There is no way it was rape. I knew exactly what I was doing. I wanted it to happen.
To my knowledge, I had done nothing to make these guys think I was a slut. My friend Sarah and I had had a few drinks with them, yes, but I never so much as uttered a dirty word. I wore jeans and open-toe shoes. Under my blouse, my bra contained my breasts. I had barely dabbed Obsession on my wrists.
I am thirty-two now. I was twenty-four then. I have done nothing like that since, and I have tried like hell to regret that night.
It started in the club with a young man named Michael. To this day, I cannot quite figure what constituted my initial attraction to him. He was cute, but not my type. He was a smooth talker, yet I could see through his attempt to pick me up. As the evening wore on however, he seemed interested in listening to me talk of graduate school. I was interested in the fact that he owned a small business marketing tanning products in the Caribbean. He had even expanded to Costa Rica. He told me that he loved the place- a place I had always wanted to visit.
It was later in the evening, nearing midnight I believe, as I took a sip of my fourth margarita. Michael and his friends told me repeatedly how beautiful I was from the semicircle of bar stools. I appreciated the compliment, though I began to feel a bit for Sarah. Through the eyes of friendship, I found her attractive. I think the boys did too, but I unwittingly stole the show.
"We need to go", Sarah said after returning from the restroom.
"Where are you going?" Michael protested. "The night's just getting started."
"Some of us have to work in the morning", Sarah shot back. She grabbed her purse. "Let's go, Alex."
I smiled at Michael. "I have to go", I said. "It was great talking to you."
He leaned close to whisper in my ear. "Do you always do what Sarah tells you?"
I moved his hand from my inner thigh then, not because I was offended, not because I didn't like it, but because it turned me on. I was wet from a touch and a whisper.
Sarah was irritated. "Let's go, Alexandra", she repeated sternly.
"I will give you a ride", Michael said with a less-than-pure smile.
Sarah left in a huff after the "you don't even know this guy" speech.
I was alone now, with a bartender, Michael, and four of his friends. The sense of danger was slight, but real nonetheless. The boys had been having a good time all night, but they seemed happier now that Sarah was gone. They talked of partying all night as they exchanged high-fives like middle-aged adolescents at a ball game.
Whatever turns them on, I thought. These guys probably have a stripper coming in or something.
I excused myself and went to the ladies room. I stayed in there for what seemed like a short eternity. I don't even remember what I did- all alone in the restroom- I only recall that I was still turned on from Michael's touch. In the solitude of the dim light, partially out of sincerity and partially due to the margaritas, I recalled their compliments. I had to agree. My breasts were shapely, my waist small, my round ass well pronounced and hugged by tight denim.
"Did you fall in?" asked Ryan, one of Michael's friends, upon my return.
My self-adoration assisted me in ignoring the sophomoric question as I stared with a smile into Michael's eyes.
"Last call was ten minutes ago", Michael said. "Are you ready to go?"
"I am ready."
I studied him some more as he confidently entered my number into his cell phone. Yes, I thought, you can see me again. He had not even asked. I contemplated a real date with a guy I had met hours ago. I contemplated a date with a guy whose most endearing quality was his ability to turn me on with a touch and a whisper. I contemplated sleeping with him, just before the words "not in this lifetime" echoed across my mind.
"What?" he said. "Got the number. What are you laughing about?"
"Nothing."
"Ready to go?"
He stood. He could not have been more than five-nine. I like tall men. I like my blonde hair, I thought; but I prefer men with darker hair. His eyes were brown. I like blue eyes, like mine.
"Where are you going?" I asked some ten minutes later.
He turned the music down. "What did you say?"
"You were supposed to turn left at the last light."
"You can party with us for a while."
"No. I have class in the morning. You have to take me home."
He said nothing as the car stopped at the next light. The warm smell of the coastal breeze enveloped us as he let down the convertible top. My protests ceased and my legs spread slightly as his hand moved again to my thigh. For the first time, I began to fear what might happen. The fear was real- as real as my wet anticipation. In that moment I knew that, at least for tonight, he owned me; but my incoherent thoughts quickly turned to rationalization. If I had to sleep in the next morning and miss one class, fine. He is a fun guy, I thought. Let your hair down, I said to myself. You've been working hard. Tonight, have some fun.
