To my editor, PokingFun, for her expertise.

A tidal wave is a slight tremor, a ripple on the water and the receding of the sea. The wave is but the last act of the play

Isobel Diaz was in the background, on her phone, deep in intense conversation. The Mayor was trying to create some sort of damage control with Naomi List, the press secretary. The Police Commissioner was glaring at us and making every other cop in the room feel small. The last woman, who I didn't know, was staring at me intently, as if I'd done something wrong.

Check that - done something spectacularly wrong. Francesca Silverhorn, my boss at City Hall's Public Relation department, stood up even as I reached to pull her down.

"You can't hold us here," Francesca declared. "We have done nothing illegal."

"Sit down," the PC yelled. Francesca didn't get a chance to decide. The cop behind her grabbed her shoulder and neck, slamming her back to her seat.

"Boss, your first lesson on being an honorary man: don't give the police an excuse to hurt you because they gladly will," I said just above a whisper.

"Shut up, you bastard," the PC growled at me. "Both of you, just shut the hell up." Francesca looked at me fearfully. I winked then quickly mouthed 'do what they say - exactly'.

It took her a second, but she got it. We both looked straight ahead. In short order, Isobel traversed over to Bethany, pulled her aside and engaged her in quiet conversation. Bethany was betraying the rest of Francesca's office who had stayed for my little bombshell and were likely to pay for that with their livelihoods. The Mayor came at us first.

"This is what we are going to do," she began. "Mr. Jensen, you are going to make a recorded retraction then commit yourself to a mental health facility of my choosing. Ms. Silverhorn, you will resign, stating mental fatigue brought about by your sexual fascination with Mr. Jensen. This is not a debate. This is how it is."

I looked at Francesca. She looked at me. I smiled, she smiled and then we turned as one and smiled at the Mayor. We didn't bother disguising that this was a 'no way in hell, Bitch' smile either.

"Mr. Jensen, you will go first," the Mayor commanded. I kept sitting.

The cop, a Sergeant, tried to pull me up but was hampered by the fact that I still hadn't put my shirt on and I wasn't about to let her put me in a head-lock.

"Get in there," the Police Commissioner motioned Officer Passey and a third cop into the tight confines of the auditorium seating in the City Council Chamber.

"What am I being arrested for?" I called out.

"Inciting to Riot," the Police Commissioner snapped.

"NO!" the unknown woman yelled at the PC.

"I want a lawyer!" I crowed triumphantly. "I demand my Miranda Rights."

"You Idiot," the unknown woman snarled at the PC, who was both annoyed, yet afraid of this unknown woman...and every cop in the room knew exactly what had happened. This wasn't some back alley beat down, or a 'correction' inside my apartment; this was an official arrest with over twenty cops and a dozen civilians all standing around.

They couldn't all be trusted to keep their mouths' shut, so they had to respect my rights for the moment. Whomever that woman was, she had saved me a shitload of unwelcome coercion that was definitely coming down the pipeline, and she didn't look happy about it.

"What did I do?" the PC asked my unknown savior.

"Who are you, anyway?" I gazed at the woman as the cops closed in.

"She's Shelia Montanyard, Chief Civil Affairs Attorney for the Federal District Attorney's Office," Francesca answered to me. The Mayor had already buried her face in her hand. She was a former local District Attorney after all.

"You want to know what you did?" Shelia regarded the PC. "Why don't we have his L-a-w-y-e-r tell you when she shows up, because Goddess knows, we can't ask him anymore."

"Fine, I'll release him on lack of evidence," the PC tried to save herself. Isobel looked hopeful but the Mayor sobbed and Shelia lowered her head to mask her emotions.

"You created a crime," Shelia explained bitterly. "The crime and thus the criminal investigation doesn't go away - but you have managed to dismiss the man in question. Congratulations."

"Good point," I chuckled. "I'm out of here." The three cops around me weren't letting me go. "A little help here?" I wasn't planning on leaving because that would make me delusional.

"Fine, I'll re-arrest him," the PC kept on coming.

"Oh, so now you are stupid and incompetent," Shelia pointed out.

"Hold on," the PC stuttered. "We can fix this."

"How is that going to work?" Shelia snapped. "I'm not covering for you."

"Israel Jensen may not seem much of a problem for you, but he is. Better yet, this woman," she pointed to Francesca, "is about to roast your chestnuts on an open fire. Ms. Silverhorn hasn't broken the law and your Mayor better stop abusing prescription drugs, because her plan is a fantasy."

"We have various points of leverage on Ms. Silverhorn," Isobel came over, seething with hate toward me.

"Don't get me started, Ms. Diaz," Shelia turned on my despised foe. "What kind of ego-fueled obsession convinced you that a man under surveillance by a FEDERAL task force could be dragged off to one of your affairs and you would get away with it?"

"God damn it! The woman in that pirated video was a metropolitan policewoman that was assigned by the investigation to watch over him. He was screwing her. He was sleeping with her. Hell, they hang out together. How could you possibly believe she wouldn't report the entire affair? Is there something wrong with the air in this place that makes you bitches crazy?" Shelia was truly steamed.

"That's uncalled for," the Mayor retorted.

"You think so?" Shelia glared. "You were harpooned on global television a few minutes ago. It wasn't Israel Jensen's press conference - it was yours."

"But, Ms. Silverhorn..." Isobel growled.

"Who is no one anyone knows," Shelia countered.

"We had to wait for the Metropolitan Police to arrive," the Mayor was slowly going under.

"That's right," Shelia glared, "because you couldn't use the cop who was standing right there."

There is that wonderful moment when the majority of the room is going 'huh?' then realize that someone fucked up horribly. Most of the people were glad it wasn't them, but four people were the fuck-ups. Naomi, Isobel, the Mayor and the Police Commissioner were the ones. The cop at the conference who could have arrested me was the Police Commissioner, who was a cop after all.

Isobel was a consummate survivor.

"We'll expect your resignation on the Mayor's desk in an hour," she addressed the Police Commissioner, who looked pole-axed. The woman gathered up her shreds of dignity and slowly walked from the room.

"Mr. Jensen, are you leaving?" Shelia Montanyard looked my way, suddenly civil.

"Can I leave?" I asked. Shelia nodded. I was looking at the cops who reluctantly backed off. I resumed my seat next to Francesca.

"Get out," Francesca whispered.

"With a spastic personality like mine, can I really afford to turn my back on a friend?" I joked back, repeating her own description of our relationship. She was about to chastise me then stopped; I was clearly nuts. "Besides, it isn't like they are letting us anywhere near the press again. All we can do is wait, but it shouldn't be long."

"What are we waiting for?" Francesca studied me.

"The Federal Warrant to arrive," I sighed. Shelia's eyes ratcheted their intensity toward me. Top of my class - how many times does my Inner Child have to scream it?

"Could you do me a favor?" Francesca requested quietly.

"Sure."

"Put your shirt on. You may be every color of the sunset, but you have really - um - good muscle definition and it's a bit distracting," she seemed embarrassed to admit. I had to fight of that bit of fear that always popped up when women got interested in me sexually.

"I'll do it for you," I tried to sound casual. As I was fixing my buttons, a jack-ass comment slipped out of my mouth. "You do realize this pretty much negates having a nipple-rub with Shelia during my interrogation later." That went over abysmally.

"I'm married," Shelia said dismissively.

"Oh, what did you arrest him for?" I snapped off. Yes, I had just implied that law enforcement could only get a male by putting a gun to their heads, figuratively speaking.

"Counterfeiting," she came right back without missing a beat.

"Well, I guess it doesn't matter if his passion is genuine as long as his performance feels real," I grinned.

"All I need is his performance," she kept any real emotion from her countenance. "Why do you chose to have sex with a cop when you claim to hate them so much?"

"I didn't want to, but I fell in love with her," I responded instinctively. No fear.

"You love that she'll help you attempt to escape," Shelia kept coming.

"Ha," I laughed. "You clearly don't know Detective Kristi. She still believes in your garbage. She thinks you cops are going to change and that this society should be saved."

"But you don't?" Shelia tilted her head.

"Why should I if you don't, Mrs. Montanyard?" I grinned.

"I think this society has problems, but I think it is extremely foolish and selfish to abandon it when things can be corrected," Shelia explained.

"I believe that as much as I believe you are married, much less to a counterfeiter," I smirked.

"Ah...when Ms. Silverhorn introduced me, she didn't use 'Mrs.'," Shelia nodded.

"Got it in one," I acknowledged. "I loved doing this kind of give and take in college."

"Why weren't you on your Debate Team? Bowden has a good program," Shelia probed.

"Do you prefer your dildos smooth, ribbed or with those little knobs?" I countered.

"I prefer to use my fingers," she was relentless. Just then, Angel and Seneca, my cop lover and her partner, came in. Most eyes gravitated their way.

Angel's eyes flickered to me, but then focused on Shelia.

"The warrant should be coming through any second now, Ms. Montanyard. We are here to escort the detainee," Angel related calmly.

"Gather him up and escort him over to our offices," Shelia directed.

"Wait," the Mayor finally spoke up. "We still need him. We need to fix this mess."

"No, you need to fix this mess. I need to look into an investigation that goes beyond your lack of re-electability," Shelia glared. "Besides, I'm leaving you Ms. Silverhorn."

"Actually, Ms. Montanyard, could you take Ms. Silverhorn with us - in case I might have told her something important," I all but pleaded.

"Perhaps if you prove helpful," Shelia offered, "the federal government might intervene."

"Oh - sorry Francesca. You have more courage than anyone else in this room. They will neither acknowledge it nor care. All I can offer is my thanks and best wishes," I nearly wept.

"If I had a son that lived..." she was looking teary-eyed.

I saw that hit home with Officer Passey as well; she was likewise beyond my help.

"Mainly I couldn't trust any women on the occasional road trip the Debate Team would have taken. I also wanted to graduate early," I answered Shelia's earlier question.

"Okay," she noted. "Ladies, get him out of here," Shelia directed Angel and Seneca.

As I was being led away, Bethany called out.

"Israel..."

"Bethany...Bethany, just remember during a volcanic eruption, duck and cover," sort of spilled out. I knew it had no relevance to our current circumstances. I felt I had to say something.

Sneaking out the back way, Seneca spoke up.

"Duck and cover is for a nuclear attack," she corrected me. "During a volcanic eruption, you run for your life."

"Really?" I appeared startled. "So, has anyone seen Capri?"

"You are not under arrest," Angel sighed. "You are being detained under a Federal Material Witness warrant."

"Wrong," I chuckled nervously. "I was arrested by the Police Commissioner herself. Apparently I'm a suspect in an 'Inciting to Riot' investigation."

The two cops looked at one another. I could tell Angel was grinning. Seneca was far less amused.

"I see good Ole Shelia hasn't enlightened you two. Now, where are we going?" I resisted giggling like an idiot.

"Fifteenth floor of the Federation Building," Angel gladly replied.

"Thanks, I'll make my call now," I glanced as Seneca to see if she'd stop me. She didn't.

"Capri, this is Israel," I greeted my lawyer buddy.

"I'm in the process of losing my job, but I'm on my way," Capri grumbled. "What are they charging you with and where are you?"

"Material Witness warrant and I'm going to the fifteen floor of the Federation Building," I supplied the pertinent data.

"I would like to say that help is on the way, but it is me and only me," Capri said.

"My boss, Francesca Silverhorn, is going down for this mess too..." I faded out.

"I'm not likely to save you or me. I certainly can't help anyone else," Capri sounded frustrated. "I believe she has some resources and can get her own legal counsel, so don't worry about it." That was pretty much that. The Federation Building was close, we parked in the garage and the elevator took us to the fifteen floor.

I couldn't help a full body-spasm seizing me when the doors opened. I had spent three years trying to be unnoticed, kept my back to the walls and eyes on the exits because I has absolutely no trust in my society to protect me. Yet here I had been in a police station, and now was at federal law enforcement office, all in two days.

It wasn't that I was here, but that I had chosen the path that led me here that really rocked the foundations of my psyche. I was the responsible one. I wasn't accidently stumbling across a car in distress. I wasn't stopping by to talk to a few of my girlfriends buddies. No, this experience was all me.

"Israel, are you going to be okay?" Angel worried.

"Over twenty thousand square feet of pretentious butch women with guns," I joked loudly. "What could possibly go wrong for me here?"

"Angel, I think your guy is unraveling," Seneca whispered to Angel.

She needn't have whispered. I had enunciated at a volume that resonated all over the office space. We had everyone's attention. More importantly to me, I located the woman, or in this case, the group of women, who recognized me. They would be my chief opponents in this hostile territory.

If you run away from women long enough, you start to figure out their hunting habits. Every coterie had a lead lioness and I could tell which one she was. She had strawberry blonde hair and pig-tails and I swear to God, she looked to be fifteen. Her eyes told a very different story. They were cold, bleak and pitiless, yet with a burning fire at their core.

She also had dimples. I had to blink really hard - twice - to make sure my mind hadn't sneaked some freaky mirage into my field of vision.

"I've got him from here, officers," a solid Latina with short-cropped hair ambushed us from the side. She was being polite. It wasn't like there were any choices being made.

"You'll be fine, Israel," Angel called to my retreating form. I couldn't build myself up for a conversation before I was taken to a small room and told to take a seat. I took in the details. The agent didn't have on a name badge - that was meant to isolate me mentally and stop me from trying to ingratiate myself to my captors.

This reinforced my subliminal demons that saw women as faceless aggressors. The room was playing into my claustrophobia. It was also soundproof, playing against my anxiety brought about by a lack of audio stimulation. What my tormentors must not have been counting on was that Sunday had put me past all of this.

Hell, I'd screwed Bethany Fremont and I thought that would never, ever happen again. I'd done it and I'd felt fine afterwards. Dimples the Clown was going to have to do better than this. Better yet, I knew what was coming. First they would wreck my confidence, then they would be my friends who only wanted to help. The blackmail would come later. My pain would be mental, not physical this round.

I hadn't read the Federal playbook, nor was I a master of interrogation. They considered me a dog so they would treat me like a dog - a bad dog. Dimples and company weren't stupid; I imagined they were actually quite bright. Their problem was that they'd been breaking my gender for forty years and very effectively.

The critical difference was that I wasn't an MRA terrorist, or even a criminal in my mind. I had nothing to feel guilty about. They had no leverage and on a visceral level, I wasn't even afraid of them anymore - cautious yes, but not afraid. The man walking into the room was a bit of a surprise. He looked very well-dressed but casual - fatherly if your father was a college professor from an earlier era.

"Hello, Mr. Jensen, I'm Ezra Bryan," he greeted me with a smile. His hazel eyes, ensconced behind round glasses, gave off a comforting glow. He was my friend, just ask him. "I'm here to help you." See? "Can we talk for a bit?" He sat down opposite me before I could respond.

