Hunter and Juniper
Hunter reached for the handle to the wooden door, and it warmed his hand, welcoming him home. There was no click of a latch, though, to unlock it. He pulled the door open and stepped inside.
Juniper was there, sitting at the table. She looked up from the writing she was working on and her smile lit the room, a smile just for him. It emanated from her sapphire eyes, softened her cheeks, perfecting her beauty. She lifted a hand to brush away the hair that had strayed into her face, hair that strained to reach for her shoulders, almost as long as if she were a man. It suited her. He leaned over to brush a kiss on her lips.
“Honey, I’m home,” he quipped.
Her laugh was unguarded. It rang like little bells. “You and your job. You’re so proud of it, but I’m jealous: it takes you from me. I thought only Keepers and criminals had jobs, anyway. Which are you?”
Hunter shrugged, but ran his palm down her shoulder, then kneaded her back. “I’m not running the show, so I guess that makes me a criminal, but if so, they haven’t caught me yet. Call me a throwback, but I’m just not happy unless I get out and make something happen.”
“Heartless”, she whispered, but her eyes still glowed.
It was Hunter’s turn to laugh. “You like me that way.”
Juniper shook her head. “Idiot that I am. You rarely show up for football, you’re not concerned with your clothes, and you hardly take care of your hair. Why, you’re barely a man at all! How am I going to show you off to my friends?”
“Dance with me,” Hunter replied.
“Then you tell me what to do! So feminine.”
He stepped toward her, placing her hands in his own, and lifting her to her feet. She leaned into him as they began to step into the center of the room. They’d been together for almost two years now. Her friends would be talking, asking when she was going to move on already. His friend Dancer was already asking the same kind of questions, but her head was so comfortable on his chest. Some people still got married, of course. The thought flitted hopefully across his mind before he shooed it out. She had never asked about that, and you had to wait for a woman to ask.
“Sometimes you make we want to just stop taking the Prevention root”, Juniper murmured.
Hunter’s heart skipped a beat. People lived for centuries now, thanks to the wonders of genetic medicine. People still had children on occasion, but you had to apply to the Keepers for permission. Prevention root was free, one of the foods the Keepers gave away, and it turned off human reproduction - the business end, not the fun parts. “Oho! You’ve been hoping I was a Keeper.”
Juniper sighed, then ran a hand along his chest and stepped back. “Oh, why do they get a say, anyway? No, it’s just that you’re different. You act like you have a sense of purpose, like any of this means anything. It’s so old-fashioned, like you’re dangerous and safe all at the same time. It’s nice.”
Hunter frowned, uncertain. “What are you trying to tell me?”
She shook her head at him, like he was slow. “Take me to the bedroom, man! Do I have to spell it out for you?”
Hunter grinned and lifted her in his arms. This part of masculinity he could handle.
