Chapter 5

“King of tact, Peter Pan, that’s you” said Dick. Adam squirmed uncomfortably. He and Peter used to talk about kissing and boobies (though never as far as the intersection of the two) before Peter had become a man and fallen under the pall of secrecy under which all adults operated. If he was asking who Adam was having sex with now, then it was probably okay, even if it did turn his face red.

“Umm ... Kitty. A few times. And Mary, once.”

“So you really didn’t go to the party last time?”

“Told you he never showed up. Petal says Mary got to him.”

“And the rest of their gang kept the others away from him. Dana said they’ve put her on long shifts in the laundry.”

“Well, now that Peter’s broached the subject,. Adam, you haven’t ... tried your luck, so to speak, with any of the other women?”

“You mean, like, sex?”

“Yeah, you know you can do that now, right?”

“I ... no? I got that impression, but I wouldn’t know how to do that ... gentlemanly, y’know? I kind of ... I dunno ... I’d have to talk to Kitty about it first too. She says she wants a relationship. Monogamous.”

Dick groaned wearily. Peter scoffed:

“Told you they’ve got us all locked down until we go up. Adam, that’s just her mom putting words in her mouth. Got her own agenda.”

“I kinda got that?” Adam thought back to Connie’s strange visit. “But why?”

“It’s ... complicated” said Dick. “Sorry. Shit, I never even know where to start.”

“I do” said Peter, turning around in his seat to fix Adam’s gaze. “With Kitty. Ask her. You’ll believe her.”

“Ask her what?”

“Same thing I asked you. Who’ve you been fucking?”

Adam’s jaw dropped. The gears turned in his head, heavily, gratingly, rustily, the line of thought he hadn’t permitted himself to follow until now lit blindingly before him. Kitty was ... experienced. Crotches, mouths, pacing, she’d done it before. Or had she? And she said she was afraid he’d get mad. Obviously. So obvious he hadn’t dared see it. Or maybe too obvious. Too obvious to be true. His face twisted in pain. Gritting his teeth, he exhaled.

“She ... hasn’t been. She would’ve said. She said we should say.” Adam shook his head, trying to dislodge suspicion physically.

“You sure about that?”

“Yeah!” He retrenched angrily.

“Look, just-”

“Petey, drop it, don’t want him taking a swing at us and running this damn clunker off the road.”

Adam was more than happy for everyone to drop it. Except he couldn’t. He tried concentrating on the good haul they’d pulled in, on how happy everyone would be to see them back, on looking out for any possible danger in the peaceful countryside, but his mind kept twisting away from him on tangent after tangent never daring to pose the question at hand. He barely noticed the last hour tick by until they parked, greeted Willy and Johnson, halfheartedly helped cover the garage entrance again, hauled and lowered their catch down the stairway, smiled politely at the welcoming crowd at the bottom, accepted matching pecks on his cheeks from Kitty and Dana and begged fatigue to drop off his gear in the armory instead of staying to chat. He barely registered Peter taking his boots off next to him and leaning over to whisper before bolting out the door:

“At midnight, come to the old boiler room in the right front tunnel. Petal will let you in.”

“No I’m just gonna-” but Adam was talking to empty air.

Once in his room he collapsed onto the bed, his bed. Home sweet home. But home had changed. Damn Peter. Damn Peter and his stupid gossiping. Adam rolled over. Closed his eyes, but Peter’s words kept ringing in his ears. Rolled over again, tried to sleep, then after what seemed like an entire night saw only five minutes had passed. Damnit. He stripped, grabbed his bathrobe, showered, came back. It was fifteen to midnight. He didn’t have to go. He didn’t want to go. He could claim someone had called him away like before his first outing. Yeah. Yeaahhh ... no. He needed to know. Even if the unthinkable happened, even if he found Kitty on her knees, blowing some other guy, he still needed to know. What had she not told him?

And so, teeth clenched, Adam found his limbs dressing him as of their own accord. Feet marched themselves slowly, politely, sedately, of their own accord toward the old boiler room.

“Hey, Adam, welcome back.”

“Thanks” the hero nodded and kept walking.

“Adam, Adam, did you guys burn the rats?”

“Umm, no” the hero shook his head and kept walking.

The corridors already being mostly empty at midnight, traffic ceased altogether as he split off from the main drag, then again down the half-finished tunnel to the boiler room. Within he found Petal, Dick’s wife, waving a screwdriver vaguely in the direction of the boiler.

“Oh hey, Adam, it’s you. Come on in.” She closed and locked the door behind him and tossed the screwdriver back into a toolbox, no longer bothering to pretend she was working on the boiler or light fixtures or anything. “Glad you finally made it to one of our little soirees. Thought you’d miss this one too, I am so glad you’re here, don’t worry, the girls are gonna make up for lost time until you can’t stand darling!” The skinny, middle-aged wild child wrapped two arms eagerly around him and smooshed him against her modestly swelling bosom. Petal was big on hugs (as every child in the shelter inevitably learned to cherish) a third-generation hippie according to her somewhat improbable family history, long brown hair streaked with a tinge of gray but otherwise looking trim and youthful even into her forties, and had a smile for every occasion. This time it was a twisted-lip, suspicious smirk as she surveyed the young man’s face. “You a little nervous, dear? Don’t worry. Just relax and we’ll take care of you, don’t try to show off, you don’t need to. ‘Kay?”

