The Shadow Cup- pt. 1

“Where are we going?”

“I told you, lesbian nudist colony.”

I started laughing.

“Seriously, what better way to spend a…” Knique looked at me for an answer.

“Thursday.”

“Right. What better way to spend a Thursday?”

He smiled, having made his point. I had nothing to say in return. He was sober today, an unusual feat that left him strangely sensible. So sensible, that he’d planned our day out to the last minute.

As much as I wanted to be disgusted at the thought of spying on a bunch of unsuspecting lesbians, I couldn’t help but find myself curious. Of course I’d heard of The Willows before, “Pussy Willows” as Knique had often dubbed it. The mere existence of the colony was an old joke between us. A lesbian nudist colony? Are you serious? That’s like asking for creeps. We’d driven by a thousand times, always kidding about stopping in for a visit. But today it seemed like we actually might. I doubted Knique had the balls.

“I gotta piss,” I declared.

Knique shook his head. “I’m not pulling over, you’ll miss your appointment.”

“My what?”

“For the tour.”

Oh Christ, I panicked inwardly. It was one thing to be peeping through the cracks in the fence that surrounded the colony, but to march in and demand a tour? This could get ugly. My mind soared at the thought of angry feminist villagers, storming towards us with torches. And cannons. Maybe picket signs. The horrible possibilities left a thick knot in my gut.

Nonetheless, the highway flew under the old minivan with increasing vigor. Knique smacked the radio knob without taking his eyes off the road. The car was flooded with a fast paced ska beat that made him drive even fast. The speedometer held at about eighty five. I took a second to look my companion over. He was a sight, a tough looking kid in a black leather jacket, studded at every interval with half inch silver spikes. His greasy blonde hair was pretty long and stuck up like he’d just rolled out of bed. All of this, driving an eleven year old beige minivan with a broken back window that flew open whenever we exceeded ten miles per hour.

The car had been a pity gift from his cousin, Becca. There was still some vague evidence of Becca’s ownership, a pink butterfly antennae topper and a once fuzzy leopard print floor mat in front of each bucket seat. But both artifacts were on their last legs. The foam butterfly was cracked and faded, a hunk missing from the left wing. The mats were crushed down by two years of being trampled by the heavy boots that Knique and I usually wore.

About fifteen minutes later, we pulled into a gravel driveway by the beach. I was mildly disappointed; up close, The Willows looked just like any other gated community. A big woman in a security uniform stepped out of a little booth next to the gate.

Knique rolled down the window. He scratched his scalp with a free hand.

“We’ve got an appointment.”

The woman looked a little surprised but reached for her clipboard. She scanned the list.

“I’m sorry sir, there’s no Nick on this list.”

“I just called yesterday, the lady said we had an appointment. Try under Halapoff.”

“Kineek?”

“Yeah. Take the ‘kn’ from ‘know’ and the ‘que’ from ‘unique.’ It sounds like Nick.”

“Whatever you say.” The woman stepped back into her booth and hit a button. With a low creak the black iron gate slid back. The guard waved us through. Knique rolled up his window and I started laughing.

“I can’t believe she let us in!” I said.

“What’s to believe? I made an appointment.”

“Oh god.”

We parked in front of a squat building with a red tile roof. Pieces of gravel wedged between the grooves of my boot soles. We soon found ourselves reclining on a wide pleather sofa, beige and thickly padded. A smooth faced woman in a light green blouse and black pencil skirt strolled out to greet us, her sharp heels clicking against the smooth floor. She wore a pretty modest outfit for a nudist. Then again, who was I to assume she was a nudist? She probably just worked in the office. She probably wasn’t even a lesbian.

She smiled at me, then Knique, then my breasts. Okay, maybe she was a lesbian. I crossed my legs, letting my rolled jeans slide back to reveal a slice of skin above my boots. Hairy; I hate shaving. She didn’t seem to notice. She was talking casually to Knique, asking how we knew each other.

“I’m her brother,” he lied calmly. “Just want to make sure my sister’s gonna be living in a good place.” He smiled at me and turned back to the lady, I think her name was Janet. He whispered now. “She’s not known for her… good judgment.”

“Well no need to worry, sir. Our facilities are clean and respectable, and we have lots of optional activities for the residents. We have communal washers and dryers and each apartment is equipped with some basic appliances.” She pulled a little diagram out of her desk and started showing Knique the available floor plans. He pretended to look interested.

But there was only so long he could feign fascination. He turned to me, eyes wide, urging me to say something. Fine, have it your way, I thought.

“I guess what I was wondering,” I gulped, “is if we could take a tour of the actual community, courtyards or whatever. Just to get a feel of it I guess.”

Janet tossed us an indecipherable smile. “I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

I saw Knique tense in his seat. He was obviously distressed that his plan was failing. The lady continued.

“I know it would help but it’s really a matter of privacy for our women. It’s part of the reason they choose to live here.”

I nodded understandingly. Knique reacted slightly differently.

“I thought they lived here ‘cause they’re man-hating exhibitionists.”

Janet’s right eye twitched.