11. Wilder
Chapter eleven
Wilder
“ L et’s go to the basement, Rosie. It’ll be an adventure, Rosie.”
“New rule. No mocking me.”
“There’s very little entertainment left in this world. Don’t take that away from me too.”
Rosie laughed softly, the sound made me smile even though this little quest of ours made the muscles in my legs feel like unrefrigerated gelatin. Musty, damp air tickled my nose as we descended the stairs that lead us to the basement. In the lobby, we’d consulted a framed floor plan next to a fire extinguisher. She’d been right. The storage lockers should be waiting for us, full of possibility, right beyond these doors.
“You got the key?” I asked.
I heard the metallic jingle of the keyring we’d found in our apartment owner’s purse.
“Yep. Want to do the honours?”
“No. I want you to unlock it, then stand back.”
I didn’t want to scare her, but I had no clue what was beyond these doors. If we were lucky, it would be empty and the belongings ours for the taking. Rosie and I had already had discussions on the ethical dilemma of using things that weren’t ours. The fact of the matter was that we needed all the things we’d used so far to survive. Morality was a concept that evolved rapidly in times like this. Rosie turned the key in the lock then stepped aside. With my rifle at the ready, flashlight on, I swung open the door and listened hard. The silence in the heavily insulated space was stifling. Signalling Rosie to not follow with my flattened palm facing her, one of several forms of silent communication I’d taught her earlier, I continued into the darkness. The beam of light sliced through the space, revealing rows of wood slat storage lockers. The spaces between the slats were large, about a hand’s width, so seeing what was inside each locker would be fairly easy with enough light. Clearing each row, I walked from one side of the room to the other.
“Clear,” I called, pushing the door open to collect Rosie.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
Rosie had been collecting flashlights around the building like they were rare trading cards. Big, small, metal, plastic. She set down the heavy tote bag and clicked them on, arranging the lights around the space. With each one, the room came into clearer focus.
“God, now I feel like I can actually breathe.”
“You could have stayed upstairs.”
She scoffed. “And miss out on the looting?”
“This isn’t looting.”
“No? Then what is it?”
“Appropriating assets…differently?”
“Wow. You really do work for the government.”
“Not anymore,” I sighed. “Not anymore.”
I pulled a pair bolt cutters off my belt. I’d found them earlier in an apartment along with all the tools I’d used to secure the doors.
“You pick the first one.”
I ignored the little flutter of excitement in my stomach.
Rosie hummed, picking up one of the newer flashlights and shining it into a few of the lockers.
“Not that one. Looks like the whole thing is going to come down on us if we open the door.”
She moved to the next one, shook her head, and continued along. I didn’t ask what her objection to that particular group of objects was.
“This one.” She rapped her knuckles on the unfinished pine.
“Stand aside.”
The bolt cutters were rusty, but with a metallic snap, they cut through the bronze lock easily. I kicked the useless lock away with my boot and eased open the door. The owner of this locker had taken care to make the small space efficient. Metal shelving units lined the three sides and neatly stacked plastic bins sat upon them.
“I suppose it’s too much to ask for labels?” I joked, leaning my rifle against the exposed concrete wall before stepping into the space.
Not wanting to make a total mess, I pulled down a couple of blue storage bins, removing the plastic lids with a satisfying pop.
“That was anticlimactic,” said Rosie, rifling through the contents.
“Magazines and comics. Why the hell does someone need this many old magazines?”
“People collect weird shit. Just be happy it wasn’t, like…antique toilet paper holders.”
“That’s oddly specific. Is there something you need to tell me?”
She elbowed me out of the way, shining her light into another locker.
“I took a class once where we did a project about odd antiquities. This one. Come on. I don’t want to spend my night in a cold basement.”
I approached her, slipping the bolt cutters into my back pocket, then wrapping my arms around her from behind.
“If you’re so cold, I could warm you up.”
I kissed the shell of her ear.
“Wilder!” Her admonishment was weak as she pressed her ass against my groin.
My hands found their way beneath her baggy sweater to graze across her soft stomach. The same place she’d demanded I come last night. The more I thought about it, I wasn’t sure I wanted to spend much longer down here either. Stiffening in my pants, I tugged her tighter against me, kissing the side of her neck until goosebumps peppered her pale skin. The artificial beams of light cast shadows across the room, a near perfect silhouette of our bodies cast against the rough wall. I used my knee to separate her thighs, easing my hand into her tight black leggings to cup her hot pussy.
“Are you getting hotter, Rosie?”
She nodded, sticking a hand out to steady herself on the slats.
She was bare beneath the fabric, my fingers toying with the short curls before slipping between her pussy lips. Moaning prettily, she widened her stance and gripped the wood harder.
“I can’t wait until tonight. I need to feel you come around my fingers right now.”
I toyed with her clit, so fucking hard at the memory of her taste and all the sounds I’d muffled with my hand over her mouth.
“Don’t stop.”
The desire to unzip myself and bend her right over was like a tangible ache. Anytime I was away from Rosie, I felt the urge to get back to her. Rubbing soft circles over her slick skin, Rosie’s whole body quivered.
“Come on my hand, pretty girl. That’s it,” I coaxed. Rosie cried my name until it echoed around the space, her body soaking my hand as she caught her breath. She turned, straightening her clothes, before dropping to her knees.
“Abso-fucking-lutely not.” I hefted her up easily. “That was to warm you up. You’re not kneeling on a cold concrete floor.” I kissed her, losing myself in the sweet taste of her lips. “I’ll happily take you up on that later in the comfort of our little home.”
“I think we could do a hell of a lot better than this for home,” she said between kisses.
“I’m using the term very loosely.”
An idea of something that far exceeded this place was forming in my mind. I only wished it didn’t seem so impossible to get there.