“Umm... ‘kay.”

Petal furrowed her brow a bit at this expression but nonetheless led Adam to a broom closet in the back of the room. From this distance, faint music and voices could just barely be heard. Reaching past him she pressed her fingers along a nondescript patch of limestone. With a tiny click the back wall slid open.

“Heeeeyyyy, everyone, look who made it! Now I’m real sorry I drew the short straw, wouldn’t you be, girls? Whaddaya say Adam?”

But Adam said nothing. Did not move. Only let out a pained, shuddering breath. The largish room was lined with a bed in the back, a couch on one side and a couple of recliners opposite the bed. A cooing voice drawled out an old love song over an antiquated stereo. A generously proportioned female form had planted her knees on either side of Dick’s face on the bed, bare tits wobbling slightly as she rode his tongue, a purely decorative miniskirt bunched up over her otherwise naked ass. Asmee smiled warmly from a recliner, relaxing still completely wrapped in a sari with a drink in her hand. Audrey waved from the couch completely nude, her medium complexion contrasting with Willy’s nordic paleness as she straddled him fisting his cock in obvious preparation to ride him. But even that made little impression.

On the other recliner sat Peter and in front of him, bent over into his lap, knelt Kitty. Spotting Adam the girl panicked and choked, rushing to extrude the better half of Peter’s tool from her gob.

“Adam!” She choked. Asmee and Petal raised their eyebrows, sensing something amiss, while the other couples slowed and stalled their movements. Kitty coughed again. “Adam, I ... Adam, this isn’t ... I didn’t mean to ... this isn’t my fault!” cough strings of her spittle and his best friend’s pre-cum sprinkled her minuscule titties. “I was gonna tell-”

“Hey, guys” said Dick, his face slick with female lubricant “no big loud arguments. And close that door Petal, we soundproof these rooms for a reason.”

Adam instead closed the door, from the other side, as Petal let out a “wait, what just happened?” He had a million questions, none of which he wanted answered. The heartbroken boy walked back to his room, paced, huffed, punched his pillow, huddled in his bed trembling with emotion. After a while a deep weariness overtook him and he slept, fitfully, until morning. He skipped breakfast.

He wanted to kill Peter. Why? The older boy had tried telling him back in the car and he’d been right, Adam wouldn’t have believed, would have asked Kitty ... and Kitty would probably have kept lying to him. A vision cropped up of dragging her to his own room and begging her to tell him the truth. But nothing more violent. Huh. Where’d that come from? Peter had told the truth and Kitty had lied ... so why did he feel instead like punching Peter, his best friend since childhood’s face until it was a bloody mass of broken bone? Why did he feel like beating up Johnson, Dick and Willie, and every other man in range? Why why why!?

He showered and let the water run hot until it ran cold, until tears of anger turned to pain. Still shivering, wrapped in his bathrobe, he stepped back out of the shower ... and straight into an ambush. Asmee and Connie paced outside his room, dressed casually in jeans and blouses, obviously waiting for him.

“Hey Adam. We should probably talk ... calmly?”

He nodded and let them in, wondering whether Connie would’ve bothered waiting outside or just burst in had she been alone. She certainly came out swinging once inside.

“Look, Adam, you’ve been dating my daughter for years now, even if dating isn’t what it used to be, and we want you to know she was very hurt by your actions last night.” Asmee’s eyes widened at this but she leaned against his table silently. Adam couldn’t believe his ears, but his recent catharsis had dampened his anger.

“She’s the one who’s hurt? Why, was Peter poking her in the back of her throat?”

“Adam! If your relationship can work out, if you’re gonna join our family, you need to be more understanding of the very precarious position Kitty-” but Asmee didn’t even let her finish, snorting:

“Precarious? Your girl was on her knees. Very stable. I’ve hardly ever fallen over that way. You?”

“I ... you agreed to keep this civil-”

“I am, Connie. But spitting guilt on him soon as you burst in his room’s a bit much, don’t you think? Adam, you remember what wedding ceremonies are, right?”

“Yeah, sure.” Old movies and books were full of married couples. He knew many of the people in the shelter were married, especially if they lived with each other. It just didn’t come up much.

“Well, we don’t have those now. We don’t have priests or mayors, nobody to tell you who you’re allowed to have sex with for the rest of your life.”

“But!” cut in Connie launching into an obviously well-rehearsed recitation “if we ever want to re-establish a functioning society, it’s critical we return to the system that always worked. Monogamy laid a solid groundwork for every society in history and will be necessary going forward. So even though this ... permissiveness ... we’re under now might’ve been necessary when we were desperate, we’re encouraging-”

“Not all of us.”

