The Meeting Point (11 page)

“What is it?” Lena asked, and Deborah realized she'd drifted off into that space where thoughts became everything.

“Nothing. I was just remembering how we met.”

Lena looked away, but Deborah thought she caught a slight smile on her lips. The desire to lean in and press her against the wall was overpowering, and she shook herself, trying to cast off the spell of this woman.

“Come on. I'll take you to Marcus and we can decide what to do.”

* * * *

The atmosphere inside the farm was thick and heady after her days outside on the run, and Lena felt giddy with it. As they passed the oxytocin bar, Lena couldn't resist a peek inside. Women with lustful expressions were strewn on sofas and chairs, pressing dark masks to their faces and inhaling every now and then. Their eyelids would become heavier with every in-breath, and the air was dense with female arousal.
Mae would love this place
, thought Lena, and a sharp poke in the ribs from The Wasp urged her on.

“Come on, we don't have much time.”

Lena pulled herself away from the intoxicating room and followed her leader obediently. The Wasp stopped abruptly at what looked like a cupboard. She cast a shifty eye around which made nerves rise in Lena's chest, and then quickly darted through the door and into a passageway beyond. Lena joined her in the hushed labyrinth and kept close to her heel, trying to make as little noise as possible. The silence was electrifying as they scuttled along, The Wasp appearing like a rat on full alert. A tiny, elegant rat, but a cunning and fast one. Lena was lost in her imaginings of The Wasp twitching her whiskers when suddenly she grabbed her wrist and hauled her into the shadows, placing her palm over Lena's mouth.

Lena panicked, her breathing erratic through her nose, making more noise than if she were free of the constraint. The Wasp quickly realized and released her, whispering an apology as a trolley of food trundled by, the soft-soled footprints of the maid barely making a sound. The trolley maid stopped at a door close by and entered. Lena caught a glimpse of The Wasp scowling as the maid slipped through, making breezy chatter to the occupant.
That'll be her male then
, thought Lena, jealousy being an easy emotion to identify. The Wasp sagged against the wall and Lena deduced that they must have a wait in store. She ventured a whisper, reasoning that they must be safe for now since the maid was behind closed doors.

“Is that where he is?”

The Wasp put her finger to her lips and hissed through her teeth at Lena to be quiet. It felt vicious and completely unnecessary, and Lena was a bit happier when the woman nodded, softening her expression.

“Sorry, that was a bit harsh,” The Wasp whispered. “I'm just so scared we'll get caught when we're so close.”

They lapsed quickly back into silence and stayed so still in the gloom for so long that Lena actually wondered if she had died. She inhaled a little more deeply just to make sure she was still alive. The door jangled open and Lena felt The Wasp stiffen by her side. She reached down and took her hand to comfort her and was surprised at the warm grasp that met her. Their fingers intertwined through the tension as the maid hauled the trolley on down the corridor and finally out of sight.

The Wasp gasped out the breath she must have been holding and leaped out toward the door. It opened easily, and Lena was puzzled. Surely it should have been locked? Why else would they still be there?

The room was bright compared to the shadowy corridor and full of the smells of freshly cooked food. Lena's stomach grumbled and it was the trolley she took in before she remembered about the male sitting on the bed staring at her.

“Hello,” he said warmly and somewhat amused.

“Oh, sorry, hello,” Lena said, tearing her gaze away from the food and stretching out her hand to his. “Lena.”

“Marcus. Pleasure to meet you.”

As they shook hands, Lena was touched at the tremble in his grip. It suddenly came to her how huge this whole thing must be. She wondered how long he'd been there, waiting.

He turned to The Wasp. “I'm amazed you weren't sniffed out immediately.”

Lena was mortified. She must stink. If she weren't completely sunburned already, her blush would have been legendary. The Wasp noticed her embarrassment.

“Marcus, don't be so rude.” Taking the furs from Lena, she continued in a soothing voice, “Look, it's the campfires you must have had. It is pretty pungent. We'll have to get you and your things washed.”

Lena spotted a shower area in the corner of the room and her heart raced. She disrobed quickly and turned on the water.
Heaven!
It wasn't until she was watching the suds slide off her naked body and down the hole that she thought of how she'd been so open about disrobing. She peeked round the curtain to see the couple tucking into their food, completely unfazed, and her stomach rumbled ferociously. She finished washing quickly and joined them.

“May I?” she asked when a large hunk of bread was already near her lips.

“Of course, lucky we left some of the best bits,” said The Wasp, passing her the one plate. “You always loved your feasts,” she said, holding Lena's gaze.

“You were watching?” Lena was aghast. “But Cheryl told me…”

“She was my assistant, remember? She told you what I instructed her to.”

“Oh.” Lena shrugged. “I guess it doesn't matter now.”

“No.”

“What should I call you?
The Wasp
seems a little inappropriate now.”

