44 - Luxury of Fruit - J.F. Hire

     He gave me grapes last night. It wasn't expected, honestly. Since I got this gig with the government, I expected there to be a little more money coming in, or at least some perks. In the end, I was stuck with creepier men, worse pay, but protection. We needed protection, us workers. Before the overhaul, we were left to the whim of pimps and serial killers. Now, we had everything we needed to stay alive.

     Behind the one-way-mirror were several men watching me do my job. They probably envied the grapes I was eating and the wine I was drinking. I'm sure there would be an investigation into the matter of the grapes soon enough-- but only after my job was done.

     Grape-man and myself had nothing in common. He was rich and off the grid, and I was poor and government-employed. City meets Country, in some way. But we both were here for the same reason: to get his rocks off.

     While Grape-man took to his own rhythm of push and pull, I counted the number of grapes left, sneaking more with each new position. They burst in my mouth and paired well with the delicate Ciante. I recall bygone days when my late husband bought me wine, fed me grapes, and we made love in the back yard under the canopy of stars created from holiday lights. The beauty of such slow movements, flirting after years of being together, craning our necks to better kiss one another.

     That was before the Ripper Genocide-- before women became an endangered species, and the men who fought for their honor were turned to dust from years of poisoning.

     Grape-man had come and gone, leaving me with an empty branch of grapes and the frothy left-overs of a bottle of wine. Once he slid the bits of gold onto the night-stand, he bowed and left-- as if some regal encounter had been made.

     These days, what women were left were a privilege to those who could afford their company. They were a limited resource, thus they were controlled by the government. I found a rogue grape on the floor, dusted off the AstroTurf specks, and ate it. We can't let things like these go to waste.