Ch 2 Different kinds of virginity

Arta squinted down the sights of the plastic gun barrel, patiently scanning the white walls of the building she could see ahead. The pipboy on her wrist registered three possible targets. Eventually her persistence was rewarded with the emergence of a small, sallow faced man in a dirty jumpsuit. Placing the rifle dot over his head, she noted VATS estimate of a 75% chance to hit this body part. Good enough. She pumped two rounds, and grunted with satisfaction as the second took the man's head clean off. On the head up display, a message read, 'Another stealth kill for Uncle Sam."

Arta chuckled. "Hah! I should've got him with the first shot; I love it when the animation shows their heads flying through the air and rolling away! Who's Uncle Sam, by the way?"

Jonas hit a key to pause the simulation, and shook his head. "So young and so bloodthirsty!" In a more serious tone, he continued, "Don't try to lead the target, VATS will compensate. As for Uncle Sam, look him up on your pipboy, young lady; I'm not here to do your basic research for you."

Arta flipped up the targeting monocle. Familiar bland, grey Vault walls replaced the desert scenery; the sterile environment of the lab with its faint chemical smell, metallic tables and benches scattered with a jumble of electronic parts, specimens and sample bottles

She tried forming her lips into a pout; felt she needed a little more practice to look sexy rather than silly. "It's not like it's real blood. And the way you explain things isn't quite so ditch-water dull as that old pipboy."

"Thank you for that vote of confidence. Maybe now you'll pay more attention to me than you usually do. Someday it might be real blood that you're spilling, which is why we're doing this. I'm not risking the Overseer's wrath just to provide you with entertainment. This is the same system Vault Security uses to train. Can't waste our valuable ammunition now, can we?"

Arta sighed. "I bet they get to use real guns sometimes, not stupid air pistols."

Jonas wagged a finger. "Now don't be dissing your dad's birthday present! He was that proud when you first took a shot with it."

"Well … poopy!"

"I'm shocked, shocked at such language from you, young lady!" But Jonas was having a hard time preventing himself from grinning broadly. He ran his fingers through the short, tight curls covering his scalp, and considered. "You probably don't deserve it but I happen to have the very thing." He began to rummage through a chest on the lab workbench. Arta left the game, and came forward to look eagerly over his shoulder. Jonas eventually pulled out a heavy service revolver. He rotated the chambers, looking into each until he was satisfied they were all empty.

Arta said disappointedly, "What, I don't get to fire it? Just point and say 'bang'?"

"You've not earned the right yet."

"Aw, c'mon!" Arta tried doing the pout again with better success. "Hey, I promise I'll be good, real, real good, for the next ... oh ... five years!"

"I give into you far too often. OK, I guess its pretty soundproof in here, and there's a simulacrum over there for you to aim at. But you only get one chance." Jonas searched in the case again, and took out a single bullet, which he slotted into the chamber. Carefully he handed the gun to Arta. "So … let's see how well you've learned your weapons drill."

A little uncertainly, Arta snapped the chamber shut and cocked the pistol. Shutting one eye, she raised it to point at the dummy. Jonas tutted. He pointed at the side of the weapon.

"Don't forget to take the safety off. And hold it in both hands. No, not like that …" He sidled behind Arta, bringing his arms around her to take hold of her hands with his own, adjusting her grip. "There … now try again."

Arta was acutely aware of Jonas' nearness, of his large, warm hands, his heavy, masculine scent. Quivering with excitement, she brought both arms up to point the gun directly at the target.

"That's right … now it'll kick some. Squeeze the trigger slowly."

In the silence of the lab, the gun's report seemed deafening. Arta felt a surge of pleasure run through her as she felt the recoil. The plastic dummy bucked, a hole through its torso.

"Great shot!" Jonas remained in the same position, his arms still steadying her. His voice a tone lower, he asked, "So how was that for you?"

Arta turned to look into his eyes. His face was very close. Aware that she might be crossing a line doing so, she smiled and said, "Better than sex!"

"Oh, really? I didn't realise I was in the presence of someone so experienced." But he was smiling back at her, and she felt her heart thumping.

"I guess … everyone can learn a little more sometimes." She wet her dry lips.

"Undoubtedly." His voice was now just above a whisper. "It's merely a matter of having the right … teacher." Arta felt his hand slide back along her arm, the fingers brushing her shoulder, then they slipped lower, finally coming to rest around the area of her right breast. Through the light material of her jumpsuit, she could feel his thumb circling and pressing against her nipple, causing it to harden slightly.

