It seems, that since I wrote the Linda's late story, some people have been very interested in what became of her. I never planned to write a sequel, but nevertheless I do have a soft (hard) spot for the lady myself. As a result of the appeal of the first story, I'm sure that some people will, inevitably, be disappointed by my efforts. I am a painfully slow writer and I can only say that I've done my best.
Naturally, this is pure fantasy and I do not condone the use of force, abuse or blackmail of women for sex, in reality.
Linda was watching TV, early on a Saturday night in her cosy pajamas and fluffy dressing gown. She had made herself a cup of tea, a few of her favourite, chocolate biscuits and settled down to watch a celebrity game show. She found the mind numbing, banality of the program, somehow helped to maintain a sense of normality. It had been over seven weeks since... that horrible, horrible day. Linda had never told a living soul about her ordeal. Of course she had intended to, when she finally got home, but she had felt so shocked, frightened and ashamed, she didn't know where to start. On the day that she had been attacked, Linda rang work, from home, and told them she wouldn't be able to attend work or the party because she felt quite ill. She had showered, three times in total, and promised herself that she would definitely call the police tomorrow, when she had recovered her senses a little. However, the next day, it didn't seem any easier and in fact, every day after, for many reasons, it became more and more difficult to tell anyone about it.
It had been truely awful to start with, she was all alone with her terrible secret thoughts. Linda took a week off work, telling her employers that she had a virus. As a result of the fact that Linda was normally so conscientious, she was believed implicitly and even sent a large bunch of flowers and a get well soon card from her employers. The reality for Linda was that, although she had some bruising and scratches, physically, she was virtually unharmed. She did, subsequently, seek and receive a discrete STD test and was thoroughly relieved when she got the all clear result. However, the fact that she was physically unharmed after the rape, was a problem in itself, because it left her with a nagging feeling of guilt. She began to be consumed by that guilt and self recrimination. Although she knew that it was wrong and self-destructive, she tortured herself with recriminations.
Why hadn't she stayed in the car?
Why didn't she just turn back when she had become lost?
Most importantly, what if she had fought and screamed more?
Would she have frightened them off? Then there was the "elephant in the room" question, why hadn't she called the police?
If she was to be brutally honest with herself, Linda would probably admit that her courage failed her. Women who have undergone the horrible ordeal of rape and then reported it, are the brave ones. Linda felt that she lacked the courage to face the questions and reliving the ordeal with other people. Then there was the probability of a court case and seeing those... two young animals again. So, she took the week off work, shut the world out and tried to come to terms with what had happened and move on with her life.
Linda eventually decided that the best way to get through this, was to pretend to herself, as well as everyone else she knew, that nothing had happened. Which is exactly what she did, with some success. When Linda returned to work at the solicitor's offices, her colleagues noted that she appeared to have lost weight, was a little pale and subdued and commented that the virus must have been quite a nasty one. Linda agreed, grateful that any differences could be passed off so easily, and gradually, in the best English tradition, kept calm and carried on, politely pretending nothing everything was normal. Over the weeks, life had, outwardly, returned to normal, but not really, not for Linda. She had, in some ways, never really moved on from that moment in time. Something inside had changed since that day and Linda visited it endlessly in her mind.
It was bad enough that she had become stupidly lost, in the city where she had worked, for many years. That lack of awareness and complacency, on her part, had led to the whole terrible chain of events. However, in common with many victims of rape, Linda was wracked with remorse and guilt. It stemmed from the nagging thought that she hadn't screamed, tried to run or put up a fight, even though she knew very well that she could have been injured or killed. No one could criticise her, no one would... but it didn't prevent her from holding herself to account. However, her deepest and most secret disgrace, was those seconds of intense sexual pleasure which she had experienced... whilst being raped. Why? Why? Why? Linda went over and over it, in her head again and again, as she had done so many times.
It had begun when she had embarrassingly, had to ask the first youth for help. Although Linda was older and clearly held a socially and financially, superior position, she was out of her comfort zone and had been reduced to asking for help. In retrospect, offering money had been a mistake, perhaps, unconsciously, she had seen it as a way to try and maintain some level of superiority, in that situation. When the black lad had turned up, full of bounce and swagger, it was now two to one. She was acutely aware of her rising level of discomfort. These were their streets. Looking back, Linda knew that the first lad must have texted the second, they must have thought, "how can this posh bitch be so stupid?". She rejected the thought that it was the black lad's colour that had made her wary, it was more the fact that he looked too confident and physically imposing. Finally, the realisation that she was lost, in a run down city area, alone with two tough, street kids had crystallised in her preoccupied mind.
