Unfettered II: New Tales By Masters of Fantasy

by Shawn Speakman

  “We had sex in your car,” Danny said, coming closer. She put her hands on my chest and pushed me gently backward until I came up against the mound of sacks. “Does that make it ‘the sex car’? Would you be comfortable visiting your mother in the sex car?”

  I had a witty rejoinder to that, I swear, but about that moment her mouth found mine and I decided not to bother. I leaned in to the kiss, slipping my hands down her flanks to her ass and then up the small of her back, untucking her shirt as I went. She gave a little gasp and pressed herself tighter against me, my leg tangling between hers. Her hands were on my back, nails scratching lightly over my skin, sliding up under my shirt to my shoulders.

  Then, in one smooth motion, she pulled herself up and wrapped her legs tight around my waist. I staggered a bit under the weight—she’s thin, but not that thin—and spun her around until I could rest her on the bags of coffee, without letting my lips come off of hers. Not an easy maneuver, but I’d had practice. She clung tight at the waist, the top button of her jeans digging into my chest, but leaned back enough that I could worm my hands between us and undo the buttons of her store-issue flannel shirt. Nothing under it but smooth skin. It hung from her shoulders, brushing against my ear as I kissed a gentle line down the side of her throat, lingering on her collarbone, and then down to the slight swell of her breast.

  We stayed that way for a while, her hands under my shirt while I kissed her all over, sliding my fingers over her flanks and pinching her nipples to hear the hitch in her breath. Her hips moved against my stomach, rocking gently, until all of a sudden she was moving me away and fumbling at the buttons on her jeans. It took her a moment to kick her shoes off and wriggle out of them, and I took the opportunity to get naked. She grabbed hold of my hand and pulled me closer so she could wrap her legs around me again.

  From the moment I pushed into her, I could tell something was different. Something practically crackled between us, a weird kind of energy I’d never felt before, running over her bare skin like static wherever I touched her, arcing when our lips touched. I felt charged with it, every bit of me thrumming and wild, and from the way she moved I could tell she felt it too. I curled my fingers in her pixie-short hair, and if there had been any light I was sure I’d have seen every strand standing on end.

  Danny doesn’t make noise during sex. It’s very convenient for when we’re using the sex closet, but I mean she never makes noise; I’ve felt her have hip-shaking, toe-curling, sheet-clenching orgasms without much more than a little gasping. This time, as she pulled herself tight against me, there was a sound. Not a moan, just the slightest little ah at the back of her throat, but it was the most erotic thing I’d ever heard. We finished together moments later, her hips bucking to the soft crunch of coffee beans as my fingers tightened on her shoulders and I let out a long, raspy breath.

  It was absolutely the best sex we’d ever had. That strange energy flowed through us as we came together, and left me with a feeling of peace and lassitude even more profound than the usual post-coital bliss. I would have been happy to stand there forever, Danny’s arms and legs wrapped around me, and just listen to her breathe.

  “Holy shit,” Danny said, after a few moments of respectful silence.

  “Yeah,” I breathed.

  “I need curry.”

  “Is this really the time for curry?”

  “This is exactly the time for curry.”

  “I think this thing is broken,” I said, when she emerged from the bathroom a minute later. “Nothing’s coming out.”

  “That’s what she said,” Danny said, automatically.

  I tapped the alien coffee device patiently. The pot at the bottom was indeed completely devoid of coffee, though a thick mist was seeping from the little spigot, as though it were full of dry ice. Danny came over and peered at it, then stood on tiptoes again to look into the input chamber.

  “Huh,” she said. “The beans are gone.”

  “Are they supposed to be gone?”

  “How should I know? It didn’t come with a manual.” She looked around and shrugged. “Fuck it. I can call them in the morning.”

  She poured herself a cup of coffee from a batch produced by one of the more mundane devices, and opened the green paper package. Steam and the smell of spicy food wafted out of it. I stood in silence for a moment as she shoveled rice and curry hot enough to set off radiation alarms into her mouth.

  “So what did you want to talk about?”

