unnamed story (Part 7)

Tina was the first to arrive at Clay’s door. He opened it she threw herself on to him with a ferocious hug. As the hug entered its second minute he was thankful that Patti was not present to see the show. She had popped down to the grocery store to pick up some supplies for her guests. If you are thinking finger food and perhaps some alcoholic beverages you are way off. By supplies she meant antibacterial cleaning products to disinfect wherever her guests went in the house and kerosene to burn the sheets after the whore circus left town.

Given the fact that there were a lot of houses available now she considered burning down the whole house … with Clay inside it.

When Tina finally released her grip Clay realized it had been awhile since a woman had hugged him. Not the greatest start to a day that promised some of the most awkward moments that any man could imagine.

Within hours his house would be teeming with ex girlfriends with no reasonable explanation to be found and he couldn’t make it through the first hug without it being weird? Everyone was going to be in an emotional state and he had the feeling that at some point his wife of three years was going to attempt to burn down the house with him in it.

Clearly Tina was a wreck but she still looked great and every time he went to comfort her his penis had a little burst of electricity run through it. He focused on the fact that everyone he’d ever known and not had sex with was gone.

Was that it? His mind attempted to grab back a little of the electricity that was bouncing around inside his underpants. The idea seemed so silly that he wanted to quickly discard it but couldn’t. The only people still around are the people I had sex with.

Tina was talking but he was remembering all the girls he’d ever had sex with. It wasn’t an overwhelming number but it certainly wasn’t just the four girls that in a matter of a day or two would be cohabitating.

He tried to pretend to listen but it wasn’t going well.

“Have you heard anything about what happened? How it happened? Is it only temporary?” the questions poured forth from Tina.

Luckily Clay had been able to bring himself back to reality by staring at her breasts. Honestly, I can’t tell you if they trembled a little as she spoke but Clay thought they did and at this point that’s all that mattered.

He hugged her again as he told her he knew nothing more than she did.

It was in this embrace that Patti found them as she walked in, her arms loaded with cleansers, sponges, rubber gloves and paper towels.

And kerosene.

Samantha was down to her last flare when she heard a car approaching. She hoped that it wasn’t the owner of the hardware store she’d let herself into to find a way to flag down any passing survivors. That thought was quickly followed by an image of a truck full of bloodthirsty marauders out looking for sex slaves and she hurriedly ducked back into the ruined storefront, the door was locked so she was forced to ruined it (and yes I meant to say ruined, it sounds much more like a place that would have broken glass scattered about than if I just said ruin), just to be on the safe side.

The thing is with bloodthirsty marauders they can sometimes tend to be rough around the edges. If this band was, hypothetically, the University of Penn men’s lacrosse team, the idea of being taken as a sex slave might not be such a bad thing.

She’d once seen a porno that was based on Mad Max and for some reason it was the first thing that popped into her head as the sound of the engine drew closer.

She was relieved, sort of, to see there was only one passenger and from where the silhouette of their head sat behind the windshield it didn’t appear they weren’t big enough to be a marauder.

The car rolled to a slow stop and for a few moments nothing happened.

Samantha made the first move and stepped out of the front of the hardware store display window, ruined as it was.

Jennifer opened the car door and stepped out.

Both of them were staring at a blonde, younger, petite and perky woman.

They both had looks of recognition cross over their faces.

“Don’t I know you?” one of them asked. At this point it could really have been either of them. I have no idea.