Reaping Man

ZZZZZZ-irp.

She opens one eye as her tent zipper parts on both sides. He falls backwards, pulling it closed, rocking on oversized feet with a grunt, and then he is on her, his rough hands pawing her from her sleeping clothes, his whiskers gouging her soft skin.

She is not ready for this rough man, so she thinks of another, her former lover, the one with dark eyes and a heart attack-inducing touch. These thoughts soften her.

Her present company lacks skill and grace, but his strong back helps him last awhile longer. Soon all the grains will be harvested and he’ll have an accident just like his predecessors. Full wombs make such rough men disposable. According to the star charts, three women are close to their moon cycle. Children born in springtime can be fattened during the warm months on the grains these men reap.

She moans to hurry him along; presently he’s done with her body. Exhausted he
collapses, snoring into her ear as she wiggles free. She uncorks the sleeping drought and pours it carefully into his gaping mouth, caressing his throat to help him swallow.

ZZZZZ-irp.

She glances back. He snores peacefully. She flashes her torch three times. Presently the other women approach the tent, one by one they enter.

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