"Can I see your gun and badge?" I asked politely.

"Come now Israel, men don't carry guns. Do you want a firearm?" he remained pleasant.

"Oh," I mused. He answered questions with questions. I knew that trick well. "Where did you get your degree from, Doctor?"

"Holy Cross," he conceded. "Now would you answer a few of my questions?"

I put my hands on my thighs, lowered my chin to my chest and shut out the room. Meditation is a technique best used in an area that is quiet and safe. They had given me only one voice to tune out and, while I didn't trust Dimples, I knew how this escalation would go.

I was safe for now. When the psychiatrist Dimples has sicked on me realized he was losing to a guy with two semesters of psychology, he broke form and did something you never do - he touched a survivor of sexual assault without permission. See, he was here to find me psychologically unsound so they could imprison me without a trial forever.

His problem was that you can't find someone insane if they are capable of reasoned discourse - thus my initial words with him - but wouldn't talk to you. Obstinate isn't a psychological disorder. It's only rude. I was meditating - someone touched me. Since I've been sensory deprived and touched by people who did me harm, this was bad.

I yelped and fell sideways in my chair. I ate the fear, ate the anger and kept my eyes down.

"What is wrong, Israel?" the Dumbass asked with false sympathy, offering to help me up.

I got up without his help.

"Can I see your tablet please?" I countered. I could play this 'answer a question with a question' thing too.

"I'm sorry, but that has confidential information on it. Why did you fall over?" he kept at it.

I pulled my chair around to the side of the table and took a seat.

"Israel, this is not helping your cause. Don't you want the truth to come out?" he smiled in that paternal style. Yes, this was helping my cause and you didn't want the truth to come out, you Jerk, I thought.

I put my palms on my thighs, my chin on my chest and started to meditate once more. This time he touched me before I was all the way under.

"Israel, you are not helping yourself with this display," Dr. Bryan was getting a little touchy.

"Ezra, what do you call a man who sneaks up on men who do not know him, who have their eyes closed and are either meditating or asleep?" I finally spoke.

"Aren't those some kind of perverts?" I regarded him with the closest imitation of the tone he was using on me.

"Do you see people who touch you as being perverted?" he resumed is babble. I put my palms on my thighs, my chin on my chest and resumed meditating.

On his fourth unwarranted touching, I got up and walked to the door. It wasn't a normal door - it opened out. I guessed that was so someone inside couldn't bar the authorities from entry. It opened which made sense since I was six inches taller and twenty-five years younger than their pet male shrink.

Of course, there were two agents at the door as well. I wasn't planning to sprint for the elevators or closest window anyway. They were across the hallway and unhappy to see me.

"Hi," I greeted them cheerfully as I let the door shut.

"Get back inside," the African-American agent stated firmly.

"Actually, there is this weird old guy in there who keeps touching me every time I close my eyes and try to go to sleep," I pleaded. "Can you please help me?" For a second, they were both confused by my request. They had this misconception they were protectors of the public welfare.

"He's giving you a psychiatric exam," the second agent, this one of East Asian extraction, told me.

"Really?" I doubt I was very convincing in my surprise. "I was raped repeatedly when I was sixteen, so why on God's Green Earth would any healthcare professional touch me without my consent or awareness?" Take that Bitch! There is simply no right answer for that question and everyone listening in on this exchange knew it.

Five doors down, the portal flew open and Capri came bolting out at a dead run with two agents hot on her ass, trying to re-write history.

"This farce is at an end!" Capri O'Hara screamed at the top of her lungs. Sadly, Capri was a small woman and both of her pursuers where superior specimens in all the currently relevant categories.

"Israel, as your legal counsel, I advise you to not answer any further questions without me being present," she got out before they muffled her. The damage was done. I was free - in a very, very limited legal context. This act hadn't played out yet, though, because the next two people out the door were Angel and Seneca.

In retrospect, had I ever actually seen Angel in a fight before she threatened me on Friday, I wouldn't have let her back in my condo, much less my bedroom. I had no fist-fighting experience, but I'd seen a few female fight movies and TV shows - things like the Power Rangers and Black Widow: Agent of SHIELD. I was totally unprepared for the reality of this kind of violence.

Angel drove her fist into the lower back of the rightmost agent holding Capri. That woman screamed, and I mean screamed, in pain before crumpling into a whimpering ball. The agent on the left was really quick. She tried to defend herself and deflected the first blow - later I was told that was Angel's feint, but Angel connected with her chin before the woman could bring the other hand up protectively.

Angel jacked her off the ground. I was stunned the agent was still conscious. Hell's Bells, I was stunned her head was still attached. The federal agent had less than a second to rejoice in that fact before Angel's other fist propelled her over Capri and down in a heap in front of my lawyer. Seneca had no fears about her partner's combat expertise.

She had spun around to the door that seemed to hold everybody, held up her hand, put her other hand on her sidearm and was loudly begging everyone to calm down. Dimples' crowd kept pouring out of the room, their hands falling to their weapons as well. Shelia joined the mob followed by Dimples herself.

The agents beside me were in a quandary. I was a witness, not a suspect, but I wasn't someone they trusted to remain sane. I had to admire their teamwork even though it was working against me. The East Asian put her forearm to my neck and pushed me hard against the wall next to the door. The African-American put her hand on her taser and took up a defensive posture.

The only noise was the first agent's whimpers. Capri was the only one moving, shrugging off the kinks she'd earned from the grapple and stooping beside the second, unconscious, agent. Capri drew forth that woman's taser.

"Put it down," the darker skinned agent warned.

"Put it down or we will put you down, Ms. O'Hara," Dimples spoke in the sweetest voice. I wondered if she was a Care Bear in a previous life. Most likely 'Let the Right One in' Care Bear.

"Stop with the empty threats, you pack of weasels," Capri snapped. "Now listen the fuck up."

"One of three things is going to happen," Capri started.

"I said 'put it down'," the African-American agent stated firmly.

"You are going to release my client so that we can talk, I'm going to taser you and then the cunt who is assaulting my client, or you are going to taser me," Capri finished.

"Wish granted," the agent snarled.

"You do realize that once she drops I have a clear shot at you, right?" Angel notified her.

"You don't have your taser drawn," the African-American agent stated.

"No," Angel extended her pistol past Capri. "I have my sidearm."

"Now, as I was saying, you have three options and you lose big time in the last two," Capri grinned like a vindictive leprechaun.

"She won't shoot," Dimples referred to Angel. "The odds of Mr. Jensen being caught in the cross-fire are very high."

"Irrelevant," Capri snorted. "Because I'm about to shoot you," she started raising her taser.

"Last chance, Lady," the agent warned.

"Do you want to know why you are fucked?" Capri scoffed. "See these are all government issued weapons and every time one is discharged you have to write an incident report."

"That isn't your taser. You stole it," the agent pointed out. I saw Shelia Montanyard flinch minutely.

"Hey, FedLawBitch," Capri snorted (she was addressing Shelia, I would learn later). "Just because my law school offered night classes doesn't mean I'm an idiot. Bronson v. Michigan."

Only two people understood that - Shelia and Capri.

"Bronson v. Michigan doesn't apply," Shelia bluffed.

"The Supreme Court disagrees. It has been applied two times in the past seven years and since this is a government building, the dumb bitch on the ground is a government law enforcement agent, and since Mr. Jensen is a person of interest to the court..."

"Put your weapons down," Shelia conceded.

"What?" the African-American agent blanched.

"Holster your weapon," Dimples spoke again. "While Ms. O'Hara is within her rights to shoot you, you are not within your rights to shoot her. Do you want to get tasered?"

"Oh, and the cops are covered by Bronson as well," Capri waved her hand over her shoulder. "I am an officer of the court and your two brigands were assaulting me and keeping me from my legal duties. Go after them and I'll nipple twist you so hard, Ms. Montanyard, your screams will make your law school professors fall over dead in shock."

"Noted," Shelia nodded. She wasn't giving up so much as repositioning for the next offensive. Before my time there was a military term tossed around called 'Shock and Awe'. From the look on the faces of Dimples and Shelia, they had thought they were the French army invading Monaco only to discover they had invaded Switzerland by mistake.

They thought they'd spend half a day rounding up the local constabulary then have dinner on the beach - in this case, the Federation Capital. Oh no, they could still see victory on the horizon but beyond all predictions, they were really going to have to work for it. Right then, the door to my interrogation room opened and the doctor looked out.

"Is everything fine?" he inquired.

"Oh, Dr. Bryan, I'm informing every institution on the planet that pretends to know anything about medicine and reporting your gross negligence. When I'm done with you, even the WHO won't use you to clean their toilets," Carpi glared.

"What did I do?" he looked around, shocked.

"You touched a post-recovery rape patient without their consent - repeatedly, even after he was clearly uncomfortable with it," Capri snapped.

"He is POST-recovery," the man stated.

"Were you incapable of reading his file dating from yesterday morning in which the police report my client having been beaten black and blue by unnamed assailants? He didn't press charges, but it is still an open investigation. The GED frowns on people running around and beating up men, so there actually is a use for those douches after all," Capri snarled.

Dr. Bryan had this wide-eyed, stunned expression. Eventually his gaze settled on Shelia and Dimples.

"He's not what you said he'd be," the man blathered. "His profile is all wrong. The man is totally mad, I tell you. Give me more time and I can prove it."

"Doc," I said calmly. "I suggest you exit this building as soon as possible and hurry home before they cancel your travel voucher."

"Mr. Jensen," he turned on me desperately. "You are psychologically very ill and you need professional help."

I just smiled. He was right. We both knew he was right, but I had trapped him before he trapped me. A week ago, I would have snapped like a branch in a tornado. The women around me, for good and ill, had scraped away all the scabs and scar tissue that I'd let build up over the years until all was left was the raw open wounds.

My blood was on fire and my mind a hurricane of thoughts, wants and desires. I wasn't a man grown to adulthood by continual experience. I was shards of all of those stages of my life, jumbled together into some slipshod construct that staggered forth from encounter to encounter. Dr. Bryan had lost because I could be a seventeen year old survivor one second and the man lying on the floor, laughing while Flame beat on me the next.

Had they given Dr. Bryan time to work on me, develop his skills to my condition, he would have cracked me in a few days - a week at the most. He was a psychiatrist, and most likely a good one to be working with the FBI, and I was, in fact, insane. This was my victory. I had forced Dimples to expend a weapon for no gain. I wasn't sure Angel would get it.

Two hours later found us in a much larger room, laid out in a comfortably cluttered manner. It was terrain psychology all over again. Was I to believe a federal agency as big as this didn't have clean conference rooms for us to use? As it was, Capri and I were on one side of the table. Angel and Seneca were on the edge of the table closest to the main door.

That left Dimples and company to spread out over the other half of the room. Their body language was laid back and unaggressive, they had bought this Indian-Italian fusion feast and they were bantering back in a non-gender specific manner.

"What does this tell you?" Capri turned to me as she finished a forkful of garlic pasta.

"Special Agent in Charge Enola Treyvon's (Dimples actual name) team are man-hunters," I said as I gulped down my food. By that I meant people who hunt males professionally. If you thought about it, male criminals had to be rare. We all had bracelets that any woman could ask to see on demand, thus in network, so tracing us wasn't all that hard.

Also, if we broke the law, we had to take drugs which made committing crime inconvenient. If we were violent, they had drugs for that too. A man having an illegal firearm was bad, but being a woman who gave a man a gun was much worse. Since the MRA hadn't been active in over a decade, it didn't make sense that the Federation's chief law enforcement agency would have tons of these kinds of specialists floating around.

I was about to say something else when 'nothing' caught my attention. A man has to watch where he is, how he stands, what he says, who is listening and how the women around him are acting. It is Male Survival 101. The savannah looked safe but the bushes held deep shadows.

"They were tipped off to be here by Detective Angel Kristi," I nodded to Capri.

"You do realize that sticking your dick in a garbage disposal is a crime, right?" Capri laughed.

Angel flinched. She was guilty after all. Seneca was glaring hate Capri's way. The feds were being very polite about the whole thing. I turned on Capri, mouth agape.

"Oh my fucking God!" I exclaimed. "Let me check something out." I stood up.

"I advise you to go with caution," Capri warned me. I walked around the far side of the table (away from Angel and Seneca), over to the Latina who had snared me earlier. She was sitting, but I was hardly intimidating her. I knelt before her which finally got some sort of reaction from the federal agents. They were attentive. The Latina was keeping her eyes level with mine.

"Angel," I looked toward my lover, "she uses the same shampoo as you." You see, I had no doubt that this agent had memorized every visual aspect me myself, Capri, Seneca and Angel...but scent? For a second, she turned her head to look at Angel. I backed away then stood up. "Oh sweet Lord, I wish I wasn't right so damn much. Janice Bourne," I gulped.

See, the shampoo thing had been a total bluff.

Janice Bourne was the protagonist in a series of spy novels where the male characters were somewhat interesting for a change. In one, a guy actually kills a female assassin with pruning shears. That wasn't the relevant issue.

"They've got Cochlear implants," I clarified.

The technology was hardly new, but it was a bit intensive and expensive so only people like the Secret Service's Executive Protection Detail and elite security agencies used it. Oddly appropriate, Cochlear implants and sub vocalization were the calling card of an evil female organization in the Borne stories.

"Wait, you mean they can talk without us hearing them?" Capri gasped.

"Bravo," Dimples applauded in a mocking way. She pushed off the glass wall she'd been leaning against.

"You are an intelligent, gifted individual," Enola nodded to me. She didn't call me an 'intelligent man' because that was an oxymoron in her culture. 'Gifted' meant my cock was over six inches long.

"How about I not lie to you because you eat people like me for breakfast and I not help you because you are opposed to every principle and virtue I hold dear?" I suggested.

"Do you want to discuss the legality of discussing my client's case while he's in the fucking room and withholding that information?" Capri snarled as she stood. Capri lit into Dimples, who treated Capri like she was noisy but irrelevant. My phone rang. It was 'MW'.

*Bravo performance, Israel. We speculate your actions will help our cause greatly. If your needs are immediate, we will know what to look for. Otherwise, we will keep in touch.*

I typed, *Fine* then hit 'Send' The countdown was on. It was not lost on me that the MW used Bravo or that in fifteen seconds this message would vanish into the ether of the internet.

"What did you just do?" Dimples addressed me intensely. I was boned. Outside of the fact that she could kick my ass and/or imprison me, she also was most likely smarter than me.

"Who me?" I squeaked. It was a horrible choice of evasions. I was guilty as hell and everyone knew it.

"Give me the phone," she beckoned urgently. I was the only one not standing all of a sudden. I pushed against the desk so that my chair tumbled backward.

