted her body out from under Archer’s. Archer furrowed her brow, though the curious smile didn’t leave her lips. Lexie ran into the kitchen and yanked open the door of the stove, withdrawing her clothes. She threw them on, the metal fly of her jeans biting her with heat. She hurried outside, grabbing her socks and shoes from the slate landing outside the door. Before Archer could protest, Lexie was jogging away.

  “I’ll return your shirt soon,” she called over her shoulder, insensate to the crunch of gravel under her bare feet. “Thanks. Sorry! I just-- studying-- and . . . dad! And-- I-- I’ll see you soon. Thanks for the tea!”

  Chapter 9

  The headlights of Lexie’s truck illuminated the darkening facade of her father’s house as she pulled into the driveway. She killed the engine and sat in the cab of her truck as the engine ticked down. She wasn’t sure which part of the day should humiliate her most. The bloody false alarm? Her clumsy kiss with Archer? The disturbing hallucination that lead to her awkward flight from the scene? Lexie played the day over in her mind. Who was Archer, so beautiful, so composed, so in control? Her looks were similar to many women in the area, a mix of indigenous and immigrant, dark and light, yet she seemed barely of this world.

  Lexie mused over the details. Her body had been exposed yet safe, wrapped in the fur, illuminated by the fire, warmed by Archer’s body curled against hers. She recalled the feeling of Archer’s hand against her cheek, the power of their bodies pressed together. The strength in Archer’s arms, the fire in her chest, the clarity in her eyes. Archer could defend her against an army, wielding her ax against every beast in hell, and come out on top. With Archer, Lexie was untouchable, and Archer, she was invincible.

  Lexie left the quiet of her truck for the quiet of her house. She kicked off her shoes in the doorway. It was Sunday, which meant her father was at Hank Speer’s place, watching football, and talking and not talking about things. She opened the fridge, ravenous from the lack of food all day. She pulled out a carton of leftover beef noodles from Chan’s in downtown Wolf Creek, her father’s favorite place to eat out, and threw it in the microwave. The smell and crackle of cooking meat launched her salivary glands into overdrive. She had to swallow twice to empty her mouth of the pooling saliva. Another inhale revealed Archer’s presence lingering in the t-shirt Lexie wore. She pulled up the hem to her nose and inhaled. Her groin swelled and soaked her underwear for the second time that day.

  As her dinner spun in the microwave, Lexie went to her room to find some shorts. Archer’s scent dwelled in her brain and wetness dripped down her inner thigh. This was interesting. Not that it was an unfamiliar sensation. She’d been turned on before, but to have her menstrual blood completely replaced by thick, clean arousal was new. She wasn’t complaining.

  Standing bottomless in her bedroom, the final moments of the sun illuminating the wall in horizontal swaths of reddish-orange, Lexie pulled the hem of her shirt up again and lay on her bare bed. She opened her legs and moved her right hand between them, stroking the wetness in her hair. Her vulva clenched, begging for touch. Lexie used the fingers of her left hand to spread herself wide. Moisture dripped from her onto the mattress. She pressed down on her clitoris, pliant and erect. There was no limit to the pleasure her body could conduct. Waves reverberated through her, from her groin to her skull and back, growing with each cycle until the resonance hummed on a constant loop throughout her whole body, like a wet finger singing over the rim of a crystal glass.

  Lexie inhaled Archer’s scent, her brain floating on the memories of the previous night and the day’s afternoon, drunk with lust for this strange woman. Whatever spell Archer cast outshone Renee and the rest by leagues, by fathoms. Her lust for Archer surpassed any bodily desires she had ever known, greater even than the worst hunger or the most desperate thirst. She could taste nettles and wood-fire, cloves and pine in Archer. She swallowed, taking the scent into her belly, where it mingled with the jolts of delicious sensation radiating from her groin.

  Lexie imagined Archer’s body, her muscular shoulders as she lifted her arms, dancing. She thought of Archer’s breasts, soft and smooth beneath the white tank top she wore last night, the fabric glancing off her nipples as she moved with the music. Lexie moved her left hand to her breast and squeezed, sending more jolts through her body. She was lying on the white fur, Archer’s weight pressing on her. Archer’s kiss spicy and wild.

