Equality: In the Year 2000 jw-2

by Mack Reynolds

  The car sprang forward and Peggy Ten Eyck gasped.

  She said, “Golly, Jule, aren’t you afraid some motorcycle cop might come along?”

  He laughed exuberantly at the speed. It was a beautiful June evening, as only the Catskills can provide. The sun had just set behind Overlook Mountain, and the coloring of the sky blended with the new dark green of the hills.

  “My uncle’s in good with the county commissioner,” he told her. “They know better than to bother me. A couple of times they’ve tried. I just turn the ticket over to Uncle Albert.”

  “Wow,” she said, impressed. She put one hand to her hair, an attempt to keep it in some semblance of order, and looked at him out the side of her eyes.

  His sport jacket had been tailored of Donegal tweed, in Ireland; his shirt of Egyptian cotton had come from Paris; his cravat, tailored slacks and his shoes were bought in London. He wasn’t particularly aware of these facts. He had always been outfitted in the same shops as his father, and had accepted without much thought the reality of owning nothing but the best in haberdashery, suits and sport clothing.

  To small-town Peggy Ten Eyck, he cut a breathtaking figure.

  His face and body, in its new manhood, did not detract from the picture. He had reached his full height, just short of six feet, and weighed approximately one-hundred sixty-five pounds. He had the good carriage of one who has been well trained to horses at an early age. His hair was dark and slightly curly, and his face aristocratically handsome.

  To Peggy Ten Eyck he was everything Hollywood had ever promised.

  They sped up the highway, which was largely deserted at this time of day, reached West Hurley and cut off on the narrower road toward Woodstock.

  “Where are we going, Jule?” Peggy gasped into the wind.

  “I’ll never tell.”

  She giggled.

  They slowed as they passed the Woodstock summer theatre and the Big Deep swimming hole on the edge of town. Julian eased up still more as they passed Deanie’s restaurant and the town square. He was a fast driver, given the proper conditions, but his father had also schooled him well in safety in motoring.

  “We can come back later for a bite at Deanie Elwyn’s,” Julian told her.

  “Wonderful,” Peggy said. “I just love his hamburgers.”

  Julian snorted. “He has better food than that,” he told her. They had reached the edge of the art colony and he sped up again on the way to Lake Hill.

  Just short of the town, Julian said, “Ah, here we are,” and came nearly to a halt, then turned off on a dirt road, which led steeply upward.

  “Where in the world are we going?” she asked, no apprehension whatsoever in her voice.

  “To the prettiest maple grove I’ve ever run into,” he told her. “1 found it by accident, just driving around on the back roads, kind of exploring. Some day we’ll have to get the gang together and have a picnic. Possibly in the fall, when the leaves begin to turn.”

  “Sounds awfully romantic,” Peggy said, looking at him again from the side of her eyes.

  He pulled the car off to the side, into a mountain glen which was everything he had described. There was even a small stream at the far side, running clear with mountain water.

  He stopped the car and turned off the engine.

  “Isn’t this something?”

  Peggy turned to him. At the age of fourteen and a half, Peggy Ten Eyck had never been out with a boy who hadn’t attempted to kiss her as soon as he was able to get her alone. She had no doubt in the world that it had been Julian’s intent in bringing her here.

  As a matter of fact, though, it hadn’t. He had brought her for the reason he had said: to show her the maple grove as a site for a future picnic. Julian was not unkissed, but he had never felt he had to prove his developing manhood by kissing every girl at every opportunity that presented itself. In the atmosphere he had been raised in, sex was not a desperate thing—there was too much of it around.

  She tipped her head.

  Julian was a gentleman born and raised. He couldn’t disappoint a lady. Besides, he considered her the prettiest girl in Kingston High School, which boasted some two thousand students.

