It'd been three days since they began their self-imposed prohibition and during that time they both learned that even the most trivial infraction would amplify their mutual longing and so Jemima had insisted that they refrain from even the smallest touches or kisses. They began to avoid each other as much as possible but occasionally the cramped confines of the trailer forced them to exchange a friendly smile or a word or two. This was the totality of their contact and it appeared to be working; a complete denial of illicit perversions was reducing the frantic need to drag each other into bed and fuck like demons.
Jemima, however, was plagued by loneliness and resumed her heavy drinking. Benjamin resumed his former existence, working at the discount store during the day and choking the life out of his poor, mangled penis at night. A few more days into their nookie ban, Jemima visited him at his workplace, McFrugal's Discount Outlet, to use his staff reduction to make a crate of their own-brand vodka even cheaper. The fact that it tasted like paint thinner did not matter to Jemima, it did the job of blurring her edges. Benjamin was walking with her, carrying a paper bag of her purchases to the bus-stop.
"Momma Jem?" he said, peering into the bag, "There's a lot of booze here. Are you planning my birthday party?"
"Mm? No, no it's just for me."
They waited at the bus-stop together. Jemima was looking extraordinarily pretty as the noonday sunlight dazzled through her frizzy blonde hair and the light breeze caught the hem of her periwinkle blue dress and lifted it up to offer a teasing view of her black, rose-patterned pantyhose. Benjamin, in his lumpen, itchy store uniform, was besotted.
"Y'know? That really is cheating," he said after failing to stop his eager eyes from roaming over her barely-covered curves.
"What is?"
"You can't go around looking as glamourously beautiful as that and not expect every man you meet to fall head over heels for you."
She stared at him for a moment then broke into her wide, easy, gap-toothed grin.
"Including a certain young man?" Jem asked.
"Well, um, y'know, I'm... not immune to your charms."
"I'll take that as an innocent compliment," she said, swishing her summer-dress in a play of shyness.
They gazed into each other's eyes, the last time they had done so was when they'd been physically connected in a sweaty, fluid coupling. She reached out and touched his cheek.
"We're doing the right thing, my love," she said.
"Yes, Momma Jem."
She looked like she was going to speak but decided not to. The bus arrived and Jemima departed, lugging awkwardly her heavy bag of bottles. Benjamin walked back to the discount store and met his colleague Freyja, a sardonic goth girl that he had a more than little crush on, smoking by the garbage skips. She expertly flicked away her cigarette butt in a long arc and walked with him.
"Were you trying to pick up that woman?" Freyja nudged him with her elbow.
"What? No!"
"You sure? Seemed pretty friendly to me. You dawg!"
"That was my Mom."
"Oh."
Freyja pondered this for a moment.
"Ben, your Mom's hot!"
"Erm, thanks?"
"Must be where you get it from."
He looked at her and she smiled, unsure of herself. A previous incarnation of Benjamin would've been flustered and tongue-tied but his confidence had grown since his and Jemima's adult shenanigans had begun.
"Are you flirting with me?" he asked.
She blushed, not a good look for a goth, "Maybe. Probably not. Kinda."
"I don't know what to say when someone's nice to me," he admitted, "It happens so rarely."
"Awww, you poor, put-upon soul."
They exchanged an embarrassed grin and went to walk away but the new, direct and assured Benjamin Mackenzie turned around and asked her the question.
"You want to do something? With me, I mean. Sometime?"
He wasn't as devastatingly eloquent as he'd hoped but he was, none-the-less, proud of himself.
"Like what?" Freyja stepped closer.
"Ah, um, like..."
"Tonight, after work, I'm meeting some friends over at the park," they both turned to look beyond the four-lane highway that divided the industrial zone from a long, flat stretch of greenery, "By the pond, you know? We could, I don't know, have a beer together? Or something."
"That sounds fine. I'd like that."
They shared a smirk and then went off to their separate departments.
At seven P.M. the sky was beginning to darken at the edges as Benjamin walked across the vast car-park. He'd seen Freyja leave with most of the other workers an hour earlier. He dodged through the heavy traffic and then made his way across the close-cropped lawn of the park, strewn with discarded cigarette packets and soda cans, heading towards the pond area. He neared a cluster of benches and his stomach tightened as he recognised the youngsters lounging over them as some of his worst tormentors from high-school. Before he could turn away, they'd noticed him and were jogging over to surround him. To turn and run would've been an unacceptable choice. They circled around him, jeering, shoving, using names that he hadn't heard in quite a while. He defended himself and so they became outraged by his defiance of their obvious superiority. He was manhandled to the ground then dragged over to a litter can in the shape of cartoon frog. Jovially declaring that he was trash, they attempted fruitlessly to cram him into the bin. When this failed, a couple of his abusers let go with the intention of lifting the bin to tip the garbage over him; this allowed Benjamin a chance to wriggle free one arm and he was pleased with the power of the punch he landed on one their smug faces. He was rewarded with such a barrage of kicks and punches that all he could do was curl up in a ball and wait until they bored of the attack. They did, eventually, give up but then the trash, accompanied by amusing insults, was ceremoniously poured all over him before the victorious ruffians retired back to their benches, just few metres away.
Benjamin hauled himself to his feet, rubbed his sore points, ignored their further but now lazy insults, picked off the worst of the trash from his clothes and walked away. Nearing the park's exit, he could see Freyja walking with another girl, she was carrying a six-pack of beer bottles. Benjamin was picking a Kentucky fried chicken bone out of his hair as they met.
"Hey-ey," Freyja sounded suspiciously mocking, "You want a beer?"
Benjamin took the six pack from her and launched it high into the air, the bottles smashed with a satisfyingly loud explosion of suds.