The only ones not stampeding my way were Angel and Seneca - Capri was in the process of being trampled, so I rolled in the other direction. Halfway through the roll, I slid my phone under the table. By some miracle, no one saw that, so I was the recipient of the dog pile. I had to lie still and let them search me. The patchwork quilt of my psyche had other plans.

I exploded. I screamed, cried out, lashed out and was basically consumed by a sorority party flashback. Normal restraining techniques didn't work. I thrashed around so hard that I dislocated my left shoulder, tried to crack my head open on the carpeted floor and did some unhappy things to my right knee.

I was saved by one of Dimples' people. She was a criminal psychologist and figured out what was happening to me. Dimples ran a tight crew. They had me unrestrained and let me curled into a fetal ball inside a minute, or so Angel told me. As I started to match mental commands to movements I heard an unknown feminine voice telling others to 'give him space.'

My mind had been shielding me from the damage I'd received during the wrestling match so when I tried to push up, my left arm instantly gave way and I cried out in pain. There were a flurry of voices.

"What's wrong?"

"He's dislocated his shoulder. I can fix that."

"He needs to see a doctor."

"I can help."

"Don't crowd in, damn it."

"Israel should be taken to an actual doctor, who doesn't work for you." That was Capri.

"He's not going anywhere," Dimples stated matter-of-factly.

"Fine," one of the feds said, "Israel, I'm going to pop your shoulder back to where it should be. This will hurt." At that point I realized I had been screaming the entire time.

She was right - it hurt like hell when she did it but afterwards my shoulders shooting pain subsided to a dull ache.

"He needs to go to a hospital," Capri insisted.

"We have enough to commit him right now," Dimples replied dismissively.

"Do you enjoy vomiting nonsense continually, or do you save it for your demented attempts at romancing handsome young men?" Capri sneered.

"Your case is long on vitriol, but short on substance," Dimples came back.

"You think so, SAC of 'no one gives a crap'?" Capri laughed harshly.

"You attacked my client over a phone - that's going to go over spectacularly. He wasn't trying to evade, or fight back in any manner," she continued. "Yet you beat the crap out of him and he didn't even have the phone on him. It was under the table."

"He failed to obey a lawful order," Dimples sounded bored. "That's resisting."

"He had eight armed women coming at him. He was afraid. Hell, I would have been afraid," Capri countered.

"His resistance meant we were unable to retrieve any relevant data from his mobile device," Dimples stated.

"What did you find out?" Capri grinned.

"We have his keystrokes but not the text he was responding to. There was no evidence he even had a call three minutes ago which implies secretive communications," Dimples said. "That's espionage."

"You are going to take 'nothing' to court? Your wet dreams about what might have been in that text have no legal significance, Agent Treyvon," Capri smirked. "He has confirmed he is talking to the 'Vanishers' and that he wants to go with them, but that's not illegal. He has not stated a desire to avoid the Gender Inequality Act in any way."

"No man who has vanished has complied with the GIA," Dimples challenged.

"How is he to know that?" Capri bit back. "That information is not readily available."

"He can't be bright and sane when it is convenient for you then damaged and delicate the next when it is suddenly inconvenient," Dimples explained.

"Review your mental health statutes," Capri glared. "Israel remains a functioning member of society in that he holds, or held, a job, he maintains a dwelling and he is not a threat to himself or others. Being annoyingly inconsistent isn't his problem, or the courts problem. It is your problem. He is not required to help you do your jobs."

"We can compel testimony," another FBI agent informed us.

"That's nice, Nancy Drew," Capri turned on her. "You are going to both declare the nature of the 'Vanisher' criminal conspiracy in a manner I can review, and grant my client immunity?"

"He will be charged with contempt of court," the woman retorted.

"Where did you get your law degree?" Capri asked politely.

"The University of Quebec," the agent stated proudly.

"Well then, you should know that it is a matter of official record that my client has been in communication with 'said' criminal conspiracy," Carpi started sedately then,

"So how in the fuck are you going to separate this communication, which you want to know about, from the criminal conspiracy in a manner that doesn't abuse my client's Fifth Amendment Rights?" Capri snapped angrily. "Holy Mother Mary, Israel do you have pheromones that turn most smart girls into drooling idiots?"

"Uhhhh," I groaned as I righted my seat and sat down. "I can do you one better. Dimples, your team is the best in its field right?" I wheezed. We waited. She didn't like being called Dimples.

"The very best," she finally stated.

"Yet you've learned exactly what since bringing me in?" I stared. "I typed 'Fine'."

"Angel and Seneca are lowly Metropolitan cops, not one of you hot shot feds. Seneca, what would you have done?" I kept my eyes on Dimples. Seneca hesitated.

"I would have said, 'Israel, please tell me what that call was about?'" Seneca said.

"And I would have answered honestly. Why?" I continued.

"You love Angel, I'm her partner so helping me helps her," Seneca reasoned.

"Even though she's betrayed me, and you and I don't like each other at all?" I kept going.

"Yeah - pretty much," she mused.

"And that ladies," I smirked at Dimples as I addressed her group, "is why you are losing."

"You are striding across the landscape like some modern day titans and I'm nothing but a scrap of trash beneath your feet. Your problem is that I'm not trash. Men like me are your genetic future and we think your feet stink. Oh, you were all nice and friendly thirty minutes ago. You gave us this nice, cluttered room that wasn't an oppressive, business-like setting."

"You fed us and were practicing all those little body language skills and word usage you were taught in whatever fucked-up male psychology classes you took. The second I had something you wanted, and I didn't snap-to like that pet lizard, Dr. Bryan, you pounced," I berated them, "without an ounce of concern for my physical and mental well-being."

"Despite ALL of you knowing what I've been through in my life," I grumbled. "You chose to use my weaknesses against me, to harm me, and you still have pipe dream that I might be coerced into helping you. Wake up! You are the villains of this piece. You are beating up on the weak and helpless. You are not out to rescue men. You are simply trying to give women a few more dicks to fuck before this sad parody of life comes crashing down."

"Mr. Jensen, could you please tell me what the text message was?" Dimples asked me.

"I'm not really feeling talkative at this moment. I'm a bit weirded out. I need to freaking unwind...Angel, can I have sex with Agent Dimples?" I turned to my lover. She blinked, but the surprise wasn't hers alone. I was moving way past the profile they had painted me into.

"Can I think about it?" Angel looked me over. Sadly, we were not telepathic. "I'm not comfortable with you having sex with Special Agent in Charge Treyvon."

"Okay, Angel," I acknowledged. There was silence for half a minute.

"Detective Kristi, could you explain something to me?" the agent who had freed me earlier spoke up.

"What do you want to know, Special Agent Fraklos?" Angel answered.

"What is the dynamic between you two?" she questioned.

"We love each other. He doesn't want to become attached to me because he sees that as a form of codified possessiveness. Instead, if he is going to do something that might cause me emotional turmoil, he consults me first. It is called compassion and it is something I've never asked for, he gives willingly and another reason for me to love him," Angel explained.

"But you betrayed him," Fraklos pointed out. "You have betrayed him repeatedly. We are here because you revealed something he told you in confidence - yet, he remains loyal. How do you figure that?"

"See, that's why you are in trouble," Angel regarded the feds.

"Yes, I betrayed him, but he knew I would relate everything he told me because he respects the fact that I am a Metropolitan Detective. He hates my profession, but he loves me despite that, not because it," Angel grinned then looked at me. "I get it Israel, I finally get it. For the rest of you, Israel's been kicking your asses ALL DAY LONG."

"He even kicked your ass over the phone and I have to believe that was totally unrehearsed," Angel added. "What did Ms. Montanyard say? He was waiting for the Material Witness warrant at City Hall. He knew what he was saying, what you would do and he didn't get it from me. Israel Jensen, a man who nearly collapsed when he stepped off the elevator, is making a mockery of your sparkly little asses - and I wouldn't have thought him capable of it either."

"I apologize Israel," a tear tracked down Angel's cheek. "I should have never doubted your love for me. I'll really work on it. Oh, you can have sex with Enola, if you still want to."

"Nah, I was joking about that. She's the polar opposite of Zuiko. I mean, sure they both have only had sex twice in their lives, but Dimples doesn't want to have sex," I mused.

"Are you sure?" Angel inquired.

"It is in the eyes," I noted. "I barely register on her radar. I don't do it for her."

"Mr. Jensen, would you please tell me what was on the text message," Dimples repeated.

"There is not a single reason I can think of to tell you," I stared back.

"Detectives Kristi and Poole, please go to the main conference room and wait for your next assignment," Dimples commanded. Angel and Seneca dutifully stood and left. Capri snickered and dropped her head to the table with a loud 'thud'.

"That was so totally counter-productive," Capri mumbled playfully, "I really can't find the words to capture its essence. Israel?"

"Everything is right with the Game Plan, Boss," I snickered. "I was able tell my love good-bye, I had a nice lunch and I think there is a nap in my future."

"I'll wake you if something intelligent happens," Capri raised her head and smiled at me.

"Capri, thank you for showing up today. You know there is nothing I can do for you," I sighed.

"When bad men combine, the good must associate; else they will fall one by one, an unpitied sacrifice in a contemptible struggle," Capri quoted. "That was from an Englishman from long, long ago. In this case it should be 'bad women'."

"Do you really believe me that this whole, sick society needs to trundle off to extinction?" I inquired with deep curiosity.

"I've spent my life until now competing with the women around me, never really thinking about men that much, except hoping to get lucky along the way. I never thought about a gender divide, much less an impassioned struggle by men to be free. Until I met you, I thought we were equals. After witnessing my gender's ugly underbelly, I'm a believer in your cause, Israel," she patted my arm. I didn't flinch one bit.

"I apologize for ruining your life," I patted her back. "Want to move in with me?"

"Sure. I'm about to be homeless, penniless and friendless," Capri shrugged. "Solving one of those three problems won't suck."

"You are going to make your disbarment incredibly easy, Ms. O'Hara," the Latina smirked.

"Oh, for the love of the Goddess, shut up!" Capri groaned. "If all you are going to say is stupid crap, just be quiet. I can live with my client as long as we aren't having sex, you dipshit. If every word out of your mouth is an insult to female intelligence, keep your yap shut." The agents remained outwardly calm.

I would have still cautioned Capri about bearding the monsters in their cave, but it looked like she was having too much fun. That was when I realized she understood. None of us were getting out intact. Oh, we may walk out into the sunlight today, but there was no coming back from this for her, or me.

Francesca and now Capri - I didn't understand it. I was grateful, but I couldn't wrap my mind around women who had sacrificed everything - if not for me, for a cause they had no experience with. In the final analysis, Kuiko, Aniqua, Venus, Samantha and Roni made sense. Their future prospects were bleak.

So was Angel, but her profession gave her an out that her economic status couldn't provide. Capri was clearly very talented and should have gone far in the legal field. She could have secured a male, and her genetic destiny. Francesca was at the top of her game. She was at the cusp of power. The odds were good she'd succeed. Even if not, she'd live well.

She had thrown it all away for me after being in my life less than one week. For a second, it all came apart. If I had had sex with my first girlfriend, I would have missed the Aurora Slasher. If I had met someone like Capri, Kuiko, or Angel in college instead of Bethany. If I had progressed to my first job with Francesca as my boss - I would have gone for her.

"Israel?" a hand brushed my cheek and it was wet. "Israel?" Capri repeated. I'd been crying. I looked into SAC Treyvon's eyes and saw triumph.

"You will never understand," I chortled at Dimples.

"You are not that complicated, Mr. Jensen," she responded.

"Then why was I crying?" I challenged her.

"It doesn't matter. You've done well to get this far, but in the end you are still a fractured little boy in a basement wondering why you can't get your girlfriend pregnant. A few more taps and you'll come apart," Dimples stated her beliefs as fact.

At first, Dimples eyes retained that smug, superior glint. It took a few seconds to realize that mine wasn't a smile of a man collapsing. I was laughing at her on the inside. I was laughing at Flame and Little M as my body was being bruised and battered because for all their power, they couldn't save themselves and I now knew Dimples was in the same boat.

Only Dimples knew that I was one step ahead again, she didn't have her text and her ploy to remove Angel had backfired. By sending Angel away, she had removed that point of leverage. Once Angel was out of sight, she was beyond my concern. Bethany had forced me to collapse my world down into a tiny sphere where my sole concern was myself.

That was not something I had totally abandoned. Like the seventeen year old in therapy, or the man laughing through the pain, a shard of my post-Bethany world was part of the Frankenstein of my soul. A few seconds ago, my mind had betrayed me and I had cried in public for no real reason. Now, another facet raised up a wall that stymied SAC Treyvon.

Best of all, I was keeping my mouth shut.

"Can we talk about the first message then," Agent Fraklos asked. She was playing the 'nice' one now because she had provided me physical comfort. They were talking behind our backs again.

"Israel, until the FBI qualifies the scope of their investigation for us, I don't advise you to respond," Carpi suggested.

"Wait, I should give them something," I argued with Carpi. She smirked at me.

"Can I have my phone back?" I asked Fraklos.

"Sorry, but no; our technical people need to look it over," she apologized.

"Okay, the screen glowed green and the letters were black. There were a lot of them," I recalled thoughtfully.

"Are you trying to be clever?" another agent sounded bored.

"No, I was trying to raise my morale - and it worked. How about you Capri? Feel better?" I asked.

"Oh, loads," Capri grinned.

"You are going to stay here until you give us the answers we need," Fraklos tried to sound reasonable.

"Ugh," I grunted to Capri. I got up and began rifling through some boxes until I found something that looked dreadfully boring, but not insanely so.

I took a big handful and returned to my seat. Capri slouched in her chair, clearly flipped her tablet to something besides my case and began reading.

"Very amusing Mr. Jensen," Dimples broke the silence. "You will break. Close proximity to all these women, the stress of confronting us - you will crumble and you know it."

I looked up at her, nodded to acknowledge that I'd heard her flap her gums then resumed reading.

"Israel, you should think about all the women's lives you're negatively impacting," Fraklos started again.

I had to think about that for a second; to talk or not talk?

"How so?" I inquired. "Whose life am I negatively impacting?"

"Detective Kristi for starters. What about Venus Marlowe or Roni Azari? Things are not going to go well for them in this investigation," Fraklos said compassionately.

"What about Kuiko Sano? Weren't you going to have sex with her tonight?" another agent asked, as if reading my phone logs was a perfectly normal thing to do.

"Still am," I nodded her way.

"Not too likely. You are being obstinate so they could be in custody for some time," Fraklos said. "Jobs and housing could be at risk as well as a permanent criminal record. You can help them."

"What? What are you talking about? Do you mean the people you are going to fuck over because you are all a bunch of frustrated bitches? That's a rather pathetic attempt at coercion, Special Agent Fraklos," I noted. "Seriously, I'm a man. You've spent your lifetimes making sure I can't do shit. What would make me believe anything has changed?"