“Call me Deborah.” She was smiling. “Listen, let's make this a new beginning between us, okay?”

Lena smiled broadly before pushing more food into her mouth.

 

 

Cheryl picked her way through tattered streets. It was like the sickness had seeped into every brick, every room, every heart. The ruined city stank with the putrid odor of the generators. It should have been a triumph of engineering to run a city on human waste, but here it was, not a generation in, and already decaying. Some still rumbled and clanked to power a single sputtering bulb in a café, but most just lay derelict, the waste ever coming, but not being used up. It was vile and dangerous. Cheryl's skin crawled as she thought of the smell as a living thing that oozed into her very pores. She wondered if she would ever be free of it.

Coming here was a mistake, she knew that now. Her home was deserted, her family probably dead or on the run. She hoped for the latter, but believed the former. Everything looked broken down and defeated. The few people she did see had that wide-eyed, hollow expression of those who have seen too much. They were thin and hopeless, and panic was spreading through Cheryl. She had to get out of there. She had to escape before she too became infected with more than just the toxins—it was the despair in their eyes she couldn't take.

As she followed a once familiar road back out of city, Cheryl took the time to reflect on her life. From the minute she'd been able to make up her mind about anything, she'd made the wrong choices. Every time without fail. Trying to be analytical and without self-pity, she thought through all the forks in the road of her life and how she'd always taken the one which edged her closer to her own demise. She'd been caught with alcohol at school and marked out as a bad girl, spoiling any chances of employment in the manors—spoiling her chances of employment full stop. She'd only ever taken food once and had been caught and sent to prison. Even there, she'd done the wrong thing. Instead of keeping quiet and doing her time quickly, she'd joined the discipline program that was meant to speed up freedom. Sadly, The Wasp had taken to her and kept extending her sentence for petty nonsense. And then, when she did finally escape, instead of staying with the people that might keep her safe, or show her the way to some sort of Eden, Cheryl had chosen to come to this hell on earth. And for what? To look for a family who had never once visited her in that prison or even sent her a letter.

Realizing her analysis had indeed delved into self-pity, Cheryl found a bench outside one of the limping cafes and sat down, trying to swallow the lump that had gathered in her throat.

A few people shuffled past and Cheryl looked down, avoiding their faces. The jewels she'd taken from The Wasp's chamber to swap for food were all gone and she was hungry. How can you know what to do in a situation when you always make the wrong decision? It was crippling. Even if Cheryl did the opposite of what her instincts told her, she knew she was doomed. One thing was clear as she recoiled from yet another emaciated shadow slinking by, she had to get out of this place. She had no empathy for these souls left to decay. She had no intention of staying and helping their situation, so she must escape.

As she rose, her stomach heaved, twisting with hunger. Wrapping her arms around herself, she scrabbled back to the outskirts where she'd tied the horse, hoping it had remained hidden. The squalor and poverty had increased with every village she'd passed on the way and she had known a horse would have been too much of a temptation for thieves in the city. She hoped that for the first time in her life, her decision had been a good one.

Holding her breath, she approached the straggly thicket, and her heart leaped as she heard a soft braying.

“Hello, girl,” she whispered, and breathed in the delicious horsy scent, burying her face into thick pelt as tears wet her cheeks.

Night was upon them and Cheryl knew she must find some water soon for her horse. It had been at least a day since their last proper food and shelter and it was definitely showing in the pace. The bushes she'd tied the horse in wouldn't have offered much in the way of sustenance or moisture for the beast, and Cheryl felt sorry that she'd forced her on along the road.

It was a strange thing. Nature, although sick, was still pushing her way through the cracks in the roads and buildings, still striving to live and grow, however weak. Cheryl thought of the humans she'd seen in the city and how devoid of fight and spirit they were. She tried to take hope from the tiny twiglets pushing their way through the tarmac.

The only thing she could think to do was to find her way back to her Mistress. In prison, she may have been dominated against her will and held there under false charges, but Cheryl had been thinking a lot on her lonesome path over the past few days. She was realizing that if she had still been in her hometown, she may have joined the countless thousands or millions now dead or dying. The Mistress and the way she had kept Cheryl imprisoned had been her savior in truth. Emotion bubbled in the pit of her stomach as she kicked the staggering pony onward.

“Come on, girl. I know it's hard.” She clambered off the beast and twisted her fingers in the fetlock. “Remember the lovely stream and forest? Just think how you'll feel when you quench your thirst and rest in the cool shade.” But the horse slowed further and Cheryl started to panic. “Don't stop, darling, don't stop.”

Just up ahead was a bedraggled farmyard barn and Cheryl pulled the beast with all her might toward it until, exhausted, they made it through the creaking door and collapsed into the dusty hay. The horse was too weak to even nibble the offered shards from Cheryl's palm and had now started gently foaming at the mouth through shallow breaths.

