One in Ten

I felt for Steve. He may have been married before the Gender Plague wiped out 95% of the men on earth over a ten year period way before I was born. It still killed 9 out of 10 male births within the first year. In the North American sphere they had responded with the gender laws. In other countries, where things were far more draconian, they had a problem with 'male flight'.

It made me shudder to think I lived in a 'good' place. It wasn't worth contemplating how much worse things would get if they tightened up on the male discrimination laws. With those happy thoughts I entered City Hall, got thoroughly searched, patted down and felt up – all in the name of making sure I wasn't a MRA (Male Retribution Army) terrorist.

My boss, Francesca Silverhorn, located me before they upped my relationship status. I had to wonder if women went through this when the guards were men. I almost missed Ms. Silverhorn laying out my duties. I was to proofread speeches, give the occasional briefing and stand on stage in the Mayor's entourage.

I thanked her for the job opportunity and she laughed at me.

"Look handsome and only say what we tell you to say," she instructed me. "Oh, and only date pretty girls – you will be in the public eye from here on out." Wow, the superficiality of that statement was depressing.

I had little hope of meeting a nice girl I could believe in. Now she had to be up to a certain physical standard as well. Things kept getting better. I was introduced to the staff and instantly re-introduced to my old/last girlfriend – the one who took me to her sorority party. I jerked to a halt while she leered at me. I had avoided her like the plague since that weekend three years ago.

I didn't have time to dwell on my sudden proximity to this monster for too long because at the end of my tour was a quick face-to-face with the Mayor's Chief of Staff. Isobel Diaz looked me up and down.

"Do you have a nice package?" she snapped off.

"What?" I gasped.

"Dong, schlong, dick, rod – you know, your man-meat – is it big?" she clarified. I looked for help from Francesca but she was busy looking out the window.

"I supposed so," I sighed. "A bit over seven inches long and pretty thick, or so I've been told."

"Pull it out," she directed. "Pull it out and jack off." I had to wonder where the fuck this was coming from, but I knew my position was hopeless. If I lost this job, I'd be on public assistance until I managed to get whatever position I could with this black mark on my record. I pulled it out and began wanking.

For a minute, my shame and fear stopped me from getting anywhere. To make matters worse, I thought I was going through all this only to lose my job anyway.

"Chen, come in here," Isobel called over her intercom. Seconds later, her PA came in the room.

"Ms. Chen, do you feel like sucking this man off?" Isobel asked. "He's made some boasts and it would be a pity if he lost his job over an unauthorized lie."

Ms. Chen was Chinese around 5' 6" with nice curves and a mischievous smile.

"Bracelet," she ordered. She scanned me. "Unattached? Do you play around much?"

"I don't – hardly – play around much," I stammered. "I showered if that matters." Ms. Chen responded by getting on her knees before me and took over my stroking duties. Her question had been rhetorical. At the very least, she knew I was sexless so far this cycle. That was a good indicator that I didn't play the field. Ms. Chen cooed softly to ease my discomfort over the whole situation.

A few strokes with her firm, warm hand plus a few kisses on my cockhead and my penis was roaring to life. Being so responsive to stimulation was the downside of my abstinence strategy. Her lips engulfed my head with agonizing slowness. A few quick bobs and she then began licking my shaft, top to bottom. I was fully aroused and starting to ache.

"That's enough. It seems Mr. Jensen is not a braggart," Ms. Diaz noted.

"You can go now, Ms. Chen," she stated. Ms. Chen pouted at her boss. "I'm sure you can finish that up on your own time." Ms. Chen gave my cockhead a final kiss, rose, turned and left.

"Francesca, make sure he wears tighter pants. If we have some bad news to deliver, I want him to rub himself up and be on stage as a distraction," Ms. Diaz talked like I wasn't there.

I put my cock back in my pants as Ms. Silverhorn led me away. We walked in silence until we exited the Chief of Staff's offices.

"In the old days, the guys used to tell the young female interns to unbutton two more buttons on their blouse and wear push-up bras," Francesca informed me.

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" I looked into her eyes.

"No but hopefully you will take some strength that other people went through that kind of thing and survived," she said.

"I only want to do a good job, go home at the end of the day and get paid," I replied.

"That's not very ambitious," she noted. "You need to be more aggressive in my office."

"Okay," then after a second. "Do I let all the women molest me or only the important ones?"

