(In this story, I explored ways to write about non-consent/reluctance via non-graphic means.)
Rain must have stopped, for the leaves had ceased rustling and birds were out again.
Lucy followed the men, eyeing any hazard at foot. When they set off she was right between them; in time the gap narrowed and edged her out. Now she had to prick up her ears.
They were talking about the Roman Emperors.
"Ravaged! Even his own three sisters! 'When sitting between two of them at a banquet he openly boasted to have enjoyed both the prior night.' Supposedly Drusilla was his favorite. But you know, I've had another theory..."
"Your famous paper on Suetonius," Richard chuckled.
"Many a hard night's work went into its making. A masterpiece it was! I had such hope. But that old Cambridge fool didn't appreciate my wit." He spat in tall grass, "I was a disappointed man."
Lucy knew why Bill's here. He'd come to beg again.
And Richard would give it to him. Money, sympathy; whatever he asked. All because that one time he saved Richard's life on an unsupervised fishing trip when they were both 13.
And Bill was a war hero now. Richard felt obliged for his wellbeing.
"And the 'good ones'! They were no better. A warmonger, a pervert, and a sleeper of reason who bore monster from his loins..."
"Even the best ones were cruel at heart." Richard concurred.
They were walking so fast, their granite voices jarring in the quiet of woods. The ferns were fiercely green. If only they'd slow down and take a look.
Overcoming a bend Lucy saw some cobwebs.
No, gossamers, shrouded over prone bush all silvery, still hanging drops of rain. She never noticed them before. A chill made her wrap her gown tighter around her belly.
"Guys," She called, and the men stopped.
"Fascinating," Richard bent down to inspect it. "Lucy has an eye for beauty in small things."
"Beautiful," Bill nodded. "Unless you got tiny wings. Then you're dinner. The more you struggle the faster they'll ring the bell..."
"Remember little Johnny?" Richard said. "He was mortally afraid of spiders."
"That retard kid?" Bill perked up. "What trouble's he up to these days?"
"Not at all, actually. Last I heard he took over his old man's factory. He's quite a man of responsibility now."
"That's one fucking surprise."
"The good kind." Richard said. "Lucy, you won't believe what kind of pranks we used to play on the poor kid. Quite shameful really, now that I think of it."
