Mack Reynolds - Equality - In the Year 2000

His dream began with his picking her up at dusk at the drugstore, which was the school hangout, and speeding out of town with the top down, the wind streaming her hair out behind her. As soon as they crossed the bridge and were on the road to West Hurley and Woodstock beyond, Julian released the horses. Though he had learned to drive years before, sitting on his father’s lap, it had only been a year that he had been able to do as much of it as he liked.

The car sprang forward and Peggy Ten Eyck gasped.

She said, “Golly, Jule, aren’t you afraid some motorcycle cop might come along?”

He laughed exuberantly at the speed. It was a beautiful June evening, as only the Catskills can provide. The sun had just set behind Overlook Mountain, and the coloring of the sky blended with the new dark green of the hills.

“My uncle’s in good with the county commissioner,” he told her. “They know better than to bother me. A couple of times they’ve tried. I just turn the ticket over to Uncle Albert.”

“Wow,” she said, impressed. She put one hand to her hair, an attempt to keep it in some semblance of order, and looked at him out the side of her eyes.

His sport jacket had been tailored of Donegal tweed, in Ireland; his shirt of Egyptian cotton had come from Paris; his cravat, tailored slacks and his shoes were bought in London. He wasn’t particularly aware of these facts. He had always been outfitted in the same shops as his father, and had accepted without much thought the reality of owning nothing but the best in haberdashery, suits and sport clothing.

To small-town Peggy Ten Eyck, he cut a breathtaking figure.

His face and body, in its new manhood, did not detract from the picture. He had reached his full height, just short of six feet, and weighed approximately one-hundred sixty-five pounds. He had the good carriage of one who has been well trained to horses at an early age. His hair was dark and slightly curly, and his face aristocratically handsome.

To Peggy Ten Eyck he was everything Hollywood had ever promised.

They sped up the highway, which was largely deserted at this time of day, reached West Hurley and cut off on the narrower road toward Woodstock.

“Where are we going, Jule?” Peggy gasped into the wind.

“I’ll never tell.”

She giggled.

They slowed as they passed the Woodstock summer theatre and the Big Deep swimming hole on the edge of town. Julian eased up still more as they passed Deanie’s restaurant and the town square. He was a fast driver, given the proper conditions, but his father had also schooled him well in safety in motoring.

“We can come back later for a bite at Deanie Elwyn’s,” Julian told her.

“Wonderful,” Peggy said. “I just love his hamburgers.”

Julian snorted. “He has better food than that,” he told her. They had reached the edge of the art colony and he sped up again on the way to Lake Hill.

Just short of the town, Julian said, “Ah, here we are,” and came nearly to a halt, then turned off on a dirt road, which led steeply upward.

“Where in the world are we going?” she asked, no apprehension whatsoever in her voice.

“To the prettiest maple grove I’ve ever run into,” he told her. “1 found it by accident, just driving around on the back roads, kind of exploring. Some day we’ll have to get the gang together and have a picnic. Possibly in the fall, when the leaves begin to turn.”

“Sounds awfully romantic,” Peggy said, looking at him again from the side of her eyes.

He pulled the car off to the side, into a mountain glen which was everything he had described. There was even a small stream at the far side, running clear with mountain water.

He stopped the car and turned off the engine.

“Isn’t this something?”

Peggy turned to him. At the age of fourteen and a half, Peggy Ten Eyck had never been out with a boy who hadn’t attempted to kiss her as soon as he was able to get her alone. She had no doubt in the world that it had been Julian’s intent in bringing her here.

As a matter of fact, though, it hadn’t. He had brought her for the reason he had said: to show her the maple grove as a site for a future picnic. Julian was not unkissed, but he had never felt he had to prove his developing manhood by kissing every girl at every opportunity that presented itself. In the atmosphere he had been raised in, sex was not a desperate thing—there was too much of it around.

She tipped her head.

Julian was a gentleman born and raised. He couldn’t disappoint a lady. Besides, he considered her the prettiest girl in Kingston High School, which boasted some two thousand students.

So he kissed her. Perhaps it was the balmy beauty of the evening, perhaps it was the romantic setting. Perhaps it was two teenagers only recently having become aware of the.sexual urge. But he had never been so stirred by a kiss. Her mouth was soft; her mouth was willing; her mouth was hot. Her mouth demanded more, and he gave it to her.

She moved against him, and he could feel her breasts. They were surprisingly mature breasts, considering her age. Something he had once heard his father say came back to him. They’re big enough when they’re old enough and they’re old enough when they’re big enough . At the time the meaning had eluded him, but he understood now.

Young people can spend hours kissing, but on this occasion passion was mounting rapidly to higher levels. Julian tentatively cupped one of the ample breasts with his left hand.

Her mouth still glued to his, she squirmed and murmured, “You mustn’t do that.”

Julian responded to the protest by ignoring it.

They continued to kiss. Through her blouse and brassiere he could feel her nipple stiffening and it excited him—to the point where he could feel himself rapidly acquiring an erection. It had happened to him on necking binges before, so he wasn’t surprised.

He took his hand and slipped it into the neck of her blouse.

“Oh, no,” she murmured, her voice low and sexy-tinged.

He obeyed her no more than he had before. He fondled her breast for a moment over the brassiere, and then slipped his hand inside. He was enjoying himself immensely.

Her breath was coming deeper.

He whispered, “Let me kiss you there.”

“Oh, no!”

“Just once. You’re so beautiful.”

“Oh, I couldn’t.”

“Please.”

Peggy had had her breasts kissed before by boys not even near Julian’s class. She said demurely, “Just a minute.”

She unbuttoned her blouse and wriggled her hand up her back to unsnap her brassiere. This was going as well as her fondest hope. She had long schemed to get Julian alone somewhere—anywhere—so she could prove to him that she was worthy to be his steady.

The brassiere fell away and Julian was confronted with the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. He bent his lips worshipfully, and feasted on the pinkness of the cherrystone nipple.

“Oh,” she moaned.

Julian had gone beyond the point of no return. Surreptitiously, he unzipped his pants. The night, now, was quite dark. He reached out and took her hand and put it on his penis, continuing to kiss her nipple.

At first she obviously didn’t know what it was she was holding, but then suddenly she stiffened. Her grasp too stiffened, so that she held it tightly. She let go in quick alarm and tried to sit up and away from him.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, his voice husky.

“I… I think we better go now.”

“Why?”

“Well… I… I’ve never done this before.”

“Oh, come on now.”

“Well, I haven’t.”

“Are you chicken?”

She said, only half angrily, “No, I’m not. But I promised my mother I’d never do it until I got married.”