Initiation (Gypsy Harts #1)

by C. D. Breadner

  On shorter raids, patrols, or just to chase trespassers out of the yard the bikes were used. Em promised to show her how to ride one. Oakley was excited about this, the memory of her father’s lost motorcycle egging her on.

  These women were all very comfortable here, and used to each other. There were fights, shouting matches and cold silences, but from what she’d seen they never lasted for long. It wasn’t the necessity of survival; it was the feeling of family. She’d seen catfights, complete with hair pulling, her first full day there. But later that night those two women made up loudly for the whole commune to hear, in a hall closet.

  It was very free-love. Oakley wasn’t entirely comfortable with that, but no one was forcing her to do anything. She just had to get used to being asked. They were so open and frank about it. It was starting to be just another part of her day.

  “Good meal, thanks.”

  “Anytime. You lonely tonight?”

  “Umm, no thank you, anyway.”

  She knew that May and Jo were lovers. That was obvious, and they were the only two—other than Susan and Gwendolyn—who had a room to themselves.

  Alone at night, the sound of people trying to be quiet while making love was distracting. Again, she could recall none of her own experiences. It was just one more part of life making her feel like she was outside the group looking in. And she was maybe a bit restless now, too.

  As far as things to keep her busy during the day, she helped out wherever she could as a floater. As long as her wheelchair wasn’t getting in the way she threw herself into tasks assigned to her, desperate to be helpful.

  After a few days of PT on her legs, Oakley was walking. Not just stumbling on stiff joints and grabbing onto things to stay upright. She was walking, and then two days after that she could jog. And that’s when Em really started kicking her ass.

  Light weights, which was embarrassing. They’d had to hunt down three-pound dumbbells because no one here touched anything less than fifteen pounds. Then Em had her jogging up and down the stairs with her until her lungs were burning.

  She felt pitifully weak; there she was curling three pounds per hand while next to her Em was swinging twenty-five pounds up and down like it was nothing.

  She wasn’t the only strong one. All these women seemed tremendously fit. They assured her it wouldn’t take her long to work her way up, especially now that she was eating just as well as the rest of them. As her body fell back into walking on a regular basis her appetite had returned. They ate very well here. There was some cured meat that was sparingly shared, and most of the diet came from their own vegetables.

  Body wise she was growing stronger, but she had gained no new memories of her past. She worried at times that she might be going insane, for every night she was woken by new nightmares of things that had never happened to her, just from the other women’s stories. But every now and then she’d had a fleeting glimpse of that same dream of her father. Her curiosity of what became of him grew more with each passing day. The dreams didn’t come every night, perhaps twice since they’d arrived. It made her feel protected.

  There was a buzz in the commune, too. The men, the Young Bloods, were due to have visited a week earlier and were still unaccounted for. There was worry something might have happened to them. Personally, Oakley kinda hoped they stayed away. She knew they were trusted here but it made her nervous thinking of having them around.

  One night following lights out she carried out patrol detail with Em, just the two of them wandering the halls, looking for anything out of the ordinary. All the power was shut down so they each carried a lit oil lantern fueled by kerosene. It was early enough after bedtime that the more amorous of the group were still up. One room was known to be adventurous, and Oakley had heard that it was where groups could get…frisky with each other.

  It sounded like they were. The door was open, and the whimpers and gasps and giggling spelled out what was going on. Em paused by the door, cocking an eyebrow at Oakley. “Every night,” she whispered. “Those are some horny bitches.”

  Oakley giggled then covered her mouth. “It’s nice they have an outlet. For stress.”

  Em grinned. “Yeah. Lotsa outlets.” Then she jerked her head at the room. “We should take a look.”

  Oakley was confused by that. “What? Why?”

  “Just to see. They don’t mind. This door is always open.” Em turned for the opening and Oakley hung back, right at the jam, facing the opposite wall. When she heard her name whispered, she turned for the door, bracing herself. The room was dark, but as her eyes adjusted and her lantern was added to the few candles here and there she could make out bodies, shapes, writhing and caressing and clutching each other. She tried not to stare long enough to identify who was who, she kept her eyes on Em.