"How about the fact that you've betrayed your species?" the Latina asked - again, they were all so reasonable.

"That argument is a bit too late, Agent 'Whoever the Fuck You Are'," I grinned. "Why, after a lifetime of discrimination, do you suddenly want me on your team?"

"Special Agent Sosa," she responded, "and you have only been isolated in your own mind."

Capri snorted in amusement at that.

"Really?" I perked up. "Cool. Let's go to your apartment then. I've got a real Zen to break into your place, slap you around a bit because you weren't obsequious fast enough and then you'll let me ass-rape you because you'll lose your job if you don't."

"How does that sound, Sister-in-Equality, because every bit of that has happened to me in the past seven days," I knew my grin had grown brittle. "You want me to show solidarity with you, then show some with me. Prove to me how the world will be a better place if I help?"

"How can we do that?" Fraklos kept being so damn caring and polite.

"Repeal the Gender Inequality Act and disband your branch of the FBI and every GED across the Federation," I responded in the same kind tone. "Non-negotiable."

"How do you suggest we do that?" Fraklos said after being respectfully thoughtful. Capri began giggling.

"How long are you going to let this charade go on?" Capri didn't look at me but I knew she was talking to me.

"You will know it when you see it. I have a date at six, but I should be home by seven so figure out what you want to eat," I chatted amiably.

"You may want to forestall those dinner plans," Dimples smirked. "We have business to take care of."

"Nope," I mocked her. "I imagine you are very bright but you haven't been right about me once today. You don't know what's going on and until you figure out what is happening, you can't beat me."

Dimple let her dimples grow a tiny bit. She had gotten me to start talking, to open up and she was going to exploit that to get what she wanted.

"The male birth rate is declining and it spells the end of the Human Race," Dimples said as if she was agreeing with me. I snickered.

"I can fully understand you not listening to me, but you aren't even listening to yourself," I pointed out. "The vanishings are not causing the male population collapse, they are a result of it. Someone knew about this whole Big Lie and set events in motion before either you or I arrived on stage."

"At this point in the game, it is not a question of curing all the men, only a select few. Now, that doesn't help anyone in the room - except maybe me," I sighed, "because the rest of you don't seem to be part of the survival plan. And best of all, I can't even save Angel or Capri and I like both of them - a lot."

"With us," Fraklos said, "you could be more than only another sperm donor. We could really help. This doesn't have to be a long slide into oblivion."

"Oh," I chuckled. "I took care of that this morning. There is not going to be a long slide for you folks. The women you've been treating like some fascist proletariat are going to storm the barricades."

"Israel," Capri interrupted. "Fascist and the proletariat are opposing political positions."

"Whoops," I snickered. "PR degree, not Political Science. Anyway, instead of looking at a slow population decline over the next one hundred years, I expect you to reap what you sow."

"You weren't telling the men to rise up in rebellion - you were telling the women..." Fraklos muttered.

"Damn right," I laughed. "You were mocking me, on the inside, thinking I was asking men to take up arms against their oppressors. In fact, I was telling some dateless, mid-thirties grocery worker that you bitches in power were responsible for all her woes. Men are weaponless and afraid, but women - women are looking for someone else to blame for their misfortunes."

"In case you missed it, you are going to be in that group they are going to lynch; everyone in this room that has tits and isn't Capri," I pointed out. "You don't get to pass on this misfortune to the next generation."

"You would want to inflict that pain on your own gender?" Fraklos questioned.

"I was rendered incapable of helping my fellow man long before I was born," I told them.

"What has inspired this totally anarchistic view? Certainly there is something in this life you find worth saving?" Fraklos persisted.

"There is what I can do and what I want to do. I want this Society to end, but not for the reasons you think," I sighed.

"What would that be?" Sosa took her turn.

"What do you think, Capri?" I asked my lawyer.

"Nap time," Capri advised. I gave her a thumbs up, crossed my arms on the table and rested my head at their crux.

"I understand alright, Mr. Jensen," Dimples acknowledged. "Special Agents Sosa and Vabishi, take Mr. Jensen to an observation room and keep him under guard. We'll resume this discussion tomorrow morning."

"Don't sweat it," Capri yawned. "I'll come at them with a Writ of Habeas Corpus ASAP."

"Let them peddle this cockamamie case before a judge," she smirked.

"It is scheduled with Judge Alissa Gunson at 4 pm," Dimples stated. "We predicted your course of action and took the appropriate measures." Capri glared at her.

"Capri?" I worried.

"If I file for change of court, they are no longer bound by the 'quick and speedy' hearing bit. It could take a week before I could schedule a different judge. Gunson upheld a mother's right to pimp out her underage son. She's about as sexist and mysandristic as they come," Capri filled me in. "She has an eye on the next Federation Supreme Court opening."

"All part of the plan, Boss," I patted Capri on the back.

"Look me in the eyes," Capri demanded. I turned, she put her palms on both cheeks and looked deep into my eyes. "Good. You are just the normal crazy - nothing exceptionally wacky going on. I won't leave the building."

"Thanks, Capri," I stood for my latest minders to take me away. "This won't take long."

"You are mistaken, Mr. Jensen," Dimples commented dryly.

"What will you bet me?" I laughed.

"You are going to lose," Dimples rolled her eyes. "What do you suggest?"

"If I don't get to have sex with Kuiko sometime in the next 24 hours, I'll tell you everything I know," I promised. "When I win, and I will win, you will be Capri's male intern for 24 hours."

Dimples waved me off dismissively. I didn't amuse her. She wasn't the kind of girl amused by monkeys throwing poo, or males fighting for their lives.

"I'll take no response as a 'Yes, challenge accepted, Mr. Jensen'," I called out. I got no response as I was led away. It would have been very human of my guardians to talk to me. I was taken up one level and stuck into what was clearly an observation room, including the mirrored wall on one side. They even had two bottles of water on the table. The four chairs looked possibly comfortable.

I waited around five minutes. There was no clock in the room and my phone was long gone. Once I felt my keeper had gotten comfortable, I noticed I was getting sweaty. They'd jacked up the temperature on me. I took off my shirt, climbed up on the table and crossed my legs. The table wasn't long enough for me to stretch out on.

I laid out, rolled my shirt into a small pillow and closed my eyes. A minute later-

"Mr. Jensen, please get off the table, put your shirt back on and resume a normal sitting posture," a feminine voice spoke over the intercom.

"I don't understand," I said without opening my eyes.

She repeated her orders.

"But I would like a nap," I yawned. "Can I have a bed brought in?"

"No - now get off the table, get dressed and sit down."

"But I don't want to," I mumbled. I'd secretly wanted to tell a woman that for years. You can't appreciate how precious that statement is unless you've lived a life devoid of real choice.

"Get off the table or we'll make you," the voice was beginning to sound annoyed. I didn't move until the door opened and two agents walked in. They weren't Dimples' people. I got off the table and complied. They glared then left. I counted to one hundred then repeated my actions.

"Mr. Jensen, get off the table," the voice snapped.

So the circus continued until I had two agents permanently stationed in the room with me. This made the whole heat thing amusing from my point of view. I had on my shirt - which I left open, while the agents were sweating like pigs in their jackets. The fact that they weren't drinking my bottled water told me my paranoia had been warranted.

"Are you going to behave if we leave you here?" one agent finally cracked.

"Are you going to believe me if I lie to you?" I grinned.

"Behave or we'll chain you to the chair," she threatened.

"But I'm not a criminal," I stated. "I'm a witness."

"What you are is a mouthy little slut," she growled.

"Wait, are you hitting on me?" I blinked.

"No," she declared a tad too quickly.

"Pity, because I really like physically fit chicks," I mused. "They are - delicious."

My fear must not have been showing in my eyes and I was already sweating, so that didn't matter. Only the food in my stomach was threatening to ruin my act.

"I'm on the job, you asshole," she snapped.

"What? Are either of us going anywhere until three-thirty?" I grinned. "You are stuck in here with me anyway."

"Do you imagine you are somehow irresistible?" she sneered. "Your body looks like it belongs on a hospital bed, not a hotel mattress."

"Are you suggesting that any man who goes to bed with you has to have a high pain tolerance?" I joked.

Her retort, long in coming, was cut off by Shelia Montanyard and Dimples coming into the room.

"Leave," Dimples commanded and the two agents beat feet quickly. I got up and made for the door as well - I was insane after all. Dimples put a hand on my bare, sweaty chest.

"No?" I pleaded as I feebly tried to move past her.

"Sit down, Mr. Jensen," Shelia snapped. "This is a National Security matter."

"Can I at least have something to drink?" I inquired. The two women glance at the water bottles. "I was thinking of something from a drinking fountain. For some reasons, those two agents, even when dying from dehydration, wouldn't drink those, so color me suspicious."

The fire in Dimple's eyes grew in intensity.

"They have a mild sedative that is meant to keep you calm," she said. My sense of accomplishment from gaining her recognition of my intelligence was lost in the new way she regarded me. I had suddenly become noteworthy in her estimation.

"The room is secure, Ms. Montanyard," Dimples said.

"Mr. Jensen, sit down," she commanded. I did so. I was still reeling from Dimple's look.

"Tell me all you know about Carabolix 37," Shelia demanded. I had won! Capri and I were walking out of here. I was going to have sex with Kuiko. I was going to repay those who had stood by me...and I was still off my rocker.

"No, first I..." I got out.

"Mr. Jensen, I have a Writ of Exclusion which pretty much suspends your civil rights for the extent of my investigation," Shelia threatened. "Your only means of egress from this calamity is to be immediately forthright and honest about what you know."

Shelia presented me with something on her tablet that was written in far more legalize than I could handle.

"I want my lawyer," I glared.

"You don't have the right to counsel anymore, Israel," Shelia corrected.

"We're done then," I shrugged.

"Very well, we'll extract what we need the hard way," Shelia remarked. She stood up and she and Dimples got ready to leave. At the door, Dimples turned and studied me. Shelia noticed and stopped just outside in the hallway.

"What is it, Mr. Jensen - Israel?" Dimples wondered.

"What are you talking about?" Shelia asked Dimples.

"He's known everything we were going to do to him. He's been one step ahead since...surveillance would suggest Sunday afternoon," Dimples kept drinking me in. "So, what is that you know that we've missed?"

"You both agree that I'm insane, right?" I nodded to Dimples. She came back into the room and, to keep her whole 'National Security' mystique, Shelia was forced to follow.

"Yes," Shelia said, "you are clearly unhinged."

"What are you going to give me, or inflict on me, to make me talk that doesn't shatter my psyche first?" I grinned.

They both blinked.

"You can win. I'm at your mercy. You have all the power in the world and all I have is the mind you have been kicking holes in for the past five years," I related. "The only problem is that you are likely to flush any knowledge you need down the drain first."

"Do you want to take that risk?" I smiled. Shelia said nothing and Dimples was her normal, cipher-like self. I am hardly the kind of guy who cracks highly successful legal minds on a regular basis. Yet, there was something Shelia wasn't telling me - a fear cloaked deep inside her imagination. It was the fear of death.

I took a chance.

"You've lost all forty doses, haven't you?" I whispered. Sure, I knew that twenty had probably ended up in me, but Delilah Fremont had told me she had the other twenty. Still, that wouldn't cause a panic unless...

"All the research data is gone too..." I mumbled. What had the good doctor done?

"What do you know about it?" Shelia moved delicately all of a sudden.

"Capri O'Hara," I demanded.

"This is a National Security manner," Shelia reminded me.

"You mean the same 'nation' that just voided my civil rights?" I spat angrily. I stood up and my chair flew back. "Face it, when I was finally using your rules to defend myself successful, you ladies got pissed, so you changed the rules so what little defense I could muster was removed. I hardly give a crap about anything you want, need, or require."

"Welcome to my world, Enola and Shelia," I growled. "What you want is now dependent on my good will, and your ability to earn it."

"No," Shelia shook her head, stood and left. Dimples followed. I sat back and waited. They had stolen my hope, my love, my health and my sanity at one time or another.

I wasn't suicidal. I didn't need to be. They were out to destroy me and I was alright with leaving the blood on their hands and souls, not mine. Thirty minutes later, they sent Angel in.

"Hey, Israel," she greeted me tenderly. "They tell me you need to cooperate. That you can help create all those changes you want to see happen. Right now you need to help them."

"What do you want me to do?" I replied with a tinge of hope. She pulled a chair around until we were knee to knee and face to face.

"Let go," she smiled. "Let this society die. Don't let us take another shred of your spirit to prop up a creation that doesn't deserve to be saved." I could imagine the collective groan rising up from the other side of the glass.

"I need a favor," I quietly asked Angel.

"I'll try," she smiled compassionately.

"Tonight, when we go to bed, could you keep the noise down?" I winked. "I'm letting Capri move in today and I'd hate to keep her awake."

The light in Angel's eyes glowed. God knows how many devices were examining and recording us - life in a fish bowl, as she had described it. Here she was, living my paranoid rantings.

"Hey, now," Angel flicked my nose. "Who said you could get a live-in woman that wasn't me?"

"Just because you are the best woman that has ever lived doesn't mean you can tell me what to do," I reminded her.

"Yes - yes, it does," she corrected me.

"You are not going to let me live free, are you?" I leaned into her.

"You are free to do whatever you want, Israel, as long as I'm free to stop you," she laughed.

"Peace - peace," I raised one hand in appeasement. "I'll take my partial victory and be quiet."

"Good boy," Angel hugged me. "Good boy."

There was their conundrum. I didn't hate women. Evidence showed I liked quite a few in fact. Yet, I hated the Beast, the collective soul of this society to the point where I could shed those passionate ties in order to see the terrible monster brought down.

They came and took Angel away. Some indeterminate time later, I was camped out on the desk, trying to get some sleep, when Capri, Shelia and Dimples came walking in. I sat up and looked at them, shirt still off and my ass still on the desk.

"They tried to expel me from the building," Capri informed me.

"How does it feel to be a cockroach?" I joked.

"Cockroach? I felt like a male cockroach. How much worse could it get?" she snickered.

"Enough levity, we need to get started - Carabolix 37. What do you know?" Shelia pressed as she took a seat.

"I need to go to the bathroom," I evaded.

"Why? You haven't..." and Shelia gave up. "Fine. Agent Treyvon," she directed the SAC. Whoops, it just occurred to me that there probably weren't any Men's rooms on this floor. We were in 'Women with Weapons' country - men not allowed.

"I have several conditions - no debate," I related as I slid off the table and loosely put my shirt on. Shelia was about to debate the point so I rushed my first one out. "I want everyone who was with us at lunch in this room when I get back." See, I had a new plan. I was sure if I had told Angel what it was, she would have quietly let me heal up so she could beat me black and blue all over again.