  “Mmf,” Danny said, taking a gulp of coffee. “Right. I wanted to tell you that I think you and I, as a couple, are not going to work.”

  “Okay,” I said, and then as my brain caught up to my ears, “wait, what?”

  “You know. It’s fun and all, but no.”

  “Are you serious?” A look at her face told me she was. “You’re breaking up with me.”

  “Mmmhmm,” she said, swallowing another forkful.

  “Am I allowed to ask why?”

  Mouth full, she merely raised an eyebrow.

  “Is it about that thing from the other day? It is, isn’t it?”

  Danny, while drinking her coffee, made a gesture with her free hand that implied it might or might not be.

  “Look, if it’s that important to you, I’ll say it. I lov—”

  “Doesn’t work if I have to extort it out of you,” Danny said. “Come on, Brian. I asked what you thought, and you gave me an honest answer.”

  “But . . .” My brain was still a little fogged. “But what about what just happened?”

  “What just happened?”

  “You know. The best sex we ever had?”

  “It really was,” Danny said thoughtfully. “Nice to finish on a high note, so to speak.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

  Danny, mouth full again, raised another eyebrow that indicated the answer to that question should be self-evident.

  “Dragging me into the sex closet when you’re planning on breaking up with me seems pretty questionable, ethically speaking,” I said.

  “First,” she said, swallowing the last of the coffee, “don’t pout, it looks terrible on you. Second, don’t call it a sex closet. And third, if I’d said, ‘Hey, we’re breaking up, but do you want to have sex one more time?’ don’t pretend that you wouldn’t have said yes.”

  “I would have thought about it,” I said. “Hard.”

  “Of course you would have.” She wadded the paper around the curry container and shot it expertly into the trash. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to the counter. Half an hour is usually about the limit of Lisa’s patience.”

  Strictly speaking, I ought to have gone home at that point, but I was suffering from a severe conflict of stimuli and needed someone to talk to. There’s always someone in Apollo’s, even at four in the morning. It’s the only twenty-four-hour coffee shop in town, and we are a famously hard-drinking university when it comes to caffeinated beverages.

  I slipped out through the swinging doors to emerge behind the counter. Apollo’s was a large place, booths lining both walls and the big windows at the front of the shop, with a scattering of tables, chairs, and freestanding displays in between. The counter was crowded—there was a university tradition of putting fund-raising boxes for various causes there, each accompanied by a plush animal with a sign pleading for donations. As I skirted the edge, I bumped a smiling dolphin raising money for the swim team’s trip to Jamaica; it fell over and rolled belly-up on the floor, staring up at me with accusing eyes, and I kicked it viciously out of the way. The confusion in my gut was rapidly rotting into fetid anger.

  “Brian!” Evan Nguyen, my freshman roommate and sometime best friend, waved to me from a table in the corner. I slouched in his direction, wishing there were more dolphins to kick. On the way, I nearly ran into his sister Lisa, who dodged adroitly and headed back toward the counter with a tray tucked under her arm. Lisa doesn’t actually work at Apollo’s, but she sometimes gets drafted in to co
ver Danny’s breaks.

  “Hey, Bri,” Evan said, a nickname that I hate. He punched me playfully on the arm, which I also hate. I slumped into the chair opposite him and waited for him to notice my hangdog expression, which he resolutely refused to do. “How are we feeling about this linear algebra exam? I’m feeling great. I’m loose, I’m excited, I am so ready to fail. I am going to fail so hard. People are going to hear me failing on the other side of the quad.”

  “What are you doing here, then?”

  “Putting on the finishing touches,” Evan said. “A sleepless night before failing an exam adds a certain je ne sais quoi, you know?” He leaned back, grinning. “What about you?”

  “I’ve been better,” I said.

  “Oh no.” Evan leaned forward. “You’re not going to pass, are you?”

  “No. Not a chance.”

  “Okay. You had me worried for a minute there. We can’t have you wrecking the curve, sir.”

  I got tired of waiting for him to ask what was wrong. “Danny broke up with me.”

  “Wait, what?”

  “That’s exactly what I said.”