  Lexie lingered over what could have happened had she not fled like a frightened rabbit from Archer’s grasp. Archer stripping off her clothes and pressing their naked skin together. Lexie drawing her leg up to press between Archer’s, feeling her wetness on her thigh. Archer slipping her fingers into Lexie and rubbing, hard and firm. Archer tracing a path of kisses and licks down Lexie’s abdomen from her neck to her groin. Archer’s eyes staring at Lexie as she buried her mouth between . . .

  Crashes of pleasure shot up Lexie’s spine, exploding in her head and erasing thought and intention for an ecstatic moment. She moaned loud and long, releasing the humiliation of her inexperience and the thrilling tension of the past twenty-four hours. Her moan rang in her ears, flushing out heat and anxiety and recycling the pleasure again in her body. Tingles danced on her skin; her muscles rejoiced with relaxation and exaltation. She licked her lips and breathed heavy in the shattered silence of the bedroom. A moment of embarrassment flashed in her mind, this lust for a woman, like she’d never felt before. But the embarrassment was easily dismissed and replaced with the lassitude of desire satisfied. Her breath steadied as the last waves of pleasure reverberated and faded.

  Lexie leapt from bed and raced as the scent of cooked meat re-awoke her hunger. She wolfed down the noodles, blinking at how bright and vivid her shadowed house now appeared. Never before had the world looked so crisp. The lenses of her eyes felt as though they had been rinsed clean. Blood moved through her body, reaching into tiny capillaries that seemed newly created since the night before. Oxygen bathed the furthest recesses of her insides. Muscles stretched and released as if relieved of a great and long-term burden. Lexie ate, feeling blessed to be alone with her longing for Archer.

  Chapter 10

  The game was already underway as Lexie walked to the soccer field. The Pack had staked out prime real estate just beyond the bleachers, and all the women lay on two blankets save Renee and Hazel, who stood on the field among their teammates, shading their eyes against the sun, waiting for the ref to drop the ball.

  The girls cheered when they saw Lexie approach.

  “Finally!” Blythe said. “It’s been forever since we’ve seen you!”

  Lexie wouldn’t say that she had been avoiding the Pack, but she needed a few weeks to settle in to all the newness. Since brunch and the kiss with Renee. Since the Full Moon Tribe and the . . . whatever, with Archer.

  Mimosas were the drink of the day. Jenna sat up on her knees, the hem of her batik sundress gathered in a puddle beneath her, and uncorked a fresh bottle of champagne. It was an unseasonably warm day, and the girls were dressed accordingly. Jenna’s cherubim curls were pulled back from her face with simple kerchief. Mitch was wearing khaki shorts, a plaid short-sleeved shirt, and “man-dals.” Corwin stretched in the sun, cuffs and sleeves rolled up over her thick limbs, watching the sky from behind big black sunglasses. Her glass pipe sat next to her, spent and empty. Sharmalee was noticeably absent, and when Lexie asked, Blythe gestured over her shoulder. Behind the blankets, about forty yards from the field, Sharmalee sat cross-legged facing away from everyone, her head in her hands.

  Catching Lexie’s perplexed gaze, Corwin said, �
��She’ll be fine,” as she rolled to her side, reaching into the pocket of her denim shorts and withdrawing rolling papers and a small bag of loose tobacco.

  Blythe nodded, “She gets that way whenever Corwin doesn’t spend the night with her.”

  “Confidentiality is a virtue, Blythe,” Corwin said, as she stuffed the tobacco into the crease of the rolling paper.

  “Oh please,” Blythe waved her hand in dismissal, “Lexie’s one of us now.”

  “Then air your own dirty laundry, not mine,” Corwin replied before turning to face Lexie. “Sharm and I have an open thing. It works pretty well.”

  “For one of you,” Mitch chimed in, his voice quiet, though he got his point across just fine.

  Corwin ignored the comment as she brought the cigarette to her mouth to daub her tongue along the adhesive edge. She rose to her elbow to make her point, gesturing with her unlit cigarette. “Sharmalee is upset because the girl she was crushing on turned out to be a cocksucker. She’s being melodramatic. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “Maybe you just need some clearer agreements,” Jenna offered.

  “Noted,” Corwin said.

