Limit 15 Ch. 04

Tony was sitting at his desk at the station, catching up on paperwork. He put his phone down, after leaving a text for Jason. He looked across the room at Cortez, who was processing a tearful woman she had just brought in. "A woman in the park?" he thought to himself. That was odd. Cortez had her usual stern but compassionate manner with the woman, which seemed to have a calming effect.

"Nobody in the park tonight, Solomon? On a Saturday night?" the Captain inquired with raised eyebrows.

"I had a few conversations, sir," Tony lied, "but nothing that could lead to arrest." The Captain eyed him silently. "Cortez arrested a woman, I see," the Captain added, nodding in her direction. "And yet you didn't see any men in the park..." the Captain knocked the desk a couple times and walked away.

Tony looked down at a scratch in the desk. He thought of all he had seen and heard that night in the park, and how the strength had just drained from him. He picked up his phone and texted Jason again: "Where are you?"

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His phone buzzed within the gymbag inside the locker, but Jason didn't hear it. He wasn't even at the gym, but two blocks away in the back of a warehouse which had been turned into clandestine club called Colors. The concrete floor was somewhat sticky on his knees, though he hardly noticed. The earbuds filled his ears with binaural beats that pulsed and guided the rhythm of his mouth on the cock he was sucking. Two other men stood around him in the glow of the red light, his hands on their cocks, gently pulling and twisting. He felt a strong hand on his head as the cock in his mouth hardened steadily, being thrust in and out, balls gently slapping his chin. Jason slackened his jaw and just took it in, silently moaning, his hands synchronizing in their stroking of the cocks they held and handled. He looked up and saw the eyes of one of the men looking at him intensely. The digital timer on the wall read 4:42, 4:41...

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"This new chip will be for your home arrest," Cortez said to me, holding up the little black rectangle she had retrieved from a machine. "Because of the current health order, we cannot keep you here. You will be returned to your home to await your court date."

I heard her, but I still felt like I was in not in reality. I've never even been inside a police station. I nodded dumbly.

"May I?" she asked, extending her hand toward my foot. I lifted my foot in compliance and she took my heel gently on her thigh. I giggled inadvertently, as her touch tickled. "I need to match the chip type you have." She examined the ankle monitor, removing and briefly inspecting the inner chip using a small tool that looked like an allen wrench.

She met my giggle with a questioning look, which softened when she realized she had tickled me. I thought I had seen a slight flush in her cheeks, which was fleeting.

"I will return you to your residence, then," she began, "so I can synchronize the new chip in your monitor with the scanner by your door." Her hand glided along my leg briefly as she let my foot go.

We walked out to the cruiser again, this time sans handcuffs. I felt like an animal sitting in the backseat, as in a cage, unable to leave except at the whim of my captor. I looked out the window as she pulled away from the station.

"You don't seem like the type that frequents the park," she said, making eye contact with me in the rearview mirror.

"Because I'm a woman?" I asked.

"That's part of it, yes," she answered. "But your...companion...tonight has quite a history. People like that don't..."

"Like what?" I interrupted, genuinely curious. Our eyes met in the mirror again, and I could see her think over her words carefully.

"Kilmead Drive," she said after a few minutes of silence, turning onto my street. I looked out the window, silently hoping neighbors weren't outside.

"Could you park a few houses down?" I asked. She didn't answer, but complied.

Nobody was out. The only sounds were of crickets and a neighbor's lawn sprinklers. There was a gentle breeze. The lights in my home were on timers, so everything looked normal from the outside. Or what was considered normal now. I placed the key in the lock and noticed her scent on the breeze. Subtle, but sweet and citrus. Like pomelo.

"I'll need you to stop just past your scanner when we enter your home," Cortez said. I closed the door as we walked into the entry. The scanner made a sound I've never heard before. Sort of a low screeching. I leaned against the back of the couch and she knelt down before me, coaxing my foot onto her thigh again. I giggled again from the tickle.

"Sorry," she said, with a hint of a smile. She opened a rear panel on the scanner and rested the new chip against a contact. I gazed over her as she did this, her hand gently cradling my heel on her thigh. Her shirt wasn't tight, but well-fitted, her surname bold on her chest above her heart. She had a lovely figure.

She closed the panel of the monitor, and guided my foot to the floor. Our eyes met before she stood up, and I felt my cheeks flush. She turned away, and I heard the ring of her phone. I pointed to the kitchen, and she nodded, answering it.

"Cortez," she said. I could see her looking at my bookshelf. I pulled out two mugs and started the kettle. I actually wanted a drink, but thought it better to wait.

"I'll be leaving soon," she said into the phone. Her voice became muffled and quiet and I saw her put her phone away.

"Would you like some tea?" I asked.

"Oh...no, but thank you," she responded, looking back and smiling. "You're quite the reader," she added, fingering a volume of lesbian poetry. "What are you currently reading?"

"The Gulag Archipelago," I said, telling a half-truth. "You know...how the Bolshevik Revolution led to the imprisonment, abuse and death of millions?" I had read this years ago, but my point was taken. She stood up, smirked slightly.

"I'm just doing my job," she said.