  “We should go,” she whispered, and there was a chuckle to her right. She turned to see Coral, holding hand out.

  “Oakley, don’t you ever just let go?” the woman asked, and as Oakley realized she was naked she tried to look away. She turned, just in time to see a tall, naked black woman take the lantern from Em’s hand and step close to her, and kiss her.

  Oakley swallowed. She didn’t know why Em had brought her here, but she was unsettled by all this. But again, in a restless way, not an offended way.

  Coral caught her hand and pulled her to sit next to her. Oakley nearly stumbled, but her eyes stayed on Em and that other woman. They were kissing, passionately, so much so that Em stopped to set down her lantern then wrapped her arms around the woman’s back and pulled her into another, deeper kiss.

  “Everyone’s welcome to watch,” Coral assured her. “No one will think it’s strange.”

  Oakley tore her eyes off of Em to face Coral. “I…I don’t think I should be here.”

  Coral tilted her head. “Don’t worry, Oakley. I can see it in you. You’re curious. What are you holding back for?”

  “I’m…I’m not a…”

  “Lesbian?” Coral supplied with a wry smile. “Very few of us are, honey. But when there’s an itch there’s an itch.”

  Oakley squirmed in her seat, her face growing warm. That was a good way to put it; an itch.

  Coral smiled like she could read minds. “So just relax for a minute. You trust me, honey?”

  Oakley’s eyes darted over to Em, who was now topless, the black woman on her knees, kissing her stomach and pulling her belt open. Em was looking at Oakley.

  “She likes you. It’s okay, she likes men too. She just likes you as well.” Coral turned her back with a thumb under her chin. “She’s giving you a show, Oakley.”

  This room was very warm. Coral was very naked. And Oakley was very restless. When Coral started leaning in, she didn’t stop her. She just closed her eyes.

  The kiss was soft, sweet. Coral’s lips swept over hers, then her tongue ran over Oakley’s lower lip. It made Oakley shiver, the sweetness of it raising gooseflesh along her arms. She opened her mouth and Coral dove in, her tongue stroking along Oakley’s forcefully, demanding. Exciting.

  Oakley whimpered, one hand driving into Coral’s hair on the back of her head. Coral did the same to her, pressing her body along the side of Oakley’s. She was so warm, firm yet supple. Oakley’s free hand went to her naked hip, then slid up her side. Coral moaned, and it set off Oakley’s blood.

  She’d had sex before, she’d liked it. And her body only knew enough to know that it missed it. None of the details returned, just the heat and the rush.

  In one move Coral was straddling her hips, pulling the ties that held her pants closed. Oakley eased out of the kiss, staring up at her. Coral smiled. “It’s okay, baby. I know what to do.”

  Oakley inhaled as Coral’s hand slid into her underwear. Coral’s smile faded, her breathing got heavier, and then her finger slid over something very, very sensitive. Oakley whimpered, her eyes closing.

  “That’s it, Oakley. Let go.”

  Her hands tightened on the flesh of Coral’s hips. Her strokes
were too light, feather-like, but it was enough to really turn her on.

  “You can touch me too,” Coral whispered, and without another thought Oakley’s hand moved over Coral’s hip, through the dark hair at the apex of her legs, and under. She was so wet Oakley could feel it everywhere, and Coral moved her hips over her fingers, bringing her in contact with her clit. Coral gave a moan, then Oakley pressed two finger to either side and started rubbing back and forth.

  Coral did the exact same thing to her, moments after she started. Oakley’s cry was a surprise, unexpected, and the sensations made it difficult to focus on what her own hand was doing. She fought to pay attention even as her own emotions were building, cresting, until…

  “Oh yes, yes, yes, Oakley, fuck, that’s it!”

  Her own release was silent, eyes pressed closed, upper teeth in her lower lip. The tremors eventually stopped, making her become aware of the moment again.

