Chapter 72

“A suggestion of a trapdoor waiting under every word.”
—Emily St. John Mandel, Station Eleven

EM WAS THERE to pick me up after my rehearsal Monday afternoon. Pey was in the car and the three of us went to Red Robin for dinner. It was still pretty early for normal dinner, but Em was joining me for my study date with Beca and we wanted to spend time with Pey, too. After we’d joked our way through huge salads, we dropped Pey off at home and went to Beca’s house.

Beca’s mother, Jamie Brown, met us at the door before we knocked. She looked worried.

“Rebeca will be out shortly. Jacob, you aren’t pushing her, are you? I’ve talked with your mother about Rebeca’s condition and I just want to make sure you aren’t going to hurt her,” Jamie said.

“Mrs. Brown, Rebeca is my best friend in the world. If it’s in my power, nothing bad will ever happen to her again,” I declared. Jamie breathed a sigh of relief.

“You’re a good boy, Jacob. And you must be Emily. Rebeca has always spoken highly of you.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Brown,” Em said. She looked a little curious but Beca came bouncing down the hall and soon we were at the table studying US History. I won’t go into a lot of our history lesson other than to say Em had an interesting perspective now that she was in the National Service.

“I can’t help but think Mexico and Canada are both going about implementing their National Service in a better way than the US is,” she said. “They have a shorter term of service and treat it more as a volunteer force. Less time spent in training and less focus on fitness, but more focus on doing something good for the country. What they said our service would be, but people are ending their service discouraged instead of with a leg up. Over half of Mexico’s Servicio Nacional go into the military for four years after completing their year of volunteer work. The military is continuing many projects and is growing stronger all the time. They have a huge emphasis on border protection and policing the cities.”

“Our equal treatment for all has always led to more rigid application of the law than Canada or Mexico,” Beca said.

“But it would be hard to live in a place where you didn’t know the cost of breaking the law,” Em said. “In Canada, there are signs on the freeway that spell out what speeding costs so, basically, if you can afford the fine, you can break the limit. It creates a privileged class based on wealth that doesn’t have to obey the law. Here, speeding is paid for with community service. If you are stopped for going a mile over the speed limit, you do a day of community service. If you are six miles over the speed limit, you do two days of community service. At eleven miles over the speed limit, you do four days. And it doubles for every five miles per hour you travel over the speed limit. Everyone pays the same. If you are a pauper, you pay with days of community service. If you are the most important member of congress, you still pay with days of community service. You don’t get off by offering some of your money.”

I had just gone through drivers’ ed and no one had explained this law to me. I just assumed that police ignored minor infractions like they did in V1’s reality. I needed to be more careful about how fast I drove. I wondered about the fact that everyone seemed to drive beneath the limit and now I understood my instructor’s repeated mantra, “The limit is the limit.”

We finished the lesson we were studying and Beca took both our hands and led us to her bedroom. It was cute. She had stuffed animals sitting on a princess bed with a canopy. And she wasted no time getting into a deep kiss with Em. She sat on the bed and motioned us to a place on either side of her.

“When I met you the first time—when you gave me a ride because Jacob and I had just met with Mr. Richards—I was so in awe of you. I thought you were so pretty and confident and kind. You were—still are—what I want to grow up to be, Emily.”

“We’re all growing and changing,” Em said. “You are a completely beautiful and luscious young lady.” Beca gave us each a little kiss and sighed.

“Growing and changing. I think that’s why my breasts are so tender at the moment. They grew over the summer and I think they are growing some more. I hope I have breasts as big as yours.”

“Your breasts are perfect for you. If they grow a little more it won’t hurt anything, but you have a tiny frame and if they grew too much, like Desi’s, you’d tumble over on your face.”

“Except my face would never touch the ground if I had boobs that size,” Beca laughed. “I just feel so far behind everyone. Even Brittany is seven months younger than me but much better developed.” I wondered where Beca was taking this. She’d told me that Rachel and I were the only ones who knew her secret and we were absolutely not telling anyone. “Do you think ... Would you ... look? At them? And see if you think ... Oh, God! I don’t know what I want you to think. I just want to show you ... both of you ... my breasts.”

