Page 32 of Longing for Liberty
I returned the bucket and mop, then made the Secretary’s dinner of sautéed chicken thighs in a mushroom cream sauce with roasted asparagus and mashed potatoes. Using every grain of my willpower, I walked the plate and a glass of ice water to the Secretary and set it on the table.
“Are you ready for your dinner, sir, or should I put it away for now?”
“Oh, I’m ready.” He pushed his chair back a few inches and crossed his arms, peering up at me.
I stood with my hands clasped in front of me again, my face on fire. “May I have my clothing back, please, sir? I’m finished for the day.”
“Come closer.”
My heart banged, but I did as he said, leaving mere inches between his knees and mine.
“Liberty…” He said my name like I was a naughty little girl. “If I were to slide my hand up your skirt right now, would I find you wet?”
My chest shook with the breath I tried to inhale. I whispered, “No, sir.”
“Raise your skirt, then,” he said.
Fear and excitement warred inside of me as I slowly did as I was told. But Amos never reached out to touch me. Instead, he commanded, “Touch yourself. Just one finger. Not too deep.”
What the fuck…
I stood stone still as he waited. Then, I hesitantly bent and pulled my skirt up enough to expose my panties. He watched as I held the bundled material with one hand and reached down into my underwear. Holy shit, I was so sensitive. My entire core fluttered with need as I dipped my middle finger into the swollen slickness there, ashamed all over again. I quickly pulled my hand back out and then gasped when Amos Fitzhugh grabbed my wrist and held it tight.
Looking up at me, he put my finger in his mouth and sucked the wetness off, leaving my finger tingling from the soft strength of his tongue. Then he dropped my hand and sat back, his legs spread comfortably, a look of victory on his face.
“That’s what I thought.” He slid my clothes across the table to me. “Have a lovely weekend, Liberty.”
THIRTEEN
STATE NEWS: COMMUNITY TWO COMPLETES WIND TURBINE AND SOLAR PANEL INSTALLATION!
My emotions wentnumb when I left. Shut down hard. I didn’t let myself think about what had happened or the game I found myself caught in. I sat in a hard plastic seat on the bus staring blankly at an old advertisement posted on the bus wall. It was faded with the edges curling.
If you witness or overhear criminal behavior, it’s your civic duty to report it!
Underneath was the phone number to call or text. Every time I looked at it, I resisted the urge to rip it down and shred it.
We stopped at a healthcare/wound center where two mothers got on with their kids. A pregnant woman with six children, including the one on her hip, bunched up in front of me. I stood to give her my seat, but she waved me off and said, “I prefer to stand.” Her ponytail drooped, and she paid no mind when the baby patted her cheek roughly. She was very thin and probably wouldn’t appear pregnant from behind.
Her little girl with brown ringlets, no more than three or four, came boldly up to me and peered into my face with her chubby cheeks, at odds with her thin body.
“Hi,” I said.
She smiled and giggled, looking over at her mom, who was cutting her eyes to the girl in warning. “It’s okay,” I promised the mom, and she relaxed, looking away, focusing on the baby in her arms. Next thing I knew the girl was climbing up into my lap, which made me laugh, and again I assured her mom I didn’t mind if she didn’t.
But having this small human’s attention did strange things to me, bringing up emotions I kept carefully buried. As the child studied my face, touching each freckle on my chin, I thought about how she had never seen anyone with skin different from hers, not in color or wrinkles. She’d never seen a woman with short hair or a man with long hair. She would never encounter a little person or someone in a wheelchair. This child wouldn't have the opportunity to develop an appreciation for other cultures. She wouldn’t know what culture wasat all, considering we had none in the State. Her world was gray. And soon, she’d be as unsmiling as the rest of us.
With that chipper thought, the girl was whisked from my lap at the next stop: large family housing. Those with six to nine children were housed in a neighborhood of large homes of four or more bedrooms. This particular neighborhood was probably where upper-middle-class families had lived before. Any families who hit the ten-children mark were given “mansion” homes, or so we were told.
As I neared home, I braced myself and schooled my face to avoid upsetting my husband again. I greeted Jeremy with a kiss and a hug, smiling to help him feel at ease. He studied my face for a long moment before letting out a little sigh that signaled he knew I wasn’t okay but wasn’t going to press it. I wasn’t crying or having a panic attack, and I thanked the little girl for distracting me from that.
The ground chicken and wheat mash dinner left a lot to be desired, but I managed to eat my whole portion before we left to walk. I made sure I was far enough from other people before asking him one of the questions I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about.
“Have you ever heard of Community Five?”
His fingers squeezed mine painfully hard, and he grasped his neck, turning slowly to peer all around us. His reaction made my heart quicken.
“Where did you hear that?” he whispered.
