The day after: An apocalyptic morning

by Jessy Cruise

  "That depends on what you consider a betrayal to be," Paula answered. "Trust me. I am well aware that our trip is being noted right now and it is part of my plan."

  "Your plan?" he said. "Just what kind of plan are you talking about? You're stealing me!"

  "I am doing no such thing," she said. "Now take my arm. Make it look good."

  "Paula," he said, stopping in his tracks. "This is crazy."

  "Crazy or not, it needs to be done. Now do what I say. Everyone already will have an earful of you and I based on what Jessica will tell them tomorrow. That in itself will be enough to drive Christine away from you. I don't want that to happen, Skip. I really don't. If you want to keep her, you need to follow my lead and take me home."

  "Paula," he said, "you sound like a defense attorney telling a murderer that he can escape the electric chair if he just kills a few more people."

  She laughed, slapping at his arm. "That's funny, Skip," she said. "Good analogy. You ever thought about being a writer?"

  "Paula!"

  "Sorry," she said. "Listen, my plan may seem strange right now, but it will soon make sense to you. Just remember and try to accept that you and Christine are as caught up in pre-comet morality as everyone else in town. The difference with you two is that you try to honor it while the others only pretend to. You will have to come to some accommodations with some new realities here, just like everyone else does. In the meantime, what I'm doing will protect you and your lover as well as give me what I need. Everyone will win, okay?"

  "Now you sound like a used car salesman."

  "Saleswoman," she corrected, sliding her arm through his. "Now see me home, Mr. Most Eligible Bachelor and try to pretend that you don't think anyone sees us."

  She gave a tug and he started moving, propelled along more by his drunken lack of judgment than anything else. Soon, they reached her front door. She opened it with a key and led him inside.

  Like every other house in Garden Hill these days, Paula's had a clothesline strung through the formal living room, attached by molly bolts into the plaster. Her shirts, pants, bras, and panties hung drying in the air in what had once been the room designed to impress visitors with a display of expensive, uncomfortable furniture, usually antique and usually the kind that no one was allowed to actually sit upon. In every other house that he had been in, despite the clothesline, the furniture had remained, as if the women needed to show that even though civilization had collapsed, they had possessed taste and money before. This was not so with Paula. There was not a stitch of furniture in her living room, only other clotheslines with sheets and comforters hung upon them. They had to duck in order to get under all of it.

  "What's with all the linen?" Skip asked as she lit an oil lamp and led him through the maze.

  "It helps my clothes dry faster," she said. "And keeps the humidity down in the house." Humidity from air drying cloth was one of the scourges of Garden Hill life. It would peel wallpaper from the wall and make you sweat sitting still despite the chilly temperatures.

  "Say again?"

  "It's like hanging clothes that are still damp in your closet," she explained. "The dry cloth helps soak up the moisture. You'll notice that its quite humid in here but everywhere else in the house is quite dry. I've suggested the technique to some of the other women in town but they won't do it because it clutters up their living rooms."

  He followed her into the family room of the house and found that it was indeed quite dry in there. There was no thick haze of cold, muggy air pervading the atmosphere, making it feel like you were in a fog bank. The air temperature was actually quite pleasant in a relative sort of way. Over the past few weeks the ambient temperature outside had dropped by about ten degrees, making everyday life in a town without propane or electric service a challenge. But in Paula's living room, it was almost comfortable.

  "My plants," she said, pointing around the room where sickly looking houseplants were everywhere. "They don't do all that well since there isn't any sunlight, but the firelight and the lamplight during the hours I'm home keeps them alive. They, in turn, generate a little heat for me and keep the air nice and fresh. Again, something I've suggested to the other women but it takes a little too much effort for them."

  "Amazing," Skip said, almost forgetting the circumstances that had brought him here. His respect for Paula, which was already quite high, kicked up a few notches.

  She tapped the side of her head with her finger. "See what you learn when you read a lot," she told him. "Why don't you start us a fire? I'm going to go change."