  So he kissed her. Perhaps it was the balmy beauty of the evening, perhaps it was the romantic setting. Perhaps it was two teenagers only recently having become aware of the.sexual urge. But he had never been so stirred by a kiss. Her mouth was soft; her mouth was willing; her mouth was hot. Her mouth demanded more, and he gave it to her.

  She moved against him, and he could feel her breasts. They were surprisingly mature breasts, considering her age. Something he had once heard his father say came back to him. They’re big enough when they’re old enough and they’re old enough when they’re big enough. At the time the meaning had eluded him, but he understood now.

  Young people can spend hours kissing, but on this occasion passion was mounting rapidly to higher levels. Julian tentatively cupped one of the ample breasts with his left hand.

  Her mouth still glued to his, she squirmed and murmured, “You mustn’t do that.”

  Julian responded to the protest by ignoring it.

  They continued to kiss. Through her blouse and brassiere he could feel her nipple stiffening and it excited him—to the point where he could feel himself rapidly acquiring an erection. It had happened to him on necking binges before, so he wasn’t surprised.

  He took his hand and slipped it into the neck of her blouse.

  “Oh, no,” she murmured, her voice low and sexy-tinged.

  He obeyed her no more than he had before. He fondled her breast for a moment over the brassiere, and then slipped his hand inside. He was enjoying himself immensely.

  Her breath was coming deeper.

  He whispered, “Let me kiss you there.”

  “Oh, no!”

  “Just once. You’re so beautiful.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t.”

  “Please.”

  Peggy had had her breasts kissed before by boys not even near Julian’s class. She said demurely, “Just a minute.”

  She unbuttoned her blouse and wriggled her hand up her back to unsnap her brassiere. This was going as well as her fondest hope. She had long schemed to get Julian alone somewhere—anywhere—so she could prove to him that she was worthy to be his steady.

  The brassiere fell away and Julian was confronted with the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. He bent his lips worshipfully, and feasted on the pinkness of the cherrystone nipple.

  “Oh,” she moaned.

  Julian had gone beyond the point of no return. Surreptitiously, he unzipped his pants. The night, now, was quite dark. He reached out and took her hand and put it on his penis, continuing to kiss her nipple.

  At first she obviously didn’t know what it was she was holding, but then suddenly she stiffened. Her grasp too stiffened, so that she held it tightly. She let go in quick alarm and tried to sit up and away from him.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked, his voice husky.

  “I… I think we better go now.”

  “Why?”

  “Well… I… I’ve never done this before.”

  “Oh, come on now.”

  “Well, I haven’t.”

  “Are you chicken?”

  She said, only half angrily, “No, I’m not. But I promised my mother I’d never do it until I got married.”

  “Oh, great,” he said, the terms of seduction coming to him instinctively. “I’m not even in college yet, and you want to be married.”

  There was a long moment of silence. This was the most handsome boy she had ever met in her life, and the most gentlemanly; he even talked like he was an Englishman or something. He never swore; he was never gauche (the word wasn’t part of her vocabulary, of course). Above all, she knew that he was going to inherit one of the largest fortunes in the United States. What it boiled down to was, he’s the richest guy I’m ever going to meet.

  She said cautiously, “Well, I know we can�
�t be married now. But if you really love me, we could be kind of engaged, go steady and all.”

  “Of course,” he said, reaching for her breasts again. It was not part of his real nature to lie, but…

  She said worriedly, “I… I don’t know much about it. I’ve never done it.”

  Inwardly, he doubted it, in spite of her age. He himself was a virgin but, somehow or other, he believed that Peggy couldn’t be. If she were a virgin, a “good girl,” why had she let him go this far?

  The seat of the Mercedes-Benz was ample but it would have taken a more experienced seducer than the young Julian to have figured out the mechanics of what he was attempting.

  He had his left hand up her skirt now, fumbling at the hem of her briefs. He had never gone any further than this with a girl but he knew that tonight he was going to. He hesitantly ran his hand over her, and clumsily tried to insert his finger.

