This is a reworking of the first stories I wrote about Linda. It covers the last half of her senior year in high school, the beginning of her exploration of her sexuality to the loss of her virginity. Some new parts have been added, but it has all been re-written and hopefully improved. I will continue revising and extending what I have already written now that I have a more clear idea of how the story will develop. Chapter two will follow her story into her first two years or so in college. The plan is to follow her life for ten more years or so. If you read my first stories about Linda, I hope you are interested in reading the revised version, and if you have not read them, I hope this will capture your imagination. The first scene contains an episode of an intended rape that does not happen but may be triggering for some.
Chapter 1
One
I went to the bar alone. I was showing off my new adulthood, having just turned 18. I had never consumed any alcohol before and I had never been into a bar either. I knew there were predators in the world, theoretically, but I had led a sheltered life and I lived in a small mid-western town that was safe. Besides, I was foolishly confident in my ability to take care of myself. So I went into the bar a virgin in more ways than one, trusting to my wisdom and invulnerability. I also trusted God to protect me, but suppressed all thoughts of how I was straying from the straight and narrow and into the way of fools. I wanted a little adventure; just not too much. In other words, I was dumb and reckless. As it turns out, I was lucky.
It could have turned out so much worse. My parents didn't know, of course. They are very conservative, very strict, and in their own way they are naive too. But I was a good daughter, an only child, obedient, respectful, and actually I was happy. That was why only four days after my birthday, my parents went to visit a cousin and planned to stay overnight. They trusted me, and so far I had given them no reason not to. Usually when they went away they would leave me with one of my girl-friends, who was also from our church. They didn't know my girl-friend sometimes sneaked in some porn for us to watch late at night, but pornography was all I knew about sex. The pornography, I now realize, was very poor quality, but we were nearly hypnotized by it. I loved it, and I had long since learned to masturbate while I fantasized about my future marriage.
I planned out my little bar adventure as I walked over (no car; my parents weren't rich enough to buy a second car for me). It was just after New Year's but the weather was surprisingly mild. I decided I would sit in a booth alone, rather than at the bar. Maybe that was my second mistake. I figured sitting alone in a bar would just invites men over, and I thought being in a booth might look like I was waiting for someone. If some guy did come over and if I didn't like their looks I thought I would just tell them my boyfriend was coming soon, nicknamed Shredder or something. That was probably naive too. But I had not imagined the possibility of an attractive guy coming over.
There are attractive guys in my high school, but all of them are either attached or dumb. I have never been tempted to pursue any of them, and my parents didn't approve of dating anyway. I had only been asked out on a date once by a guy I would never be attracted to. He was socially on the fringe, like me, but I don't think he had any redeeming qualities, like say being literate. I am not unattractive, though my breasts are on the smallish size. I am a 32A if you want to visualize me. My nipples are a light brown and are in the middle of my breasts I guess a lot of guys want the large breasts but isn't it too much of a good thing? There are guys out there, I'm sure, who will find my breasts attractive. So, it was just a lot easier to ignore men -- except in the movies.
I had probably been in the booth only fifteen minutes or so - I hadn't even stayed up to my curfew yet - when this incredibly attractive man came over, probably ten years older than me, what you might call a hunk. He looked athletic and self-confident and had the kindest green eyes. He introduced himself as Gary. Gary was the cowboy type with a flannel shirt and blue jeans and a big cowboy looking hat. I had not noticed him when I first went in to the bar but he said he noticed me as soon as I arrived. He waited for the fifteen minutes to see if another man joined me before he came over to try to pick me up. So instead of telling him my boyfriend would come momentarily, we started talking and offered to buy me a drink. You must understand that I was really inexperienced at drinking. Even my girl-friend who could smuggle in porn occasionally could not smuggle in beer. So when he asked if he could buy me a drink I said yes. Third mistake? Or is it my fourth mistake? I lose count. But when he asked what I wanted to drink I had no idea, so I just said I would have whatever he was having, bourbon as it turned out. I should have known better, you'll tell me, and part of me did know better, but there you are. I liked the looks of this guy and I was stupid. He didn't look dangerous. He got me a double.