  “When was this?” Evan said.

  “Just now. Literally sixty seconds ago. In the kitchen.”

  “Why? I mean, in some sense, I know why. She’s always been so far out of your league that you weren’t even playing the same sport, but she seemed relatively happy with the situation, for reasons I personally have never been able to—”

  “Evan,” I grated, “I am really not in the mood.”

  “Sorry.” He had the grace to look contrite. Paying attention to what other humans are feeling is a strange and foreign country for Evan. “But did she tell you why?”

  I looked over my shoulder at the counter. Danny had emerged and was talking quietly to Lisa. Aside from Evan and me, there were three other customers in the shop. Gil and Jason, a couple I knew, were in a booth together, bent so far over their books that they were nearly bumping foreheads. A pretty blond girl I’d never seen before sat by the door, listening to headphones and reading a paperback. None of them were close enough to overhear. The big front windows showed only darkness and a mirrored version of the coffee shop.

  “We had a fight,” I said. “About a week ago.”

  “Did you do something stupid?”

  “No!” I said. “At least, I didn’t think so at the time. She started asking me strange questions.”

  “Strange like, ‘What’s the capital of Algeria multiplied by orange?’ or strange like, ‘What kind of sheets would you use, hypothetically speaking, if you wanted to slit someone’s throat without leaving any DNA evidence?’”

  “Like about what I was going to do after graduation.”

  “Oh,” Evan said. “You mean strange.”

  “Right? Like I can think that far ahead.”

  “I have a firm policy of only thinking about things up to three days in the future,” Evan said. “Anything after that can be ignored.”

  I actually believe he lived that way. It would explain his grades. “I told her I didn’t know.”

  “Guys,” said Lisa, from over by the front door.

  “And she dumped you a week later?”

  “There was some other stuff.” I shifted uncomfortably. Talking about capital-L love or its lack with Evan seemed like a bad idea. “I don’t know. Maybe . . .”

  He waited patiently for me to finish the sentence.

  “Guys?” Lisa said. “There’s a dragon.”

  “I mean, should I have lied to her?” I said. “Is that what she wanted?”

  “Who knows?” Evan said. “I mean, girls, right?”

  “Guys,” Lisa shouted, a touch of hysteria entering her voice. “There is a fucking dragon right fucking outside the door!”

  At that point, quite a few things happened at once:

  I shot to my feet.

  Danny said, “Holy shit!” and dropped the mug she was carrying.

  Evan twisted in his seat, then scrambled up and onto the table, butt-first, knocking over his empty cup.

  Jason, facing the door, attempted to shoot to his feet, but his ample stomach shoved the table forward into Gil.

  Gil tried to look around, took the corner of the table straight to the solar plexus, and folded up, gasping.

  The blonde by the door turned a page in her book, oblivious.

  The dragon put both front paws on one of the windows, like a puppy on display in a pet store. It was about the size of a pony, covered in slablike red-and-black scales that slid over one another as it moved in a ballet of interlocking armor. A pair of batlike wings lay neatly folded against its sides. Its head, mounted on a long, flexible neck, featured two glowing red eyes and a doglike snout, as well as a mouth full of triangular shark teeth and a thin, forked tongue sliding between them. Its paws had talons several inches long, which it was using to scratch long sets of parallel lines in the glass.

  “What the fuck?” Evan said.

  “It’s trying to get in!” Lisa said, backing rapidly against the counter.

  “Okay,” Danny said, with trademark pragmatism. “It can’t get in. The glass is practically bulletproof. Everyone get away from the window—”

  Jason had extricated himself from the table and was helping his fallen boyfriend. The dragon slammed one paw against the glass, but Danny seemed to be correct—the thick plastic-y sheet bowed but held. Just beyond it, the blond girl read on. I wondered what book was that absorbing.

  The dragon drew in a deep breath, reared back, and shot fire at the window. A stream of white-hot flame broke against the glass, which immediately spiderwebbed with cracks. Lisa screamed, which made the blond girl look up, at last, but in the wrong direction.

  “Shit,” I said.