The air sirens went off at that point, and the automatic bolt went through the front door. I smiled in the irony of the timing, and Cortez looked at me in sheer panic. For once I wouldn't be alone during a drill.

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"Orange," said the soothing female voice inside Jason's earbuds. He had finally caught his breath after the encounters in the red room, stood and walked from the red light down the dark hallway. He saw male bodies from other rooms file in and out. He entered the door labeled "Orange" and the room was flooded with colored light. He felt firms hands behind him, and looked to see the same eyes that had met his in the red room. The mask was let down as the man pressed him against the wall and began kissing his neck and chest. Jason was lowered to a mattress on the floor, on all fours. He felt his hips tipped down as a tongue licked along the small of his back, then lower. He moaned silently into the orange light as the timer on the wall counted down from 12 minutes.

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Jason sat in his truck, tapping the back of his phone against his steering wheel. He was restless and needed a release. His arrangement with Tony wasn't exactly dating, even though that's what Jason had wanted. Dating had been completely obliterated because of the new rules of society. Rules for restaurants, clubs, movies...they were ever-changing and almost impossible to navigate with any social basis of intimacy. Smiles only seen in the eyes. So the hook up apps were popular for a while, but even those became monitored. Now more were operating on the lower levels of Maslov's hierarchy of needs...seeking sex in any form possible.

Tony was an asshole, yes. He made fun of gays as a way to mask his own homosexuality. He did it just enough to fool most around the station. But Jason could see through it, and went for that soft spot, which was sex. Tony wanted a lot of sex, and for Jason it was a way of having that companionship...waking up together, occasional coffee in the morning. But he wondered if it was enough. And would Tony be enough for him?

In a sort of resignation, Jason parked the truck and walked down the quiet alley to the steel door. He knocked, and when the door opened, he paid his $50. The hand that took his money gave him a pair of earbuds. When he placed them into his ears, the beat was already pumping. The steel door closed behind him and he walked into the back room. He took off his shirt, hanging it up in a metal wardrobe beside the shirts of other men. By the time he walked into the hallway, the voice in the earbuds had calmly said 'Yellow."

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Cortez was panicking because she had never been in a civilian's home during a drill. Drills could last for hours or days, on the Health Department's discretion.

"How about that tea?" I asked sarcastically, smiling. Then I noticed she was almost shaking.

"I...I need some air," Cortez said, unbuttoning the top three buttons of her shirt. I rushed to her side, slowly rubbing her back.

"Just breathe slowly, like this..." I started a breathing technique I had learned in actual yoga, and she was able to follow with me. Our eyes met, and maintained contact as we breathed together. I had my hand on the back of her neck, and I could feel her muscles soften. I rubbed her neck gently, and she suddenly tensed again, looking at me.

"What are you doing?" she said, accusingly.

I looked at her in shock, watching her panic rise. "I'm just trying to help you relax, Lisa. Your first name is Lisa, right?"

She nodded, but her eyes darted about the room.

"We're kind of stuck here," I said, facing her with a genuine smile. "You may as well get comfortable."

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Jason stood in his khaki cargo pants against the wall in the back. His shirt was off, the yellow light accentuating his muscular chest and abs. A slight but willing participant soon approached him, kneeling on the floor and massaging his groin through his pants. Jason ran a hand along the man's cheek. He looked about 30 or so. The man's lips caught Jason's thumb and he began to suck it slowly, seductively. Jason's face hardened, as did his cock. He slowly pumped his thumb inside the man's mouth, listening to the beats in his ears, and imagining hearing him moan. Jason deftly unbuttoned his fly and the man's hand slipped into his briefs, releasing his hard cock, which he quickly took into his mouth. He gave slow, steady head to the beats in their ears. Jason furtively removed one earbud, growing harder at hearing the wet sucking of mouth on his cock. Moments later he was drawn to another sound across the room...cries of either pleasure or pain he could not tell. Jason turned to see Tony prone on a swing, a man holding his legs wide apart as he pumped into him.

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I opened the drawer of the coffee table and pulled out a small jar and some rolling papers. I looked at Lisa, and her breathing had slowed. She returned my gaze, furrowing her brow.

"What? It's legal now," I said. I tapped some green leaves into the paper and rolled it, licking the paper. "You mean to say you've never smoked weed?" I asked, smiling.

Cortez thought back to the last time she had. She and Pete were in a beach hotel together on a weekend holiday. She always associated marijuana with stoners, losers. Like in her teenage years, all those who did it regularly were sort of directionless in life.

"I have," she said. "But it's not a habit. It surprises me that you do."

I inhaled slowly, sitting cross-legged on one end of the couch, a couple of feet away from her. "Because I'm in this neighborhood? Because I have a 'good' job?"

"Well...yes," Cortez said. I handed the joint to her and she took it cautiously. She held it to her lips and inhaled slowly, followed by a slight cough. I told her about my life before the pandemic. How I made a living in publishing, my marriage (now ended), my friendships (half now dissolved), and my hobbies, which at the time did not involve late night sexual rendezvous in automobiles. I laughed then, listening to the low volume jazz I had put on. I only enjoy jazz when I'm high for some reason.