  “Oh, no,” she said. “I… I’ve changed my mind. I guess I’d better go home. I’ve never done it. I…”

  He ignored her.

  After a few more moments of being mauled, she said, “Let me take my panties off.”

  He acceded to that and drew away long enough for her to arch her hips and pull down her nylon briefs. His mouth was dry and his breath was coming in pants.

  She left her skirt halfway up to her hips. “Do you love me, Jule?”

  “Of course,” he told her, trying to get her arranged with her back between the seat and the door so that he could mount her. He pressed against her, seeking entrance.

  She gasped, “How much do you love me?”

  There was no answer.

  She said, “Oh, be careful, that hurts.”

  “Only for a minute,” he said. “It hurts only for a minute.” He knew now that she hadn’t been lying. She, too, was a virgin.

  “Oh,” she said, “be careful. That hurts bad. I… I’ve never done it before.”

  He was in a rage of passion now, though trying to listen to her and be careful. He jabbed, jabbed again.

  “Oh, Jule, that’s not the place. I don’t think that’s the place. Oh, that hurts.”

  He rubbed against her frantically. He simply had to get inside her. He poked and pushed.

  “Oh, no,” she gasped. “That hurts awful. Don’t do that.”

  “I have to,” he groaned, straining against her.

  “Something’s wrong,” she said. “You’re not doing it right. Haven’t you ever done it before?”

  “No,” he muttered, straining still.

  “I… I think we better stop. What you’re doing hurts awful.”

  “No!”

  And then he came, all over her. He gasped, then moaned.

  She said, “What… what happened?”

  Julian was definitely embarrassed. “I… I just, uh, they call it came.”

  “Oh,” Peggy said. She knew what the word meant. “You mean you’re all through?” There was relief in her voice.

  “I… I guess so. I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?”

  “Not very much. I, well, I don’t think you were doing it right. I don’t think you really… did me. Not completely.”

  “I don’t think so either,” he said, a feeling of inadequacy coming over him.

  She asked, “Do you have a handkerchief?”

  He fished out his white linen handkerchief and handed it over.

  “I’m sorry,” he said again. He rezipped his pants, averting his eyes from her attempt to clean herself up.

  She slipped back into her briefs. With as much embarrassment as he himself was feeling, she said, “That didn’t work very well, did it? Maybe next time we can be in a bed or something. And… well, shouldn’t you have one of those rubber things or something?”

  “Yeah,” he said, disgusted with the whole thing.

  Suddenly the beam of a flashlight was on them and a gruff voice said, “Okay, you two, what goes on?”

  The newcomer was in uniform.

  Julian said, “We were just parked here enjoying the evening, Officer.”

  “Oh, yeah? Then how come her skirt is halfway up to her belly button?”

  Julian sighed and lifted out his wallet. He selected a twenty-dollar bill, and proffered it, saying, “I’m Julian West, Officer. It is a pleasure to meet you. The young lady and I were doing a bit of… necking. I’m sure you understand. Please have a beer on me at your favorite tavern.”

  “Oh,” the other said. “You’re Mr. West’s nephew?”

  “That is correct, Officer.”

  The man, who had already taken the bill, tipped a finger to his cap. “Sorry to have bothered you. Have a good time, sir.”

  “Golly,” Peggy said when he was gone. “I was afraid he’d run us in. It’s lucky he didn’t come up five minutes ago.”

  “It wouldn’t have made any difference,” Julian said wearily, reaching for the car key.

  The dream ended at that point, and Julian came awake to find Edith sleeping beside him, a deep gentie sleep of complete relaxation and health.

  As he lay there, the rest of the sordid experience come back to him. He had never gone out with Peggy again. Somehow or other, he couldn’t bring himself to face her. Besides, shortly afterward he had met an older and considerably more experienced woman who had efficiently introduced him to the pleasures to be found in bed.

  It was approximately seven months later that his uncle, aglint of amusement in his eye, said, “Did you know that you were about to become a father?”