  Coral was smiling down at her. “Very good, honey. Doesn’t that feel better?”

  Oakley blinked a few times, nodding with the thrill still running through her blood. It did feel better. A definite relief.

  Coral tilted her head up with a knuckle. “It’s just sex. It’s beautiful, but it’s not mystical communion. It just feels good. Right?”

  Oakley nodded.

  “We don’t need to feel guilty about enjoying ourselves. That was what men used to try to do to us. We don’t need that shit. Right?”

  Oakley took a deep breath then nodded again. Coral tilted her head to the side. “How can anyone say this is wrong and disgusting?” the woman whispered in her ear.

  There was Em, back against the wall, boots and pants off now, one leg thrown over the shoulder of the black woman who had buried her face at the juncture of Em’s legs. Em had her wild, thick hair in her hands and was whimpering, panting, her stomach flexing with each breath. Her eyes were closed, face up to the roof.

  “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

  Oakley nodded, and as Coral slid off her lap Em’s eyes opened and her head tilted to the side, locking eyes with Oakley.

  She was relaxed, so at peace, and as she caught Em’s gaze she couldn’t help but smile. Em returned it, then she was off and screaming, her body rocking through her orgasm. It was gorgeous to watch, all those muscles tightening and flexing. When it was over the woman on the ground was smiling up at Em, then lowered herself backwards into the bedding behind her.

  With a final look at Oakley Em got to her knees and crawled up over the woman, kissing her back into the pillows and blankets. Dark arms wrapped around Em and Oakley had to look away.

  Coral was kissing the woman on the other side of her now. Feeling like she was once again an intruder, Oakley retied the waistband of her pants and picked up her lantern.

  She resumed patrolling the halls. When Em caught up with her about a half hour later nothing was said.

  Chapter Five

  “You got this Oakley, Five more, you can do it. Fuck you, don’t think of stopping.”

  Oakley grit her teeth and willed her muscles to move. The weights in each hand were getting heavier the more she swung them around, if that was even possible.

  But at least it was the end of the work out. When their torture session was complete she helped Em straighten up the gymnasium, returning everything they’d used to its proper place. The commune didn’t have a wealth of space, but as long as everything got put away the storage system was impressive. Of course, that came from the fact they were in a school where things could hardly be left strewn all over.

  It was mid-afternoon. The kitchen would be preparing the evening meal, and she could smell the beginning of preparations. But the raised voices weren’t normal, and it sounded like there was something awfully exciting going on.

  It was days after that patrol night—four, to be exact. No one was saying anything about it, but it had been a relief. That night Oakley had slept without dreams. And no one was giving her odd looks or trying to make her feel off about any of it. Even Coral was back to how she had been before that night.

  What happened was usual. As much a part of the day as exercise of mealtime.

  As they made their amiable way down towards the front of the school, Oakley could smell food. The kitchen door was a wide opening, and as they came across the opening Oakley was able to make out a few specific statements.

  “Chickens? Where the fuck are we supposed to put chickens, though?”

  “Who cares? We’ll have eggs for once!”

  “Relax, Harley’s already got the guys building a coop. Just chill the fuck out.”

  Oakley swallowed. She knew that name: Harley. Around her she’d heard the word Harley spoken with great reverence and plenty of lust. He was the unofficial leader of the Young Bloods, the men these women trusted to stay within the confines of the school yard but never in the school itself. Em told her they didn’t know the way upstairs, and they were perfectly content to set up their camp inside the fence using their own materials and the outbuildings. The leader himself was said to be fierce, brave, strong, and hardened from battle. Harley Young was a former soldier who formed this group when it became obvious that the old law and order was not going to survive the bombs. So rather than protection, they were dedicated to survival, much like the women in this group, the Gypsy Harts.

  “They’re finally back?” Em asked, and the copper-haired girl nearest to them at the stove smiled and nodded.