"This is a National Security issue, Mr. Jensen," she started.

"Your complaint has been noted and disregarded, Ms. Montanyard. Get it done," I snapped. Once upon a time, I might have been a male protagonist making a crucial decision. In my world, I was most likely a deranged villain ordering a depraved underling to do something so idiotic a five-year-old would normally decline on the fact that it was so stupid.

Whatever else was going through her mind, arguing with a mad man wasn't on Shelia's agenda. I went to the bathroom with Dimples while Shelia did what she needed to do. Dimples and I remained non-communicative until I was washing my hands. When I looked up from rinsing off, Dimples was suddenly in my space.

I hammered the terror back into its cage with desperate strength. Dimples reached out, placed her hand on the base of my neck and shoulder then slowly brought it up to my jawline. It wasn't sexual as much as exploratory. I fought back with what I had on hand. I put my hands on her hips and languidly brought them up her sides.

When my palms had settled beneath her underarms, I leaned in, until our eyes were only a few centimeters apart. I closed mine, took a deep inhalation then opened my eyes once more. I lifted her gently to the side so that I could move past her.

"You are no Angel," I murmured to Agent Dimples and exited the room.

"I'm not trying to be," she mused.

"Good for you. Ready to be a male office intern for Capri?" I jibbed.

"Of course," she came right back. I stumbled.

"Damn it!" I declared. "You and Shelia need to stop it. Just once let me zing you and get away with it."

"No," she stated. "Besides, you won, I lost. I'm big enough to admit it has happened - once in my lifetime."

"Conceited much?" I groaned.

"Everyday." Dimples bantered. "Psychotic much?"

"Only when I see women who think they are better than me," I volleyed.

"So, all the time then," she mused.

"Pretty much," I agreed.

"Tell me something," Dimples took me by the elbow right before I returned to our room.

"Does my lawyer need to be here?" I replied.

"You decided," Dimples nodded. "Why did Bethany Fremont share you with her sorority?"

"Ha," I laughed. "I had to ask her that, too. See, Bethany thinks she wins - she always wins."

"Touché," Dimples said before opening the door for me.

As our 'discussion' began, a few ideas began to press forward from the fog. First off, Delilah Fremont, why probably brilliant in her field, was hardly Goddess-like. Shelia was holding out on me some crucial information. I also owed my freedom to the fact that the Aurora Slasher had OCD.

Last point first; the Aurora Slasher (I never use her real name because I begged, pleaded, and cried out that name for 87 days because my very life depended on it) always cleaned up my area with those little white plastic bags - every - single - day. The results being that whatever the fuck she used on me was in a landfill somewhere and not in a police lab.

"Let's exchange information," I began.

"That's not how this works," Shelia shook her head.

"Listen and listen good," I glared at her. "I didn't put all these seriously smart, well-armed women in this room because I find it remotely satisfying to push people around."

"I believe violence is women's work. Since I only want the proper people killed, I've recruited smart women to do my bidding," I added. Okay, everyone reaffirmed their view that I'd totally flipped out - except Capri. She kept faith. "Now, I've been injected with Carabolix 37. I know where the other nineteen vials kept at St. Jerome's are too."

"Where are they?" Shelia inquired politely.

"No, that's not how it works. Tell me something I don't know," I struggled to not tremble. It took me a moment to realize this wasn't fear - it was excitement.

"We need those nineteen vials to ascertain they are some sort of cure," Shelia gave in.

"Tell me something I don't know. The ones at Augsburg Pharmaceutical's research facility and the project notes are gone. If they weren't, I wouldn't be here," I stared. "What that does make me wonder then is what I am doing here? Tell me something I don't know." There was a long, long pause. Shelia really should have spoken sooner.

"Children!" Capri yelled. "You have children." She was busily working on something. Shelia remained impassive.

"I know I have kids. I have sixteen kids," I reminded her.

"No, you have five 'post-Bethany' kids," Capri grinned wickedly at me. "One girl and four boys - all alive, though the youngest is only three months old."

"Even if the youngest dies," Seneca gasped, "that puts his survival rate at 66%." The chance my sons had of surviving the plague.

"Israel, you've had twenty-three kids in twenty-one years," Capri grinned. "The next woman who says you are not doing your part, I'm going to punch her in the ovaries."

"Oh my God," I gasped. "I need a gun! I need a gun!" Responding reasonably, no one handed me one. Maybe it was because I was a man. Maybe it was because I had no training. Maybe it was because they were all mistresses of their sanity.

"We can issue you a taser if you feel threatened," Special Agent Fraklos suggested.

"No - no, I need a gun," I insisted. "I want to walk around with a pistol pointed at my nuts and say 'one more step and the human race gets it!'" I giggled then fell out of my chair - giggling.

"If this man really holds the future of the human race in his ball sack, I'm swallowing my gun now," Agent Sosa remarked. Women were allowed to joke about suicide.

Shelia stood up and looked over the table until she could meet my eyes.

"Where are the other nineteen doses, Mr. Jensen?" she requested calmly. I waved off a reply until I could resume my seat and composure.

"Give me something first. That's the deal," I reiterated.

"When your children were born, they, like all children, had their amniotic fluid tested. They were all born with an unknown anti-body in them. By age one, those anti-bodies were all gone," she related. "Those anti-bodies were registered, but never studied. The first such anti-body was discovered five years ago."

"What am I missing here?" Capri questioned. "If you have the evidence from Israel's case and the amniotic fluid, why do you need him?" Seneca saved the day.

"If the fluid has an unknown contaminant, it is destroyed," Seneca gulped.

"And since the Aurora Slasher was never prosecuted for the kidnap and rape of Israel, the evidence in his case would have been scheduled for destruction a few months ago," Angel added.

I had been rendered a rare and precious commodity by acts of bureaucracy.

"Yet, you are sure it is me..." I couldn't put the last piece together.

"You Bitches!" Angel hopped up. To clarify my often-used refrain, she took up her jacket and rolled up her sleeve. She had a nice little cotton ball secured by medical tape.

They had taken Angel's blood, she had the anti-bodies which must have been earned the old fashion way - through injection. Four times on Saturday straight into her womb. I didn't believe it could be possible but I had been lowered to the status of an STD.

"I'm not an MD, but how in the hell are anti-bodies getting from him into her bloodstream," Capri intervened.

"We aren't talking about an anti-body," I blinked. "We are talking about a virus and since my daughters and Angel and every other woman I've slept with aren't dead, or even ill..."

"We need to know where the other doses are," Shelia insisted. Everyone in this room knew that there was only one disease that differentiated gender that we hadn't cured long ago.

"Special Agent Fraklos," I pleaded. She was the closest to a medical professional we had, or so I believed. I hadn't known how I would get here when I asked for Dimple's team, Angel, Seneca and Capri to join this little party, but I knew this moment was coming. Fraklos looked scared and there were two great reason for being so.

"Oh, Goddess," Fraklos' Mediterranean features noticeably paled. "Carabolix 37 is a form of the Gender Plague. They genetically altered the plague then gave it to those men to see what would happen. Oh, Goddess."

"Shelia," I turned the lead woman. "I was injected twenty times with Carabolix 37. If Dr. Fremont destroyed her batch, there is no more." She wanted to know so I told her.

"She could have killed us all," Sosa jumped up. "We need to arrest her immediately."

"On what evidence?" Dimples replied calmly. It was nice of her to keep this conversation at a level we could all hear. It implied to me that we were now useful to her in some way. "She is rich, well-respected and has scores of pharmaceutical contracts in the Federation and abroad."

"We have a weird mutation of the Gender Plague, a crazy old ex-cop serial killer and - Israel Jensen, a man whose sanity is always in question. The only leverage we do have is an abnormal number of males surviving their first year," she stated.

"If Israel has some sort of cure," Angel asked, "why did any of his boys die?"

"He was being raped," Fraklos instantly replied. "His plague still reacts in most ways as the normal plague, so it was weakened by the stress he was under."

"Hold on," Seneca spoke up. "You mean Israel is right? Stressing males is killing us off?"

"Please correct me if I'm wrong, but are we saying that Carabolix 37 - the correct application of Carabolix 37 - creates a virus that kills the Gender Plague in males during their first year of life?" Capri requested to know.

"We would need to study it, but it looks that way," Fraklos took the leap.

"Where do we put him?" Agent Vabishi murmured.

"Oh - I have no idea what time it is, but I need to help Ms. O'Hara move into my place before my date with Ms. Sano at six," I declared as I stood up.

"You can't possibly believe we will let you just walk out of here," a different agent regarded me with disbelief.

"I got this one," Capri stood by my side. "When did you learn for a fact that we were dying out as a species?" she addressed the feds.

"We were read in this afternoon," Dimples replied. By 'read in' she meant told about the Big Lie the government was involved in concerning our collapsing population.

"Where are you going to put him where he is safer than in the public eye?" Capri stated. "Any secret installation you put him in is the end of the line for the rest of us. Right Shelia?"

She was looking at her tablet, unresponsive.

"But he is our best bet to end the curse of the Gender Plague," Fraklos begged.

"We don't know that," Dimples interrupted Capri. "All we know is that he can save his own offspring, that's all. We know that if there are any does of Carabolix 37 left, Dr. Fremont is hiding them, along with the research. Can anyone think of a reason we can legally hold Mr. Jensen? Does anyone believe he hasn't fully cooperated with the National Security inquiry?"

"Mr. Jensen - Israel, have you fully cooperated with my investigation?" Shelia Montanyard asked me. It was a formality. I could lie and they wouldn't call me on it. They had no real choice. I knew the feeling and I would be damned if I perpetuated it.

"No. I haven't told you everything," I said calmly. Capri grunted.

"When Dr. Fremont told me about Carabolix 37 she made me relive that memory with the Aurora Slasher - at her mercy, down in her basement. Between that and the beating Magdalena had inflicted on me, it broke me. I'm never going to get my mind back." I looked at them. They didn't know what to make of my little confession.

"But, it showed me the memories of what the Slasher did to me are still inside and when I can, I'll try to go back to them and figure out each and every thing she did to me that might have influenced why the Carabolix didn't kill me. Maybe we can save a few others," I trembled.

"It most likely won't make a difference," Shelia pierced me.

"If I fight, they win. If I don't fight, they win. All I can do is take the best course of action that I can live with," I tried to explain. It was strange to watch them soak in those words. They were winners. Even among women, they were the ones who always came out on top. They were also smart and the enormity of the task ahead gave them pause. Except Dimples.

"I'm satisfied," Shelia announced. "We'll be in touch if we need any more information, Mr. Jensen."

"Thanks, Shelia," I mumbled. Then my mind flipped. "Shelia, get Ms. Silverhorn and her team their jobs back. I don't care if you have to send Dimples down and personally kick some heads in or shove Isobel into a dirigible heading for the Artic - just do it."

"Any other suggestions on how I should accomplish that - such as ways that don't break the law?" Shelia smirked. That was it. We were all in it now.

"Tell the Mayor I'm coming back to work tomorrow," I grinned weakly. "Tell her if she agrees to pardon Francesca, you'll stop me." She nodded. Words weren't necessary.

(Moving In and Later)

To keep all those plates spinning in the air, we all had to go back to our lives. For Capri and me, that meant being unemployed (technically we were both suspended without pay until a review was performed). For me it was obvious - I had pulled a 'Prophet of Doom' on the world stage. I was curious as to Capri's final sin. She made it easy.

"I told my boss that I prayed to the Goddess she was transgender because if she (her boss) was born a woman, I was seeking out gender-reassignment out of shame," Capri informed me, "with my outdoor voice and her door open." Yeah, that would have done it.

"Do you think she is a tranny?" I inquired. Women occasionally attempted to outwardly look like men for reasons I couldn't explain.

"Nah," Capri snickered. "She's self-conscious about her narrow hips looking too masculine."

We were on the metro; I with three large bins stacked one on top of another in front of me. Capri had two over-stuffed dress bags hanging from one of the metro handholds. The car wasn't crowded, but circumstance wouldn't allow us to move if things looked bad.

"You are that nut from the TV this morning," a strange women pushed my shoulder. I had learned long ago to avoid women having a bad day. You couldn't win dealing with one if you were a guy. It was unlikely you could make her happy in a conventional manner so you sucked up the abuse and prayed she became bored or had an appointment somewhere else.

Capri didn't know about this behavior, or how female-male interactions worked.

"I bet your eye-care provider is pleased that you can recognize people from two meters away," Capri snapped back. The problem was one of numbers and Capri hadn't developed the awareness to understand that Grumpy wasn't alone in her dislike of me.

"Step off, you Cunt," the pissed off women snarled. She pushed Capri who clipped the crates and fell down. Had I my dowel, access to my hard-pressed courage and my back to anything other than more women, I would have shoved back. Instead, I did my best by shielding Capri's body so hopefully she could rise. I could attest to how painful having high heels stomp on your hands could be.

The woman having a bad day lost her fight with her anger. She hauled back and punched me. Or, she would have, but the blow never fell. I heard an 'ugh' and peeked back at my attacker.

"Have you donated blood recently?" a spooky calm voice requested of my attacker. I couldn't see the woman defending me, but she was holding the fist of my attacker a few centimeters from impact.

I knew that tone of voice though the speaker appeared a mystery. It was how the Aurora Slasher sounded whenever she was talking to herself. Totally ice calm.

"What?" the angry one blurted out.

"You never know when you might end up in intensive care, so it is always wise to donate blood under your name, so they have it in your type when you need it," my defender continued.

"Let go of her," a new woman chimed in. My defender let go, but at least I had Capri back on her feet and my hand over her mouth, stifling her curses.

"I can't believe they let a vicious, stupid bastard like you talk on the air," the first woman continued. I struggled for the words.

"I had to do what I thought was right," I responded.

"I can't believe they let you out of jail," she snapped. "Someone should correct you." My defender pushed forward so that her back was to me, but I had caught a look at her face. I felt terrified all over again. It was my first minder from Isobel's party. The one who talked to me.

"I need you to state your intentions at this time," my defender spoke loudly. "I will not let you hurt this man or his companion. If you plan to do so, you will need to get past me first." There were women behind us too, but the declaration was clear.

"Who are you?" a fourth woman demanded.

"You are not behaving in a civil manner so I chose not treat you civilly," my defender replied.

"Do you have a clue what is going on?" Capri hissed.

"I know her as one of Isobel Diaz's guards," I mumbled back. The woman took a second to quickly turn and face me. Her icy façade evaporated into a warm, comforting glow.

"It will be okay, Israel," she winked. "Bravo," and she turned back to face the mob alone. What the hell was I supposed to make of that? Isobel...Vanishers...FBI catchphrases...my lunch was trying to make an acidic comeback. The last bit was anti-climactic. Pre-rush hour commuters don't like getting into fights with someone who acts like they would gladly uses your polished skull as a decoration for Halloween.