  Lexie found a patch of blanket and sat. Jenna passed her a champagne flute, dropping a raspberry into the flute with a wink. The orange juice splashed out of the glass and onto Lexie’s hand. She leaned to lick it off just as Blythe jumped to her knees to shout, “Go, Go, GO!” Mitch and the others sat up to cheer as Hazel barreled through the opposing team’s defense, girls easily twice her size struggling to keep up with the agile little fox. The opposing goalie steeled herself for the fierce drive to come. Hazel drew back her leg and bent the ball into the top corner of the net. The stands exploded into cheers. Blythe sat her half-empty glass on the grass and jumped up to shout louder than anyone. “That’s my girl! Yeah, Hazel, yeah!”

  All the girls followed Blythe to their feet and shouted for Hazel. Though she smiled, Hazel was all business running back to her side of the field.

  “She’s amazing,” Lexie said.

  “Hell yeah, she is,” Corwin said.

  “She’s great at lacrosse, too,” Jenna said.

  Blythe smiled. “So are you.”

  “I suppose so, but Hazel’s got a knack.”

  “Do you all play sports?” Lexie asked.

  “Renee and Hazel are really the jocks,” said Mitch.

  “Yep, Renee does track, too,” Blythe nodded.

  “Almost beat your record in the hurdles, Blythe.” Corwin said.

  “Not yet, she hasn’t.”

  “I play Frisbee in the spring, and Sharm is a forward on the volleyball team,” Corwin added. “That’s how we met. But I dropped volleyball to coach the boxing club.”

  “What about you, Mitch?” Lexie asked.

  “Kind of.”

  “Kind of what?”

  He squirmed. Blythe spoke, “Mitch played women’s hockey until the phallocrats cut the team.”

  “Budget stuff.” Mitch shrugged. “Would never happen back in Ottawa.”

  As the cheers died down, Sharmalee wandered back to the blanket and held out her hand for Jenna to fill with a drink. Taking it, she knelt next to Corwin, her free hand resting on her thighs. Corwin lifted up her sunglasses, squinting at the intrusion of the light. She and Sharmalee looked at each other in silent communion. Sharmalee moved her hand to Corwin’s breastbone, resting it there, and Corwin covered it with her own hand. The other girls watched. After a couple moments, without the exchange of any words, the two girls kissed, and Sharmalee lay her head on Corwin’s chest, comfortable and happy once again.

  Lexie scanned the field and found Renee at the far end, playing defense. She wore shorts and knee socks, her legs as spindly as a prepubescent boy’s. Her hair was pulled back into two afro-puffs at the crown of her head, making it look as though she was wearing teddy-bear ears. Freckles sprayed across the crest of her nose. For such a sophisticated woman, she looked downright adorable.

  The champagne was going to Lexie’s head already, and her stomach growled. Without hesitation, Jenna swung open the hinged cooler, holding individually wrapped sandwiches and petits fromages in red wax.

  “Holy cow,” Lexie said, her stomach rejoicing with an impassioned gurgle.

  “Jenna is our key to surviving the apocalypse,” Mitch said, and Jenna blushed. “She can pour candles, bake bread, even brew beer. She’s amazing.”

  “I like being of service,” Jenna said, her curls like weighted springs, stretching and recoiling with each perky wag of her head.

  “Well,” Lexie said, made daring by the breeze on her neck, the taste of champagne, bread, and cheese on her lips, and the flitting memory of Archer’s breasts, “You can service me whenever you want.”

  The girls laughed together. The ham in the sandwich, far more than the champagne, was ambrosia: Lexie’s hunger was immense. The color and sheen of the meat sent her mind reeling in curious, fleshy directions. She sighed as a swell of gratitude roiled over her, for this day, this company, this sustenance.

  A breeze blew across the field, kicking up loose napkins and strands of hair. It parted the drifting clouds overhead, casting thick, hot beams of sunlight onto the blanket. Lexie, already overdressed for this Indian Summer day, broke into a sweat. She unzipped her hoodie, wrangling it off her shoulders.

  Blythe breathed in deep, before choking and coughing. “Ugh! I swallowed a gnat!”