  That suddenly brought him back to what he was doing here. "Listen, Paula," he said. "Maybe we should talk about what this great plan of yours is first."

  "Maybe we shouldn't," she said, starting to unbutton her flannel shirt. "Start us a fire, Skip." With that, she disappeared into the bedroom.

  Left with nothing else to do, Skip picked up some dry kindling and newspaper from a stack next to the fireplace. Wood gathering and drying was a major consumer of daily labor in Garden Hill, not just for the personal use of the inhabitants but also for the three large fires at the community center that needed to be kept burning day and night to heat hot water for bathing and cooking. The wood was chopped from the many fallen trees around the perimeter of the township. Putting it near one of the fires dried it, although even this could not get all of the moisture out of the pine and sequoia. He arranged the kindling and the newspaper expertly and then put a log on. He lit the scraps of paper with a lighter that Paula kept nearby and a moment later a nice blaze was beginning, providing both light and warmth.

  "Very nice," said Paula from behind him. "Very romantic even."

  He looked up and saw that she was wearing a long white robe, tied tightly at the waist. It was not the most alluring thing that she could have used to tempt him but at the same time it was not a burlap sack either. The material looked very soft and warm and easy to remove. He could tell by the way her breasts moved that she had nothing on beneath it. Her hair had been combed out as well, making it smooth and silky and as she came closer he caught a hint of vanilla body wash. He started to rise, intending to go over to the couch but she waved him back down and sat next to him. As she eased herself down the hem of her robe rose up a little, displaying a good portion of her left leg to him. It was a very pretty leg, pale and smooth looking.

  "What now?" he asked a little nervously.

  She took his hand in hers and set it on her bare knee, allowing him to feel the warmth of it. "Now," she said, "we make love in front of the fire."

  "And this will help Christine?" he said, not moving his hand.

  She did it for him, pulling it a little higher, so that it was now touching the soft skin of her thigh. "It will help everyone," she assured him. She let her legs fall apart, which in turn caused the hem of her robe to creep higher. He was now able to see her inner thighs almost all the way to her crotch.

  He felt himself hardening again in his jeans, despite his best efforts not to. He felt his willpower to resist her draining away. "I don't want to leave her," he said, unable to take his eyes from her legs.

  "Like I said," she told him, opening her legs a little more now that she had his interest, "I don't want you to leave Christine."

  He could now see all the way to her crotch, although it was mostly hidden in shadow. He could just make out the darkness of her pubic hair. "I don't want to sneak around with you either," he said, unconsciously licking his lips.

  "Sneaking around would be impossible," she said, turning more towards him to improve his view. "I believe we have already established that. Our presence here in this house is already known."

  "But..."

  "Skip," she said gently, undoing the knot on her tie. She slowly opened the robe, displaying everything at once for him. "Don't talk so much. Just make love to me."

  The sight of her body vanquished the second thoughts he was having. It was truly a piece of work, much more impressive in the nude than the impression
one got by seeing her clothed. Her breasts were not large but were nicely rounded and, unlike many of the women in town, natural. Her nipples were small and erect. Her stomach was smooth and very firm looking, as if she regularly did sit-ups. Between her legs was a neatly trimmed triangle of black hair. Her pink lips and erect clit showed prominently from the midst of this. She opened her legs even more and let her hand drop down to her slit. She began to rub herself up and down, back and forth.

  "You're not going to just sit there and let me play with myself, are you?" she asked him coyly.

  He didn't. He leaned forward and took her in his arms, his hands going around her back, his lips going to her mouth. They kissed softly, gently as she let the robe fall to the floor behind her. She lay back on the carpet, pulling him down with her as their tongues began to dance together. Her breath was sweet, as if she had just brushed her teeth, her kissing very erotic.