"I do not expect you to be a whore, Mr. Jensen," she snorted. "I do not approve of Ms. Diaz's action but her boss is the one currently in the big chair so we do what we must."

I was the tenth employee in the Public Affairs office and the only guy. Two were married; the rest were single women. In the next office group there was a guy in the Budget office and he stopped by to see the 'competition'.

"Hi, I'm Troy Berry," he popped into my cubicle.

"Ah – hello. I'm Israel Jensen," I responded.

"So what do you think of your work environment?" I leaned against one of my walls.

"It has been an hour," I reminded him. "I haven't really formed an opinion yet."

"Oh, come on," Troy chuckled. "All the hot babes here – Man, I tell you, and I've banged them all at least twice."

"Well, good for you," I muttered. "I won't get in your way." That seemed to catch him off guard.

"Are you gay?" he wondered.

"No," I sighed. "I do my civic duty and I don't get attached."

"You make it sound like it's no fun," Troy leered. "You've got to spank that ass, slap that pussy, fuck'em deep and long. Make the bitches squeal."

It wasn't lost on me that he was speaking loud enough to be overheard.

"I'm glad you are so proficient," I tried to smile. "That will be less trouble for me."

"Troy," Ms. Silverhorn appeared at my side. "Don't you have a job to do?"

"Uh – yes Ms. Silverhorn," he gulped and fled.

"Don't let him bother you, Israel," she looked down at me. "Troy is a walking advertisement on why it is better for a girl to stay home with her vibrator than date every asshole that comes around."

"Okay – thank you?" I gazed back up.

"I have forwarded you series of past speeches I want you to go over today to get a feel for our style," she informed me. "I was simply going to call you but I saw Troy skulking around and decided to drive him off."

"I'll get right on this," I nodded.

"If you have any questions, see Ms. Freemont," Francesca told me. "She's agreed to help train you. I understand you two went to school together." I nodded because the alternative was to vomit.

I buried my head into my work, going over all the Mayor's speeches for the past year. I would have rather chewed off my own arm than approach Bethany Fremont about anything. Unfortunately, she had no trouble approaching me.

"Hey, Israel," she purred after sneaking up on me. I jumped out of my chair and backed as far away in my cubicle as possible.

"Some of the girls and are heading out for lunch," she smiled sweetly. "We want you to come along." I stared at her, trapped between fear and rage. "Oh come on now, I forgave you for dumping me after we made you such a popular man on campus."

"Popular?" I nearly choked. "Is that what you think?"

"Of course," she grinned wickedly. "You got to screw a whole sorority in one weekend. I know for a fact that plenty of girls went after you. Did you no longer have time for me?"

"I can't go out today," I groaned. "I have work to catch up on."

"Oh, come on," she teased. "You look like you need to unwind."

"No," I whispered after a moment to gather my courage. She reached for my arm casually but I flinched away. Bethany seemed confused and a bit offended.

"You are acting weird, Israel," she accused me. "I thought you would be more appreciative that I helped you get this job."

"I – I need to get back to work," I muttered. I pulled my chair around and resumed my work station with my back to her. It was another offense in an endless series of humilations and assaults on my ego. Had I earned this job on my own, or was this another round of luring me in and betraying my dreams of a better life? I found it impossible that Bethany would do me a favor out of the goodness of her heart – she didn't have one.

"We'll talk later," Bethany still sounded confused. She patted me on the shoulder then strode away. I didn't break down into trembling fits until she was out of sight.

Several times after lunch, Bethany came by to check on me. She wasn't alone, either – I believed that all my co-workers came by to touch base with me. At four, Francesca informed me she wanted to finish going over the old speeches and reminded me about the need to 'update' my clothing.

At five, the majority of my female co-workers left for where ever. Bethany was hanging around and I began to get worried because Bethany had acted without consequence for the law before. I wasn't sure why it worried me that Bethany was hanging around. I knew I had no desire to be alone with the woman who had betrayed me so badly. There was only one thing I could do.

I picked up the phone. "Hello, Detective Kristi," I said when she answered. "It is Israel Jensen."

"I recognize your voice," she told me. "What's up?"

"Well – you said you wanted to be my friend and I need a favor," I blathered.

"Sure – okay, calm down," she became more alert. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm at work at City Hall and – well – umm – could you come pick me up?" I pleaded. "I'm on the fifth floor – room 503." I was gambling that, like most police, Angel had her own car.

