All's Not Fair

LIFE IS FOR LIVING - - - by BLS

The night that I went to that fraternity party I was determined to live life to the fullest. . . .I wanted to experience it all and I was fully prepared, or at least I thought so, to give myself to a man that night. The booze, the pot, and the pills were also new and I knew that they'd be there as I dressed for the party that evening. What I didn't know was the devastating effect the decisions I made that afternoon would change life forever.

At the party I was determined to be the one they'd remember. . .the bombshell! Little did I know how I would be. . . . drinking hard liquor was new to me and I engaged in it with the gusto reserved for the very foolish. It was when Ben came up to me and suggested that we go somewhere and smoke some pot. Here was what I came for and along with trying pot for the first time, I was prepared to lay down for him. The evening would be complete with the wonderful experience that pot was supposed to provide while I lay in the arms of a lover. . . right out of the pages of a dime novel.

As Ben and I departed the party for the quiet of his room I went willingly, full of anticipation. In his room, Ben simply stripped off his clothes and I being new at the games people play in these situations, simply followed suit. The pot was prepared and we smoked as we drank whiskey and soda. We hugged, caressed, kissed and bonded so that I might even have enjoyed the evening until Ben handed me two pills and suggested I take them. The pills had a numbing effect and I became limp, vaguely aware of what was happening around me. My arms and legs were useless and I was helpless.

My fear became panic as Ben climbed on top of me, positioned himself and drove his shaft into my vagina which was not lubricated and even in my state it hurt. I tried to cry out but only incoherent garble came out. Ben was rough. . . .he slammed into me and moved my legs over his shoulders to better satisfy his desires. Panic was in control now and I waited helplessly as a second man I had never seen before climbed on to me and penetrated me again. I screamed. . .nothing came out! After a third, or a fourth or perhaps a fifth man had relieved his sexual urges in me I could fight no longer. . . I relaxed and soon passed out.

It was much later that someone said, "Hey, let's take her over to Jakes and dump her ass there."

Next morning, I awoke in the bed at Jakes and couldn't recall how I'd gotten there. I was sick and filled with disgust with myself for allowing the events of the previous night. My mind was clouded with the fog from the intoxicants of the previous night. I cried. . .but no tear came. "Since I am here, Jake must have had his way with me too. . . that S.O.B! " I reasoned. My genital area was sore. My head ached. My stomach was still trying to regurgitate the poisons that had been ingested into it. Guilt bordering on panic again took control of my life and I spoke cruelly to him as he returned me to my room at the house.

Back in my own room, surrounded with my familiar things I rested and recuperated. My head gradually cleared and I could take solid food again. Physically, I was recovering. . . .mentally and emotionally, I wasn't! The girls who had been my sorority sisters ignored me or, more appropriately snubbed me. With no one to talk to and loaded with guilt and anxiety I kept to my self and cried a lot. Then, on Tuesday morning, a delegation from the house came to me and told me that the girls had voted to expel her from the sorority and I was directed to leave as soon as possible.

As I sat on the porch of the house, waiting for Jake's rattletrap car to carry me away I pondered my situation. I couldn't go home - My folks would disown me. I didn't have the money to get a place of my own. It was then that I determined to die - a simple suicide! It was after choosing the third option, suicide, that Jakes rattletrap pulled up and we began loading things into any space that would hold them. Jake was subdued as we drove to his apartment and I began to feel free to express my feeling to someone for the first time. I think it was on that drive back to his apartment that I began to develop feelings for him.

With the emotional healing that took place as I talked to Jake came more vague memories of the night when I had first been in his apartment. . . .of his undressing me and putting me in the shower. I recalled the freshly washed clothes that I had arrived in. My loathing for myself reached it's zenith that afternoon and evening when I arrived at Jakes apartment for the second time, and yet, I could feel portions of my life coming together again.

That night in what was to become my bed in the room with Jake I was filled with guilt, remorse, repugnance and loathing for myself. . . .but I felt safe and secure and I slept soundly for the first time in many days.

Facing my peers at school was difficult. Most had heard about my situation and kept a wide margin between us. Others were less kind and openly derided me for what I perceived myself to be. It was after days of this that I needed Jake's quiet counselling and guidance. Jake doesn't know it but I never tried to find other accommodations and determined to live with him as long as he'd have me.

Days turned into weeks and weeks into months. Jake and I co-operated in living arrangements and we kept a good house. Each evening, it seemed like we found time to talk and I began to develop a confidence that I've never had before. I began to take charge of my life and the old emotional scars slowly faded. I developed new friends and spent much of my free time working as a volunteer at a clinic. Christmas came and went and a real friendship developed between Jake and I. Jake was the finest brother I could ask for. . . . and with support from each other both of our studies improved.

After New Years a young fellow from my literature class asked me out for an evening at the movie. Five minutes into the date I knew it was a mistake and by the time we had parted it was 9:30 and both my date and I went home disappointed. He had simplified the evening with a direct question and she had sealed the fate of the date with her negative response. Back at the apartment I found Jake studying and he turned as I entered. This was brother Jake. . . .why did I suddenly want to kiss him? I wanted to kiss him and not with a brotherly peck on the cheek either. It was with all my effort that I moved away from him to the other room and got control of my emotions. Still, the thought lingered. . . . .

Living as brother and sister was becoming more complicated. . . . Yet! That was our agreement. I began to dream about intimate moments with him. I pressed my body closer to him when we met and hugged in the evening. The sisterly peck on the cheek that was permitted under our arrangement was filled with all the passion I could give it. "This simply could not be love," I thought. That would certainly ruin our arrangement.

Living as we were, in the close confines of our small apartment it was impossible to avoid seeing my beautiful roommate. He wasn't a big, muscular man and he did not stand tall; yet, he was beautiful. I often looked at his bare chest and fantasized a more intimate relationship. His bare legs, protruding from under his drawers, were straight and moved with a grace that made me light headed as I watched. Too bad. . . ."Jake must never know how he affects me," I thought.

Then days would pass when my passion for my roommate would abate and life settled into a more balanced routine. He had his routine and I had mine.

By April, I wanted Jake. I wanted to sleep with him; to make love with him; to adore him! Then Jake brought up the subject of our future now that the school year was over. He spoke straight from the shoulder when he said he thought that it was time for us to move on with our lives. I had my life to lead and he had his. He thought we should live apart after the close of the school year. "If that's what you want, Jake," I said. I didn't sleep that night. The scars from my past had not been so well hidden after all and the cold hard lump in my stomach was fear.