Sex Tales for the New Millennium
the
'sexual revolution'
was a wrongly named glimmer
of the quiet next phase of humane evolution
that is only just beginning...
_
Chapter 1. Sarah
(Millennium II.)
Hi, I'm Sarah. I'm two years out of high school and I feel alive, but I'm not so sure about what's around me. I'm standing by my upstairs bedroom window, my portal to the world, and I see a mixed landscape, lifewise. I
love
the little backyard water garden I started as a relief from high school; I wish I had time to nurture it, or expand it, or even pull the weeds. A bit further is the economy-level subdivision wall with some unsightly cracks between the bushes, followed by a sterile sidewalk, and then the deadly noisy street where my freedom to walk the earth ends.
When I am able to cross that street, in a car, I can enter "community" as I know it β the local strip mall, one of the large busy commercial structures that dominate my environment. I'm ambivalent about the mall. It seems to be the way people interact but not much happens. I'v found some neat cheap stuff to buy, but the good stuff has been ever further between. My favorite store was sold to an uncaring conglom years ago and now there's nothing but overpriced junk. The two stands selling real food each closed within months.
I sort of like the mall's art deco lines; I'm sure they were downright exciting decades ago. And they do set off the human activity. But the paint aged quickly and so did the mall. Happily in the minds of a few, the passing traffic has grown ever more frenetic. Now the mall is returning to life, where "life" means "is making substantial profit."
At least my window view is free. And tonight, the moon is near full, and that adds some interesting perspectives to this landscape I've watched since childhood.
Like the back alleys now bathed with secret light. The dramas that play out there have become more clear to me over the years. Most are dull, but some are not, and few turn horrible. But I've learned what to do, what to say, via speed-dial. I like to help people out.
Tonight, a moonbeam is streaming into my bedroom. And basking in that light is a shape so small it seems a smart aleckβ my new minidress! The silvery wool threads of the outer tunic shimmer in the moonlight.
It took tons of time and hilarious failures, but I've learned to design a dress. One that fits
me
; that makes me attractive. My well-defined walker legs look shapely, and my petite top makes a discernible bend in the dominant verticals.
I don't dress saucy in public; in that way, I guess I'm conservative. Indeed, my life to now has not been wild. I work part time, shop for deals, and take boring classes at the local college. I've tried to keep creative juices flowing, and my sewing and design tools help. I've stayed at home because I didn't feel ready to dive into college and debt servitude. My parents work jobs they like so they are not rich, but they are reasonable and not too needy. I like my room; the view is mixed but it does seem to have perspective.
In high school I stayed on the sidelines and now, a few years out, I feel a bit of a relic. I'm still pretty much a virgin. I tried boys, but the boys around here are just so ...dull. And the girls aren't much different. At least I have an imagination, and I like this old idea I found called "self-actualization." I'm so glad Dr. Maslow was thoughtful enough to write a chapter about actualized love, including sex, even solo. I was so surprised when I first read how long joy can last! But I did research and confirmed the findings. Sometimes it seems magic. Sometimes it is the only way I know I'm alive.
But tonight I feel biological, and confident β I want to share. The day was warm and balmy and I had a good bike ride, and now I'm showered and wrapped in a fresh towel. Music is pulsing through the speakers. The night is beginning. I'm tossing off the towel and dancing in the moonlight.
I'm putting on a thong and demi bra and watching their silvery shapes in the mirror.
And now the dress... is going on like a new friend. Freedom is leaking out as legs. Youw! Black-silver flats with a precise little heel finish with a kick. I'll carry a charcoal hoody just in case. My hair is still black; I'm sharp. Will he notice?
The horn blared. I skipped down the stairs and twirled around the door; as I reached up to lock it I shimmied slightly, enjoying the sensation. My guy was standing by his pride and joy sports car. I turned to see him waiting patiently, smiling and looking good. He is handsome and rather tall and his body looks friendly. I walked to him in a friendly way. He smiled and looked at my dress and politely said "hello." He opened my door. I sat down demurely, wondering where he'd look. At his shinny new fender. Hmmm. Was the outfit too wild? Probably good I didn't ask how he liked my idiosyncratic dress. Should I have just worn the trendy fashion? No problem, it will make the party more interesting.
My friend started the car and we were underway. He was trustworthy, and he could talk intelligently if the topic interested him. It was a long drive to the party and I kept up the superficial conversation. I inquired about the event and it sounded like there could be interesting people there. When I asked him if hot babes would be available his profile smiled with delight.
He fiddled a lot with the stereo but his line of sight seemed to stop there. At least his taste in music was good. The high end system played its darkness with resonance. We were leaving the city; the dark country we were entering seemed strangely inviting. I stretched and relaxed as buildings became few and far between. We were being swallowed slowly by a deep woods, and the foreboding atmosphere was amplified by the gothic beat.
Were the nonverbal signs saying he was lost? And just as I began to figure out how to bring the possibility up, the engine spit and began to sputter. Then it sputtered more, and coughed, and the car coasted to the side of the road. Then he sputtered, a string of obscenities as he got out. Hood up, fiddle fiddle fiddle. I turned the music back on and the dark tune seemed so right.
"Nothing we can do with this damn thing and the cell phone is out of range. We've got to find a phone," he said in droning tones through my open window. I laughed β there was nothing outside but dark jungle! But I opened the door and hopped out of the car. I was ready for something, and it felt good to transform the tension of sitting into energy. It was a nice night for a walk and my legs were free. He wanted to head back, downhill, but I convinced him we had seen nothing for miles. Wasn't he looking at
anything