The declaration was open but not quickly accomplished. Em finally suggested that we just have a little comparison show and see how we each were different. Eventually, we were all topless. Wow! Beca had let me touch her breasts on a few occasions but I’d never really seen them clearly. It’s true they were smaller than Em’s but Beca is like six inches shorter than Em and weighs maybe ninety pounds.

“You have such pretty little titties,” Em breathed. “Seriously, Rebeca, don’t worry about them.”

“But you’re so beautiful and...”

“And?”

“I want to touch you,” Beca whispered.

“Give me a hug,” Em suggested. The two girls pressed their bodies together. Em made sure to get direct nipple to nipple contact and I watched her eyes drift closed as Beca shifted to rub them together. Em raised Beca’s hand and placed it on her breast. “You can always touch my breasts, little lover. Touch them, squeeze them, suckle them. May I touch you?”

Beca just nodded and Em laid a hand on her breast as they kissed again. I wasn’t sure why I was there, sitting around with no shirt and a hard-on that was painfully trapped in my jeans. Beca was a lesbian and Em was giving her all the tit flesh she could handle.

“You know what’s good for sore nipples?” Em asked. “Little kisses.” She pulled Beca down on the bed and motioned me to join her as we started kissing those perfect little nips. My hand ran up and down Beca’s tummy and I just loved the smooth texture of her skin. I got down as far as the belt on her jeans and stopped. Yeah, I wanted to go further but I hadn’t been invited. I just tongued her nipple as Em did the other side and Beca sighed.

Beca tugged at my head a little and I looked up. She kissed me and the kiss deepened as I petted her tummy and breast.

“I love you, Jacob,” Beca whispered. “I know I’m way gone on girls. I want to make love to Em and Joan and Rachel and ... There isn’t one of our girlfriends I don’t want to make love to. But I love you, Jacob. You are always welcome to touch my little breasts, squeeze them, suckle them. One day ... Well, maybe...”

Tuesday was a tough day as it was staging for the play. This was no Disney production of Beauty and the Beast. Riko and Riley were at the rehearsal measuring the dozen actors and answering questions about the costumes as the director moved actors around. Ms. Devine took notes on where the director wanted music.

“There,” she would say. “Cindy, mark that in your script. We need birds trilling.” It was intense and longer than most rehearsals would be. Once we had the cues set and knew what was needed, the trio would be rehearsing in the music room and not even around the stage until we started full run-throughs with costumes. Then we were told the week after Thanksgiving would be brutal as we rehearsed late to coordinate music and costumes with lighting. The only sets there would be for this play were a few platforms that provided different levels and a white backdrop that would get different colored lights on it and patterns of leaves and such projected. Locations would be indicated by the five ‘Grotesques’ who carried signs, flapped the Beast’s wings, lifted people, and moved the platforms.

After the exhausting rehearsal, I hopped in the backseat of the VW with Desi while Riley showed that he was just as wild a driver as Riko getting us to their house. A couple of minutes after we got there, Em showed up with pizzas. I don’t think anyone could have cooked food that night. She looked at the sketches Riko had done of the costumes and we all exclaimed about how intricate they were. The Beast had a mask and costume that transitioned through his four scenes until he was left as a handsome prince. I thought the guy playing the part didn’t look anywhere near as handsome as Riko’s sketches, but there was always makeup.

“Come to my room,” Desi said after we’d cleaned up the remains of the pizza and Riko and Riley disappeared into the workshop downstairs. “We are not studying entrepreneurship tonight. I want to know all about how my sex slave is behaving and whether or not he is satisfying all your desires.”

“Oh, look at this cute room,” Em said. It had been redone from Desi’s earlier anime-inspired setting and was all color-coordinated in chocolates and earth-tones. She even had new drapes and bedding. “I’d never think of doing such rich tones. The gold spread on the chocolate-colored sheets is cool. Whatever inspired you?”

“Well,” Desi sighed, “I thought dark brown sheets wouldn’t show the blood stains.”