Free Use in Freehold Ch. 02

Thinking about all that, I quickly brushed my teeth, got dressed in jeans and a faded button down paisley shirt, and walked to work. I looked down again to try to avoid a random sexual encounter, and it worked, but even more than before I saw people, almost all women of various ages, looking at me, pointing, giggling, and one said, mimicking me, "You're a goddess!" and people around me laughed, while I just blushed and walked on.

I finally got to the bench outside the bookstore, where purple haired Clarice was already sitting.

She rolled her eyes at me, and then looked at me with distain, and said, "Meeker? Really?"

I didn't say a word, but grimly decided to go to the other bench ten feet away, so I wouldn't have to sit next to her. I pulled out my copy of 1984, flipped through it, randomly, and found that some reader decades ago had precisely underlined some key passages, in now faded blue ballpoint ink. I read:

"Doublethink means the power of holding two contradictory beliefs in one's mind simultaneously, and accepting both of them."

I wondered if I was in doublethink already. I decided I was.

Suddenly out of the corner of my eye I saw Clarice rapidly walking toward me. I glanced up, startled, because she was already bending down to my face, and had a look of deep worry on her face. She was also holding a paperback, and when I saw the title--A Handmaid's Tale, by Margaret Atwood--I realized what was happening.

My only contact so far in the Resistance, Lambert, had recruited me because I'd brought this same copy of 1984 to a park. Dystopian novels, he explained to me, were used by members of SETAAC as a secret sign to recognize each other, and even ask for help.

I was surprised that Clarice was SETAAC too, but I didn't want her to blow my cover.

I shook my head slightly, and whispered, "no" to indicate that I didn't need help, but she looked confused.

I then quickly put 1984 and my phone away in my backpack, and then walked over and put it on the other bench next to her purse, which seemed to be where her phone was.

I walked back to Clarice, and she said, clearly as a cover, "Jim: I'm asserting my sexual rights with you. I'd like you to kiss me and whisper sweet nothings into my ear, and I'd like to whisper sweet nothings into your ear too."

"Yes," I said, "that sounds nice."

As soon as we were pretend making out, she whispered in my ear, "Now I understand about Meeker. Now I understand about everything. I didn't know you were SETAAC. Do you need help? Are you in trouble?"

I whispered back, "Yes, I'm SETAAC, but I don't need help right now. Sorry. It was an accident. I was just reading the book, not knowing you're SETAAC too. I'm on a secret mission, but can't talk about it. I'm going to kiss you on your lips now, and then let's just make out for a bit. Don't talk about it anymore. Please don't look worried. Look normal, whatever that is."

"Okay," she said, and then smiled at me and started kissing me on the lips.

It was a long sensual kiss, that turned into a French kiss, and then finally we separated, a bit breathless.

Then she whispered again in my ear, "Whatever you're doing be careful. You could get fucking expelled, and then you could die. Just be careful. Now keep kissing me, and fondle my breasts to cover up that we've been talking."

I started french kissing her, and reached over the fondle her breasts through her blouse. She didn't have bra on, which I noticed was common in Freehold, and her breasts were medium-small, and perky, and felt nice. I then felt down to her crotch, and started trying to feel her pussy.

"Sorry to interrupt," We heard Melanie's voice say, "But it's opening time."

We looked up, and Melanie looked at me with a slightly strange expression, one that I interpreted as one of trying not to accuse me a being a male slut, which seemed highly ironic considering she was my Madam.

"Oh, thanks!" Clarice said, in a voice that was a bit too cheery for her.

Melanie looked at her strangely too now, and said, "Okay you two. Obey all rules of Freehold, but try to get your minds back on books now."

"Yes, Melanie," we both said at exactly the same time.

"Jinx!" we then both said smiling, looking at each other, and then "Double jinx," and then broke out laughing.

"Are you two stoned?" Melanie said.

Clarice said, "Oh, we just had a tiny amount. I was corrupting Jim here, and then he couldn't keep his hands off me. But I promise we'll be good workers today."

"Yes," I agreed.

"Okay," Melanie said, looking both amused and slightly annoyed, "Let's come on in the store and do that."

So we went into the store ten minutes before opening, as the crowd of opening time customers started gathering outside.

I dropped my backpack in the employee break area, then in the store I greeted Sophie and Thomas, and started in to work. I was going to greet the customers, and then start shelving another cart of books.

