Join the Party

Rachel was well aware she was the prettiest girl in school. At 18, she was coasting during her final year. She had A levels to sit, but the course work she had done would get her through those. Meanwhile, she was happy to watch the rest of the girls fall over themselves to be her friend. She had her favourites, and loved to play them off one another. Everyone wanted to be her friend, because not to be friends with her was a social Siberia; she knew all the cool clubs, wore the right clothes, and went to all the right parties.

She had more boyfriends than she knew what to do with; she was quite pestered sometimes by the youths of the sixth form, and more often than not the students of the nearby University would come looking for her, taking her out on dates in their cars, leaving the other girls sighing with jealousy. She was a tease with boys: she liked to tempt them and then withdraw at the last minute. She wasn't exactly a virgin, but despite her attractions, she wasn't known as an easy lay. She was saving herself, not knowing for quite what, but knew that there was more to life than this small town, miles from anywhere.

She wasn't aware that she wasn't actually liked; she swanned through life assuming that her smooth, long blonde hair, her plump pouting lips and her petite figure guaranteed her a place among life's winners, but didn't realise that her friendships were superficial, and driven by the other teenagers desires not to be socially isolated. She had mastered the techniques of cutting interlopers down to size, cutting comments, bitchy remarks to which the in-crowd responded with laughs, and which often led to a campaign of torment against those not chosen to be part of the inner circle.

It was one such comment, however, that was to change her life.

Deborah, a quiet girl in the Upper Sixth whom she barely knew, had approached her one day out of the blue. Deborah was known to be studious, and kept herself to herself. Rachel had heard rumours that Deb had been seen with some older boys in a rather notorious pub in the town centre, but dismissed that-she was a timid, shy thing and who on earth would be interested in her?

It was after Sociology that Deb had edged closer to Rachel, nervously pushing past the flutter of girls surrounding her. Almost stuttering in her anxiety, she asked Rachel to come to her birthday party. Deb had agonised over this-she didn't like Rachel, but knew that if she didn't come, very few of the other girls would. Deb was well aware that her parents were worried about her, her lack of friends, her lack of an apparently normal social life, and she had reluctantly agreed to have a party like a normal 18 year old. She needed Rachel to come to make it a success, if only for Deb's parents' peace of mind.

Rachel, bored after the very dull Sociology class, decided to have a little fun. Ignoring Deb completely, she turned to the girl standing next to her and began an empty conversation about nail varnish. Deb stood her ground, and nervously repeated her invitation. After a few moments, Rachel's friend took pity on her and asked her where the party was to be held. Before Deb could stutter a reply, Rachel looked over, not at her, but past her, her cool blue eyes sliding over her. 'Whom on earth are you talking to, Sarah?' she exclaimed, 'There's nobody there.'

Sarah bit her lip, knowing she had stepped out of line. 'There's nobody there', continued Rachel, 'A nobody inviting us to a nobody's party.' With that, the group of girls gathered round their leader and walked off, a few sniggers thrown back in Deb's direction.

Deb could feel the anger inside her; determined not to let them she how much she hated them all, she strode out, and her quick mind began plotting her revenge.

Several days later, Deb had been busy. Rachel had almost completely forgotten the incident, but it had burned inside Deborah until she could remember every intonation, every disdainful expression. She had enrolled the eager help of several friends, like-minded people who were up for a bit of fun. Her parents were away for the coming weekend and the timing was perfect. She had taken to sneaking into the Prefects toilets, and knew that Rachel had a shopping trip planned on Friday evening. The timing would have to be perfect; there was only a small window of opportunity where the target could be acquired.

Miraculously, everything went to plan. Rachel had got off the train from town, bags in hand, and had begun the short walk home. It was early spring, and the nights were beginning to lighten, but dusk had fallen and the cars had their headlights on. Dazed by oncoming traffic, she stopped for a moment at the kerb just as a van pulled up. A well-dressed young man was driving, and he wound down his window to call to her. He wanted directions, and she moved closer to the door; he was very good-looking, she noted, and her automatic flirting switched on. He held out a road map for her, and held open the door to shelter it from the breeze. She moved closer to him, then without warning, strong arms reached out and pulled her off her feet into the van. She tried to struggle, but a cloth came down over her face, she smelt a sickly sweet cloying odour, then nothing more....

She awoke to darkness. Not true darkness though: she had been blindfolded and a small rim of light at the periphery of her vision told her she was in a well-lit room. She was lying flat, and from the softness under her she knew she was on a bed or mattress. She tried to cry out, but a firm round plastic or rubber ball had been stuffed in her mouth and lashed into place by a soft cloth. Her lips were stretched tightly around this and she could feel herself begin to panic, struggling for breath. She was immobile, neither her arms nor legs would move. She could hear herself whimpering out of terror, her struggles getting more vigorous. Pulling and stretching, she could feel ropes or cloths tied around her ankles and her wrists. Her arms were crossed at the wrists and tied above her head. They had been firmly lashed to the metal frame at the head of the bed. She wasn't stretched uncomfortably taut, but there was little room for movement. Her legs were uncrossed, but each ankle was fastened to the bottom of the bedstead, and she suddenly realised that she was naked, her legs parted, exposing herself to whoever was in that room with her. Tears of self-pity and terror squeezed out from under her eyelids.

She struggled futilely for a moment longer, than heard the first sounds of someone else in the room. A soft cough, almost a smothered giggle. To Rachel it sounded like a woman's voice, and she felt a wild surge of hope, praying that this unknown woman would release her. Then, to her horror, the woman's lips came close to her ear, so close that she could feel the soft warm breath against her cheek.

'You should have said yes,' she heard. 'Lets see how much you enjoy this party instead.'