Chapter 5

In some respects, Bill was a one-exhibit zoo. Teachers brought classes of girls of all different ages. Most had him pull down his pants to display his male anatomy and had the girls file by to see it up close. But unlike that first teacher, none of the others had him achieve an erection, much less give a sample. None gave a lengthy talk about what a disgusting and barely tolerated specimen of humanity he was.

Adult women came by in groups for a brief look. He glanced at the faces of everyone who came, and saw a wide range of reactions. Some never made eye contact at all. Others looked at him with contempt. Others just seemed curious, wondering what this strange gender of humanity was.

Some of the younger girls smiled openly at him, and he dared to smile back. Older girls rarely did that, and he soon found out why, as the others ridiculed a girl who had been caught smiling at him.

After a certain age, when the girls showed signs of physical development, he saw another sort of reaction, a kind of embarrassment. Thinking about what Amy had told him, he wondered if it was the beginnings of those romantic feelings women had for men.

A group of five adolescent girls came down some afternoons when no one else was there and taunted him with rude remarks. He just looked down and gave the Dworkinian party line answers to any questions he was asked. One asked if he'd pull his pants down for them. Bill said he ought to check with Amy first, and they hastily withdrew the request. He and they both knew that the elders would frown on any such curiosity without an official purpose.

Bill had come to Shady Pines in the fall. It was the height of summer the next year when a woman visited by herself one afternoon. He immediately recognized her as one who had just a few days before given him a long look of open curiosity, perhaps even friendliness. She was also quite memorable for her lustrous brown hair, clear blue eyes, and lovely round face.

"Hi. I'm Alison," she said.

"Pleased to meet you," he replied. "I'm Bill."

She seemed oddly ill at ease. "What's your life like?"

"Oh. I eat. I sleep. I provide semen samples. I read a bit," he said, pointing to a couple magazines. Screwing women through the bars wasn't something to mention.

"That seems pretty bleak."

He shrugged.

"I lived with my moms until a few months ago. My younger sister still lives there. A lot of women are partnered by the time they're 22, but some are like me and just share a house with other unattached women. In our case it's an apartment. I mostly work in the furniture factories, but in summer I love to work out in the vegetable gardens."

It seemed to Bill like a kind of artificial flurry of words, but he was intrigued.

"At night I mostly read or watch videos -- card games too sometimes. My best friends were Kate and Sally, but they both got partnered so I don't see them so much any more. Kate has a toddler ... But you're probably bored by all that."

"Not at all! I don't know much of anything about Shady Pines. Are there separate neighborhoods for houses and others for dining halls and stuff?"

"Oh, sure ... I should bring you a map some time. There are two major groups of houses and apartments..."

She described more detail of her life, and it didn't sound artificial any more. Bill found he had lots of questions, and Alison seemed happy to answer them all.

After a while she looked at her watch. "I have to go now, but would you mind if I came back some time to chat?"

"No, that would be great! I mean, sure I'd be willing to if it's what you would like." She was both beautiful and genuine, somehow, and he truly enjoyed her company.

"It might be in the evening, when no one else is around."

"Sure."

"And you'd have to keep the visits a secret."

"Certainly," said Bill and smiled. "But I sometimes get visitors in the evening."

"Oh! Do you know which nights they're coming?"

"Usually, but not always."

Alison looked troubled. "Is there any time when you're sure no one else would come?"

"No one's ever been here really late, and they never come in the morning before it's light out."

"But you're asleep then, right?"

"I have plenty of time to sleep; I can sleep all day if I want. I'd be happy to talk any time."

"Oh, OK," she said, brightening. "Bye."

Bill woke in the middle of the night to the sound of soft steps in the hallway.

"Hi."

"Hello. What time is it?"

"Two-thirty."

"Right." He stifled a yawn.

"Do you mind I came?"

"No, it's fine. Really."

They stood awkwardly on opposite sides of the bars. He could barely make her out in the dim light.

Alison sat, leaning against the wall opposite the cell.

Bill sat just inside the bars.

"So what do you eat?"

