Chapter 10
Two months later, I wake up in Mason’s bed.
We never actually decided I should start sleeping in the big bed with him. I actually like having my own room and a door I can shut for privacy. It’s a real luxury after so many years without.
But sometimes I don’t feel like moving back into my cold bed after we have sex, and Mason doesn’t seem to mind if I sleep the night in his bed.
In fact, sometimes he pulls me back into bed afterward.
Occasionally during the night, if I’ve rolled over toward the edge of the bed, he reaches out in his sleep and draws me back closer to him.
This morning, it’s the end of January, and it’s cold and very dark. The sun takes longer to rise, so we don’t start our days as early as before.
Sometimes I like that. Mason usually doesn’t begin working until dawn, so we get to spend more time in bed in the mornings.
Careful not to wake him up, I roll onto my side facing away from him and close my eyes to see if I can drift back to sleep.
No luck.
My mind whirls with memories of yesterday when I ran into Aria at the seamstress. She was getting a dress altered. I was getting fitted for a new one.
We had enough credits left over this month to afford a brand-new dress.
I thought Mason should use them for a new set of clothes for himself.
When he said he didn’t need them (which is true—he has a lot more clothes than me), I suggested a new work outfit for me.
But he insisted we get me a new dress instead.
I can work in any old thing I scavenge or that’s left over from his mother.
But a good day dress has to be custom-made, and we have enough credits for it this month.
So I’m getting a new dress, and I was at the seamstress when Aria came in for alterations on one of last year’s dresses.
I wish I wasn’t so petty, but I wanted to gloat.
I’m quite sure she can’t afford a new dress because they no longer have the basic living credits from me. They certainly never used them on me, so they probably don’t have a lot of extra credits left over at the end of each month like they used to.
I, on the other hand, have a good home and a comfortable lifestyle and a man who is kind and generous to me and enough extra to get a new dress for no particular reason.
Our situations have altered considerably and mine for the better.
I acted demure and polite, but I was gloating just a little inside. I’m not sure anyone would blame me. Mason said he would have done the same—that anyone would. And I know he’s right.
The world only offers justice in random flickers and hints. We’re allowed to appreciate it whenever we catch a glimpse.
So I privately enjoy the memory of yesterday at the seamstress for several minutes until my mind spills into a new line of thinking.
The book I was reading yesterday, which I found the last time I was scavenging in the ruins of the indoor market nearby.
It wasn’t like most of the other pre-Fall books I’ve read. The main plot was about two people forming a relationship, and I’m quite sure it wouldn’t be allowed in any government-approved book collection or library.
There’s sex in it.
A lot of sex.
And not described in any way I’ve encountered before.
Of course I know a lot of people have sex recreationally. They do it for fun. But I never did. Neither did Lorraine nor Aria. Or Annabelle as far as I know. Whatever my parents did happened behind a closed door.
And Mason never did it for fun either. Like me he was taught to work hard and obey the rules and not waste time or energy on anything that won’t contribute to a safe life and future, and that’s what he’s done for thirty years.
Now that Mason and I have started having sex, I can understand why people do it for fun.
It is fun. I’ve gotten used to the penetration, so I even enjoy the part when he’s thrusting inside me.
Not as much as the first part when he’s focused on making me come, but there’s a deep pleasure I never would have expected in watching him—helping him—find that satisfaction himself.
But every night it happens the same way. He uses his hands and then moves on top of me for his turn. I assumed that’s the only way.
Evidently not. At least according to the book.
Just reading about it yesterday turned me on.
I hope that’s not wrong because I really couldn’t help it.
Even thinking about it again now gets me hot and throbby.
In fact, it gets me going so much I have trouble lying still.
“Y’okay?”
I jerk at Mason’s sleepy mumble from behind me.
“Yes. I’m fine. Why?”
“Dunno. You were all squirmy over there. Thought you might be sick.”
“I’m not sick.”
“Then what’s wrong?” He must be waking up because he sounds like his normal self.
“Nothing. Why are you asking?”
“Told you. You got squirmy.”
My cheeks burn. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”
“Why aren’t you telling me what’s wrong?” He puts a hand on my shoulder.
He’s not using force, but I know what he wants, so I turn over onto my other side so I’m facing him.
He peers at me in the dark. “You’re all hot and flushed. What’s wrong? Do you have a fever?” He puts a hand on my forehead the way he did last month when I caught an illness that was going around the village.
