Rotter World by Scott R. Baker Page B

around, only to have a strong hand grasp his outstretched arm by the elbow. A leg swung out and clipped him behind the knees, bending him over backwards. He tumbled to the floor, his fall broken only by the hand clutching his left arm. As he lay sprawled out, his attacker dropped onto his waist, while a pair of strong hands pinned his shoulders to the floor.
    “Damn it. Can’t you just say hello like everyone else?” asked O’Bannon.
    “It’s more fun this way.”
    One of the hands lifted off his shoulder and reached to the left, flicking on a kerosene lamp by the foot of the cot. As its soft yellow glow lit the interior, O’Bannon looked up into the opal-colored eyes of Tatyana. Her raven-black hair cascaded over her shoulders and across her chest and back, with several loose strands hanging down in front of her face. The dim light only served to accentuate her natural beauty, from her stunningly gorgeous eyes to the seductive smile. She wore nothing but a sheer white nightgown that nicely complemented her pert breasts and cleavage. Robson had once said that Tatyana’s elegance reminded him of one of the Sirens from Homer. O’Bannon understood why. He surmised that Tatyana had used her beauty to seduce many a man to his death in the days before the outbreak.
    “Not tonight.” O’Bannon tried to sit up, but Tatyana pressed his shoulders back against the metal floor. She slid her pelvis down onto his crotch and began slowly gyrating against him.
    “What’s the matter?” she cooed. “Not up to it?”
    Despite his best efforts, O’Bannon felt himself becoming aroused. “We had a rough night.”
    “Just the way I like it.”
    When in one of these moods, Tatyana was insatiable. Rolling to one side, O’Bannon tossed Tatyana onto the floor beside him and quickly jumped to his feet. “Damn it, I said not tonight.”
    Tatyana crawled over and knelt before him. She reached up with her right hand, her fingernails stretching into two-inch-long talons, and gently ran the talon of her forefinger along the bulge in his trousers. “You’re saying no, but this is saying yes.”
    O’Bannon tried to back away. Tatyana grabbed him by the belt and held him in place. With her other hand, she pulled down his zipper. His erection popped out of his pants. Tatyana began stroking him with long, slow movements. Just as his balls began to tighten and churn, Tatyana pushed herself away.
    “What’s your problem?” he demanded.
    “No problem.” Tatyana smiled and licked her lips. Rolling over, she got onto her hands and knees, her ass raised toward him. She glanced over her shoulder, admiring him through matted strands of hair. “You know how I like it.”
    O’Bannon stepped over, dropped his trousers down around his knees, and yanked the nightgown up over her thighs.
     
    * * *
     
    He stripped out of the rest of his clothes, flinging them into the corner. Tatyana rested on the floor at his feet, exhausted after whoring herself for the last fifteen minutes. A year ago he might have been turned on by a woman who reacted to him like she did. Now he looked down on Tatyana with contempt. She mistook their fucking for passion or lust. For him, she was merely a convenient way of venting his anger and hatred for how his world had gone to shit. For the bloodsuckers who had brought this on them. For that asshole Paul, who wanted to make nice with them. For having to go out and face the rotters night after night while more than half the camp sat around on their fat asses. For losing what few friends he had left. For being impotent to do anything in a world overrun with the living dead. Each time O’Bannon violated her, he vented a little more anger and hatred, but far from enough to purge his soul.
    As he walked over to his cot, Tatyana rolled over and looked up at him adoringly. “You want me to join you?”
    “I’m exhausted.” He did not care how unfeeling he sounded.
    “I understand.” Tatyana did not do a good job of hiding