They got pissy, they called the cops and nothing happened. Not 'nothing' as in the cops refused to show up. No, it was 'nothing' as in 'no service detected' on their phones. Dimples and Company and the GED were wondering why they couldn't find the Vanishers...the Vanishers were jacking their tech.

They had jobs that allowed them access to critical information. They were walking around in plain sight. They weren't the Illuminati - they were next door neighbor Jill. Getting away from them was going to be a whole lot tougher than I thought - because they weren't hiding. They could simply walk up and take me with no one being the wiser. OH, SHIT.

She escorted Capri and me off at our metro stop. Before heading off her separate way, the protector introduced herself.

"I'm Zara," she shook Capri's hand. She took me by the elbow and pulled me slightly away.

"I'm glad you were chosen, Israel," she smiled. "We know what is going on and we are working hard to make sure you will be fine. Take care."

I nodded good-bye. What else could I do? My tax dollars, had I ever actually paid taxes, had turned that woman into a killing machine. I wouldn't put money on Zara being her real name either. Until a few minutes earlier, I thought my life was making progress. Now this.

"Man, she really likes you," Capri surprised me.

"What!" I gasped.

"Oh yeah," Capri watched Zara's retreating form. "I was afraid I would have to mop up the drool around the corners of her lips. She is definitely hot for you."

"You are not helping!" I yelled.

"Is there anything else I need to know about this woman?" Capri nudged me.

"Since I would be really upset having to identify your dismembered body at the morgue - no, there is nothing you need to know about Zara," I declared.

"You and your curse...Goddess, I'm glad I'm not you," Capri remarked. "Being your friend is tough enough."

We moved Capri into her tiny room. She jokingly bitched about the size until she saw mine was no bigger. Capri had been lulled into a false sense of economic space by her status as a lawyer and the resultant apartment space Housing Authority had granted her. Since her living arrangements were courtesy of her job with the Public Defender's Office, she was days from eviction.

My position was secure because I was assigned my condo as a gender quota, not as a city employee. I reminded Capri of this gross unfairness.

"If I have to massage your testicles so we can make rent...well, let's leave it with my mom being more disappointed in me than normal," she laughed.

"Tell her you are living with a guy," I suggested. "That has to mean something."

"Good point. That's something my two perfect older sisters haven't managed to do," she conceded. "I know what she'll say - where are my grandchildren? With your poor decision making, I'm sure you picked a dud."

My whole body shook nervously. Capri looked at me with concern.

"I have an idea," I exhaled. I told her what it was and Capri nearly fell over, it was so irreverent. She called her mother and related her most recent tale of woe while her mother looked on in rapt attention.

"I love you, Mom," Capri ended the conversation.

"Keep in touch, Capri," her mother, Charlotte, murmured. "It was nice to meet you, Israel." The older woman was clearly floored as the connection died. See, the entire time Capri and her mother chatted, she was standing, her top half naked, facing the main screen with her lower body shielded by my sofa.

I stood behind Capri, my hands cupping and massaging Capri's breasts and nipples and masking them from view - this wasn't technically porn. Capri's flowing russet hair was pulled over her right shoulder so that I could continuously kiss her from the tip of her shoulder to her earlobe. Capri wiggled around - all I had on were gym shorts - and extended her hand into the small space between us for me to shake.

"Thank you," she beamed. "We are even. I've waited my whole life to shove any accomplishment in my mother's face. Everything I've ever done, my older sisters did better. Every - single - time. Hey, up for doing my sisters?" I shook the hand.

"We'll have to create something new, in case they compare notes," I insisted.

It was liberating in a way that was nearly impossible to put into words. Sex wasn't fun with Capri - it was funny. It was jovial, nonsensical and teasing with a purpose toward comedy, not foreplay. I could display my body in a way that didn't leave me feeling vulnerable and afraid. I was a joke because I wanted to be a joke, not because I knew the world would see me that way.

We set up her oldest sister in the bathroom, complete with steamy condensation. Capri, dressed in frilly peach colored bra and panties was laying out her story of misfortune to her sister when the older sibling started lecturing Capri on Goddess knows what. I walked in behind Capri. She was holding up her phone so that it caught me from jawline to mid-thigh.

I had a shirt and slacks on this time, so it wasn't overtly sexual. I rubbed behind her, giving the impression that bathroom was smaller than it was.

"Cologne, Babe," I 'informed' Capri of what I was reaching around her for. The sister grew silent. I kissed Capri on the top of her head. "Capri, we have some time," I hinted.

"Again?" Capri muttered in despair. "We just did it."

"I really need you," I purred. I took her left hand in my left and brought it to my crotch. Capri made sure to press the outline of my hard-on several times so that her sibling could see what, in theory, Capri was about to be 'getting again' real soon.

"Sorry, Sara (her older sister), I have to go. You know how pouty men become if they don't get what they want," Capri was very apologetic - and still massaging my manhood.

"Of course," Sara agreed. I doubt she had a clue about what made men pouty. Capri insisted that her 'younger' older sister would handle the next call. We had everything staged.

It was a close call, so to speak. I really had to get going to Kuiko's when the phone rang exhibiting Capri's other sister's number. After several rings,

"Hello, Israel Jensen," I answered.

"Hello Mr. Jensen, this is Melbane O'Hara. Is Capri O'Hara still there?" she asked.

"Ummm - she lives here," I appeared uncomfortable. I was on the screen from mid-torso to a few inches over my head.

"Oh, if she's not there, can you please tell me where she is," she requested sweetly.

"She's here - she's just - busy," I gulped.

"It is important," Melbane insisted.

"Okay," I sighed and then I looked down. Straight down. "Honey?" There was a slick, popping sound (Capri slurping on two of her fingers then quickly withdrawing them from her mouth) followed by the sound of my zipper going up. My cock had been perfectly safe.

Capri pulled herself up my body, stood to face her sister and wiped up some drool from around her lips.

"Yes, Melbane, what is it?" Capri grumbled.

"What were you doing?" Melbane was aghast.

"Getting an early start on dinner," Capri snapped. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

"You - what - you have a boyfriend?" Melbane stuttered. "You have a good-looking boyfriend?"

"Yeah, and his cock is almost eight inches long and 'this' big around," Capri made a circle with her thumb and finger. She may have exaggerated...a bit.

"But - but why weren't you having intercourse?" Melbane begged to understand.

"Oh no," I interjected. "No vaginal ejaculations from me until she gets a job."

"Ugh," Capri sighed. "Until then it is all 'mouth and ass - mouth and ass'. I swear, if he wakes me up in the middle of the night going 'let's 69' one more time, I'll scream."

"My vagina is sore from all the sex. I didn't know a vagina could get over-sexed. Melbane, does your vagina ever get too much sex?" Capri sounded intensely worried.

"I can - check with people," Melbane evaded.

"All I know is my lips are starting to chap and my butt hurts when I sit down," Capri groaned.

"I shouldn't complain too much," she became all dreamy-eyed. "I mean, it tastes divine - creamy and rich plus just a bit salty - yummy. I'm sure you know all about that. Speaking of which, I need a pick-me-up right now. Talk to you later Melbane - by the way, why did you call?"

"I wanted to be sure you were being presentable, despite your difficulties," Melbane recovered. That was bull. She suspected her sister was lying and this was a call to catch her off-guard.

"I am presented with a difficulty right now, so I'll call you later once I'm done," Capri waved off her middle sibling. With that the connection died.

Capri proceeded to do a spasmodic happy dance all over my inadequate living room. This was the morale boost we needed - to conquer a long term foe. In her case, it was getting one over on her mother and siblings who had always tried to make her feel insufficient in some way. For me, it was a fear of flirting. I had sexually teased several women - even if by live video - and gotten away with it.

We got away with it because the only sex you had to register was vaginal ejaculation. That's why I didn't have to let Bethany scan me this morning and why Capri's family couldn't check up on her by way of my wristband. Anal and oral sex weren't unknown, just unlikely. You couldn't repopulate the human race by tantalizing some girl's taste buds, so only a vaginal deposit qualified you for your 28 day duty.

There were girls (and guys) who liked anal sex but the rule was 'VBA' - vaginal before anal. There was the added complication that if you were going to shoot off twice, society wanted you to pick two different girls, not two different holes on the same girl. The trifecta was being crushingly selfish.

All that rolled back to me, Angel and Saturday morning. On one hand, she'd brought a guy to fruition FOUR times, and all in the right place. Still, there was this feeling that somewhere along the line - you know - maybe after round two - could she have called a friend over to share in her good fortune?

Roni was right across the hall and Kuiko would have burrowed through the ceiling/floor like a gopher to get some. I was sure some of her cop buddies were jokingly saying 'bitch, we are on speed dial' or something like that. That I would want to switch up, or that I wouldn't want to, probably didn't enter their minds.

Thankfully, Angel cared about me and my feelings so that situation never came up. Fortunately for me, Capri was funny, Kuiko and Aniqua were patient, Roni paid attention and Venus and Samantha were coming around. Francesca - if I was lucky, she'd never see me again. The only thing I'd done for her was give her the choice between doing what you do to get by versus doing for the World.

Capri ushered me out the door for my rendezvous with Kuiko. Because my social life was as subtle as a mac-truck, there were only eight women in the hallway between my second story condo and hers on the poolside-first floor. I found myself involuntarily slowing down as I approached her door.

'Maybe she's forgotten our date and gone out with friends,' a voice in my head said. 'No way,' a second voice replied. 'She's probably a horny little rabbit ready to pounce on us, stalking on the other side of the door.' 'Idiot, rabbits don't pounce and even if they did pounce, you can't pounce and stalk at the same time.'

'Israel, you need to stop listening to the - crazier - voices in your head,' a fourth voice suggested.

"That's damn right," I muttered out loud. I rang Kuiko's bell. The door lock clicked inside of a second, but the door only opened a few centimeters.

I opened it slowly. The first thing to assault my senses was the smell of burning scented candles - nightmares of Bethanies past. As the door opened further, I realized the room beyond had been dimmed to the 'last rays of sunset' setting. This was offset by something like a billion candles alight throughout Kuiko's living room, hallway and kitchen.

Kuiko had taken Friday off for me and I was willing to wager she'd taken a half-day today because - well, because she was posing before me, right hand on her hip, hip tilted to an angle and left hand raised upward and resting on the wall. Her skin has an oily sheen to it, her hair had been done up in a neo-classic Japanese style.

I was willing to bet she'd waxed - ugh - everywhere, her toe- and fingernails were done in a brownish pink color that melded well with her skin tone. Her make-up was professionally done, right down to the heavy eyelids and long lashes. I knew all of this because the only thing Kuiko had on was this tiny red teddy that was effectively transparent.

It exposed her upper sternum and stomach, being held together by a bright red bow. Her bottoms were of the same material and theme. There was a small, red silk flower that covered her vulva but that was all. I recalled having adolescent wet dreams about girls dressed this way. Currently I was dealing with my deep psychological problems concerning girls looking hot, adorable, cute, seductive and pretty - and causing me intense anguish.

Waging war with those demons was another adolescent fantasy - you don't abandon your friends. It was simple, childish and not something I had believed in for a long time. But Kuiko was my friend and it would crush her if I fled. She wouldn't hold me accountable; she had good instincts were my flaws were concerned. That made me want to fight harder.

A chaotic idea rocked through this maelstrom - 'had Kuiko blown her entire life savings for one lousy hour with me?'

"Too much?" Kuiko trembled. She looked to be ready to run away in fear too.

"No!" I espoused. "You are - beautiful, sexy - beyond fantastic," I praised her.

Like flipping the switch on the Presidential Christmas Tree, Kuiko's whole body came vibrantly alive. She pushed off the wall, took a quarter step then paused.

"Hugs?" she pleaded.

"No," I replied. Kuiko was confused. I opened my arms. "Hugs?" It was the reverse of my bylaws.

Kuiko grinned broadly and nodded repeatedly. I stepped to her and wrapped her up in a snug embrace. If my penis hadn't been aroused before, having my small Asian companion vibrating happily against me would have done the job.

"I like the way you normally smell, but this is nice too," I murmured.

"Oh, I had this stuff lying around," she giggled into my chest.

"Planning to burn down the East Side?" I joked. It was the wrong thing to say.

"Too much?" Kuiko looked up at me. "I can put them out," she tried to pull away. "I can put something else on. We can do the whole door-thing again. I'll put on work clothes, or pajamas - tell me what to wear," she was panicking.

"Stop!" I insisted. Kuiko froze. "You are acting so sexy right now. If you keep it up, we are going to have sex right here, right now, on the floor - I don't want that." I had confused her again. "If you don't be quiet, I am going to take you back to your bedroom, tie you up and lick every inch of your body."

Kuiko blinked. She had to mentally digest my threat. The problem was the nature of my threat - it wasn't - threatening. Even if she messed up she had my promise of being sexed up.

"You swear?" she whispered.

"You talked," I chastised her. "I need to teach you a lesson."

Take in mind that I had been bound and dominated in my life, very much against my will and I would never have that level of trust to be that vulnerable again. I hardly saw me going down that road with another person with me in the dominant role. As my unpleasant encounter with Troy Berry's dark desires had taught me, women could cautiously explore other aspects of their sexuality.

I could role-play. I kept promising myself that. From the look of tearful joy in Kuiko, she was totally onboard with my little play acting. I pushed her backward gently then tried to kick the door shut. The shitty construction of my housing complex continued to plague me. The door shut too quickly so it popped back open.

Kuiko reached around me and shut the door with an expert touch then returned to her position in front of me with eager expectation. I could do this.

"What are you so happy about, Ms. Sano?" I barked. She tried to look suitably afraid but she wasn't going to win an Oscar with that performance.

The layout of these condos came in two forms and Kuiko and I shared the same design. I half-turned her around then led/pushed her to the arm of the sofa before bringing us back face to face.

"Don't move," I whispered into her ear. Cupping her jaw with both hands I tilted Kuiko's face up for a kiss. I went back for long seconds and thirds.

Kuiko tried to follow me up after that last kiss. I slipped past her, kissed her neck then the nape of her neck. I nibbled my way down to her little red bow, kissed it then moved my head over to her right nipple, still covered by her imaginary teddy.

"Perfect," I blew onto the nipple. It was nice and firm, as thick as her pinkie, but a dark, dark brown with a puffy areola. I kissed the nipple through the fabric.

"Perfect," I breathed on the left nipple before kissing it. Kuiko began sobbing.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she wept. I did the only thing I could think of - I ignored her.

When my lips reached the top of the belly button, her cries turned to whimpers. By the time I began rolling her panties down, the air was rich with her aroma.