  He let his hand roam over her body, sliding over her breasts and toying with her hard nipples before moving downward. It passed over the firmness of her stomach, across her hip, and down to her upper thigh. Her legs were still wide open and he let his hand move between them, finding her wet pussy. He stroked the outside of it for a moment, feeling the velvet lips, before sliding first one and then two fingers into her. She was not as tight as Christine - nobody was that tight - but she was not loose either. She clenched hungrily at his probing digits, moaning into his mouth as he felt him penetrate her. Her juices ran over the back of his hand as he began to fingerfuck her in earnest.

  She broke the kiss and ordered him to get those clothes off and fuck her. He pulled his hand free, taking a moment to lick her fragrant juices from his fingers. Seeing him do this made her moan. "Now," she demanded. "Fuck me now!"

  He moved quickly, tossing his boots, socks, pants, shirts, and underwear up onto the couch as he removed them. He never left the floor. The moment his cock was exposed to the air her hand found it and began to stroke it up and down. Once he was naked she pulled him on top of her once again, pressing his bare flesh to hers.

  "Just hammer me," she told him, looking into his eyes with lust. "Forget that slow build-up shit. I need your cock pounding me!"

  He positioned himself between her legs and slid into her, her muscles almost pulling him in. For the first time since his fight with Christine he found himself enclosed in a tight, warm pussy and the feeling was very nice. Paula was right; masturbation just didn't cut it. Her legs came up around his back and her hands went to his ass as he began to thrust in and out.

  "Faster! Harder!" she demanded. "Fuck me harder. Pound me!"

  He gripped her beneath her armpits, his fingers on her shoulders, and he used her body to give him leverage. He slammed his hips up and down, making deep, fast strokes. His pubis mashed forcefully into hers with each thrust, making a slapping sound. He felt his balls bouncing against her ass cheeks, which were wet with running juices.

  "Yes, yes, oh God, just like that. Fuck me hard. Give it to me!" Paula yelled, her fingernails now biting into his ass cheeks. Her own pelvis was thrusting back at him, her own strokes timed perfectly to collide with his downstrokes. She ground herself a little bit each time he bottomed out, stimulating both of them.

  Since he had already come once he was able to last at this pace for quite some time. Their bodies quickly heated up and began to sweat, Skip's in particular. Like Christine, Paula seemed to enjoy licking at his neck while he was perspiring. She also enjoyed biting at his neck, not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to arouse greatly. She had first one and then another orgasm, her bites and clawings becoming frantic during the spasms of pleasure. She was about halfway through her third when the clenching of her vaginal muscles on his cock finally became too much for him to endure. He exploded within her, kissing her frantically as he poured his seed into her body.

  Afterward they lay entwined together, his cock still inside of her, his arms still holding her shoulders. They kissed more gently now, just touching tongues and lips as the sweat began to dry upon them. The fire continued to crackle, occasionally popping as a knot exploded.

  "That felt soooo good," Paula said at last, her hands still resting on his ass. "I never thought I would enjoy sex with another man besides Stan, but god help me, that was just incredible."

  He nodded, a little more sober now than he had been and feeling fatigue and guilt both pulling strongly at him. "Yes," he admitted nonetheless. "It was very good."

  "Human beings of childbearing age," she said, "are not meant to go without sex. We just aren't equipped to deal with it."

  He swallowed a little, letting his chin rest in the crook of her neck. "I think you're right," he finally said.

  "And that's a big part of our problem here in Garden Hill, wouldn't you agree?"

  "People going without sex?" he asked. "No, I'd say it's the opposite. People are having too much sex."

  She shook her head. "No," she told him. "That is the result of the problem, not the problem itself. Now granted, with a lot of these women in town, sex is not all they are after. Some of them don't even like sex I'm sure. They just feel that they have to have a man in their life, that they have to be attached. But with a lot of them, like Missy, like Cindy, like Maggie, they want sex and they don't have a man to call their own to give it to them. So therefore they go after the men who... let's say belong, for lack of a better term, to someone else. And men, they take almost any sex that is offered to them, especially in this environment. You are a perfect example."

