My name is Dylan, and I'm a rapist...or at least I thought I was. Lying there in the dark, pretending to be asleep and listening for the tell-tale crackle of a police walkie-talkie from outside my apartment door, I wondered if Samantha was still in her bedroom. Wondered if she'd called the cops to tell them her roommate had raped her, or if she'd fled the apartment and was banging on our neighbors' doors, desperately trying to find someone who'd help her.
I couldn't believe I'd gotten so angry...so out of control...that I'd pinned her down on her bed, tore off her panties and fucked her.
Samantha wasn't even supposed to be my roommate; Trevor was my roommate and she was his girlfriend. But I could never figure out why a nice guy like him went out with a girl like her.
Samantha was hot -- there was no doubt about that. She had long, silky blonde hair that she kept pulled back from her beautiful, heart-shaped face and tied in a ponytail. And she was always walking around the apartment in tight yoga pants that showed off her toned thighs and her small, sexy ass, and wearing tiny tees that barely contained her mouth-watering tits. But Samantha was a bitch.
Trevor loved art and was taking graphic design at college. But she was always harping on him to change his major, telling him he'd never make money and that she didn't plan on wasting her life with a broke loser. I wasn't surprised when he dumped her, I just didn't realize he was going to dump her on me.
When he moved out I assumed Samantha would be leaving too, but she stayed in the room and made it her own. I didn't need the hassle of trying to find a new roommate during the middle of the term, so I let her stay. And Trevor had told me her parents were rich, so I knew paying the rent wouldn't be a problem.
Wow, was I wrong. At first, she seemed like a great roommate, never coming out of her room unless she had to use the bathroom or the kitchen. I tried to be sociable and invited her to watch movies with me, or to hang out with my friends when they came over. But she always gave us the cold shoulder; I was lucky if I got a good morning or a good night.
My girlfriend hated Samantha and kept telling me to kick her out, but I had rent to pay and no time to look for a new roommate. And, like I said, she spent so much time in her bedroom it was like having an apartment to myself.
The only time I knocked on her door was on the last day of the month, as I was always chasing her for rent. As far as I knew, Samantha didn't work, so I assumed her parents were sending her the money. To make things easier, she suggested that I give her my half of the rent and she would just give our landlady a post-dated check for each month.
Her arrangement exploded in my face just after school ended, as I was getting ready to go backpacking through South America with my girlfriend. My landlady, who lived outside of town, unexpectedly dropped by the apartment and informed me that I was being evicted.
I was stunned when she told me Samantha hadn't paid our rent in over six months! When I asked her why she hadn't called me as soon as we'd missed the first month's rent, she said that she had. My 'girlfriend' Samantha had told her that I'd been laid off but would pay the back rent as soon as possible. She called every month after that, and Samantha stalled her with a new sob story every time.
I apologized to my landlady for the misunderstanding, thanked her for her unbelievable patience, and promised her she'd have every cent owed to her by the end of the weekend. Taking me at my word, she agreed to let me stay in the apartment. After she left, I shut the door and slammed my fist through the wall.
I've always taken pride in paying my debts and never owing anyone anything. When Samantha got home, I went ballistic.
She kept backing away from me, trying to calm me down while claiming the checks had been lost in the mail, or that there must have been a mix-up at the bank.
I told her I didn't want to hear her any more of her lies, I wanted to know where the five thousand dollars I'd given her in rent over the last seven months was. She just bawled her eyes out and kept apologizing, telling me she'd get me my money.
I asked her if she was a crackhead, or a gambling addict or something, and she just kept crying, shaking her head no. And then I yelled that something must be wrong with her -- that she was obviously fucking mental -- and then she really went nuts.
Samantha threw punches at me and screamed that she'd get my money -- all of it! I shoved her away from me, and warned her that if she was lying again, she'd regret it. With tears pouring down her face, she ran to her bedroom and slammed her door shut.
I should have kicked her door open and thrown her out right then, but I knew if I did I'd never see my money. And when Monday came, she had yet another excuse.