I positioned her butt against the armrest of the sofa, pushing her back as I did so. With a hand supporting her mid-spine, I pressed her over until she was reclining on her shoulders and looking up at me. Her tears had made a mess of her make-up. I finished pulling her panties up and cavalierly tossed them aside.

I knew I had kindled a passion in her but I didn't know how fiery she had become. I took a few tentative licks, parting her labia when Kuiko gave a hand-muffled howl and hit her orgasm. For several seconds she thrashed about.

"No, no, no," she repeatedly wept. Once more, I ignored her.

I started gently licking up all her fluids as if nothing was wrong - because there wasn't. This was totally natural and I could best express this to Kuiko be turning her embarrassment into her pleasure. With broad strokes of my tongue, I gathered up her ejaculate, even the two drops slowly making their way toward her belly.

"Tasty," I grumbled as I made eye contact with Kuiko. "I want more. Are you going to give me more?" Kuiko nodded once, blinked away some of the tears then nodded twice more. I gave her clit one long lick then grinned at her wickedly. "Get to it then," I teased. Forcing Kuiko to give me another orgasm wasn't my goal.

It was for her to not focus on her misconception of what she was doing wrong, but to try to do something she thought was right so I could concentrate on her. At the point of her frustration,

"I love the way your vagina is undulating. I've never felt that before," I related to Kuiko as I teased her labia with my teeth.

"Eeee..." she squealed. She was failing to orgasm. She knew she was failing to please me - but then she was. Her over-concentration slipped and she let her organic reactions take over. She was huffing, her legs began switching and her stomach pulsed. Kuiko hissed from deep within her abdomen then thrust her hips up against my face rapidly and repeatedly.

I cleaned up her vulva with my tongue, avoiding her clit. When I finished, I met Kuiko's hungry gaze again.

"You have been holding out on me," I glared suspiciously. Kuiko's eyes opened fully. I pulled her up by her arms until she was sitting on the sofa's arm, our bodies close together.

I wedged my hand between her until I had a finger inside her slit.

"You are not letting me put my dick in this pussy," I pointed out. Kuiko shook her head.

"Oh, now you are teasing me. Bad Girl!" I growled. "This is my pussy, understand?" She blinked a few times then nodded - a lot.

"You are being very bad now," I declared. I was still finger-fucking her pussy up front and now I reached around and began squeezing each ass cheek and running my fingers along her crack. Kuiko was at a loss for a response. "I need to teach you a lesson." Kuiko's mouth opened then shut. "I clearly need to teach you more than one lesson, don't I?"

Kuiko nodded timidly.

"You're thinking one or two lessons, I can tell," I glared angrily. "Bad Girl. You are trying to trick me. No, I won't be fooled. I know it will take at least ten lessons - more like twenty. Do you think twenty will be enough to teach you this is my pussy?"

Kuiko got it. She shook her head in the negative. "No," she whispered.

"You are right - it will take at least thirty lessons to teach you because you are such a tricky, sexy, erotic girl - and very, very Bad." Kuiko lost it. She wrapped her arms around my chest and her legs around my waist.

"I'm bad, I'm bad, I'm a bad, bad girl," she giggle and wept simultaneously. I cupped each butt cheek, lifted her up and began making my way back to her bedroom. I followed the burning trail of candles to the correct one. Kuiko had to have disconnected the smoke detectors or we would have been doused in fire suppressant by now.

I placed Kuiko on her bed. She started to recline, but I stopped her.

"Hey, I want to unwrap my present now," I insisted. Kuiko reached for her teddy's bow. "No, I'm not going to be able to enjoy my present with my clothes on. What are you going to do about that?" Kuiko's face exploded in a smile.

She stood up and started lifting my t-shirt over my head. Inspirationally, she kissed each of my nipples but otherwise left my bruised flesh alone. My shirt was gone, so she knelt before me. My slacks came down and my cock popped out. Despite all my clothing absolutes, I was going without underwear for the first time in three years. Kuiko meant that much to me.

She kissed my tip after being mesmerized by my cockhead. A kiss to the base of my head followed.

"No, you don't," I commanded. The role-reversal was dizzying. "I want my present and I want my pussy - right now." Kuiko went from worried (her nightmare cock sucking experiences) to elated.

I pulled her into a standing position, gave her a deep French kiss then took a step back. Reflexively, Kuiko grabbed my cock, trying to keep me in place. I ignored her. Instead, I slowly reached for a bow, making a production of the whole act and drawing Kuiko's gaze in. I was symbolically applauding her choice of clothing.

The ribbon gave way and I gently brushed her teddy aside.

"Ah...there you are," I moaned as each nipple came into unobstructed view. I knelt between her legs which she opened wider to accommodate me. I started by pressing the very tip of my tongue against the tip of her left nipple, pushing it in.

The lips closing around the engorged teat came next, playing around with the tissue while Kuiko moaned. I finally engulfed the nipple and areola before upping my suction. She was squirming all over the place, whimpering and hiccupping. When I sucked in as much as the breast as I could, Kuiko slipped her control and wrapped up my head in her arms.

I worked my face over the right breast and played around a little longer, but I wanted to continue so I eventually reached up and blindly pinched her nose.

"Ooops," Kuiko mumbled.

"My pussy," I reminded her. "Clearly thirty lessons won't be enough. Do we have to go for thirty-five?"

Kuiko looked ecstatic.

"You know, if we end up at 52 lessons, Angel will get suspicious," I related. She tried desperately to look guilty, sorry, or apologetic, but was failing. I pushed her back to the bed, angled toward the pillows then crawled on top of her.

I didn't rush straight to penetration. She was warmed up and ready to go but she deserved every bit of romance I could yank free from my madness. We kissed and kissed and kissed. Her hips were moving against me and she was giving those deep "aaahhh' of contentment. I had her so deeply invested in our congress that my head penetrated her labia and was over an inch inside of her when she noticed.

"Sex," she exulted excitedly.

"You are talking," I chastised her. "That's thirty-six."

"Sex, sex, sex," she giggled.

"You are impossible, funny, and wonderful, Kuiko Sano," I laughed.

"Sex, sex, sex," she snickered back at me.

"I am going to have to really work on my punishment-reward system," I faux-groaned. I felt really proud of my little victory with Kuiko. It had come from a special place in my soul - my capacity to give happiness to another. That was a power I could embrace.

Before the first full stroke, Kuiko's sexual anxiety was vanquished. It was the sensual embrace of what the body experienced during the act of sex. She could feel my penis push along her tight vaginal walls. Her feet dragging up my thighs felt the hair on my legs, her lips tasted my breath, my mouthwash and her own lipstick that she'd transferred to me, and her nose could scent our mingled sweat, candles, body oils and my body soap.

Our aroma and fluids were going to soak her sheets - her sheets, in her room, with her rolling around with a man having long, languid intercourse. She could, would and had performed and performed wondrously. My noises, my body movements all assured her she was pleasing me too. When I had my entirety inside of her and our pelvises rested together, Kuiko sighed erotically.

Conversation failed us. Kuiko was obviously horny and I'd been fighting a hard-on since I walked through the door. Inside five minutes I was bucking against her desperately.

"I'm - I'm cumming," I warned her through clenched teeth. Kuiko responded by grabbing my head with both hands and kissing the hell out of me.

Even as I ejaculated into Kuiko, she kept our embrace. She was still keeping hold of me even as she screamed into her own orgasm. It felt great. It was sharing, me with her and her with me. As we both struggled for breath, I tried to roll off her to the side.

"Don't go," Kuiko begged.

"I'm not leaving," I assured her.

"No, I want you to stay on top of me - for a little while longer," she pleaded.

"Oh...that's thirty-seven," I snickered. She put her hands on my lower back. She would have grabbed my ass if she could have reached, no doubt.

Had she wrapped me up with her legs, that would have freaked me out a little, but the hands were playful enough to not set me off.

"Not letting you go," Kuiko announced triumphantly.

"Be careful, Angel has a taser and a gun," I cautioned.

"Ouch," Kuiko pouted. She was getting what she wanted - me to stay on top of her, and I was willing to let her play this out. "Maybe I need to rethink this."

"You are so cute when you furrow your brow in concentration," I teased.

"Are you really going to - come back?" Kuiko hesitated.

"No - no you don't," I grumbled. Kuiko was now looking for the angle. "I get thirty-seven dates and you can't stop me," I insisted. I bumped my crotch against her. "Whose pussy?" Kuiko teared-up and turned her head to the side.

"Your pussy," she whispered. I wiggled my hips around and my cock responded to the stimulation by rebounding to action.

"That didn't sound very convincing," I accused her. I moved in very slowly with very short strokes as my dick grew harder. "Not very convincing at all." I built up our tempo. Kuiko turned back to look at me. "I want to hear you scream it," I teased. Kuiko released her passion and came at me with renewed aggression.

We whispered each other's names, spoke then and finally began screaming them. We had yelled each other hoarse by the time Kuiko came again. Her grip on me was exhausted and weak but I felt she wanted me to continue until I planted more of my seed into her womb. This time there was no stopping me from rolling over.

I couldn't have supported my weight above her and we were both drenched in sweat. Still panting, she looked to me.

"Thirty-seven?" she mumbled. I nodded. "I'll make out my will." She smiled happily. "Okay, when I can get out of bed, I'll make out my will." She began giggling.

"What?" I snickered too. She was contagious.

"A week ago," she guffawed, "I was a law-abiding citizen. Now I want to go kick some cop ass."

"I saw Angel get in a fight today. Trust me, you don't want to do that," I panted. "Kuiko - thank you."

"What for?" she huffed.

"For the great sex, of course," I studied her. "I had a wonderful time. You made me feel appreciated and human." Kuiko's eyes grew large then the tears began.

"I'm sorry - you're welcome. I wish I wasn't crying," she gulped. "Why am I crying?"

"I'm the one who should be crying," I wrapped her up in my arms, side to side, facing one another. "I'm the one who wants to have sex with you again, but we don't have the time tonight." Kuiko looked down and sure enough, my cock was twitching to life. The hug became a stifling full-body hug. I fought down the panic. The alarm went off. Huh?

"Ooohhh," Kuiko groaned. "I set the alarm. You have five minutes to get to your home."

"Five?" I asked. She nodded. I pushed Kuiko on her back and began ravishing her left nipple. Within seconds, her legs were moving languorously as she became more aroused. At the three minute mark, I finally broke contact.

"You are being so mean to me," I groaned.

"Huh?" Kuiko mumbled through her sexual haze.

"These nipples. To make it up to me, the next ten times we are in private or semi-private surroundings, you are going to give me free access to these delicious nipples," I demanded.

"Oh," she gave a fatigued smile. "I must be really bad."

"You are the worst," I agreed. "Luscious, graceful, delectable, heavenly, lovely and savory all at the same time."

"A man has never described me that way with any of those words, much less all of them," she sighed. "It feels better because I know you are honest."

I slipped over Kuiko, sat on the edge and began putting my clothes on.

"Israel, I - I - I am grateful," Kuiko murmured.

"You don't need to be grateful," I touched her hand. "Men and women - this is how we are supposed to be."

"You really think so?" she inquired softly.

"I would like to think that is how we are supposed to be," I admitted. "There is a ton of misery out there. There should be some love too." I finished getting dressed. "I have to go. Do you - ah - want to see me out?"

"Nah, I'm good. I'm just going to lie here and stare at the ceiling a bit," she sighed. I gave her a final, tender kiss then headed. "I love you," she whispered. I wish I hadn't heard that. I hoped she meant it to be unheard. I walked to the living room and into Aniqua on the couch.

"Ah...hi?" I muttered.

"Hey, Israel," she grinned.

"Been here long?" I asked.

"About half an hour," her eyes blazed. Oh God, she'd been audio witness to a whole hell of a lot.

"Well, I got to go," I excused myself and fled out the door.

"Bye," Aniqua got in her parting shot. I made it back to my place with notice, but once inside the conversation stopped...conversation. Samantha and Venus were lounging on the floor. Capri was in the kitchen; I suspected preparing us dinner.

Samantha and Venus were eating some Chinese takeout, but Venus popped up and sped my way.

"Can I have a hug?" she smiled with eyes of fire. I choked back my fear and nodded. She wasn't gentle, like Kuiko. This was a tight body press, full of sensual desire and lust. It took me a second to reciprocate.

I put pressure on her lower back and petted her hair because that was what she enjoyed during Sunday's massage. We parted after ten long (for me) seconds.

"You fucked the shit out of her, didn't you?" Venus sniffed me like a true predator.

"I need to take a shower," I evaded.

"Before you work out?" Venus taunted me. "Oh, is 'Red' really your lawyer - and your roommate?"

"Maybe not, and yes, she's my roommate and she's unemployed like me and needed a place before she gets tossed out of her domicile," I explained.

"Are they going to kick you out too?" Samantha became concerned.

"No," Capri called out from the kitchen. "He has a dick - he stays."

"If you need a job," Venus kept looking at me like a cat treat, "you can come to work with me."

"What would I do?" I sighed. I suspected I already knew the answer.

"Oh, the girls and I will think of something," Venus teased.

"Venus, getting a job solely on the fact that I have a penis kind of short-circuits my whole reason for rebelling," I reminded her.

"Well, you can't blame a girl for trying," she scratched under my chin before returning to her spot.

'Yes, Venus, I can,' I thought. I wasn't going to have that argument. Instead, bowing to the dermal detriment of taking a shower at that moment and again when I got back from the gym, I retreated to my room, changed into gym clothes and took a breather sitting on my bed.

"Dinner," Capri shouted.

I came out to face fish sticks, carrots & peas, and half a baked potato with bacon and cheese. It made it more difficult to eat, concentrate on eating and digesting, but I joined Capri on the sofa and dug in. Capri wasn't the problem - Venus and Samantha looked like they wanted to cover me in cheese then lick me clean.

"Israel," Capri mumbled through a mouthful of fish sticks, "when you get back from the gym, can I suck you off again?" I nearly died - first from fright then from hilarity.

"Wha - how come she gets to give you a blowjob?" Venus exploded. Samantha was clearly of the same mind.

"Yeah", I looked at Capri after I swallowed. "Why do you get to?"

"I haven't had sexual contact with you in the past four hours," Capri kept eating away, lying and looking forward at Venus and Samantha, not at me. "That has to count for something."

"Wait!" Samantha rose to her knees. "I haven't touched you yet either."

"Oh, Goddess, don't tell me a hug counts," Venus groaned. Carpi gulped down her food, grinned evilly then turned to me.

"Damn Israel, clearly intelligence is not a deciding factor on who you plan to breed with," Capri chortled.

"Capri, that's cold," I tried not to smile - unsuccessfully.

"Listen you," Venus stood up in a fury, "don't fuck with us like that," she addressed Capri.