But after Melanie unlocked the door, and then left, instructing me to greet the customers by myself, I suddenly sensed something was wrong. It was a smell.

There was a white muscled man about thirty who walked in with dirty hands, dressed in a dirty shirt, and with a desperate look in his eyes. And bad body odor.

Fuck, I thought. I remembered that smell from my year of surviving outside after the Fall. But since people in Freehold can bathe, I felt he might an outsider who somehow got past security, and that he might be dangerous.

I ran back to the break room to get my Swiss Army knife out of my backpack, and quickly clicked out the longest blade. Carrying it concealed in my hand I ran back into the store, wondering if I was being paranoid, and found him near Sophie's cafe.

The people around him were taking video with their phones out, but looked scared, like it was a piece of performance art sex that had suddenly turned into a horror movie.

He was saying, with his back to me, "Now if you all do as I say, nobody's going to get hurt. I'm gonna to take some hostages, and then your mayor of Freehold or whatever is going to give me some weapons, food--"

With a long swing I immediately plunged my knife deep into the middle of his back, where I thought his heart was. I didn't hesitate, because survival on the outside had taught me that.

"AHHHHH!" He screamed, turned around, and pointed a small pistol at me with one hand, while with his other hand he was trying desperately to reach back and remove the knife.

Suddenly a woman's voice from across the store yelled, "FREEHOLD ARMY! DROP!"

It all seemed in slow motion, but everyone in the store including me started dropping, except for the man, who in the middle of his agony suddenly also had the look of a someone playing chess whose opponent had just delivered a check mate as he tried to turn around.

A single shot rang out. I saw the blood immediately spread right in the middle of the man's chest, and then blood sprayed in a choking cough out of his mouth as he fell to the floor with a loud thud.

For a few seconds it was almost completely silent, except for the sound of one person running up to me, and a bit of sound of gurgling from the man's mouth.

A young woman of maybe 20 was pointing her gun right at the man's head, but after a few more seconds, as he was completely still, and as blood was seeping rapidly into the carpet near him, it seemed clear he was dead. She felt his neck to confirm there wasn't a pulse, looked at me and said, "he's gone."

Then she said to me as she offered a hand to pull me up off the floor, "Specialist Maria Vasquez. Freehold Army. Thanks for your assistance, citizen."

She was in civilian clothes, just slacks and a blouse, but clearly she'd been ready.

I got up off the floor, and said, quietly, "Thank you, Specialist Vasquez, for saving my life. Thank you for saving us all. Fuck."

I was trembling, and Maria suddenly embraced me with a confident smile, and said, "It's okay, citizen. We got him. It's over."

Suddenly applause was spreading throughout the store, and multiple people were cheering Vasquez on, shouting, and patting her on the back.

Someone said, "Jeeze! That was an amazing shot! Did you see that? She was all the way across the store, but she had a clear line of sight. Just one shot."

I was in shock. People were taking photos of Vasquez, and pix of the man with my knife in his back. I went to grab it, but Melanie suddenly grabbed me, saying, "Stop, Jim. Freehold police will need to investigate first. But I'm sure you'll get your knife back."

Police cars were already pulling up with sirens, as well as an ambulance and a fire truck.

It took more than an hour for police detectives to do short interviews with everyone, but really it was an open and shut case. Somehow he'd gotten through the security fence somewhere, somehow, and had made it here.

Melanie excused us all from work, and said the store would be closed for the rest of the day while a crew was brought in to clean up. We'd all be paid our regular pay.

"Hey," Clarice said to me, as we were suddenly outside at the benches again, much sooner than we expected, and as police were still going through things and questioning people inside.

"Hey," I said, not sure what to say.

Clarice looked concerned, and said, "You wanna go to a park or something?"

"I guess," I said, and we started walking to Central Park, where I'd first met Lambert.

She said, "Quick thinking, by the way. What tipped you off?"

"His B.O.," I said, "I'm glad he's dead, I guess, but I'm a bit freaked out that I just helped kill a guy. I went a year on the outside without doing that, and now it happens here."

"Hey, Jim," she said, "Like it said in the article, we're all suffering PTSD of various kinds. And today was kinda stressful for you."

"Yeah," I said.

We walked in silence the rest of the way to the park, which was empty. I looked into Clarice's purple hair and pretty eyes--and her pretty mouth, and said, "Remember when you said yesterday that I didn't know what free use was about? And how free use could help your mental state?"

"Yes?" she said.

I gently but firmly pushed her down on her knees in front of my crotch.