  "Me?"

  "You," she said. "You are admittedly very attached to Christine and you try very hard to be faithful to her, don't you?"

  "I try," he said miserably, not failing to note the fact that he was lying naked atop another woman as he said this.

  "Paul is the same way," Paula said. "He really does try to stay faithful to Janet. He loves her. I've seen them together and I know that they love each other, but even he can't resist it sometimes when one of these women throws herself at him. Just like Missy threw herself at you. Just like I did. If we know what we're doing, we can seduce you. Men cannot control their impulses. Men are not meant to be monogamous."

  "What?" he asked. "What the hell does that mean? Before the comet I never cheated on my wife, not even once. And believe me, I worked in a job where cheating on one's spouse was almost a badge of honor among your peers."

  "But you were tempted all the time, weren't you?" she asked.

  "Tempted," he said. "Of course I was tempted. But I never did it."

  "That is because you did not live in a society where women shamelessly threw themselves at you. You repressed your natural urge to couple with different women out of respect for your wife or fear of getting caught or whatever, but you did have the urge, didn't you?"

  "Yes," he said. "I did."

  "It's an urge that is biological and genetic in origin, so don't feel bad about it. Until the advent of modern religion and socialization, it was common for men to have multiple partners - harems if you will. The human male evolved with the urge to spread his seed and his genetic code to as many women as he could. That was how survival of the fittest worked. Those that were strong enough and powerful enough to amass enough women to breed with got to pass on their genes to the next generation. This was all very well documented.

  "Now over the years it has become socially unacceptable for a man to have multiple wives or partners - at least officially. The man's urge to couple with as many different females as possible was suppressed but it never went away. In fact, it never even faded. That was why we had a multi-billion dollar pornography industry that catered almost exclusively to men. That was why every city, every small town, every hole-in-the-wall shitbox that didn't even qualify as a town had some form of prostitution in it. That was why men were ten times as likely to routinely cheat on their wives than women were to cheat on their husbands. And that is why the men in this town are going completely apeshit now that they find themselves in a five to one woman to man ratio
. It's a little like what they envisioned heaven being like I'd imagine."

  "Yes," Skip agreed. "I imagine that it is. But what does this have to do with you and me? I didn't want to cheat on Christine with Missy or with you."

  "Ahhh," she said, "but that's where you're wrong. You did want to cheat. You did want to have sex with us. This is evidenced by the simple fact that you did it. We may have seduced you to a certain degree, but you were a willing participant in both cases, were you not? Otherwise, you would not have attained an erection. It is not really possible for a woman to rape a man now, is it?"

  "Well... no. But..."

  "No buts," she said, giving his a playful slap. "You wanted to fuck me and you did it. I helped the process along but you went with it once I got you riled up. This doesn't mean you love Christine any less, it's just that you have the desire to be with other women and here in this town there are plenty of other women willing to give themselves to you. Under these circumstances I think that it's maybe a little naïve for a woman to expect her man to be completely faithful to her. I certainly wouldn't expect it of you. The best I could hope for is to control it to a certain degree, to make accommodations with it."

  "What kind of accommodations?"

  "I intend to continue having sex with you," she said. "I enjoyed it greatly and I do not wish for this to be a one time only thing."

  "What are you saying?" he asked. "I thought you didn't want to have an affair with me."

  "I don't want to have an affair with you," she said. "I want to be your woman. I want you to move into this house with me."

  "I can't do that," he said. "Didn't I make it clear from the start that I won't leave Christine?"

  "I'm not asking you to leave Christine," she replied. "I want her to move in here with us."

  That threw Skip for a complete loop. "You mean that you want to... share me with Christine?"

  "Exactly," she said. "That is my plan. We can work out the arrangements once we're all living together. Maybe I get to sleep with you one night and she gets to sleep with you the next. To tell you the truth, I'm not even opposed to us all sleeping together. I mean, what the hell, right?"