He must escape or die.
. . . Almost instantly the shrill sound of a whistle broke to his right and a street guard stepped from a doorway, struggling to free her rifle from her garments.
"Male Pig!" she screamed. "Halt!"
Welcome to the world of The Feminists, a pulp novel published in 1971. It's the story of cubicle drone Keith Montalvo, who has been caught consensually slipping the pink torpedo to a female co-worker. Unfortunately, it's 1992 and the Big-Sisterish "Committee" has outlawed all unauthorized heterosex, and his crime is punishable by death. Peek below for the cover in its full, unexpurgated glory.
Keith flees underground, literally and figuratively, where he meets Angela, a boot-wearing resistance fighter hottie. Luckily for Keith, while women on the outside reject all males, Angela and other female members of the Subterraneans resistance movement are "attached to the men with arm-clinging closeness." Soon he and Angela are working (arm-in-arm, of course) to assassinate the President, and reclaim gender supremacy for men.
The Feminists had about as much to do with the women's movement as Cheez Whiz does with a sharp Wisconsin cheddar but it probably simultaneously terrified and titillated readers threatened by the very thought of those uppity, "bra-burning" libbers. At least one person was thrilled by the vision it presented—don't miss the editorial comment scrawled on the front cover!