Love In The Time Of Pandemic

Chapter 2

"How many rebel camps are there? I thought we were one of the only ones." As soon as I said that, I realized how stupid I sounded. He looked at me with confusion for a second. He must have thought I was joking at first. When he saw my serious face, he couldn't help himself. He broke out into laughter.

"You are joking, right?" He asked, after I started pouting. He didn't have to be so rude about it. "You can't be serious. Do you have no idea about what's going on in the world? Were the burbs really so sheltered? How did they keep the news from getting to you folks?" He said, the last bit, almost in a whisper, as if he were asking that question to himself.

I wanted to be angry at him, but he was right. I had no idea about anything, and it was my fault. I was sheltered and it wasn't all the burbs fault, it was my own. I thought that whatever happened in the world, at least I was safe from it. I used to think if it doesn't affect me directly, then it doesn't affect me at all. And in the burbs, we had everything to stay safe and healthy - enough food, water, clothes, and stuff. Even when my parents died, they had left me enough that I had nothing to worry about.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I shouldn't laugh at you like that. You just are the most clueless person I have ever met. Anyways, let's move on. So there are at least a hundred rebel camps all over the world, but the ones we are in contact with, are the dozen or so in North America. Those are the only ones who we were able to communicate with, to set up this system to share messages, and updates. And it's crucial for us to be able to tell them what's going on. You would be doing us a huge favour by filming this porn video." He stopped for a second, and looked embarrassed. "Actually, it might be more than one." He added, quietly, as if I wouldn't be able to hear it.

"What??? How many?" I asked. It's not like it matters. No one I know is even alive anymore, and no one who would watch it, would care that it's me. I'm sure hundreds of other women have taken to doing porn in order to sustain themselves. What does it matter if I do it, too?

"Well, probably a dozen or more. I don't know yet. It depends on how long this trend lasts. There are trends in porn as well, you know. Sometimes, people are big into gay porn, and then it's all about big tits, and then it's about solo adventures. Things are always changing. Listen, Cellie, I wouldn't ask you if I didn't think it was important. C'mon, what do you say?"

I glared at him. He was being ingratiating with me, right now, and I didn't appreciate it. He knew that if he stayed bossy and rude to me, I would be able to ignore his request. But him being like this, it was hard to say no. I sighed. He knew he had me. He smiled at me and said, "I'm sure you are horny as fuck, so why not take advantage of this. We will give you toys and lube and everything else you might need."

I punched him hard in the gut, just to get some of my frustrations out, and then walked off. I might have agreed to masturbating in such a public format, but it doesn't mean that I was happy about it. Angrily, I stomped off to my tent, to see if I still had any razors left behind. I might be filmed naked soon, and I needed to clean myself up down there.

I had one razor left, and I sighed as I realized, if I was going to do more than one of these videos, I would need more than one razor.

Weirdly enough, I wanted to cry. I thought that he would be one of those guys who wouldn't treat me just like a piece of ass. Most men that came into my life did just that. They were kind, until they realized that I wasn't a slut as they imagined me to be. I mean, I like sex just like the best of them. But I don't really know why everyone assumes that I would be happy to take it in the ass, and in the face, and in every other orifice, just because I look like one of those blonde sluts in porn.