"Oh," she said.

I quickly took out my already hardening cock and immediately put it into her mouth.

She looked surprised, but took it in and started sucking on it.

I gasped with pleasure, took hold of her head, and started thrusting into her mouth as my cock quickly got completely.

"Oh, Clarice, thank you," I said as I fucked her face, but in a relatively gentle way.

Clarice then quickly swallowed my whole cock for a few seconds, deep throating me, and then took it out. She did this a few more times, as I gasped and grunted.

Then after just a few minutes, I said, "I want to cum in your mouth, Clarice. Milk me with your hands."

Clarice started expertly massaging me with her hands, while nursing my head with her mouth. She also looked up at me in way I can only describe as slutty. It was awesome.

"Oh, Clarice!" I gasped, "I'm gonna cum."

She went faster, expertly massaging me and sucking on me, until a jeweled load of pleasure came pouring out of my cock and into her mouth. She choked slightly on it at first, but kept swallowing, and finally got it all down.

She gave me a last lick to clean me off my head, and then said, "feel better?"

"Yes," I said, "Oh my god, Clarice, that was awesome," and put away my dick

She wiped her mouth, and said, "How long have you wanted me on my knees, sucking your dick like that?"

"Since I met you," I said, although I honestly couldn't tell if that was exactly the truth or not.

She got up, and said, "I thought so. But it took you long enough. Next time I'm making you eat my pussy when you least expect it, probably right in front of Melanie."

"Fair enough," I said, smiling, "And in fact that sounds great. I do want to know what you real hair color is. Probably we could get out of work for at least ten minutes, maybe more."

"Oh, more," Clarice said, and punched my arm.

Then suddenly I got a call on my phone. It was Stacy, and I put it on speaker.

Stacy said, "Hey babe, you okay? I just heard."

"It's pathetic, but I'm a bit shook up. Just...hanging with a friend from work at Central Park."

"Listen, babe, I'm coming in my car to get you now. Just stay where you are. Tell your friend you can chat another time."

"Okay," I said, "I'll be here. Thanks."

Clarice rolled her eyes, and then said, "Hope this doesn't hurt your feelings, but I'm voting for Amanda Jones."

"That's fine," I said, "What I love is that we get to vote. Even I get to vote. After the Fall I didn't think I'd ever live to do that."

"Yeah, you've got a point," she said, slapping me on the shoulder, and then saying, "Look, that must be your car."

An official looking electric black SUV with tinted windows pulled up. A handsome white man with a suit, an earpiece, and a submachine gun at his side got out, and said with a smile, "Hi Jim. My name's Mike. I'm one of Stacy's driver's. Would you come with me, please?"

"Sure," I said, and rolled my eyes at Clarice.

She laughed, rolled her eyes back, and then waved as I got in the vehicle.

Inside Stacy was in the back, and invited me to sit next to her. I did, but I didn't feel like talking, and she seemed to respect that.

"Hey Mike," she suddenly said, "Look, it's Charlie. Let's get him to the treatment center."

"Sure," Mike said, and stopped the SUV, and picked up a gray bearded man who was sleeping on a bench on an almost empty street.

Mike woke him up, and held the door open for him to get in the front seat.

"Oh, thanks Stacy," Charlie said, sounding bleary but not too drunk, "I had a bottle of wine as I was writing, and I just wanted to get some sun."

"I understand, Charlie, but we need you to be more clear so that you can finish your novel."

"But who's gonna read it?" Charlie asked.

Stacy smiled, and said, "Jim here. He wants to be a writer too."

"Really?" Charlie said, and I nodded as the car stopped.

Mike go him into the treatment center, and came back in a few minutes, and we drove on.

Soon we were at Stacy's house, which was clearly the house of someone very rich. It was large and fancy almost beyond belief, with actual fine works of art, that had been taken from the Denver Museum.

"Wow, nice collection," I said.

She nodded, smiling, and said "Listen, Jim. I'm proud of what you did today. And that thing with Janet worked out better than I ever imagined. Should I be jealous?"

"Probably," I said, and laughed.

"Nice to see you laugh," Stacy said, and then added, "Hey, I gotta go do some stuff, but why don't you hang out with Mike, play some video games, have some snacks, and maybe even a glass of wine or little bit of pot. Then maybe you could take a nap, and get rested for tonight. I've already got your suit here, all cleaned and pressed. Then Jim will take you to the event after having a light supper with you."