Absorbing the unfamiliar, exciting sensations, Arta's thoughts raced, the part of her mind she called her 'romantic self' (or less flatteringly, her 'inner slut') surging to preeminence. Under its influence, she was reflecting that Jonas was handsome and intelligent, good humoured (mostly), and certainly not a dickhead like the majority of the boys of her own age. He was also likely to be virile and sexually experienced. Pretty much everything a lover should be, her amorous muse told her.

And yet … there was also the question of Pride. She was being seduced by someone over ten years her senior, and her father's colleague to boot. Ewww … it's almost like incest, the new inner voice was saying. Kick his balls, the cheeky bastard!

Then there was one other Arta that wanted her say, restraining the 'Kick-arse' tendency trying to surface. A calm, calculating voice urging, don't make it too easy for him, but don't put him off. He's far too useful for us to upset. But if you go giving the whole store away, he won't respect you, and he may even stop helping.

All these thoughts passed through her head in a few heartbeats and the time it had taken her nipple to come to full erection. But she put her own right hand over Jonas's, moving it firmly away from her breast.

In a demure voice which had everything of 'Smart' Arta about it, she said, "My father will kill you if he finds out."

She knew she'd said the right thing, because Jonas jerked back as if he'd just received a 10,000-volt charge. He glared at her, breathing hard. Trying to keep his speech tightly controlled, he rasped, "Why does he have to find out, for jees' sake?"

Arta could see that Jonas attempt to collect himself was a pretty poor one. That's right, she thought, don't let anything endanger your relationship with good ole' James. Whatever you two are conspiring about, it's a lot more important than groping a sixteen year old.

Sweetly she said, "Well, you know how things get around here, and in any case, me and Dad, we're real close. I'd hate not to be able to share something this important with him."

"Oh, is that so?" Jonas was clearly far from convinced, but unwilling to take the risk she might be serious. "You just wouldn't be able to resist spilling the beans yourself then?"

Arta smiled, knowing she had the upper hand. "Well, I suppose I could tell him afterwards; then beg him to forgive you for deflowering me. Perhaps he might come round eventually …"

"Don't try to be a clever little bitch!" Jonas evidently knew when he was beaten. "Look keep your virginity, if that's what you want. Only … don't say anything about this to him, OK? This beautiful father-daughter thing you've got going can survive that, can't it?"

"I guess I'm going to have to whiz that thought around in my clever little head, and see what comes out." Arta couldn't help revelling in her triumph. Jonas was obviously mad at her, but he'd see sense once his dick had stopped throbbing. And if he didn't, well she had him pretty much over a barrel now …

"Yeah, well you do that. Now if you don't mind, I've got plenty of things to get on with. Like, you know, scientific research, the thing your dad employs me for?"

"Wait a moment, you said you were going to show me those hacked files of the pre-war DC layout!"

Jonas clapped his hand to his head, "You know, that's the strangest thing. The files disappeared shortly after I downloaded them. Must have been some sort of self-deleting protective virus. Sorry about that."

Arta glared at him. She hadn't anticipated quite this combination of disgruntlement with cunning evasion. He was probably lying to piss her off, but there was no way she could find out right now. Well screw him! He thought he was smart, but she was smarter. Meanwhile she could at least look forward to telling Amata all the juicy gossip.

"He did what? Oh, my god Arta, did he actually …"

"Yes, he did!" Arta grinned with satisfaction at the shock in Amata's voice. "He put his hand right here … and then he …"

"What, you mean, like this?" Amata made a quick grab for Arta's breast from in front, making her giggle automatically.

"No … nothing so clumsy, silly. Look, stand in front of the mirror, and I'll show you."

With a little pout of her own, Amata complied. Arta sidled up behind her, adopting a similar position to the one she remembered Jonas taking, with the significant difference that she first slipped her left arm around Amata's slim waist.

"See, it was just like this." She slid her hand forward.

Oh please, please!

"And then he kinda moved his fingers like this."

Amata's expression remained composed, as she regarded both of their reflections in the sleeping cell mirror. But she said:

"Wow, that feels sexy! So what did you do then?"

Reluctantly lowering her hand, Arta briefly recounted the conversation that had followed.

"You clever minx! That must've left him in a state of immense frustration. Soon he'll be putty in your hands."

Arta said, hesitantly, "Well, to be honest, I'm not even sure if I …"

"Oh, come on! He's really quite good-looking, and even charming. I told you it was only a matter of time before you found someone suitable. Even if he's a little old for you."

"I suppose." Arta looked at her reflection critically. "I was beginning to think there was something wrong with me. I mean, like my appearance, it's a little peculiar don't you think?"

