The atmosphere of the party is typical: noisy, smoky, dimly lit, and filled with the ever-present murmur of voices striving to be heard over blaring top-40 music. I begin to question why I came at all, mentally cursing the so-called "friend" who had urged me to meet her there. Within five minutes of arriving, she had disappeared with some new guy, leaving me in the company of various spoiled upper-class party-types. Meanwhile, most of the interesting people present seem uninterested or occupied.
Among them I see a person I think might be interesting. Tall, darkish with short black hair, a good-looking athletic type. I decide to try and at least make the best of my evening, as he seems to be free for the moment. Getting up my nerve, I walk forward and try to get his attention. "Hi." I shout, trying to sound casual and friendly while yelling above the music.
"Hey" he shouts back, indicating possible interest.
"So what do you think about this party?"
"It's pretty cool" he answers, barely looking at me. "Hey Fred!" he shouts, walking past me as if I don't exist. After several more attempts with similar results, I figure I've had enough. I decide it's time to seek greener pastures, and make my way to the door with a bit of haste brought on by frustration.
"Leaving so soon?"
I literally feel the voice shouting over the din at the same time as I feel the hand touch my shoulder almost forcefully. It causes me to turn and look toward my addresser. He seems very strong and handsome, and I wonder why I hadn't noticed him before.
"Do I know you?" I ask.
"I don't think so... " He answers, with a strange air of smug confidence, almost carved of indifference. "I've been watching you" he says. "I see you don't care much for these type of people either."
"Hi. Who are you?" I ask, becoming slightly interested, but unsure.
"I'm James. This is my place, but my friend asked if he could have a few people over. I figured what heck, it would give the place a little atmosphere."
"Yeah, air and noise pollution," I quip, waving away a puff of cigarette smoke generously donated by a nearby co-ed.
"The air's clear out on the terrace, and it's quieter there," he suggests, "it's really nice out there if you want to talk. It's this way," he gestures toward the back and left side of the building while almost pushing me along, his other hand pressed irresistibly against my back.
I am slightly put off by his presumptuous and aggressive manner, but I figure it's better than anything else I have planned, so I decide to go along. At least, for a little while. At the same time I begin to feel both curious and apprehensive about being alone with someone I just met. I'm almost afraid to pass up this opportunity though, and also feel somewhat inadequate because of his attitude-- I'm beginning to be really convinced that he knows something that I simply must find out. Behind that is a sensible voice telling me that maybe this isn't such a good idea. I silence this voice, however, with the rationalization that I can take care of myself if he decides to try anything. Besides, I'm in a house full of people.
The opening to the back-terrace follows a hallway and a flight of stairs, into an upper bedroom and through a sliding glass door with white louvre blinds. Compared to the noise of the party atmosphere, the cool night air of the terrace feels incredibly refreshing, as well as calm and serene. Looking out over the back hillside offers a striking view of the evening sky. Although I can only make out a handful of stars, I notice a particularly beautiful cloud drifting in front of the full moon.
As I find myself moved by this, again I become conscious of various thoughts. Feelings of desire conflict with those of apprehension as I think of what to do or say next, how to respond to his various actions. He, on the other hand, seems completely unfazed, regarding me with the utmost confidence. He almost interrogates me with an arrogant gaze broken only by the occasional indifferent glance toward other points on the horizon, leaving me feeling even more curious and apprehensive, and perhaps insignificant.
"So what is it that brought you here?" he asks coolly with a wry smile.
"Excuse me?" I ask, unsure of his meaning.
"What is your interest?" he responds, still cool but also slightly harsh now. Finding myself uncomfortable with being put on the spot, yet enjoying the feeling of attention, I begin to discuss various subjects of my interest.
"No," he stops me sharply, "Tell me, what is it that holds your attention to the point where you feel utterly fascinated, draws you in and makes you feel that fascination entirely?" Something in the tone of his voice seems to command me to do just that...
I ponder this, mildly alarmed by his question and manner. Feeling both shocked and somehow weak, almost mesmerized, I hear myself answer as if in a dream "Um, I don't know." Then I seem to feel my guard dissolve, and I become aware of myself saying the words, "I...I want to feel everything."
The confident stare now becomes almost triumphant, gloating over my words as if over a surrender. "What would you do to feel that?" he asks, challenging, mocking me. I feel an almost uncomfortable stirring in my abdomen, which I can't place for the moment but which seems to only spur an answer.
"I don't know," I emote, still feeling some sense of control. "Anything... I suppose." Again, however, I am uncertain as to who or what actually spoke those words, as if I don't believe that it was I who spoke them.
"Come with me, I want to show you something." he takes me by the arm and almost literally drags me toward the sliding glass door into the house. Now thoroughly curious and yet somewhat intimidated, I resist slightly at first, then follow as the noise of the party downstairs reassures me somewhat. As I feel both of his hands on my arms, I suddenly realize with a start what he may have in mind.
This realization hits me precisely as I feel his hand on my back shoving me forcefully into the room. Shocked, I stumble forward and turn to see him close and lock the bedroom door. In a fearful daze, I begin to protest, but I feel his hands on my shoulders and the weight of his body pushing me back down on the bed. Terrified but desperate, I gather all of my strength and attack as best as I can, causing him to lose his grip as he avoids my blows. I fight free and rush for the door, struggling with the lock until I feel his hand seizing my arm from behind. No longer gentle as before, he squeezes with incredible strength and pulls me around to face him directly, now holding both of my arms helplessly.