We were just chatting while we drank the bourbon, him asking about my background and circumstances and filling me in on his adventures and mighty feats on his farm -- mostly beef cattle and some horses. I decided to lie about my background, at least a little. I told him my name was Linda, but at least no last name, and that I was 23 years old. Within five minutes I was getting pretty dizzy. Having never had any alcohol before -- I admit I was drinking it in spite of the taste, which I didn't like -- I didn't know what to expect. In the movies it always takes several drinks to get drunk. This was going faster than I expected. When I finished the drink he offered another one. I don't think I was slurring my words or anything, just feeling a little dizzy. He went over to the bar to get us another drink and it was very shortly after he got back that I passed out. I didn't even take a sip of the second drink. Apparently I just let my head rest on the table and fell asleep. Obviously I should not drink much. The last thing I remember of the bar was talking to an absolutely charming attractive man.
The next thing I knew I was waking up in a bed in a hotel room somewhere, and I was naked. Being naked jolted me awake really quickly. The next thing I noticed was that I was alone. The second thing that popped into my mind was, "Oh, no, Gary raped me!" But as I took stock of my body, I was sure I had not been raped. Yet. Wherever Gary was now, leaving in a bed naked implied that he had some dark intentions. I got out of the bed and started looking around for my clothes, still a little woozy.. The next thing I thought was "Oh no, I've been roofied." I walked over to the dresser with the mirror and searched all the drawers, but they were empty. Nor were my clothes anywhere I could see. So, was I going to have to walk home naked in the cold? I did find a Gideon Bible, of course, but except for smashing Gary in the face, it was too late to look up comforting verses. And the next thing I thought of was "what time is it?". The clock said it was about three, so I had been unconscious for four or five hours. I didn't feel too bad, though, not like I would have expected.
So apparently "Gary", or whoever he was, had drugged me, carried me to a hotel room, stripped off my clothes, and.... left? He got me naked and then didn't like what he saw? I am not so insecure with my body that I believed that for a second. Most guys don't discriminate when it comes to the question: do I want to have sex with this woman or not? They just go with "yes".
It felt really weird standing in a strange hotel room completely naked. But as I stood there, what I mostly felt was anger. You'd think I would be afraid. What would good old Gary do when he came back? But mostly I was angry. I wasn't going to be raped without a fight, so I began looking around for something I could use to hit him with. The lamp was the only thing in the room that was easily movable. There were two lamps so I took the shade off of one of them and unplugged it. Hefty enough to do some damage if I managed to hit him before he wrestled it away. But it really makes you feel vulnerable to be planning a fight while you are naked. I'm fairly athletic (track) but it would seem like a more equitable fight if I had some clothes on.
So I was really really mad and scared, but mostly mad. Wherever Gary was, he was no doubt intending to come back eventually and do... whatever. The longer I looked for my clothes, the madder I got, and the less afraid I got. That was my self-confidence kicking in. I should have been thinking, "What if he comes back and beats me up and rapes me?" instead of "How dare he take my clothes?" And then, standing there naked in the middle of the room looking around helplessly ... a guy came in and shut the door behind him.
Not the guy, Gary or whoever, that I had been drinking with. Someone I had never seen before. Someone else who, in the state I was in, looked sinister as hell. What was this? A bunch of guys who were going to take turns raping me? Oh, no, I thought, here comes the rape part. Gary and this friend of his and maybe some others lined up in the hall to take turns -- the idea was beginning to make me much more frightened. I had no idea what to expect now. I didn't notice the rather sheepish look on his face in my panic. I was determined that I would fight him, scream and kick and anything I could think of. Surely we weren't that isolated and someone would hear. It looked like a motel room. Now that I was fully alert I wasn't helpless. I can scream really loud if I try.
When he came in, he closed the door behind him and then just looked at me in all my naked glory for a few seconds. But he did not lock the door. Either there was a whole gang of them of he was lest threatening than I feared. My first impulse was to put a hand in front of my pussy, put an arm in front of my breasts, the classic pose of a woman caught unexpectedly naked. But I didn't do it. I was afraid, all right, and embarrassed by him staring at me. But now I was angry as hell. Besides, he, or they, had already seen me naked. What was the point? So I did not try to hide anything from his view. I was determined not to be the helpless scared girl who had never been fucked before. So I just let him look at me. I felt like daring him to do anything. It made me feel pretty good too, like I am not a victim and I am not going to be. It was also, I was surprised to note, a turn on having this guy looking at me naked.