"Thanks! Sounds good," I said, adding, "Sorry I was a bit zoned when you picked me up, but I think I'm getting over it now. And wow, as usual you look so beautiful Stacy."

She was braless in a slinky red dress, and had blue lipstick on.

"Thanks," she said with a smile, "I was wondering when you'd notice. Kiss me?"

I kissed her, and she tasted like blueberry pie.

Then she was gone.

*****

Several hours later I was dropped off at the event center, and put in the care of an almost bald man, with a fringe of black hair around his head, named Matt Goldblatt, who was Stacy's media coordinator.

When I inappropriately laughed at his name, thinking it might be a joke, he said, "Yeah, very funny. What are you, an anti-semite?"

"No," I said, horrified, "I'm Jewish myself. Well, half Jewish and half Catholic."

"It's okay, kid, you're forgiven. I was joking. Anyway, listen, I'm not sure why Stacy wants me to babysit you, but I'm basically the mastermind of the media campaign. You've been good for us kid, and I'm hoping to get some more tonight. But you know how we men here have to get used to being humiliated sometimes? Well, there might be some more of that for you tonight. Can you handle it?"

"Probably," I said honestly, "And if I can't, just don't use it. I'm guessing you're the one who designs the campaign commercials."

He nodded.

I said, "The one I saw seemed so over-the-top it was like an intentional self-parody. I was hypnotized, emotionally moved, and laughing inside, all at the same time. Especially when you put my dick into the spot."

Matt froze like a deer in the headlights, and then threw his head back and laughed for several seconds, seemingly almost unable to stop himself..

"Fuckin-A, kid! You might be the only one who gets me. I craft these like fucking parodies, but everyone takes it straight, now at least I have someone else in on the inside joke. We're probably gonna be friends, Jim. Call me Matt."

We chatted for the next hour, and really seemed to get along. He'd also designed campaign commercials before the Fall. And like me, he'd lost everything, and everyone.

Finally, the event was ready to happen. The hall was full of about a thousand people, mostly women. Matt was managing the live feed of the program to Freeholdflix, saying things like, "Camera 1. Camera 4. Okay, now, camera 3, and slow zoom in, please."

I was supposed to just stay out of the way, dressed in my suit for now. My hair had been professionally styled, and a slight amount of make-up had been applied, including light eye make up and a bit of lip gloss.

Looking on the monitor, I saw that Stacy King was arriving outside in her limo, while huge adoring crowds cheered her on. She got out in a low cut mirrored purple dress, and her lipstick was now blood red. She waved to the crowd, who reached out to touch her like a rock star, and then she entered the hall.

Suddenly she was with us inside, and she got up on the stage, to the wild cheers of the audience in the hall.

Then, as loud, hypnotic, and tuneful music began, she started performing a graceful and exotic dance. Matt had earlier told me that the song was from the late 20th century group Siouxie and the Banshees, and was titled "Kiss them for Me."

She danced around the stage with six almost nude and quite athletic and handsome male dancers. They were only wearing what seemed like tight-fitting swim gear. The words to the song, which Matt showed me earlier, and which he said he'd personally chosen for her because it was one of his old favorites, went like this:

"It glittered and it gleamed/For the arriving beauty queen/A ring and a car/Now you're the prettiest by far/No party she'd not attend/No invitation she wouldn't send/Transfixed by the inner sound/Of your promise to be found/Kiss them for me/I may find myself delayed."

It was quite strange and mesmerizing. I didn't really see what it had to do with politics, but the song did seem like another one of Matt's inside jokes, in this case about Stacy. When it was done there was a huge cheer.

Matt looked up at me and winked, and I quietly laughed, winked at him, and nodded.

The male dancers cleared off the stage, and after a minute of wild cheers Stacy finally got the crowd quiet.

She suddenly got serious, and said, "In Freehold, each one of us in society has our place. And each one of us sometimes contributes beyond our place. Sometimes, in an instant, new heroes are born. Today was one of those days."

The lights went dark, and on a huge screen behind Stacy a video from the bookstore was shown

Without showing his face, for which I was grateful, we saw the back of that awful man and heard him talking about taking hostages. Then it cut to a ceiling camera, which captured me swinging the knife down into his back. Then Vasquez yelled "Freehold Army! Drop!" again, and then it showed slow mo of the man getting shot and then starting to fall. Then it cut to me and the soldier Vasquez embracing, and the whole store clapping and patting her on the back. It was pretty compelling.