He was young, less than half my age. He had been in the same high school as my son; on the same football team. He was good looking; a big young man. I tutored and saw him rather regularly in the library. He only occasionally said hello, but always smiled and acknowledged me. Lots of the kids did, but he had a look in his eyes. He was intelligent, not just book smart. The intelligence, self-confidence, self-knowledge was evident in those eyes. I wondered what in his young life had gotten him to this point.
I don't remember why we started to talk, it just happened. There was an instant bond. He would start to come around the house, visiting and talking. Slowly he opened up and confided in me. I did the same and he became a friend. Our age difference was forgotten, or at least a non-issue. Sometimes he flirted and I returned the conversation. He had had his share of girlfriends, not a lot, but always serious on his part. He wouldn't waste his time on someone not worthy. He spoke respectfully and fondly of every one, but in each case, they had somehow proven unworthy. He would talk about this and his feelings. I knew this was not easy for him, and slowly I began to see another side of this hard, young man.
We began to talk frequently, almost daily. He helped me discover the internet and we often chatted at night online. The wall of the internet allowed us a certain security and our talks became more telling, confiding fears, hopes, and even glimpses of fantasies.
Between girlfriends, I would find him at my house on weekends. College and work kept him busy, but never too busy to visit. We would have a few drinks, or bar-b-q our dinner and just relax. It had become common for him to just pop in and he seemed perfectly at home in my house.
I had had a particularly hard week. Just after indulging in a long, hot shower, Jeff showed up on Friday night, bottle of rum in hand. I answered the door, a towel wrapped around me, my hair dripping, and quickly excused myself to dress. I threw on an old T-shirt and shorts and clipped my wet hair up. Jeff had started the grill and made us a couple of drinks, like many other nights. I knew something was bothering him, his forehead furrowed with worry lines. As the steaks grilled, we sat on the bench in the backyard and he talked.
Jeff had been trying to decide if he wanted to go away to school. A large university had offered him a football scholarship. He played for the local college and loved football. Summer practice had started but the university still wanted him for the fall semester. Between school, his part-time job, and football, his life was full. His friends and family were close by. Yet he never seemed truly happy. I had thought the scholarship offer might be on his mind again.
Instead Jeff talked about how he couldn't find a woman to match his requirements. We bantered back and forth, still chatting about my work and his dreams and my old hopes, as the sun went down. The scholarship wasn't even mentioned.
I started to feel the effects of the rum and I knew he was making the drinks his strength, about double what I usually drank. I had never been drunk with him, but I trusted him and was finally starting to relax. He made another drink.
"I think the drinks are getting stronger", I laughingly complained. We both laughed.
"It's good to hear you laugh and just chill" he responded. The breeze was light but finally blowing away the heat of the day. It felt good.
I felt his hand at the back of head. The next thing I knew, his lips were on mine. They were soft, surprisingly so. My reaction seemed to sober me up for an instant and I pulled away, only to see those hard eyes - half-glaring, half-laughing at me. He pulled me back and kissed me again, more firmly. I didn't resist and returned his kiss, and I felt him soften his grip. Pulling away quickly, I tried to get up. I knew that this was wrong, and I didn't want to lose his friendship over drunken stupidity. I had done without a lover for many years and had no intention of taking this young man as one.
He was fast. Obviously the alcohol didn't affect him like it had me. He was strong, more than twice my size. His arm was around my waist before I had taken two steps. He pulled me onto his lap.
"No, Jeff" was all I was able to mutter before his fingers wrapped themselves in my hair and turned my head till I felt his kiss again. The hand around my waist traveled to my breast and easily found a nipple. He lightly ran his finger over it, as I involuntarily shuddered. He grabbed the nipple between two fingers and squeezed. When I gasped, his tongue was in my mouth, probing and playing with my tongue. I tried to free myself from his grasp but deftly picked me up and sat me back down, facing and straddling him. His hands grabbed my hips and pulled me closer. I felt an enormous bulge in his shorts.
"No!" I yelled at him, or maybe to myself. I didn't want to believe I was in this situation or that Jeff had any sexual thoughts directed towards me.
But the demanding look in his eyes frightened me and he laughed. "Why not?" he questioned.
He was really intelligent, and now was going to turn this into an academic discussion! We did this with many of our discussions. I thought I could play that game, and as seriously as I could, listed all the reasons why this wasn't a good idea, how it would affect our friendship, how it was wrong, how he was too young or I was too old. He quietly listened, his arms wrapped around me, not allowing me to free myself. I started to shiver under his stare. He never argued a point, just kept staring at me.
When I was finished, he said, "Is that it?"
I pleaded "Isn't that enough?"
Quietly but forcefully he said "No. I want you. I know you want me too, and that is all the reason we need".
"NO!" I screamed back at him, suddenly realizing how isolated I was with no one living nearby to hear me.
Still holding me tightly, his hands moved up my ribcage, until his thumbs were over my nipples, drawing imaginary circles over them. I grabbed at his hands and he just grinned. I had never realized how strong he was.