"Give me thirty minutes," she responded. Oh, thank God I prayed silently.

"I'm not going anywhere," I promised.

I sweated every one of the thirty minutes I waited to be picked up. Bethany remained at her station the entire time and I was beginning to feel paranoid by the time Angel arrived. She opened the door then knocked – cop style.

"Israel, I'm here," she called out. Bethany and I stood up simultaneously.

"Here," I sung out. I gathered my things and headed her way. Bethany intercepted me before I made it to the door.

"Israel, who is this?" she stopped me. She was clearly annoyed at Angel's unexpected intervention. Bethany positioned herself so that I would have to maneuver around her to exit the room.

"I'm Detective Angel Kristi," my pseudo-friend intervened. "I'm his ride home," Angel smiled sweetly.

"Oh, I didn't know Israel was attached," Bethany smiled back.

"Maybe there's a reason you don't know," Angel answered without answering.

"Now that Israel is working with us, he can only date the 'right' people," Bethany bit back.

"Thanks for the update – who are you anyway?" Angel questioned snidely.

"Bethany Fremont," Bethany replied with false sweetness. "Israel and I dated in college."

"Funny," Angel gave her own wicked grin, "he's never mentioned you in all the time I've known him." Angel didn't bring up the fact that she'd only met me 24 hours ago.

"I'm not attached," I jumped in. "We live in the same complex, that's all." Lying about an attachment was a criminal offense, right up there with a girl lying about having sex with a male when she hadn't.

"We are friends," Angel stated.

"Well, he's only in the city because I got him his job here," she hesitated. "With the Mayor."

"Good for you," Angel gave a patently false smile. "Israel, are you ready to go?"

"You bet," I exhaled with some relief. I slipped past Bethany and Angel and moved quickly to the elevator.

To Angel's credit, she kept quiet for the entire trip home. Only when we got to the parking garage did I realize I had forgotten a very important mission in my panic. I headed out instead of for the stairs to the apartments.

"Where are you going?" she inquired.

"Ugh – they are making me buy some new clothes for work," I responded.

"Pants not tight enough?" she teased. I sighed and lowered my head.

"Yeah," I groaned.

"Don't worry about it," she came to my side. "I have a buddy working Sex Crimes. That sort of harassment happens all the time."

"Technically they can't make you wear those kind of clothes. On the other hand I don't think there is an ADA in the city that would prosecute on it – especially not the Mayor's Chief of Staff," Angel informed me.

"How did you know it was the Chief of Staff?" I looked over to her.

"Ha," Angel laughed. "That woman is a notorious man-eater. She both uses them personally and uses them to advance her agendas."

"Oh, God," I groaned.

"Israel, you do understand that some men use women's sexual appetites to advance their own careers," she countered. "This doesn't have to be one-sided."

"Okay," I said softly.

"Cheer up," Angel hesitated to touch me. "At least you are good-looking. You have options that ugly guys don't have. Women care about what happens to you."

"Maybe if I was ugly they would leave me alone," I pointed out.

"You have a dick," she joked. "Women will never leave you alone." That didn't make me feel better – quite the opposite. "I'll take you downtown," she offered. As we pulled back out onto the street – all the good men's clothing boutiques were in the city center – Angel cleared her throat.

"So are you going to tell me what's going on here?" she requested.

"I was under the impression you had volunteered to go clothes shopping with me," I answered.

"Why did you have me pick you up at work? Last night you couldn't wait to get me out of your apartment," she pointed out.

"I had a panic attack," I lied.

"Bullshit, Israel," Angel murmured. "If you don't want to tell me, don't tell me. Don't lie to me, though. Understood?"

"Understood," I looked down at my lap.

"Let's start again: why did you call me?" she repeated. While she had given me the option of saying nothing, I had the feeling I would need Angel on my side again before too long.

"That girl in college I told you about last night – the one I trusted. You met her when you picked me up today," I explained.

"Shit," Angel muttered.

"Yeah," I sighed. "She thinks she helped me get my job here. That's just fucked up."

"She thinks she did me a big favor in college too. She thinks I dumped her because I had become so popular – but she's willing to give me a second chance," I shuddered.

"I'm not sure what I can do for you," she spared me a sympathetic look. "The Mayor's Office is a bit above my pay grade."