  “Gross!” Sharmalee said, laughing, before turning her dark eyes to Lexie saying, “Lexie you look hot today.” Corwin bristled.

  “What? Me?”

  “She’s right,” Jenna said. “There’s a je ne sais quoi about you today.”

  Blythe grinned as she poured herself another glass of juice. “Yeah. It’s as if you got yourself a girlfriend or something.”

  Lexie tried not to panic. She shook her head, a false smile painted on her lips. She had checked twice before leaving, and she was sure she didn’t look any different than the last time they had all hung out after the barbecue. A bit more rested, perhaps, but not glowing or any such idiocy. Lexie had successfully slept every night since the Full Moon Tribe, her nights as expressionless as her new dorm room.

  “Well whatever it is,” Jenna said with a smile, “it’s working for you.”

  The bleachers were crowded with students, including the boys of Phi Kappa Phi, most of whom were on the men’s soccer team, and all of whom were like Brian: rich, handsome, and drunk. A cooler rested on the top bench, and red plastic cups abounded. Lexie thought it seemed a bit early for beer, but realized her hypocrisy in the form of the champagne flute she clutched.

  The boys cheered for every girl on the team by name. At the edge of their group, closest to Lexie, stood Duane. He twirled a gold rally rag and screamed along with the rest. He looked like he belonged in a college brochure, his letter-jacket clean and new, the purple wool and gold leather making his skin look as bright as his future. He caught Lexie’s eyes as she scanned the crowd and waved. Lexie waved back, attracting Brian’s attention as he squeezed a lime wedge into the mouth of his beer bottle. He winked in the direction of the Pack.

  Beyond the stands, the shrill bleat of a whistle called for a break, and the women on the field jogged back to their respective benches. Blythe and the rest cheered, “Good quarter!” “Right on, Hazel!” “Kick ass!” Hazel and Renee grinned and waved as they took the bench. Noticing Lexie, Renee’s smile widened, and she beckoned her over.

  Anxiety gripping her spine, Lexie hopped up and ran-skipped-walked to Renee and was enveloped by her arms. The moisture on their skins commingled as their bodies pressed together. The sweet smell of Renee’s sweat drove Lexie’s body into overdrive, but in her mind’s eye, she saw only Archer.

  “I’m glad you came!” Renee said, her smile broad and open. Her skin was so soft that it didn’t crinkle, even around her eyes, when she smiled.

  “Me too,” Lexie responded, riding her buzz as long and steady as she could, getting even d
runker on her lack of inhibition. “Did I miss anything good?”

  “Nah. I don’t go for the glory in these games. This field belongs to Hazel. You having fun?”

  Lexie nodded.

  “Well, you’re looking good,” Renee said with a grin, slapping Lexie’s shoulder with her open palm. “I’d still like to pick up where we left off that stormy night, you know.”

  Lexie focused on the sunlight heating the part in her hair and the taste of orange juice on her lips, trying not to transpose the thought of Renee’s eager grasp on the memory of how Archer’s touch made her feel.

  The whistle blew, warning of the impending second half.

  “You wanna meet up after your bio lab next week?” Renee asked, hurrying through small talk to the point of the matter. “I’m TA-ing.”

  Lexie wasn’t sure what Renee intended, nor what she herself wanted, yet an answer teased towards her lips as she weighed the possibilities.

  “Loosen up that tongue, girlie!” Renee egged. “I gotta get back to the game.”

  Yes, Lexie’s brain said, but the word didn’t come. Yes, she thought again, though the word was missing the desire.

  “Have I taught you nothing?” Renee sighed. “Alright, I’m gonna take that as a ‘no.’ You let me know if you change your mind.”

  Lexie stood, disappointed in her silence. “And, tell the ladies who munch to save me some fromage, a’ight?” Renee winked, slapping Lexie amiably on the shoulder. Lexie half-smiled, charmed despite her inability to assert herself, and hugged Renee again, a bit longer, a bit tighter this time, then crossed back toward the girls.

  Brian shouted her name from the bleachers as she passed. He held a half-empty beer bottle, his Kappa brothers watching with interest. Duane reclined in the sun next to Brian, his khakied legs stretched over the lower tier of benches. He waved, less eagerly than before. Lexie reluctantly climbed the aluminum steps to the group.