The house was huge and secluded, with a romantic looking gazebo at some distance on the stately lawn. The beach was not far, and the distinctive aroma of the inner-coastal waterway stimulated me as a stiff breeze came once more. I heard the music coming from inside as the car came to a stop on the circular drive.
All of his friends were there. Once inside, I was a bit surprised to learn that I was the only girl. More than an hour and nearly a whole beer later, I began to feel comfortable. This was just like the bar. I was just hanging out with the guys.
I was light-headed then, making my way to the bathroom and telling myself what a bitch Sarah had been. She needs to lighten up, I thought. She could have had fun too if she were here.
Michael gave me a start as I came out of the bathroom. "You know what I want", he said, his eye going through me in the hallway.
"Well, you can't have it. I need to go home now."
I waited for a seductive movie scene. I was waiting for Michael to approach me slowly, seductively. Instead, he forced my back to the wall, kissing me with a vulgar passion. I breathed heavily as he groped me. I fought hard for the words... "Michael, stop it. Stop this! I am not a whore". The words would not come.
From the party room, the music came down the long hallway, flowing in like the breeze from the waterway. It was an old song, from the 80's. It might have been from the 60's. I struggled to focus on that damned song as Michael ripped my shirt.
I felt faint as he unfastened my jeans. "What song is that?" I stupidly asked.
He threw my shirt to the floor before peeling my bra straps from my shoulders.
"Who sings that song? Oh my god, who sings that song", I babbled.
My breasts were exposed then to the warm chill of the hallway as he peeled the bra away. It hurt a bit as he moved the obstacle to my waist. He then began to alternately suck and bite my erect nipples. I moaned and groaned against the onslaught of glorious pain, unable to form lucid words. He was being too rough, and I loved it.
I was just beginning to perspire a bit. I gasped loudly and my head turned to the right, taking in the sight as his friends watched. They shouted vulgarities, the specifics of which I recall no better than the song. Their applause echoed in the hallway as Michael released my breasts. He kissed me again. The song continued. The applause continued. The vulgarities reverberated in my ears.
I was in a surreal world then. I had no idea whether I had been told to remove my jeans; I only knew that they had to come off. Michael's thumbnails lightly scraped my skin as he removed my panties. Until then, I had been oblivious to the fact that we were moving towards a bedroom. His friends followed. They shouted, whistled, and clapped as Michael took my right hand. He twirled me like a dancer as I looked at my clothing on the floor. It was tattered and snaked- a reminder of my surrender to animal lust. Briefly, the realization set in that I liked his friends looking at me; but I was Michael's prize, and he had shown me off with an arrogance that made me want him even more.
I don't remember entering the bedroom. I don't remember Michael taking his clothes off. I remember a song playing, a different song with the passionate female voice romancing the Spanish language as I stood trembling in the middle of the room.
"Nube de agua", he said, regaining my attention.
My eyes moved from his eyes, to his torso, to his erect penis as he sat on the edge of the bed. I was no virgin, but there was no way I could take that. He was thick, with what I guessed to be at least nine inches. As big as it was, the head seemed too big even for the rest.
"I can't", I whispered, finally able to speak.
"Come here" was his only reply.
I moved to him pensively. I was on my knees in front of him now. He held my hair back as, without a word, I tasted pre-cum and did his bidding. I wanted him to cum now, in my mouth. I wanted to be spared the pain of intercourse.
He whispered vulgar things as I continued what would amount to foreplay, before letting my hair fall and placing his hands on my shoulders.
Unable to form words, I moaned in protest; but it was no use. He moved me with a force that nearly caused me to go over backwards.
"I can't", I said again.
"Come here."
"I can't."
He took my hand. The experience became more surreal then as I moved to his lap. I swallowed hard as he ate at my breasts. My eyes closed. I was filled with longing and terror as I felt the tip of his rock-hard hard penis touch the lips of my vagina. I felt myself stretch then as his tongue entered my mouth. He squeezed my breasts before moving his hands to my hips. His grip was forceful and determined. He was guiding me.