"I've already asked too much of you," I smiled sadly. "I'll take it from here on out. She ambushed me today, but I'll be ready for her tomorrow."

"There you go," Angel encouraged me. "Keep fighting."

"That's right," I joked. "Who do I go to about sexual harassment?"

"The Internal Review office of the Civilian Affairs Agency – You know that would be career suicide," she advised me. I had been in a similar situation before. I know that. "You would have nothing to back you up and the Mayor's Office doesn't want the scandal that such a complaint would cause. They would bury it."

"Jeesh, and they wonder why the male suicide rate is so high," I muttered.

"Don't go down that road, Israel," Angel cautioned me. If she really thought I would try to kill myself, she would have to turn me in. A woman throwing herself off a building was fifteen seconds on the local news. A man trying to end his earthly suffering was a Crime Against Humanity and resulted in a permanent suspension of his civil rights.

The conversation sort of petered out after that. Thankfully the clothing store was mostly frequented by my fellow males and the occasional married couple. My salesman was an actual man and after I told him where I worked he knew exactly what to do. He selected pants that were tight, real tight, and 'I'm afraid to bend over in these things'. I bought five and put them on my credit card because I certainly couldn't afford them.

"You are in Public Relations," Angel tried to put the best face on things. "You have to expect things like this from time to time."

"Oh, when you made detective did they have you drop your pants and finger-fuck you?" I asked in a totally deadpan tone.

"Being bitter isn't going to help," she advised.

"Bitter is about all I have left," I confided. "I'm in PR because I'm a writer, or so I thought. I'm a good writer, too. Why is it no one seems to give a crap about that?"

"Give it time," she patted my knee. "You'll prove yourself to them. You only have to hang in there until they figure that out."

"If you say so," I deflected any of my true emotions on the subject. "When I was little, I wanted to be a cop."

"Men can't be cops," Angel smiled at me. "It is too dangerous. It's the same reason you can't be a fireman or in the military. We can't afford to risk you guys. If in vitro still worked, things might be different. "It's a shame there hasn't been a successful artificial birth in twenty years."

"Yay – lucky me. Any profession that allows me to defend myself I'm barred from," I noted sarcastically.

"You have a baseball bat," Angel pointed out.

"Are you going to take that away from me?" I looked her over.

"No, you are allowed athletic equipment," she tried to lighten the mood. It didn't do too much for me because I realized I had mandated gym time coming up. The government wanted us men to be fit and trim. No bad foods, plenty of exercise and nothing toxic to our systems. It was all for our own good, of course.

After dropping me back at the complex, Angel returned to work to finish her 3pm to 11pm shift at the Metro North Station. First, I stalked about my apartment to make sure no one had broken in or was sticking around. Yes, I know that's paranoid. I checked my system notices and discovered I had the 8-9 slot at the gym. I hadn't missed it but I didn't have too much time.

I couldn't afford to pay the small fine I would have been assessed for missing it, things were so tight. I had exhausted my funds finishing up my college education free of sexual degradation. I believed that I could get by on exceptional grades alone. I was blessed in that my hour was prime TV time and there was only one woman in the place. She did keep looking my way but didn't come over, for which I was grateful. My day seemed to be ending quietly until the doorbell rang at 12:30, again.

This time I answered it, baseball bat in hand. It was Angel. I reluctantly let her in.

"Are you okay?" she asked as she stepped in.

"I," I wanted to tell her I had been asleep but that was pointless and a bit rude. Instead I extended a hand toward her. She looked at it, smiled slightly then shook it.

"Thank you for today," I told her.

"You are welcome, Israel," she grinned. "I'm glad you called."

"Why is that?" I wondered.

"You were in a jam and you stepped outside your shell to ask for help," Angel smirked. "I call that progress."

"I thought it would have been a better indicator of how freaked out I was," I countered.

"I'm a professional," she sighed. "I could tell you were in distress – not merely making an excuse to spend time with me."

"On that note, you can go now Detective Angel Kristi," I frowned. I wasn't pissed and she knew it. She knew I was tired too.

The next morning a different girl sat down with me on the subway. She chatted away despite my obvious attempts to avoid conversation. Frustrated, I stood up, looked around and found Debra. I wedged myself through my fellow commuters, with the obligatory groping, until I was standing at her side. She smiled when she saw I was stopping by her.