The sound of footsteps outside clomping up the front steps leading to the door of the house made them rush to get dressed. By the time Micah's mom had peered into the bedroom, the pair of them were studiously looking over a school textbook, notes artfully arranged on the desk. The lingering taste of his semen in her mouth, Emilie had thanked Micah's parents for the overnight stay. They had giggled about it after his parents had gone to bed.

That one cool September Monday. The Monday where Micah's watch flashed red at noon. Every pair of eyes had shifted towards his seat, peripheral vision trained by what had now been a year of weekly selections. Emilie watched as Micah stiffly stood up from the desk, announcing his selection. He made his way to the front of the classroom, mechanically removed his uniform, each article of clothing neatly folded and placed into the waiting collection bin. His voice cracked as he thanked the class. She could see the perspiration on his skin and the tremor in his hands as he turned and left. It was the last time she saw the only boy she had ever liked.

Her love life after Micah was one long empty stretch, despite Tamara's long distance wingmanning. Sexually, she quelled her urges with the help of a vibrator wand. That Micah-shaped emptiness sat in her heart, weighed down like a lead blanket. Her lottery selection might not be so bad, she thought. Perhaps in whatever afterlife exists, Micah would be waiting. Not that a 19 year old like her had much in common with a middle schoo-.

A shadow cast itself over her, interrupting her reverie.

"Can I have sex with you?"

A schoolboy looked down at her. His school uniform was custom tailored. Her eyes focused on the little coat of arms on his blazer. Saint Augustine Private Secondary. A Catholic school, one of the few that made it through the throes of upheaval from a century ago. She looked at his face. His face looked wealthy. Sharp grey eyes beamed with self assurance and poise. An angular nose, thin lips set firm. She turned her head. Two other boys stood close by. They looked like his friends, had probably been the ones egging him on to annoy her.

He stood there, legs set apart, hands in his trouser pockets. He cut a very confident figue.

"Okay".

His grin faltered.

Slowly, Emilie straightened out and got up. She brushed the dirt and scraps of grass trimmings and leaves off her butt and thighs. He looked surprised, as did his friends.

"Animals cant refuse"
Emilie said, matter of factly.

"I know that".

She grabbed his hand. He yelped in surprise. In the background, above the whispering wind shaking the trees, Emilie could hear the two lackeys gasp. Meatgirls rarely took the initiative.

"Whats your name, little guy?" Emilie asked.

He snorted.

"Why does it matter to a meatgirl?"

Emilie leaned against him, pressed her breasts against his chest. Her leg rubbed against his. She felt his rapidly hardening dick pull against the tailored cut of his school trousers.

"I like to know things". She shifted her leg sideways, brushing her inner thigh against his crotch.

His eyes shifted downward. His prior cockiness had disappeared.
"....Raymond, but people just say Ray".

Emilie grabbed his belt buckle and undid the clasp. Raymond's trousers dropped down to his kneeds. His erect penis tented his underwear.

"What grade are you in?"

His boxers were pulled down.

"Grade 8".

Emilie got to her knees and examined Ray's penis. It was cut, about 4 inches in length at full mast. A slight tuft of pubes at the base. She took his dick in her hand and stroked it. It was warm, hard, a bead of precum oozing at the tip. She could feel blood pumping through it, rythm in pace with his young, strong heart.

"What do you think about the lottery?"

Emilie sat down and spread her legs. She grabbed Ray's thin waist, guided him as he clumsily inserted into her.

"...my sister".

Ray whispered. His hands grasped her wrists. He began to pump, muscles flexing.

"My older sister was taken yesterday".
His face flushed. In between thrusts, he continued. The words pushed out breathlessly.
"She kinda looked like you. She was from a woman my dad met on a business trip overseas. Her country isnt part of The System. I think she wished her mom had kept her back then."
Ray's face screwed up, his grasp on Emilies wrists tightening as he ejaculated inside her. Emily gasped, exhaled, caught in the wave of pleasure.

"She was crying when we dropped her off at the processing center."
The boy laid his head against her chest.

"She was kinda like my mom". His voice was a whisper again.

Emilie laid there on the dry grass. Cooling semen oozed out of her pussy. Her hand reached up, and she tousled Ray's crewcut.

There were tears rolling down his cheeks.