Don't agree with me, say something nice!

Amata turned, taking hold of Arta's chin and moving it to examine her in profile. "Well, maybe just a bit unusual."


"It's only that your eyes are a trifle larger than might be expected, and they're quite wide apart. And your skin's naturally pale, though you could always use the sun-bed like I do. Then you insist on having that rather boyish hair style." She ran her fingers gently through Arta's collar length chocolate coloured locks, causing her to shiver thrillingly, despite her disappointment.

"Gee, thanks! Now I feel like 101's number one prize freak!"

Amata laughed, and good-humouredly pinched and shook Arta's cheek. "No, I didn't mean to make it sound like that!" Cocking her head to one side, she continued, "That waif like look you have is part of your attraction. Those grey-blue, soulful eyes … there's an intensity about them. And those bee-stung lips, everyone knows that's sexy. And you've got a perfectly cute nose too, I love the way its straight almost all the way, then turns up just a little at the end. The things about your face that are different, they make you distinct and give you your own kind of beauty. "

As they both looked directly into one another's eyes, Arta said haltingly, "So you're saying that I'm beautiful?"

Say it, please!

Amata reached out to stroke Arta's face reflectively. Softly she said, "Yes. Yes, I am."

Thank you, thank you!

Desperate not to lose the moment, Arta said quickly, "I think … I think you're beautiful too."

And she is. Her dark hair so silky, tied back so you can see more of that perfectly proportioned face, delicate, with a high forehead, her skin a light golden colour. Her eyes so thoughtful, passionate, that I never tire of gazing into. An exquisite nose and cherubic lips which I want to kiss. I've loved her, I've wanted her, for such a long time. Could this be the moment when we …

Amata nodded, almost as if Arta had made some passing remark about the internal climate regulation. Absently she said, "You don't mind me touching you like this, do you?"

"N, no, not at all!"

"I'm glad. I liked it when you touched me before … where you touched me. I liked it a lot."

And then suddenly their faces were close, their noses touching lightly, their lips seeking for one another. And they were kissing, ardently, deeply.

After a while they paused, smiling at each other a little shyly, before resuming with even greater intensity, their caresses somewhat clumsy at first, restricted by their clothing, but increasingly passionate. While continuing to kiss Arta, Amata began to unzip her jumpsuit, revealing an elegant white, sheer bra, and silky lace panties.

Wow, her underwear is real quality! It must be based on a pre-war design. So that's what the Overseer's daughter gets to wear. Mine looks pretty dowdy by comparison.

Amata had by now completely discarded her Vault suit. She gave Arta a sultry look that obviously challenged her to do the same.

She looks absolutely amazing! Her arms, legs and waist are so slender and graceful. I wonder are her breasts larger than mine? Or does her bra make them look bigger?

Feeling a trifle nervous, Arta followed suit, trying not to rush too much. She felt reassured at least that her body was well toned from regular sessions in the Vault gym, and her simpler but more practical underclothes sat well with her athletic appearance. Amata's reaction seemed to be one of approval, as she reached out to stroke Arta's arm and shoulder, feeling the hard muscles.

"You're so strong." Leaning back in a seductive pose, she crooked a finger invitingly. "C'mon, touch me."

This time their coming together had more softness and sensuality, with the freedom to explore each other, to brush bare skin with bare skin, to slide fingers around breasts now barely concealed, to tease the most intimate areas of their bodies. Their breaths were heavy and hot matching the urgency of their desire, the need to touch and be touched. In the flurry of passion, bra straps slipped from shoulders.

Who cares whose breasts are bigger, hers are so warm, so soft and … mmm … taste so good! Ohhh, I feel like I'm going to come already!

Perhaps sensing her unspoken need, Amata moved so that she was a little behind Arta, pressing her body close, then stretched downwards to slide her fingers inside her friend's panties, probing for the warmth and wetness she knew she would find.

Oh god and Jesus Christ! Ohgodohgodohgodohgod! Arta was hardly aware of whether she was forming the words or just moaning incoherently. Gasping and with beads of perspiration running down her face, she was aware that Amata was watching her with a rather smug expression.

"Was that good for you?" Easing her briefs down over her smooth buttocks, she added in a purring tone, "My turn now."

Arta was riding a wave of exhilaration. She felt if she became any happier, she would rise through the air and ascend to the Seventh Heaven (Beatrice, the dreamy Vault poet had once told her about it, though her verses more often described the mundane reality which surrounded them). No, even that wasn't enough to describe this sensation of pure joy. Could there be any feeling more sublime than finally holding in your arms the lover you had yearned for? If there was, then she wanted it corked up and bottled so she could enjoy it forever.