"They bring me a bowl for each meal. Usually oatmeal for breakfast. Potatoes or some sort of stew for lunch and dinner."

"Just oatmeal? Just potatoes?"

"There's usually cheese and some raisins in the oatmeal."

"No fruit? No salad? No dessert?"

Bill had occasionally seen these things when women or girls were eating when they visited him. Not salad, though. He remembered his place. "I'm thankful to be fed."

"Do you want to know about our meals?"

He hesitated. "OK."

"You don't sound so sure."

"I try to be thankful for what I have. I mean, I am thankful. But I was thinking about all the stuff you told me before. It's really interesting, but it's also kind of hard to hear about things out there I'll never do and things I'll never have."

"It's not fair," said Alison. "No one deserves to be treated like they treat you."

"It's not like I'm a woman, right? I have my place. And I shouldn't be envious." Bill realized he really did want to hear anything this woman wanted to say. "It's OK, go ahead, I'd like to hear about the food."

She described all the different kinds of things they ate, especially now in the summer when the vegetable garden was producing its bounty.

The subject seemed to reach a natural end, and there was a pause.

"What do you do?"

"I eat, sleep, take sponge baths from time to time, and provide semen samples." After a pause, he continued, "I read books and magazines sometimes. Science books, and books and magazines about Dworkinism and the news."

"That's what you said before. No music?"

"No."

"No games?"

"No."

"Why do they have to make your life so miserable?"

"You know the answer, right? My only purpose is to provide semen. We men are inferior in our violent impulses and we have a long history of oppressing women, so it's just that we suffer for the sins of our forefathers."

"Do you believe that? That you're inferior?"

He hesitated. "Yes..." Amy had questioned this too, and he was beginning to wonder.

"And why should you suffer for what men did earlier? You didn't do it yourself."

"I ... I'm not sure, but Dworkinism is quite clear on the point."

She sighed. "Yeah, I guess it is. But don't you ever dream of being free? Able to do whatever you want?"

"Freedom is not a good idea for a male. We have violent and aggressive natures, and you never know when a man will turn violent. So it is best for everyone if we remain locked up."

"Do you feel like you have a violent and aggressive nature?"

"No, I'm not aware of that. But I'm sure it's lurking within me, and it might emerge at any time."

After a pause, she said, "I don't believe that. I don't believe you're worthless. I don't believe you're violent."

Bill felt a bit of warmth stir in his chest.

Alison seemed agitated, and she rose and shifted uneasily from foot to foot. "Look, I've got to go, OK?"

"Um, sure."

Lying in bed, Bill tried to sort out his feelings. He was fascinated by Alison. She was attractive, sure, but there was more. She treated him almost like a woman. She hadn't expressed the slightest interest in what made him unique -- his male apparatus. He reminded himself that he should expect nothing, that this was just a passing curiosity on Alison's part and when it passed things would go back to the way they were before.

Alison didn't come the next night, but she came the night after, again at 2:30.

She lit a thick candle and placed it on the floor, then showed him the contents of a cloth bag.

"See?" "Tomatoes?"

"Yeah, I brought you some. Just picked today -- or yesterday, I guess it is."

"I've never had them fresh like this. Are you sure it's OK?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like, are they stolen?"

"No, silly. No one inventories the tomatoes on the vines ... But you wouldn't know that, would you..."

"Maybe I should have known ... Anyway, thank you!" He bit into one, and juice ran down his cheek. After his second bite, he said, "That tastes fantastic!"

"Glad you liked it. And you've never had a tomato before?"

"Only in stews." Bill demolished the first tomato and started on the second.

Alison made some idle chatter about her day while Bill ate.

"I brought some cards. You want to learn a game?"

"Ummm ... Sure!"

"Wipe your hands off first. We don't want to get the cards sticky."

Bill got up to fetch the grubby towel provided for his use.

"OK, let's start with rummy."

The two sat cross-legged on their respect sides of the bars. Bill listened attentively as she explained the rules. Amy had to teach him how to shuffle. At first she giggled at his clumsiness, but then sobered up and said she realized he'd never had any chance to play with cards before.

