I pin you against the wall, my hands all over you, your fitted shirt ragged, untucked, two buttons undone. Ping. Your nails scrape down my chest, my t...e undone. For a second I think of hitting the stop button, but I can’t risk that. It won’t be long before we’re in the room, but I don’t want this to stop either. Ping. I pin your wrists to the wall above your head. Your back arches, breasts thrust out into my face, straining against the buttons of your shirt. I stop and look into your eyes, move. In the hallway just before the grow room we had laid out some air mattresses, blankets and a pair of LED lanterns for light. They wanted to see the coming light show, obviously, but no one was too sure just how much microwave radiation anyone upstairs, and out in the open and exposed would get hit by. The guys had our radiation shielding suits and were game for an evening of drinking beer on the deck to wait for the Greatest Show on Earth to begin, the near extinction of the human race.. More

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