Alone Again Or | Page 5

middle aged woman in a flower dress.?
"We spend months re-abilitating," the man said, then he saw Syd and stopped. Syd could see the annoyance or tension in the man's eyes.?
"I don't want to marry anymore," Syd said.?
The man dropped his feet to the floor and swiveled in his chair to face Syd directly.
"You just have some wedding night jitters. Did you read all of the contract?"
Syd felt his face blush. He tried to maintain a stoic fa?§ade otherwise.
"No."
The man broke eye contact and looked at the floor in front of Syd. He spoke softly.
"The marriage isn't binding for one week. You have one week to decide."
Syd turned to go back to the elevator.?
"And listen chief," the man said to Syd's back, since you didn't read the contract, I'm going to tell you this. She's not obligated to have sex with you. Only to care for you as a wife. So if you rape her, you'll still go to jail. All of our rehabilitated teles have extensive training in dealing with violent spouses. Understand?"
In a wash of anger Syd dug his fingernails into his palms.?
"I'd never rape" he began.
"I didn't ask you that, chief," the man said, "I said if you understood. Do you?"
The man had the sound of years in a hierarchical institution: the sound of principles, lawyers, police officers, and judges in his voice. Syd forced himself to answer the way the man wanted.
"Yes," he said and walked to the elevator.
The elevator man had a face that reminded Syd of stucco walls.?
"501C" Syd said to him.
Under the storm of several pints of vodka Jennifer's eyes wobbled in their sockets. The music had begun to sound good to her so she knew she was truly drunk. One of her marks had left with a pudgy girl some time ago. She didn't know how long ago. The stool under her had begun to feel like its legs were made out of rubber.
It's time, she thought.?
The blonde kid looked both closer to her and more drunk than the brunette so she decided to try him first. She wasn't feeling especially lucky.?
The blonde boy danced in the small dance floor in the center of the bar. Earlier the ten foot square space had been a crowded orgiastic mix of sweat, alcohol, and groping dry humping disguised as dancing. Jennifer had watched from her stool as the people had filtered off from the dance floor. The boy was by himself now, dancing in a haze of chemicals or alcohol.?
Or both, she thought.
A man of thirty had bought her several drinks before moving on to a more drunk and mentally impressionable female. Jennifer had drunk more vodka under his influence and money than she normally did before hitting a mark.?
The club had begun to empty; the young people had either tired or found someone to stay up with in more private locations.?
She scanned the room. Three girls sat in the far corner, giggling and taking turns tongue kissing each other. Jennifer tried to burn their location into her mind in case neither of her male marks worked out; they were obviously so high on MDCA that picking their pockets would be simple.
But no one has much money in their pockets in a bar this close to closing, Jennifer thought. Try the marks first. Before they leave. ?
Under the swinging lights cutting lines in the fog machine haze the blonde boy danced. He looked eighteen or nineteen to Jennifer. His motions were spastic. His arms, painted a bright blue color, bobbed and waved, giving the appearance of a blue iridescent cylinder wrapping around his upper body.?
He stumbled and caught his balance four times in the span of time it took Jennifer to walk to him.
He stopped moving and looked at her. His pupils were spread across his eyes like someone had painted the whites black.
Jennifer decided to be direct with him.
"Would you like to have sex with me?" she said. "I'm not a prostitute."
The boy nodded, and Jennifer took his hand. She wondered if he would be able to lead her back to wherever he slept.
He's really fucking lazed, she thought.
Syd opened the door inside the agency building on his new mate's dormitory. He'd knocked several times and gotten no answer.?
Inside he saw a desk, a bed, and a lamp. There was no carpet or faux-wood, just brushed metal. It lacked anything soft, comforting, and the room didn't have a television. There was nothing Syd could see which could give him clues about his new wife's personality. ?
Syd wondered if she would miss the place.?
? He glanced around the room, becoming nervous that he'd gone into the wrong one. The muscles in his lower back began to clench.
She should be here, he thought, and stepped backwards to read the numbers above the doorframe.
His backwards step led