She told me about a man named Peter she had been involved with, and it sounded serious. She didn't say why it ended, but it seemed recent. Suddenly she laughed.

"So when did you start your late night yoga classes?" she asked.

I smirked, but answered her honestly, tapping my ankle monitor. "It all just became too much. The isolation, shaming of those are made to feel less than others." I was going to go on, but didn't want to say too much. "People still need one another, no matter how technologically connected--or isolated--we are."

She was silent, looking down. I thought perhaps she was falling asleep. I ducked my head to look at her and our eyes met. I licked my lips gently and she did the same. Moving closer, I kissed her lips softly. Our eyes met again. I pulled back, but she moved forward and kissed me again, our eyes locked. "Something tells me kissing a woman isn't new to you," I said, in response to which she was silent. I smiled, softening the moment. "Come with me," I said, taking her hand.

In the ensuite I had the bathtub running. We stood on the tile floor, slowly undressing one another. Maybe it seemed slow because of the weed. But there was a gentle intensity in unbuttoning, unzipping, of material sliding from skin to tile. Of fabric sliding along skin. Of hidden parts revealed and made vulnerable. Her hair had been in a bun, but when she let it loose it was longer than I thought it would be. A beautiful chestnut brown that cascaded over her shoulders.

I got into the tub, my ankle monitor submerged (this latest version allowed for it). I held out my hand and she took it. I parted my thighs and she settled into the tub with her back against my chest. I held her to me in the dim glow of the light emanating from the hallway. My breathing became shallow, and I felt a lump in my throat develop. I hadn't experienced this degree of intimacy in years.

She spoke of Peter again, and I listened with my arms around her. Her hair smelled of shampoo and that same citrus scent from earlier. My hands rested gingerly on her abdomen, though she rested her hands on mine as she spoke more freely. She had plans to marry him, to start a family. But he had been unfaithful. Her voice changed at this point, she cried softly but continued. I held her tighter and kissed her neck, not out of desire but compassion.

She turned her head and we kissed again, this time more fully. My hands moved over her breasts, and I could hear the water ripple in response to my exploration. Her skin was soft in the soapy water, her nipples hardening at my touch and provocation. She moaned into my mouth as I slid my hand down her tummy, teasing her inner thigh with a finger. She pushed her body back against me, her legs parting wider. My finger glided slowly up and down her slit. I kissed her neck as she moaned, my middle finger entering her slowly. I fucked her, holding her to me, my hard nipples pressed to her back. She moaned and writhed just enough to encourage me without words. Pressing the heel of my hand to her clit, I could feel her hardened nub pressing against my palm. She began to rub herself, as three fingers of mine glided more purposefully inside her beneath the water. She cried out when she came, my lips on her neck giving her soft kisses.

Pruny and oddly silent, we got out of the tub, yet a steady progression ensued. She became quite aggressive as we made our way to my bed.

"I watched you, you know," she said. "I know what you like..."

I was breathing heavily, my eyes dilated and I wanted her to devour me.

"Top drawer," I said in a hoarse whisper.

She opened the nightstand drawer and I turned to look out the window at the darkening night. The sky had an eerie glow, the roads were empty, yet lights were still on in some buildings. Since the state had installed me in this apartment, I had not shared a bed with a lover.

Her hand turned my face and she kissed me. She was above me, my legs had parted to receive her. Her breasts were touching mine, our nipples hard and teasing one another. Her warm hands pressed into my wrists, almost pinning me to the bed. Our tongues meshed as we kissed, her body against mine, the strapped cock pressed to my tummy as she kissed my neck and down to my breasts. She was no stranger to the female body, I confidently knew that now. She was nearly as hungry as I was, just for different reasons. I could see in how her lips kissed my nipples, in how her eyes checked in with me to gauge my reaction and my permission in a sense. I could feel my wetness growing between my legs, and she gauged this also with her hand.

Our eyes met as she guided the cock inside me. It wasn't fun and exciting as in a one night stand or drunken night with one's long term partner. We moved as one unit, her hips slowly driving into mine. At times we'd kiss softly or passionately or not at all. At one point she pulled out and flipped me on all fours, taking me from behind. I was surprised at her strength, yet I yielded to it willingly. Now I was straddling her, grinding slowly on her strapped cock, her thumb rubbing my clit as her other hand fondled my breasts. My breathing quickened as I began to climax. She pinched and pulled at my nipple as I came, and collapsed onto her, my heart beating against her chest.

The room was dark, save for the bluish glow of the light from the window against the white sheets. We slept in each others arms intermittently, at one point my ankle monitor knocking against her ankle resulting in sleepy giggling. She took me again during the night with her mouth. And she let me make love to her also, in a cautious yet receptive way. The bed was wet with our sex and sweat.

The dawn looked peaceful, the roads again empty but the buildings dark. I used to love this time of the day, full of possibility and potential. And yet I was aware of this seedling of hope again, feeling her body pressed against mine.

Our bodies jumped when the air sirens roared again, and my heart dropped when the automatic lock on the door retracted. The drill had ended.