After another bout of fevered lovemaking came a gentle lull. Arta stroked Amata's hair, her cheeks, kissed her neck, nibbling the lobe of her ear, whispering the words she had longed to say.

"I love you."

Almost imperceptibly, she felt Amata's body tighten. Unable to believe her own senses, she said again, more clearly.

"I love you."

Amata made no reply. She turned very slightly away from Arta, as if contemplating her words.

A little chill of fear crept into Arta's heart. Trying to shake it off, she tried to gently turn Amata's face back towards her own, kiss her again.

She asked, "Aren't you going to say anything?"

Amata made no resistance, but as she met Arta's eyes, her gaze was cool and level. In a tone to match, she said, "What do you want me to say?"

"I … I … thought …"

"What did you think? Because I'm your friend, and I'm prepared to have sex with you, you assume that that equals love, somehow?"

"N - no. I just … I just thought you cared about me, so …"

"And I do. But this … is unexpected. I mean, god, Arta, I had no idea you'd been feeling like this." Amata rose to a sitting position. "Love … love is … well love is about as significant as it gets, especially in this metal box we're trapped in. And I'm not sure that I'm ready for it. I … we … we're only sixteen you know. I mean, how can you be sure that …"

"I know … I'm sure, I've always been sure, that its you that I want. Don't … don't you feel the same?"

"I … I don't know. I haven't really thought about it."

Arta suddenly sensed her world collapsing. "You haven't thought? All this time we've been making love, and you haven't thought?"

"That was … different. It was comfortable … pleasurable. This … this is intense."

"Having sex with me wasn't intense?"

"Alright … wrong choice of words. But this … thing you've put upon me … I don't know if I can handle it."

"I don't want to put anything on you. I want you to feel as I do." Arta gave Amata a despairing look. "But I can see that you don't."

A hint of irritation in her voice, Amata said, "Look, don't take it so hard. Its only sex you know. So everyone makes it out to be such a big thing, when really …"

"How the hell can you tell? You've never done it before either!"

Amata turned her eyes downwards. "Well, that's not actually true, as it happens."

"What the … you're joking, aren't you? How come you never told me?"

"You never asked. In any case, is it really your business who I've slept with?"

"It is now. Who? Tell me who the fuck it was."

"Just calm down, won't you? If you must know, it was Paul Hannon."

"You have gotta be kidding me! You slept with one of those Tunnel Snake arse-holes? Have you absolutely no shame?"

"I knew that would be your reaction, which is one reason I didn't say anything. OK, he's a bit of a jerk, like all of them. But he used to be more sensible before they dragooned him into their pathetic gang. Even you have to admit that. He was the only one who apologised for pissing about during your birthday party, remember?"

"My tenth? That was six years ago, Amata. We've all changed a lot since then."

"Maybe. Still there wasn't exactly a massive field of suitable candidates." Amata shot Arta a challenging look. "I figured if nothing else, he ought to be … well-endowed."

"Oh, ewww!"

"And he was … very." Something like a smirk passed briefly across Amata's face. "I'm not saying it was absolutely amazing straight away. Actually it hurt at first. In the end, though, it was … a real high." With emphasis, "And that's all it was." Arta looked stunned, and Amata continued, "Naturally I told him if he ever boasted about it to anyone he'd end up pulling sewage duty for the rest of his days. A little word in daddy's ear …"

Yeah, you tell me often enough to forget who your father is. As if I could.

Bitterly Arta retorted, "Does that same warning apply to me?"

"Don't be silly! We're supposed to be friends. At least we were until you began this … this foolishness."

Arta struggled to speak past the lump in her throat. "You've made it quite clear what you think about it, and what you think about me." She groped blindly for her clothing. "I have to go."

"Look … Arta … I'm sorry …its …"

Arta couldn't manage any further reply. Conflicting emotions had robbed her of the power of speech. Anger at herself for naivety. How could she have so misread Amata's feelings? Humiliated rage that someone she had considered a friend could use her in this way. But overwhelming all was sorrow and heartbreak. None of the inner voices could offer solace for the pain she was feeling. Moving with frantic haste, she pulled on her pants, and clipped on her bra, shrugging herself into her jumpsuit, before zipping it up.

A buzz sounded. Over the room intercom, a thin, masculine voice asked impatiently, "Amata, what are you doing in there?"

It was the Overseer.

*Well, what else can I say other than, this is uncharted territory for me, so please review!*