“Some of us are encouraging young people like you and Kitty to get a good start in life by adopting traditional values and swearing to live as sensible couples. We’d like you to stay away from the parties like the one you saw last night and focus on each other.”

“And I’m here to tell you none of that’s mandatory. You’re welcome to come to any of the parties. There’s one tonight in the old rec room. Connie’ll be there. You could fuck her. You can fuck any of us you like, even right here and now. We have a general rule about that. If you keep it reasonable, we won’t say no. Whenever you want it, however you want it.” The twenty-eight-year-old half-Indian woman scraped her fingernails suggestively up and down over her bosom, pointedly staring a hole through the front of his pants. “Just never let on to the younger kids-”

“Ever!”

“-that any of this is happening, be discreet, and don’t be violent or too abusive. ‘Kay?”

“Yeah, ‘kay” said Adam, blushing furiously, mind reeling with possibilities. Connie leaned in, speaking softly but firmly:

“And, Adam, Kitty may not let on, but she was very hurt by your reaction last night, and would appreciate an apology. Just go to her.”

Asmee was silent for a long second, then, hesitatingly:

“I won’t argue that point. She’s Connie’s daughter and whatever’s between you two’s between you. But keep in mind, Adam, what I just told you? It goes both ways. Kitty wasn’t doing anything wrong last night. So ... if you’re mad at her, it can’t be for blowing Peter, or every other man in this place. Which she has. Or fucked them. Or both.” Adam winced, blinking back a tear and gritting his teeth. But if you are mad at her, and it can’t be for that ... maybe figure out why you are.”

“But, again, you should put her feelings first and ask her to forgive you for your behavior.”

Then two looked at Adam. He said nothing. They looked at each other, both seemed about to speak again when he cleared his throat and raised his hand for a pause, trying to arrange his thoughts. It was like one of those old cartoons where an angel and a devil appear on each of your shoulders, but damned if he could tell which was the angel and which the devil. Against his own instinct, against his every desire, against every observable standard of goodness and pleasure and kindness, against the insanity of gratuitous privation, the simple inkling that he might possibly hurt Connie’s feelings, not to mention Kitty’s, once again tipped the scales in his mind gradually toward gentlemanly acquiescence. Then his breath caught, choking his defensiveness in his throat. He saw the tipped scales, the unbalanced, disproportionate demands registering consciously for the first time. With a clarity he had never before experienced when speaking to the fairer sex Adam discovered he knew exactly what he’d have to do. What he should’ve done a long time ago. Adam would do the wrong thing. Just marginally.

“Thanks ... yeah, okay” Connie’s expression brightened. Asmee’s dropped in disappointment. “I won’t go tonight. I might go on some other night, but not tonight. But I’m not apologizing to Kitty either. And she can come talk to me herself if she wants.” Four eyebrows lifted almost off their foreheads in surprise. Connie cleared her throat, seemingly unprepared for this development. Before she could say anything, Asmee jumped to her feet to shake Adam’s hand vigorously.

“That sounds fine Adam, sounds great, we’re so glad we could work this out, we really do just want the best for you both. Really” she emphasized and headed for the door, making the other woman scramble to keep up and keep face, and vacated the premises.

Adam breathed deep, shook his head, then sat heavy on the edge of his bed where he and Kitty had pleasured each other and buried his face in his palms, not crying, not ecstatic at the prospect of unlimited sex if he broke her heart, just confused, and exhausted.

He stayed inside most of the day, exchanged a few pleasantries at lunch and dinner but kept to himself. The shelter looked different now that he knew why children were so rarely allowed in some rooms, why some parties were only for grownups, knew that some back rooms held secret ones. It also explained all the soundproofing they’d always installed. Next day he picked a heavy work detail, fitting and sealing plumbing for a new section and flooring over it. Others gave him space, either knowing or sensing something amiss. Only Willy casually asked him in a low voice:

“Wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

“A’right. In your own time, man, don’t stress it too bad. This’ll all blow over, ya’ll see.”

He avoided Kitty, pretending not to see her in the cafeteria. The day after that it was Dana who asked him while handing him a laundry basket to re-shelve:

“Hey can I come talk to you later?”

“No. Not today.”

“Oh. Okay.” The way her expression drooped sent a stab of remorse through his heart. Dana could get angry, or aloof, or vaguely troubled, but he could barely remember the last time he’d seen her truly sad.

He hid even more and read after that so he wouldn’t run into people, bringing food in so he wouldn’t have to leave except for the bathroom, begging off hydroponics duty for the next day, until finally, late in the evening he found a knock on his door. When he ignored it hoping it would go away it repeated, louder and more insistent. He relented and opened it to find both Asmee and Audrey Gupta dressed in matching pale-patterned sun dresses, or what would’ve been called such if they ever saw the sun. Each had braided her long dark hair interwoven with a white ribbon. Both wrapped an arm around each other’s slim waist and generous hips after entering, flashing broad smiles at him.