This time she claimed her mom was sending her the money, but she wouldn't have it until the end of the week. I shouted at her that I was sick of her bullshit, and that Friday would be too late! We'd be evicted by then, and we'd both be homeless.
Samantha lost it again, shouting at me that she'd never be homeless and running to her room. When she slammed her door over and over, I was convinced -- she was crazy!
I knew my landlady wouldn't wait until Friday; I would have been evicted by then. So I went to the bank and, after withdrawing every cent of my savings, I had just enough to pay all the back rent owed, both Samantha's share and mine.
I gave her all of the money I'd saved for tuition and all of the money I'd saved for vacation -- my dream of backpacking through South America was over.
My girlfriend was furious, as we'd been planning the trip for over a year. She couldn't understand why I'd paid Samantha's share of the rent or why I hadn't reported her to the police for fraud.
I tried to explain that it was my name on the lease, so I had to pay the rent. And I didn't want Samantha going to jail -- I wanted my money back.
I asked if we could postpone the trip until the following summer, but she said she was going with or without me. And she warned me: if I wasn't on the plane when it left, don't bother waiting at the airport for her when she gets back.
Friday night I was in my bed, wondering if her plane had landed yet and wishing that I were in the seat beside her.
But Samantha had ruined everything. Her lies had nearly got me evicted, had put my education at risk, and had cost me both my vacation and my girlfriend. When I heard the front door open, and heard her sneaking in a little after midnight, I was ready to punch a hole through my pillow.
Samantha had promised she'd have my money today, and I intended to collect.
Wearing only my boxers, I stormed down the hallway to her room and slammed her door open.
"What the hell?" she cried, as she tried to cover up her tits. She'd been in the middle of undressing for bed, and was only wearing a tiny pair of purple lace panties. "Get out of my room, Dylan!"
"I will, as soon as you give me my money."
She turned her back to me, trying to hide her nakedness. "I don't have it yet."
"Are you fucking kidding me? You said your parents would send you the money by today -- I need the ten thousand dollars you owe me!"
"I only owe you five thousand dollars!"
"You owe me ten thousand -- I had to pay your half of the rent too!"
"Well...you shouldn't have. I didn't ask you to."
"Don't you fucking understand, it's my name on the lease so I had to pay it all! I'm not going to let my landlady get screwed over just because you're some kind of scam artist!"
"I'm not a -- "
"Well, you're some kind of a fucking mental case! You're a fucking thief and you're fucking crazy!"
"Fuck you!"
"Fuck yourself! When are you going to get me my fucking money?"
She tried to cover her tits with one arm as she bent down and reached for her clothes. "I can give you five hundred dollars next month."
"Five hundred...you've got to be fucking kidding me!" I screamed, as I kicked her clothes out of her hands.
Samantha nervously backed away from me. "I'm sorry...I don't have your money."
"I thought your parents were loaded?"
"Who told you that? My Mom isn't rich, and my Dad's dead."
I didn't know if I could believe a single word that came out of her mouth. "Samantha, I need the money you owe me! Call your mom and get her to take out a loan or something."
"She can't! They lost everything back when the market crashed. She barely makes ends meet now, she can't help me!"
"Well I can't make ends meet either -- you stole my money! You didn't pay the rent and you stole my fucking money!"
The upstairs neighbor hammered on the floor, and yelled for us to be quiet.
"I should kick your fucking ass out right now!" I whispered.
"You can't, I don't have anywhere to go."
"You think I care? I hope you end up living in a fucking dumpster!"
"Fuck you!" she screamed, and ran at me, teeth clenched, swinging and punching at me like a wild woman.
I grabbed Samantha's wrists and forced her back on her bed, landing heavily on top of her as the neighbor upstairs pounded again on the floor.
Tears streamed down her face as she fought to get free. And I was glad; I wanted her to feel hurt, like she'd hurt me. I pinned her to the bed with all of my weight, and she arched her back, her nipples pressing against my bare chest as she writhed beneath me, struggling to break free.
I used my knees to keep her legs spread so she couldn't gain any leverage and, as she twisted and struggled, her crotch ground against me and made my cock hard.