The way she looked, her nervousness and the clothes she wore, made her a perfect target for anyone who wanted to take everything she had... and that was just what they did! Linda remembered how her initial feeling of embarrassment and disquiet, had slid queasily into fear. Her heart quickened, her stomach flipped and her legs felt unsteady on her precarious heels. This sort of thing never happened to safe, middle-class people like Linda. Vague, alarming, but also, if she were being honest with herself, oddly exciting thoughts of danger had, at first, flitted through her consciousness. Something dark and furtive had stirred deep down inside her. Linda could only describe it now, in retrospect, as a kind of unwholesome, illicit thrill, a guilty buzz of anticipation. Perhaps like the fear of being caught shoplifting, or exceeding the speed limit. Not that she had ever had the courage to do such things, but she imagined that it was similar.
She had still felt that, if she kept her head, she might talk her way out of it, or someone might come to her rescue. Then, when the thugs first produced a knife, all her anxious thoughts of escape back to safety, suddenly disappeared and were replaced by instinctive thoughts of survival. She wasn't naive, they had seen her money, Linda knew then that she was going to be robbed and there was absolutely nothing that she could do about it. However, like all women alone, threatened and menaced by men, there was also that paralysing dread, of the possibility of sexual assault. If she couldn't prevent them from robbing her, how could she stop them from....!
It was then that the middle-aged lady had, perhaps first experienced, in amongst the bowel loosening fear, a frisson of sexual danger, slithering furtively, somewhere deep inside her. A lady in peril, a damsel in distress. Why had those sort situations and scenes, in films and books, always sparked her interest and imagination? Retrospectively, Linda wondered if other women in that awful situation had ever felt that weird, never to be spoken of, combination of terror and excitement like her? Or, was she uniquely perverse among her sex? Was it an unconscious yearning for the kind of mental, physical and sexual humiliation, to which she had been subjected, by her degenerate, ex-husband? Yet, she had come to loathe the abusive relationship and him, during their marriage, so her feelings just didn't make any. sense.
However, one thing that Linda was sure of, that she had, categorically, not enjoyed the reality of being raped, on a filthy mattress, by two low life juvenile delinquents. That experience had been shocking, frightening and degrading. The respectable, middle aged lady had felt violated, dirty, angry and humiliated. So, why did she have such a powerful orgasm, whilst submitting to being physically bullied, used and sexually abused? What was wrong with her? No one else, aside from those directly involved, even knew that Linda had been raped and it was only Linda herself, who carried the legacy of disconcertingly, inappropriate, feelings which that violent incident had stirred up.
Later, after she had recovered from the initial shock and physical trauma of her attack, Linda was left alone with those unsettling thoughts, she could confide in no one. As the days and weeks distanced her, further and further, from the frightening, sordid reality of her ordeal, the bruises and soreness healed. Yet, those thoughts remained, mingling with inexplicably, twisted erotic fantasies that intruded relentlessly into her quiet moments. Linda experienced, what she would later come to recognise as, post traumatic stress, which haunted both her dreams and her daytime thoughts. Excerpts of her rape, complete with sounds and smells, seemed to loop, in vivid imagery, in her mind's eye. When it did, the trembling mature woman couldn't prevent the same feelings she had experienced, flooding through her system.
When she was at work, or in company, Linda sometimes needed to excuse herself and go to the toilet or some other quiet space, until the trembling and heart pounding had abated. Somehow, that awful event and her unwanted sexual reaction to it, had become inextricably linked, in her confused brain. She was no psychologist, by any means, but she could just about understand why those unresolved, nauseous feelings of terror and degradation might reoccur, that seemed understandable. However, to her shame and bewilderment, Linda also experienced a kind of sordid excitement as well. Especially when she thought of how easily she had been taken, and sexually humiliated, in broad daylight. The fact that her rapists appeared to have been young enough to be her children, only added to both her sense of humiliation and, ultimately, her perverse arousal. To the point that, the outwardly prim and respectable, middle-class, legal secretary had, on more than one occasion, succumbed to an overwhelming urge to masturbate, whilst replaying those horrible scenes of ravishment in her mind.
Afterwards, Linda had sobbed in anger and shame, shocked by her own sordid actions, appalled each time it happened. This was Linda's "dirty secret", which no one could ever know. So, the smartly dressed, middle-aged lady, continued to manage her, outwardly normal life, one day at a time and prayed for peace of mind to return. A church going Christian, since her divorce from Gerald, Linda found comfort and a sense of moral respectability in the church. Especially after what her ex-husband had forced her to endure, when she was much younger. She had felt that was what was needed, some form of atonement perhaps, in order to put her participation in his carnal demands behind her.
Her recent rape and her perverse reaction to it, had made her cling onto that faith even tighter, almost like a drowning woman. Linda had tried to redouble her involvement in her local church in an attempt to salve her conscience. The reverend Mr Ian James was delighted, he had always seemed to have time for her. Although she could never contemplate actually telling him anything. He was young, handsome and quite attentive towards her. Being a good, clean and morally upright man, the middle aged woman felt comforted when she talked with him. Yet nothing, not even the good reverend, banished the thoughts.