  “Yeah. May and Jo are talking with Harley right now. The men are setting up a camp. They’ve got meat. We can eat deer with supper tonight. Thank fuck. I’ve been dying for something that bleeds.”

  It sounded disturbing but once she thought that over Oakley knew what the redhead meant. The vegetables were plentiful but meat, other than jerky, was severely missed.

  “They’ve got chickens and salted fish, too. I think they even found a few goats, which would be cool. We might be able to get milk out of them.”

  “Wow. They found quite a well-stocked farm,” Em said, turning to Oakley. “So, I guess the Young Bloods are back. You’ll be meeting them tonight. We feed them at their camp. I guess we should go get the meat so these ladies can get cooking.”

  Without a pause to let her protest Em turned and headed for the stairway that led downstairs. The explosives had already been removed both top and bottom of the stairwell. The candles had been relit, and by the front door a quiet, busty blonde named Abby was keeping watch. She had a wicked-looking automatic rifle over her shoulder, slung there on a leather strap like a purse.

  It seemed as though, despite their peace, the Gypsys didn’t trust the Bloods entirely.

  Em pulled her ever-present goggles down over her eyes and Oakley retrieved a set of goggles from the shelving lining the entry. No one was pushing her to wear a full mask here, so perhaps there was less Gamma radiation in this spot.

  Em pushed her way through one door and Oakley followed, squinting against the brightness. She hadn’t left the commune in a week, but today the sun seemed to be breaking through the cloud cover. It hurt.

  “Here they come,” Em mumbled. “Good timing.”

  Oakley blinked until her eyes adapted better. Two men were approaching, each holding something dark in color and obviously heavy. She only knew that because, despite the filthy sleeveless undershirts they were wearing it was quite obvious that their loads caused great strain on their arms. And chests. Both of which were oversized and muscled.

  She shot Em a look, but the woman was just watching, arms crossed, face blank around the goggles.

  As the men approached Oakley noted they too wore goggles, not gas masks. One had dark hair, the other blonde with a massive beard. They were both of an intimidating size, and the way they moved spoke of disciplined physicality. Even without being told, Oakley would have guessed they’d been in the military.

  The door opened behind her and Abby appeared with some kind of large scoop sled, which she set on the ground in front of Em and Oakley. The we
apon was still casually on her back, and she returned to her post without a word.

  The two men dropped their loads into the sled. She saw that it was the carcass of two large-ish animals, presumably the deer they’d been so eager about upstairs. As they straightened Oakley caught her breath. She knew she’d never been in the close proximity of larger men than these two. She had to guess they were six and a half feet tall. The darker one had his hair piled up in a knot on his head, but she could tell it was long. His dark eyes took her in without much stealth. They ran over her body from toes to the top of her head, and she caught a flare of something in his gaze before he turned to Em with a nod. “Emmanuelle. You’re looking good.”

  Em nodded. “This is Oakley. She’s new. We found her last week. Oakley, this is Benvolio.”

  Now Oakley was aware of the blonde’s attention, even though they weren’t discussing him. His skin was heavily-tanned and she found herself wishing she could tell his eye color. The goggles didn’t make it as obvious as the dark-haired one. His eyes also ran up her legs, over her torso, to her face. He was slower about it, and for some reason his gaze wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything, she liked it.

  He was handsome, even with the goggles and beard she could see it. His arms and their impressive musculature made her inhale the longer she looked on him. Under the sweat and dirt, she saw bright colors and she knew he must be tattooed up both arms. The same for the skin under the neck of his shirt.

  They were staring at each other, and she didn’t fully realize it until the dark-haired man cleared his throat. “This is Stone,” he told her, specifically. “I’m thinking you’ll know that before too long.”

  Oakley avoided Em’s gaze. She was suddenly uncomfortable with how flushed and embarrassed she was to be caught checking out a man out like that.

  For his part, Stone was nonplussed. As a matter of fact, he ran a hand over his chin, licking his bottom lip before biting it and running that hand down his own chest.