"Huh?" Samantha was playing catch-up. "It was a joke?"

"Yes, Samantha, that was a joke. I'm not going to go wading in your little breeding pool," Capri pledged. "I'm his lawyer."

"You say that now," Venus menaced, "But the first time you catch him in the shower, that legal principle will go flying straight out the window."

"Hold on," I stood up. "I am not a chew toy. I will sleep with who I chose, when I chose - unless they turn me down." That absurdity cooled things off.

After that, we were able to move on to more pleasant subjects. Samantha was a house painter and Venus installed home appliances including home gyms. She was able to go to some nice houses while Samantha worked on a few interesting pre-Plague buildings. I thought we were integrating nicely when Capri smacked me in the back of the head.

"What the hell?" I cringed away from her. Me, women and violence were a bad mix.

"What did I tell you?" Capri growled at me. I kept trying to back through the arm of the sofa and run for my room.

"Aaahhh..." I mumbled.

"Have LESS IMPRESSIVE SEX!" she yelled at me.

"Woman, what are you babbling about?" Venus rose. She had realized the unexpected attack was causing me to collapse inward. "Stop hitting him."

"Kuiko finally posted her review of your boy Israel," Capri growled at me.

It took Capri backing off and some deep breathing by me to push my perceptions to re-encompass reality. Samantha and Venus were already ratcheted to their phones, looking up Kuiko's comments on my sexual performance.

"Israel, I apologize for my aggressiveness," Capri whispered. "I thought we had an agreement."

"No," I gasped back, "we did not have an agreement - how bad is it?" Capri showed me her screen.

The start of Kuiko's review: "I have been lying in bed for the last half hour because the series of orgasms that rocked my body left me unable to move. OH. MY. GODDESS. After spending one hour with Israel Jensen I know that if I die now, all my wishes will have been fulfilled."

I cried. I literally broke down in tears and sobbed. Kuiko had inscribed over 700 words that elevated our one hour encounter to near legendary status. I didn't understand. We had some foreplay and a bit of sex - that was all. I slapped some mental jigsaw pieces together and rallied to make sense of this disaster.

Kuiko was passionate, romantic and unrestrained in her impulses. She probably thought this was praise - an erotic 'thank you' for something she valued. She didn't mean kick me in my psychic testes. My eyes were crossed and I was whimpering on the inside, but she'd meant it as a tribute. I was putting my bio-systems under control when the bell rang. It was Kuiko and Aniqua.

I snatched Capri's arm before she vaulted off the sofa.

"Don't go after Kuiko over this," I pleaded. Capri spun on me, her countenance twisted up and then she let the anger fade from her face.

"I...okay Israel. Deal with it your way," Capri sat back down.

The door opened right after the second ring. Aniqua appeared happy to see me. Kuiko was bouncing on the balls of her feet.

"We thought you might want company at the gym," Aniqua said.

"Hug!" Kuiko begged.

"Why don't we step inside for a moment first," I suggested. I had to put events in perspective. Angel was going to pummel Kuiko, no doubt. Capri wouldn't be able to keep her disgust with her in check. There would be confusion and jealousy. Pieces were falling apart. I had to fix things. I shut the door once the two ladies stepped inside. Think, think, think.

"Nice one," Venus teased Kuiko.

"Kuiko, we are in a semi-private setting," I told my Asian friend. It took her a second then she got really excited. She had on a black sports bra which she quickly rolled up.

"What the..." Venus muttered.

"You were bad," I teased Kuiko. She nodded vigorously. I reached down, put my hands on her butt shorts and pulled her up and against the wall by the door. When her right breast was at the correct height, I began giving the nipple feather-light kisses. Each touch of my lips was a tiny bit stronger and lasted a little bit longer.

Kuiko wove her legs around my hips, her heels digging into my ass and her hands on my shoulder to help support her weight.

"Your pussy, your pussy, your pussy," she breathed into my ear. It took me a second.

"You are talking again," I enounced in a loud voice. "You realize this nipple punishment doesn't count then, don't you? Bad - very bad girl."

She clamped a hand over her mouth. Kuiko really needed to take some acting lessons if we were going to play out this shared fantasy among friends.

"What the fuck!" Venus yelped. "Punishment - that's punishment? When the hell did this happen and why is he telling her what to do?"

Angel, Capri and Kuiko kinda, sorta understood my issues. Venus was in the vast majority that didn't. She liked me. She certainly liked my reviews, but she was mentally invested in his society. She was in my domicile so she WAS going to get sex. I invited her in so intercourse was a given; if not right now - soon.

Women were hunters and men were their reward. It was the way things worked in her mind and in the mind of millions of women all over the country. We were free - Venus wasn't an abuser - but once we invited a women into our presence, we surrendered all other control. I had directed Debra in what to do, but the choice of what to do had always been hers. My performance was an absolute must.

Me bringing Kuiko to task was the opposite of that. I was clearly dominating her both socially and physically and I was stacking eroticism into the mix. To pile on the bizarre, I was 'taking' sexual favors from a female. My punishment was a joke, but Kuiko was still having to submit to a male and appease me with her body.

More and more of Kuiko's breast disappeared into my mouth. I was noisily smacking my lips, suckling and making the most enjoyable noises that spilled forth from my heart. I let Kuiko grind against me until her muffled cries of pleasure became clearly audible then stopped. She slid back down my body until she was able to put her feet on the ground.

Kuiko clutched me a few seconds longer, breathing heavily against my chest.

"I hope you've learned your lesson," I scolded Kuiko. "Next time it will be both nipples and I'll take my damn time, so don't say I didn't warn you." Kuiko looked up, smiled and nodded.

"Goddess, I want to be bad," Samantha whimpered. I gingerly rolled Kuiko's bra back into place.

Going to the gym was a relief from the tension back at my place. I mentally debated how hard I should argue with Kuiko and Aniqua to let me return home alone, but my nerves were frayed and my energy was dwindling. Walking through the door enlightened me to all kinds of things. The heat told me my condo was over-occupied, the chatter dying down informed me that the TV was on and a heated conversation was going on, and, as the old refrain went, I wanted to run away, but where would I go?

Angel and Seneca where there - it wasn't past midnight...oh, they'd been called into work early, so they had been let off early - got it. Venus and Samantha had brought chairs up from their condos so they wouldn't have to sit on my floor anymore - or their floors. Seneca had my comfy chair, Angel and Capri held the couch, Roni was on the floor leaning against the sofa, so Aniqua and Kuiko would have to fend for themselves.

At least the far corner of the room where I normally hid out was uncluttered. Eight days ago I walked into this place. It felt like a shoddy prison, but I was alone inside. Now? What had gone so wrong with my life that I had to walk over people to get to my God damn corner of floor space?

The icing on the cake was that no one seemed happy. Correction, Kuiko and Aniqua were happy, but I had little hope of them remaining that way. The greetings poured in. I found myself edging along the back wall so I could make a break for the kitchen. After I got a cold drink of water I could...crawl under the sink or something.

"Israel, they are talking about you on TV," Angel rasped bitterly. "They are making you out to be some kind of crackpot."

"Honey - Angel, I am some kind of crackpot. I simply happen to be a crackpot that's right," I assuaged her anger.

"Are you going to nipple-lick Kuiko again?" Venus glared at me.

"What?" Angel spewed her juice.

"Ugh," I grunted. I did not want to have that discussion at that moment.

"It is not what you think," Capri tried to intervene. "He was punishing her - for her review."

"What?" now Angel glared at me.

"Ugh," I repeated. I didn't want to do this.

"I was a bad girl," Kuiko chirped.

"Damn it!" Angel stood and started coming at me.

"Oh, fuck," I groaned quietly. Angel took a few steps then hovered just out of reach.

"Ah - Israel, you are free to do whatever you want," Angel searched for some calm.

"And you are free to stop me," I answered. The anger didn't leave Angel, but it started receding into the background of our affection.

"I don't understand any of you," Venus threw up her hands. "When do I get a crack at him?"

"When he feels you've earned it," Roni answered first.

"When is that going to be?" Venus was petulant.

"Soon," I promised. "First I need a shower, then heal up a bit and then you and I need to discuss some issues."

"Like what?" Venus was still angry, but now she had renewed hope.

"Fatherhood for starters," I replied. That stopped most of the women. Of course we would have sex and the logical conclusion to plentiful sex was offspring. That I would be hanging around for the whole child-rearing experience wasn't something that had occurred to them.

I got my ice water, took my shower and then pulled out my parka and thermal underwear. Sure, it was over 85 degrees in my living room, but this was the only armor I had. Defeated by the knowledge that passing out from heat stroke wouldn't solve anything, I put on some pajamas and returned to the gathering.

The unsettled atmosphere of the room jumped on me as I tried to take my seat. Capri and Angel wanted me to sit between them. That wasn't happening. My mental construct was the Wicker Man and those two ladies were on fire. Besides that, I had almost forgotten I was a celebrity - in the same vein as Louis David Riel and Guy Fawkes.

Every talking head from coast to coast agreed that I was in dire need of medication. That didn't surprise me. What did was the horoscope projections that the male population was as low as 7%. I didn't believe it was that bad yet. The debate wasn't about what to do, but how to do it. The male-friendly side said we should 'encourage' men to frolic more and take more aphrodisiacs.

If the males failed to play along, or failed to play along in enough numbers (which really meant 'unless we all played along'), then they should forcefully dose us. The conservatives demanded the men start being dosed now. After being dosed, men wouldn't care that their rights were being trampled - we would be too busy humping the umbrella stand.

Only a talk show out of Mexico City had a shred of reality attached to it. You had your 'Save Society Now' proponent, a 'be nice to guys until we have to crack them over the head' spokeswoman and lastly a neurologist from Texas - all teleconferenced, of course. After watching the first two rant for a while and letting the male mediator smile banally while his future was being sliced and diced, the doctor spoke up.

"Do any of you know what you are talking about?" she asked sternly. "Don't answer because it is clear you don't. What do you think happens to the brain when you bombard it with neurochemicals? I'll tell you, it doesn't solve the root problem - it masks it. If your male is depressed, pumping his brain up until he smiles doesn't make his depression go away."

"Now your man is both depressed and overly happy. The physical side effects of these drugs are also very bad. Ulcers, liver damage, kidney damage, heart murmurs and the list goes on and on. They have headaches, hair loss, irritable bowel syndrome and weight loss or gain," she added.

"Men are being dosed all the time and society doesn't see that happening," the conservative countered.

"One, you are wrong - it happens all the time in my practice," the doctor stated. "Besides, we aren't talking about men with some sort of malfunction. We are talking about making drug addicts out of perfectly normal, well-adjusted males. If a drug is used on 50,000 men and ten percent have an adverse reaction, you've lost the performance of five thousand guys."

"You pump drugs into all 8 million of our men and you are looking at 8 hundred thousand," the doctor emphasized. "Are you okay with losing the contribution of that many men? If so, then I agree with Mr. Jensen. I'm getting out while I still can."

"It won't be that bad," the man-friendly woman insisted.

"You want to take two to three years figuring out who's right?" the doctor countered. It wasn't lost on me that there was this pretty man there while the catfight flew around him - and he was sitting there like a ventriloquist dummy and smiling. Maybe he was high as a kite. Maybe he just wanted to keep his job. I couldn't tell.

Oh yeah, it seems that nation-wide over fifteen thousand wooden curtain dowels were purchased today and countless rolls of surgical tape. Tomorrow's metro rides were going to be ugly. My brethren were going to get overwhelmed, beaten and jailed. I couldn't decide how I felt about that. I didn't want anyone to get hurt, man or woman, but my fellows knew the odds.

We had faced them our entire lives. We couldn't win. We probably wouldn't make an impression. Yet, what else was left for us to do? Even when they knew it was madness, they were driving us to the slaughter pens. It was a pointless gesture on our parts, but it was our choice to make for once in our lives. The women wouldn't understand. I doubted my brethren could even articulate their defiance, but there it was.

There was one more hammer-blow before the night was officially over. I received a message and link from Eloise Granger. She asked me to look it over and contact her when I felt ready to make a statement, which was odd. The link was to a video in Chinese with subtitles.

There were five Chinese men, kneeling in a dark room on a dirt floor. The first one was staring off into space - that thousand yard stare of a person who'd lived through too much pain. There was a woman (?), face masked, bent over behind him, his body shielding most of her. She rested her left hand on his shoulder. He gave his name, his family and recited the fact that he was there voluntarily. Two lines to represent an entire life.

"I will have the final word," he said with fatalistic pride. He nodded briefly and the person behind him lunged forward. The man's mouth opened in shock and pain. His body trembled. He made another desperate gasp for life and blood spat from his lips. He fell over dead; eyes open.

The second man was staring at the camera. He began trembling and in a rather pathetic gesture, he reached out his hand to the thigh of the man beside him. That man touched his companion's hand but kept looking forward. The second man gave his own, short tale.

"I will have the final word," he too declared then he was stabbed from behind and died.

One by one, the remaining men gave their stories until three more corpses spilled their blood out on the floor. The camera man finally turned the old fashion camcorder on himself. He was young, 18, maybe 19 at the oldest. He was crying but looked happy - even relieved. He gave a broader story. He had convinced the other men to be here. He had hired the assassin to send them onto whatever awaited them. It was all his fault, his doing.

The video recorded the woman coming up behind him very quietly. She rested a hand on his shoulder the same way she had done with all the others. He reached up and caressed that gloved hand for a moment then nodded. As efficient as ever, she killed him with one thrust.

It wasn't over.

The woman check to make sure the young man was dead, picked up the recorder and turned it on herself. With her free hand she removed her mask.

She said was the young man's older sister. She was a police officer in the regional intelligence unit. She had discovered her brother's plan easily.

I confronted him today.

He showed me that message from North America. He wanted to go before all avenues were closed. Worse, I knew the truth of the matter. I forged the papers that allowed me to gain custody of these men - no one helped me. I had to promise my brother that I would get away with this before he put the plan in motion. He wanted me to be safe more than he wanted to escape.

I lied to him. I am good at lying; the government trained me to be. So I tricked him, helped him gather his friends and brought them all to this place. There is no way I can escape. Not after what I've done. Not after I've used my unit's access codes to send this, my brother's only accomplishment we allowed him in this life, out to the world so that he may yet save others.

They will know it is me," she smiled, "so I will take my little brother's words of advice and I, too, shall have the final word."

She pulled out her police issue sidearm, put it at the crux of her jaw and throat the pulled the trigger. The camcorder dropped, her body flipped back and then she was still for a moment.

She had been kneeling, so that when she fell back dead, her forelegs were pinned under her. Her right foot kicking slightly was sort of a shock.

"Oh my God," I gasped. I felt like weeping.

"That - that kicking - it happens occasionally," Angel whispered in disbelief. That was not what I was referring to.