I’m still not sure how or why we ended up together. I do know that I acquired Maggie the way one acquires a lost dog, tail down and eyes desperately searching for a new master. We ended up at the same party together, and if we would have taken the time to find out, she was probably the friend of a friend of a friend. Some distant social relation that only happenstance could bring me together with.
I saw her standing in the corner, looking out of place and nervous. She held her drink with both hands and looked away every time I caught her watching. She was young. I found out later that it was her first year in college, and she was desperately trying to fit into the older crowd she was standing with. No, that’s not right. She was standing alone, but close enough to the others to almost appear with them.
I had nothing better to do, and in all honestly I was quite intrigued by this girl. I walked over and introduced myself. Her name was Maggie and mine was Logan. I did all the wonderful posturing one does at such occasions. I told my best stories and put extra emphasis on the funny parts. The most I could get from her was a little polite giggle. She was just too much out of place to enjoy herself.
The night wore on and she had several more drinks. I only had a couple, because I intended to be able to drive. Finally I gave up trying to loosen her to her surroundings and said my good-by’s. When I did, she looked at me square on for the first time, and I realized that her eyes were that very rare shade of gray that only women seem to have.
“Thank you for coming to talk to me,” she said. “You’re the only one that did all night.”
My heart melted. I remembered what it felt like so long ago to be that young and awkward. “Maggie, why'd you come here if you didn’t know anybody?”
“I came with a guy I met on campus. I thought he really liked me, but he left with another girl. It’s okay though, I think they knew each other from a while back.”
“How’re you getting home? Do you have a ride?”
“I’m going to call a cab, I guess. I didn’t want anyone to see me come with a guy, then leave with a cab, so I was waiting for the party to die down. I know it’s stupid, but I just don’t want to look like a tramp.”
With that I took another look over her, the entire package, and it started to make more sense. She was wearing borrowed clothes that didn’t seem to quite fit her right and her hair was teased in a manor that I would be willing to bet she didn’t normally wear it. She had a clean, scrubbed, look about her, but she had tried to hide it with makeup that she was not deft at applying. It all started to make more sense to me. She was asked out by an older guy and had accepted. Then she had borrowed the clothes from an older, slightly larger friend and come on this date. With all the work she had put into this night, she must be devastated. Calling a cab was just the final insult to this fragile girl. I didn’t want to have that on my conscience all night; I have enough trouble sleeping as it is.
“Maggie, I’m just leaving myself. I’ll be happy to give you a ride if you like, but I have an early morning, so we would have to leave now.”
Her face seemed to brighten, and I could tell she had been hoping I would offer. I gave my first true smile that evening, and escorted her out to my car. She lived an hour out of the way, and I wasn’t looking forward to the drive. As soon as she sat down, the alcohol, and the stress of the night began to weigh on her and I could tell she was getting sleepy. Somewhere along the way, we stopped talking, and she drifted off. We got to Watson, the town she lived in, and I went to shake her awake. There was no response.
I pulled of the road, into an abandoned parking lot, and tried to wake her again. Nothing. I took her pulse, and it was strong, I could not stir her. That’s when the cold feeling began to start at the base of my neck. Slowly, and with great care, I opened her mouth and smelled. There was the faintest whiff of old peaches.
Rohypnol. The date rape drug. Someone at the party had mixed her a roofie, and slipped it to her without either of us noticing. My stomach felt queasy to think how close she had come to being raped and she didn’t even know it.
There was only one thing I could do. I didn’t know where she lived, so I had to take her home with me. My adrenalin flowed, and the last vestiges of the beers I had wore off fast. I was thirty-two and she was eighteen and under the influence of an illegal drug. Not to mention one that had a very bad reputation. No one would believe me if I said I was just taking her to my house to sleep it off. Still, I had no other choice.
I drove very slowly, and very carefully.
Somewhere on the way home, I stopped at an intersection. The street light was on her, and the blouse that she had on was a bit too big for her. Her small breast, covered by the thin mesh of her bra, was visible. I could see the little bump where her nipple pushed against the fabric, and I knew that it was hard. I felt a sickening stirring in my pants. Only a monster would take advantage of a girl in this state, especially one this fragile. I closed her shirt, careful not to touch her skin, careful to ignore the images in my head.
We finally arrived at my house. I began to feel better, or at least less nervous. If I had been pulled over with a drugged girl in my car, innocent or not, it would have ruined my career. I came around to her side, and opened her door. I lifted her out, and began the walk to the house. Half way there, still carrying her, I felt some of the muscles in her back tighten. I knew what was going to happen in just enough time to move her head away from me before she vomited. It was good that she had gotten it out of her system, but now her clothes were a mess. I would have to clean her up. It was the only decent thing to do.
I stopped in the laundry room and took off her shirt and skirt. I dropped them directly into the washer and continued on to the bedroom. I laid her on the bed, and got a wet towel to wipe her face. It was then that I noticed her bra would need to come off as well. I cleaned her face with the towel, and removed the bra. Her breasts were small, but very perky. The nipples instantly hardened at the touch of cold air, and I felt the rise of my cock again. I leaned to pull the covers over her, but stopped for a moment. The little gray panties she was wearing were damp between her legs. The wet spot was growing and the panties were pulled slightly to one side. I could see one of her lips, and it was swollen. It was also shaved. I stood there, half leaned over, hand clutching a blanket, knowing that it would be so simple. I wouldn’t even need to take off her panties, just move them another inch to the side. She was wet and swollen and would except me easily. She groaned and moved a bit and the loose drawers shifted just a bit more, and her whole sex was mine to see. It was glistening wet and just beginning to open on its own.