Cheryl fell onto the softly rising belly and sobbed. This was more than sheer exhaustion, this poor animal had succumbed to the toxins. She should never have taken her so close to the city. Such a beautiful creature. Cheryl was distraught at once again doing the wrong thing. Usually it was only she who suffered, but now... This was the worst kind of guilt and desolation she'd ever felt. When the time arrived, she would leave and try to find her Mistress again.

Cheryl's head was aching with grief and hunger, and she just lay there listening to the shallow, rattling breaths of her companion until they both finally fell asleep.

* * * *

The plan was simple—Lena would go back to Angelo and Mae, and bring Mae back through the front door while Katja would show Angelo the staff entrance she'd ushered Marcus through all those years before. As Lena now stole across the field back to her lovers she was amazed at the story she'd just been told by Deborah and Marcus. There was so much more to The Wasp—a character Deborah had played for self-preservation. Lena couldn't believe that Katja would be so willing to help the escape plan since she'd been caught the first time and had become the very first woman to be rehabilitated by The Wasp. It still wasn't clear to anyone why she wanted to be part of it, but Lena would have to accept the woman's generosity as just that.

She stumbled a little in the scrub and her fingers gripped around the bracelets until she could barely feel them. Deborah had told her just to wear them both but Lena was too paranoid of her own clumsiness, convinced they'd slip off her wrists and disappear forever, so there she was scrabbling through fields still in her finery—albeit a little cleaner than before—with the treasures clutched tight in her sweaty palms.

She was panting hard when she reached the bush and broken-down wall where she'd left her lovers. She called to them in a whisper. “Mae, Angelo?”

Nothing. Nausea rose in Lena's stomach as she tried calling again, quieter this time in case they were hiding from something unknown. Rustling just a little further up heightened her panic. Lena crept as slowly and carefully as she could toward the noise, hoping beyond anything she'd ever hoped for that it wasn't a wolf or wild boar, or worse, guards from the prison.

As she approached a smaller, shadowy bush where she'd heard the first noise from, Lena relaxed a little when a murmured sigh drifted her way. Of course. This was Mae she was talking about. What did she expect would be happening?

Smiling to herself, Lena crawled right up to the thicket and was about to jump out on the pair when something stopped her. A little voyeuristic streak took over and she couldn't resist keeping her silence and peeking through to the pair beyond.

The view was limited, but she managed to position herself right where the action was. Mae lay back in the scrubby ground with her back arched and legs spread, and Angelo's face was buried deep in between them. Her hips were undulating and her toes pointed sharply. Angelo held himself up on one elbow, but Lena could just make out the other pumping hard, obviously thrusting fingers deep into her lover's cunt while he lapped at her hungry clit.

Lena smiled and licked her lips. She knew just how that lovely pussy felt, and her mouth watered, a little jealous of Angelo's position. She wondered if she would scare them too much if she just reached in and started to milk that cock that must surely be hard in his shorts by now. He was kneeling with his ass up so he would be accessible to her probing fingers. Perhaps she should give them a little warning? Her wicked side took over and Lena reached out.

He was indeed as rigid as ever and Lena stroked him through his shorts. His hips bucked and twisted at the invasion, but he quickly relaxed as her fingers found the waistband and tugged down just enough to free him. He fell out of the fabric, hard and fat, into her waiting grasp. She wasted no time in pumping his thick meat back and forth just the way he liked it. She could hear the unmistakable build of Mae's orgasm as she began that sexy mewling and Angelo's pace intensified. Suddenly, they both stilled as Mae came, groaning hard.

When the shuddering subsided Angelo lifted his head.

“How the hell are you doing that?” he gasped as Lena took up her stroking with renewed vigor.

“Doing what?”

“You know. Tossing me off like that.”

“What? I'm hardly capable of even speaking right now.”

“If you're not…” Angelo jolted out of Lena's fist abruptly. “What the fuck?”

He looked genuinely shaken and Lena felt awful.

“It's okay!” she shouted, trying to scrabble through the gap to them. “It's me, Angelo, it's Lena!” Twigs and dead leaves tore at her clothing and hair. “I'm sorry, I…”

“Lena?” Angelo's face was thunderous with anger and terror. “Fucking hell, I could have attacked you!”

From her left, Lena could hear Mae giggling. As she and Angelo both turned to look at the shaking woman with her legs still splayed and pussy glistening with satisfaction, the giggle became a roar of laughter.

“Oh Lena, that was brilliant,” she said, choking back the tears of mirth.

“I'm sorry. I called for you, but you weren't at the other place. I thought you'd been captured or something.”

“Well, I was, kind of,” said Angelo, his expression softening. He pulled Lena close. “Come here, you. How did it go?”

The sex scene she'd stumbled upon was well and truly over, and as Angelo's cock softened she showed them the bracelets and told them the story of Deborah and Marcus.