It was pretty interesting. After several hands, Amy said, "How about Slapjack?"

"Slapjack?"

"I had so much fun with it when I was a little girl. We each take half the cards. We take turns turning one over. If it's a jack, then whoever says 'Slapjack' quickest and slaps it wins the pile."

"But where's the pile?" It was apparent that she'd have the advantage if the pile was outside the cell and he would if it was inside.

"We'll put it inside with you. Since I'm experienced and you're an inferior sort of person."

He saw her wry smile.

At first she slapped most of the jacks, but he got the hang of it quickly, and before long his advantage began to tell. So after a while they put the pile outside the bars. Each won a few rounds and then Bill started winning consistently, even where she had the home court advantage.

"Hey, you're an inferior kind of person! Why don't you act like it!"

Bill grinned. He'd never had so much fun in his life.

In a close play, the loser's hand slaps down right on top of the winner's. After a streak of Bill's wins, Alison growled in genuine exasperation. She pressed down firmly to trap his hand and didn't let up.

Bill enjoyed the touch, so he sat and waited. The seconds dragged on. Then she slowly lifted his hand and held it in both of hers and brought it up close to her face.

"It's big," she said softly. "No woman's hand looks like this." She raised it to her mouth and kissed each finger in turn. When she'd kissed the pinky she looked up at Bill but lowered her eyes right away. After a moment's pause she rose to her knees, right next to the bars.

Bill rose to his knees too, so their faces were inches apart. Bill was delighted. They kissed through the bars, very gently. Then they kissed again, and yet again. Bill was aware of a swelling in his pants, but he didn't draw attention to it. He wanted to see what Alison was interested in. If she felt like stripping and presenting her rear end, he'd be happy to have sex, but this felt different. Alison was different from Amy somehow. Amy was interested in him as a man, but Alison seemed to see him as a person. Like a woman who happened to be male.

He followed her lead in getting to his feet and standing to the side, away from the playing cards. Alison reached through the bars to try to hug him, and Bill followed suit, but Alison sighed. "That's hardly a hug, is it..."

Bill had never had a hug in his memory, but he'd seen girls and women do it, and he had occasionally let himself think it would be nice.

"Do you like me?"

Bill nodded.

"Do you feel violent or angry?"

Bill shook his head, surprised. "Not at all."

"You promise to be good?"

Bill look perplexed, but nodded.

Alison reached into her pocket and removed a key. "Even if I come in there?

Bill's heart leapt, and he nodded vigorously. "Where did you get that?"

"There's a drawer upstairs with spares ... So if you start feeling violent, you'll let me know so I can leave in time?"

"Sure," he said. He really did feel sure about it.

She unlocked the door, stepped into his cell, and closed it behind her.

"Be gentle, OK?" she said as he approached, a trace of fear in her eyes.

"Of course," he said softly.

Their bodies folded together and Bill felt the soft warmth. She rested her head on his shoulder.

Bill gave a sigh of contentment. So this was a real hug. They were both fully clothed, but this felt closer to a woman than he'd ever been. He smelled her hair, then ran one arm up and down her back while the other fondled her butt. He certainly wanted her.

She looked up. "So you like me? You find me sexy?"

"God, yes!"

"A man. Hugging a man," she said, half to herself. "Kiss me again."

The kiss without intervening bars was much freer.

"Mmmm. A beard." She pulled back. "Can we lie down?" Eying the cot, she said, "It is meant for one, isn't it ... But it will do."

Following her direction, Bill lay on his side, back against the wall, and Alison lay in front of him, in spoon position, just barely fitting.

Bill's eyes started filling with tears. It had felt like a gift from heaven that he'd gotten to actually penetrate Amy rather than just ejaculating into little cups, but that was nothing compared to this -- a real woman in his arms, warm and soft. He had a hard-on, of course, and he'd be happy to fuck. But just to feel her friendly warmth, that was heaven. Or just possibly, there was this way of combining sex and this tenderness that women did, this thing called 'making love'! Maybe a man and woman could do that too ... He sniffled.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"I'm just happy," he said. "And I feel kind of guilty because I'm not supposed to be happy."