I had awakened once, suddenly in the middle of the night. I tensed as I realized my head was resting on Jeff's shoulder and his arms were around me. Listening to his deep, slow breathing, I knew he was fast asleep. I was terrified to waken him.
My mind was tortured with the memory of the way Jeff had taken me, forcefully and hard, just hours ago. My pussy was sore, my innards ached, but my mind was reeling. What had I done to provoke that? We had been friends for over a year, confiding fears and dreams, sharing thoughts and laughter. Did I inadvertently encourage him? I had answered the door wrapped in a towel from my recent shower. The way he popped in unannounced had given me no warning. It had happened half a dozen times before and neither of us seemed perturbed by it. I had dressed in an old T-shirt, baggy enough so my 36C breasts were not accented. My shorts came down to almost my knees.
My long, wet hair had been clipped up, left dripping down my neck and I hadn't even bothered with makeup. No, I hadn't dressed provocatively. Our discussion hadn't had even the slightest element of flirting. I had asked Jeff to stop, told him to stop, pleaded with him, and tried to run away. He was my friend! Why hadn't he listened to me? I was totally confused. And the worst to haunt me: why had I climaxed three times as he forced himself on me? I felt sick to my stomach at the thought. I couldn't remember how we had managed to get from the yard to my bed or what had been said after he finished with me. Exhausted and feeling ill, I dozed back off to sleep in his arms.
Reawakening just after dawn, I carefully removed myself from the bed, and quietly ran to the bathroom. I locked the door. Showering with almost scalding water, I scrubbed my body harshly. I felt dirty and used, but no amount of scrubbing could stop the thought that my body had enjoyed him. My pussy lips were still swollen from the beating they had taken. There was a slight bruise on my breast.
I quickly dried off and threw on underwear and an old sweat suit, pulling my wet hair severely back into a ponytail. I started a pot of coffee, as I agonized what to do. Jeff, my friend, my rapist, was peacefully sleeping in my bed. If I called the police, it could ruin his life. Suppose everyone thought I had encouraged him? His scholarship would be forfeit. What about his family? And mostly I felt humiliated, stupid for allowing myself to end up in that situation. I didn't understand how it had happened.
I poured a cup of coffee, filled the carafe, and headed to the backyard. I always tried to make time to have my morning coffee outside. I liked watching the day start there. Curling up in the lounger, I ran all the thoughts over and over through my mind. They were interspersed with the memories of the last night - how Jeff had tenderly kissed me; his physical strength that had been so surprising; how violently he had slammed me against the wall when I tried to run from him; how strong I had orgasmed.
The backyard was littered with reminders. The rum bottle lay by the table where he must have thrown it. Our glasses were on the table, the ice now melted. The Coke bottle stood there, the soda heating up under the morning sun. My T-shirt and bra were on the grass by the bench. My shorts were in a heap by the house. Jeff's were nearby. And my torn panties were next to the door. I poured another cup of coffee and had to remove the reminders. I threw out the rum bottle, the Coke, and my panties. I almost felt like crying but knew that would do no good. I picked up the clothes, folding his shorts neatly, and gathered the glasses and ice bucket. Glasses went in the kitchen; my clothes in the laundry hamper, and I quietly tiptoed into the bedroom to leave his shorts on the chair.
I had decided. I would let him wake up, dress, and escape out the house. I couldn't call the police. I assumed Jeff would be as horrified as I was and just leave. I wandered back outside to finish my coffee and wait for him to go. As I sat in the lounger, I wrestled with my mixed emotions. Jeff was one of my best friends and it hurt to lose that. I had been so certain that our relationship had grown to where we deeply cared about one another. I would have been comfortable confiding most anything to him and I had been so positive he had felt the same way.
"Good morning." The words echoed across the yard and sent a chill through me. Jeff was standing just outside the door, coffee cup in hand. His hair was wet and I knew he must have showered before he dressed. He was smiling and looked relaxed. There was no hint of last night's encounter. His blue eyes sparkled and twinkled.
"I made another pot of coffee," he continued. "How 'bout some breakfast? I'm starved!"
I must have been staring with my mouth wide open. It was unreal. He acted as if last night had never happened.
"Come on," he implored. "I've already started the bacon," he tossed over his shoulder as he disappeared back inside.
I slowly got up and walked in the house. My agonizing over how to finish this had been for naught. I didn't know what to do, but a part of me wanted an explanation from him. In the kitchen, the bacon was sizzling on the stove and he was whisking eggs.
"Set the table, ok?" he asked. In a daze, I did so as he started to scramble the eggs.
"Stir the eggs, while I get the bacon and make some toast," he said, handing me the spatula. Again I complied and busied myself at the stove, afraid to look at him. I was embarrassed, humiliated, and still had not said a word to him. When the eggs were done, I dished them on the plates and noticed he had buttered our toast and made sandwiches. I just stared at the sandwiches.
"Those are for our picnic," he explained. "Eat before breakfast gets cold."
"What picnic?" I demanded, still not looking at him.
"I want to show you something. It's a nice day, so I thought we'd go for a ride and take a picnic," he elaborated.
"I don't think I'm in much of a picnic mood, Jeff," I said quietly, as I played with the food on my plate.
"Maybe not," he responded, "but we'll go for a ride anyway. You'll feel better when you get some fresh air." We had occasionally taken rides when one or the other of us was upset about something. Taking turns, we shared a favorite spot or activity with each other.
"I need to shower and change then," I explained, as I pushed my plate away and practically ran for my bedroom. I grabbed more clean underwear and frantically grabbed a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. Rushing into the bathroom, I slammed and locked the door. Turning on the shower, I peeled off the sweat suit. Hopping quickly in the shower, I let the water run over my body, trying to calm myself. I realized that maybe this was his way of apologizing. We often had long heart-felt talks in the car on our little excursions. It certainly seemed safer to be in public with him than trapped in my house. Rationalizing the situation, I turned the water off and stepped from the shower. Jeff stood there, holding out a towel for me. He was staring at me, his eyes fixed on my breasts. I screamed, more from surprise than fear.
"What are you doing in here?" I screeched at him, quickly hiding behind the towel.
"I laid out your clothes for you," he stated. I followed his eyes to the sundress and sheer panties on the vanity. My shorts and T-shirt were nowhere to be seen. A bra was noticeably absent.
"Now dry off and get dressed," he said kindly. He walked out of the bathroom, shutting the door behind him, but not before I noticed the bulge in his shorts. I felt trapped. I had to get out of the house, so I slipped on the dress and the panties. The pale green dress was old, nothing special. I had gotten it years before to go to pool parties and summer cookouts. The bodice was form fitting. A bra really wasn't needed, but I always wore one anyway. The sweetheart neckline was low enough to accentuate my breasts without being too revealing. The skirt flared over my hips and hung nicely, but wasn't too short. It was attractive, without being sexy. But it had been hanging back in my closet. Jeff must have rummaged through my clothes and underwear drawer, I thought as I applied a hint of eye shadow and some lip gloss. I was brushing my hair when the bathroom door opened.
