Years ago I took a semester long class at the local junior college, Tuesday and Thursday mornings, 8 to 9:30. There was a woman in the class, about 10 years younger than me, early to middle thirties. We were the only two that ever asked any questions. She was smart. Pretty soon we were sitting together in the back of the room every day, keeping up a whispered conversation. If one of us didn't get something the other one did and could get the point across. Better than taking notes. If you understand, things fall into place and stay there.
One thing about this girl was a little disconcerting. She always smelled like sex. Not sex awhile ago. Not sex before a recent shower. Juice dipping down her thigh right now sex. Oh well, you live in the real World, you get to deal with real things.
We got to be friends. Like people do in college classes. One day, on break, I bought her coffee and gave her a cigarette and asked her about it. I tried to be off hand. I didn't want her to think I was trying to fuck her. She didn't seem that embarrassed.
She worked nights,like me. She didn't drive. Never had. She needed the class. There was no way that she could make it from work to the class, on the bus, in time. Her brother always picked her up at work on Tuesdays and Thursdays and drove her. He always fucked her in the parking lot, before she got out of the car. He always did it, whenever he drove her anywhere. He had for as long as she could remember. He was always good about driving her wherever she needed to go. He knew she wouldn't abuse the privilege.
It wasn't a big secret. Everyone in her family knew. Even the brother's wife. It was just the way things were. She said if she got married, it would probably stop. If she got married, she would have to quit work. And taking college classes. She was a girl with plans.
The subjugation of women is a relative thing, isn't it?
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