“I don’t have a fever.” I edge away from him slightly. He’s worried about me. He’s trying to help. And if I jerk away from his touch because I’m self-conscious, it might hurt his feelings.
I don’t want to do that.
“Then tell me what the hell is wrong with you.”
“Nothing is wrong. I was thinking about a book I read yesterday.”
The tense vibes from him shift. “What book?”
“Just a book. It was different. I don’t think they would have let me read it if I hadn’t found it myself.”
“What was wrong with it?”
I edge closer, whispering even though no one else is around. “There’s sex in it. A lot of sex. And it’s…”
“It’s what?”
“It’s wild.”
“How wild?” He’s intrigued but not disapproving.
“They use different positions. Not just what we do. And the woman… she gets there even in the second part when he’s penetrating her. I didn’t even think that was possible.”
“I think it is possible—at least from what I’ve understood.”
This piece of information distracts me from the topic at hand. I stiffen. “So I’ve been doing it wrong all this time?”
“No, I don’t think so.” He must not like my hair falling into my face because he often strokes it back behind my ear.
The touch is gentle. Nice. So I always like it rather than thinking it’s presumptuous.
He does so now, leaving his fingers combed through some of my loose hair as he adds, “I think it’s one of those things that’s different for different people.
I thought at first it was my fault because I didn’t have any experience and wasn’t good at it, but I don’t think that anymore.
We’re not doing it wrong. We just do it like us. ”
“Okay.” I relax, relieved because it’s clear he means what he’s saying. “Anyway, I’ve never read anything like it. And it makes me wonder.”
“Wonder what?”
I hesitate because saying the next thing feels like a risk.
“It makes me wonder if they’re cutting us off from…
parts of life on purpose. I mean, if we don’t know what we’re missing, we wouldn’t know to fight for it.
Dad used to talk about that sometimes. Maybe he was right. They’re doing it on purpose.”
Mason is silent. Thinking.
“Do you think I shouldn’t ask the question?”
“You should ask,” he says gruffly. “We should ask. I think about myself a couple years ago, laboring in the Capitol, cut off from everything that mattered to me, surrounded by strangers but all alone. I think I was only half a person.”
“That’s how I felt before too.”
I’m filled with a deep wave of empathy. Understanding. Connection.
Like I’m not alone anymore.
After a couple of minutes, Mason asks more lightly, “So why did it make you squirmy.”
“I wasn’t squirmy.”
“Teresa.”
“Fine. I was getting… you know…”
“Turned on?”
“Yes. I don’t know why, but thinking about it got me excited.”
His voice is different when he asks, “Did it really?”
“Yes. Kind of inconvenient.”
“Why is it inconvenient?”
“Because it’s morning.”
“It’s still early. We can do something if you want.”
“We can?” My voice squeaks slightly from a hot surge of excitement.
He chuckles and moves one hand down to the strap of my nightgown. “Why not? Sun won’t come up for more than an hour. We might as well make use of the time.”
“Okay.” I shuffle under the covers until I take off my gown. He only has his underwear on, but he takes them off too.
“How were they doing it in that book?”
“Well, I don’t know. It was sometimes hard to visualize the positions. Once, she was on her hands and knees, and he was behind her.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “Like the cows?”
“Y-yeah. I think so. Anyway, that was weird. And in another scene, she was on top.”
“Would our parts even line up?”
“I don’t know.” He’s lying on his back right now, so I adjust the covers so I can climb on top of him. I stretch out the way he does on top of me.
He’s smiling as he helps me move my body. He must be getting into it too because he’s already hard. I can feel his shaft poking at me.
But he’s right.
Our parts don’t line up.
“I think your book was lying to you,” Mason says, warm and amused.
“Maybe.” I sigh and lift myself so I’m upright so I can get a better view at how our groins might align. “Oh wait.”
He realizes the same thing I do as we stare down at his thick, firm shaft angled upward. All I have to do is lift myself higher with my thighs and I can move myself above it.
He helps, holding himself in position with one hand and guiding my pelvis over him and then down.
Since I’m already wet and pliant from all my earlier sexy thoughts about the book, he slides right in.
I grin down at him, thrilled with this success.
He shifts restlessly beneath me and takes a raspy breath.
“Does it not feel good to you?” I ask, worried because he’s not smiling back at me.