  Julian froze.

  Albert West laughed. He went over to the sideboard and took up a bottle of the Scotch he had specially imported from Glenlivet, and splashed two generous portions into tall highball glasses. He returned to where his nephew sat and handed him a drink.

  He said, “Mr. Ten Eyck was over this morning. He wants you to marry the girl—for which I don’t blame him, considering your financial position. Is the child yours?”

  Julian knocked back some of the liquor. “No!” he said.

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “She says it is.”

  Julian shook his head emphatically. “No. I was necking with her and tried to, but it didn’t work. I never went out with her again.”

  “According to her doctor, the child was conceived in August.”

  “The only time I ever went out with her was in June, last June. What can we do? I mean… what can I do?”

  His uncle laughed and winked at him. “It’s already been done, Jule.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “1 pointed out to Mr. Ten Eyck that you were in London in August. All of August.”

  “But I wasn’t, Uncle Albert. I was right here in Woodstock.”

  “Yes, but can they prove it?”

  “There must be people who could testify that I was here.”

  The older man took a pull at his whiskey. “And I can get letters from London testifying that you were there. For instance, I could get a statement from the Duke and Duchess that you were a house guest of theirs. Whose testimony, here in Ulster County, would stand up to that? If necessary, I know a chief steward on the French Line who would gladly do me the favor of testifying that you were a passenger on his ship, both going and returning, during the period involved.”

  Julian stared at him.

  His uncle laughed again. “I gave Ten Eyck a check and told him to send the girl away for a few months. If they had come to me sooner, she could have had an abortion, but it’s too late for that now. See here, my boy, you’re getting to the age where you’re going to have to watch out for these things. Every woman you run into is going to have her eye on the West fortune. To be safe, why don’t you let me set up a little flat or house in Kingston for you? I’ll check with Polly Adler down in the city and we’ll arrange for a nice experienced girl to take it over. You can visit her when you, ah, have the urge.”

  Julian experienced a great inner relief, but he said, “No thanks, Uncle Albert.”

  �
�Suit yourself, but don’t worry about Ten Eyck. I warned him that if he took this to court, I’d hire the best lawyers in the state to defend you. And that when the case fell through, I’d prosecute both him and his daughter.”

  It was the first time his family’s money had been ruthlessly utilized to protect him from his actions.

  Chapter Eleven

  The Year 2, New Calendar

  In the three short decades between now and the twenty-first century, millions of ordinary, psychologically normal people will face an abrupt collision with the future. Citizens of the world’s richest and most technologically advanced nations, many of them, will find it increasingly painful to keep up with the incessant demand for change that characterizes our time. For them, the future will have arrived too soon.

  —Alvin Toffler, Future Shock

  He realized that Edith had opened her eyes and was watching him with an expression compounded of sleepiness, warmth, satisfaction, affection… and possibly a bit of humor.

  He said, wiping his dream thoughts of Peggy Ten Eyck from his mind, “Good morning, Edie.”

  “Good morning, darling. Did I make you happy?”

  He took in her beauty. During past sexual experiences he had most often dreaded seeing his bed companion in the harshness of morning light; makeup smeared, hair a mop, breath heavy with the tobacco and alcohol of the night before, the animal smell of used sex and dried sweat. It didn’t apply to Edith Leete. She had never worn cosmestics in her life, her hair was short cut, she neither smoked nor drank beyond a bit of wine or beer with meals. And now that he thought about it, after their last bout with Eros, she had gone into the bath and showered. He was disgusted with himself for not having done the same.

  Now she was fresh and beautiful.

  He nodded and said, “Yes. Yes, Edie.”

  “All right, then. Breakfast. Last one up is a rotten egg!” She threw back the single sheet that covered them and began to swing her excellent legs over the side of the bed.

  He said, “Wait just a minute.”

  She looked at him and raised her eyebrows mockingly. “What? After all that? Are you a satyr?”