  I was already running, dodging the tables and fallen chairs. The dragon crouched like a cat and sprang at the window, its full weight punching through the glass like rotten cardboard. The girl turned around and froze, eyes going very wide, as the dragon’s front paws landed on her table. It took a step forward, shivering its wings to shake off the remains of the window, and she scrambled away. Catlike again, the thing pounced, catching her in the back with one paw and slamming her to the ground. She rolled over to find it staring down at her from only inches away, fanged mouth open wide.

  “Hey!” I shouted, hurling one of the flimsy plastic chairs. It bounced off the dragon’s armored flank, and the creature’s head snapped around. “That’s right, over here!”

  The dragon stepped forward, across the girl’s trembling form and in my direction. I retreated, looking over my shoulder to make sure there was no one behind me. The monster’s expression didn’t seem cruel, aside from the razor-sharp teeth. There was a sense of curiosity there. Also, one of its back legs didn’t seem to be moving properly, and now that it was closer I could see something black sticking out from between the scales of its thigh.

  I stepped back next to a display cabinet, which was piled high with two-pound bags of the house blend. Keeping my movements slow and careful, I picked one up, hefted it, and then threw it as hard as I could over the dragon’s shoulder. I’d hoped it would work like throwing a toy to a dog, but I’d underestimated the dragon’s speed. Its head snapped out, snagging the bag out of the air. Beans sprayed everywhere as it chewed and swallowed, belching out a brief spurt of flame.

  “O . . . kay,” I said aloud. “Any helpful suggestions?”

  “Fucking run!” said Evan.

  “If I run it’ll jump on me,” I said. The dragon matched my slow movements with its own unhurried stride, but it was clearly ready to pounce. “And then that girl will get eaten.”

  “I’ve got a knife!” Lisa produced a Swiss Army knife with a three-inch blade, which she attempted to fold into the proper configuration with shaking hands.

  “I doubt that’s going to help,” I said, with what I thought was remarkable aplomb. “But thank you.”

  “Throw it more coffee!” said Danny.

  “I
think—” I started.

  “Look at it! It’s getting woozy!”

  I turned my attention back to the dragon and saw that she was right. Its steps had become uncertain, and the way its head weaved suggested the movements of a drunk. It wasn’t a great plan, but it was the best in a field of one, so I grabbed another bag of coffee and threw it right at the dragon’s head.

  As before, it caught the bag and chomped it down. This time the effect was obvious. The dragon wobbled on its feet, peering blearily in all directions. I underhanded it the next bag of beans, and it nearly missed the catch, tearing the bag in half and sending beans rattling across the floor. After gulping down what was left, it sat back heavily on its haunches, then rolled painfully onto one side, tucked in its head, and promptly went to sleep.

  “Holy fucking shit,” Evan said, articulating what seemed to be the general sentiment. He stepped forward, hesitantly, from where he had heroically been trying to hide behind Danny. “You totally slayed a dragon!”

  “Slain,” Lisa said, coming closer.

  “Slew,” said Jason, in his breathy, quiet voice. “He slew a dragon. Or has slain one.”

  “But he hasn’t,” Gil said, rubbing his stomach. “Because it’s not dead. Look, it’s still breathing.”

  “It must metabolize coffee differently than we do,” Jason said.

  Gil and Jason are something of an odd couple. Gil is a junior in theatre, and cuts a Byronic figure with high cheekbones and emaciated good looks. He wears a post-post-ironic goatee, reads poetry in public, and listens to bands you’ve never heard of, but in spite of all that he manages to be a genuinely likable human being. Gil and Danny have been friends since they were toddlers, and were in a (very) short-lived band together.

  Jason, while also friendly when you get to know him, is more the retiring type. Before he and Gil started dating, it was rare to see him outside a kind of groove he’d worn between his room and the cafeteria. He’s large and heavily bearded in a way that screams “future sysadmin,” and in a more perfect world he would be training to be something totally other, like a world-class concert pianist. But because stereotypes sometimes just work out, he is both a junior in computer science and a level 95 Night Elf Druid.