I acted demure and polite, but I was gloating just a little inside. I’m not sure anyone would blame me. Mason said he would have done the same—that anyone would. And I know he’s right.
The world only offers justice in random flickers and hints. We’re allowed to appreciate it whenever we catch a glimpse.
So I privately enjoy the memory of yesterday at the seamstress for several minutes until my mind spills into a new line of thinking.
The book I was reading yesterday, which I found the last time I was scavenging in the ruins of the indoor market nearby.
It wasn’t like most of the other pre-Fall books I’ve read. The main plot was about two people forming a relationship, and I’m quite sure it wouldn’t be allowed in any government-approved book collection or library.
There’s sex in it.
A lot of sex.
And not described in any way I’ve encountered before.
Of course I know a lot of people have sex recreationally. They do it for fun. But I never did. Neither didLorraine nor Aria. Or Annabelle as far as I know. Whatever my parents did happened behind a closed door.
And Mason never did it for fun either. Like me he was taught to work hard and obey the rules and not waste time or energy on anything that won’t contribute to a safe life and future, and that’s what he’s done for thirty years.
Now that Mason and I have started having sex, I can understand why people do it for fun. Itisfun. I’ve gotten used to the penetration, so I even enjoy the part when he’s thrusting inside me. Not as much as the first part when he’s focused on making me come, but there’s a deep pleasure I never would have expected in watching him—helping him—find that satisfaction himself.
But every night it happens the same way. He uses his hands and then moves on top of me for his turn. I assumed that’s the only way.
Evidently not. At least according to the book.
Just reading about it yesterday turned me on.
I hope that’s not wrong because I really couldn’t help it.
Even thinking about it again now gets me hot and throbby.
In fact, it gets me going so much I have trouble lying still.
“Y’okay?”
I jerk at Mason’s sleepy mumble from behind me.
“Yes. I’m fine. Why?”
“Dunno. You were all squirmy over there. Thought you might be sick.”
“I’m not sick.”
“Then what’s wrong?” He must be waking up because he sounds like his normal self.
“Nothing. Why are you asking?”
“Told you. You got squirmy.”
My cheeks burn. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”
“Why aren’t you telling me what’s wrong?” He puts a hand on my shoulder.
He’s not using force, but I know what he wants, so I turn over onto my other side so I’m facing him.
He peers at me in the dark. “You’re all hot and flushed. What’s wrong? Do you have a fever?” He puts a hand on my forehead the way he did last month when I caught an illness that was going around the village.
“I don’t have a fever.” I edge away from him slightly. He’s worried about me. He’s trying to help. And if I jerk away from his touch because I’m self-conscious, it might hurt his feelings.
