The Sound of Silence

I faded out The Cramps and hit the minidisc button to play a public service announcement about contaminated meat, my favorite PSA ever.

“…place meat on lower shelves in your refrigerator,” the announcer wound up in her clipped but earnest tones, “so juices do not drip onto other food items.”

I flipped on the mic. “Ohhhh…dripping juices,” I breathed. “

Gross

! So listen to the nice lady folks… I know

I

don’t wanna eat any dirty meat.”

I laughed. OK, it’s cheesy and a little off-color, but it’s the middle of the night, you know? I’m pretty sure there aren’t any young children listening. I lean back into the microphone.

“The time is 3:02 am, boys and girls, and you’re listening to your ever-loving student radio station, KLGR. I’m Nicola, and we’re gonna do some Gun Club now. Sorry to load the punk on you, but tonight I think I want it rough. Know what I mean?”

I hit play again and flicked off my mic. The first screaming bars of “Sex Beat” came up and I pushed the rolling-chair away from the mixing board and stretched.

Alright, it’s 3 am in the fucking morning. That part sucks. But I love my radio show. It’s not just that I get to impose my musical tastes on the late-night listeners of the small college town I live in. It’s not just that I get to brag about my deejay gig at parties. There’s something about knowing my voice is on the air that gives me chills.

I have a great voice, if I do say so myself. It’s husky, low – probably the sexiest single thing about tall, thin, shy me. Flat-chested, usually dressed in T-shirts, I don’t look like a glamorous vixen…but damn, I can sure sound like one.

So I play it up, you know what I mean? Talk extra-husky, make a few double-entendre jokes. I always try to sound like I’m talking just to

you

. I like to picture guys flipping through the radio dial in the middle of the night, stopping when they hear me, listening, trying to picture me. Maybe even getting a little turned on. What’s the harm?

I know it’s working, cause I get a lot of callers, especially for such a late show. Mostly guys, of course. Nothing too weird; they just want to talk for a minute and then I let them go.

I turned to look through the stack of CD’s I picked out of the station library. I’d played a lot of heavy stuff in the last twenty minutes. I checked the board: two minutes left to play on the Gun Club. Just enough time to run out to the vinyl section and scrounge something up. I swiveled my chair around to get up.

In the door of the deejay booth was a man I’d never seen before. He was tall, sturdy – definitely good-looking, but way too old to be a college student.

“Hello, Nicola.”

“Um…can I help you?”

“You said you were lonely, so I thought I’d stop by.”

It’s true. I do say that a lot, when I’m trying to get people to call in and request a song. The more calls you get, the better your shows rating, so I lay it on extra thick, but…

Well, I’m no idiot, and this was scary.

“I think you should leave,” I said, trying to sound firm and mean. Yeah, whatever. My voice was shaking like Brittney Spear’s ass.

He laughed.

There’s a panic button inside the booth for emergencies. This definitely qualified. But for the life of me I couldn’t remember where exactly it was. By the phone? Behind the turntable?

“I’m sure there’s a call button,” he said. Shit, he read my mind. “There’s also a phone, I see. But I’d really think twice if I were you. Before anybody could get here, I could do some real damage to your face.”

His hand dove into the pocket of his coat and he brought out a switchblade. He flicked the blade out and let me look at it for a second.

My mouth was suddenly dry. I swallowed, licked my lips. I couldn’t think straight, I was so scared. All I could get out was a strangled “please don’t.”

“What was that? Please, you said?” He laughed. “Oh, Nicola, are you

scared

? You always sound so cocky, such a tough little cookie.”

He stepped forward, reached down where I was sitting and took a handful of my short, dark hair. He pulled my head back so I was looking straight up at him. Tears were starting in my eyes, but I held them back.

“You know, you’re not quite like I pictured you,” he said. “I thought you’d have longer hair, fuller lips, maybe. You’re so

pale

.”

OK, it’s stupid, but that really stung. So what if I wasn’t the curvy bimbo he’d made up in his freaked-out psychopath’s head.

“Really sorry,” I spat. “But I’m not the porn star you were expecting, so why don’t you just fucking go.”

He shook his head slowly, looking down at me. “No,” he said. “None of that stuff matters. I want you. Just like you are.”

He gave my hair another tug, pulling my head all the way back. His other hand, the one with the knife, cupped my cheek. I felt the metal cold against my jaw, and shut my eyes. I wouldn’t look, I just wouldn’t…

I heard the rustle of his clothes as he bent down, and then his breath hot on my face and neck. I tried to twist away, but he jerked my hair tight, pulling my head forward, and he was grinding his lips against mine. I’d known what was coming from the minute I’d looked up and seen him, but I still wasn’t prepared for the vicious attack of his mouth.

His lips crushed mine painfully against my teeth and his tongue forced its way past mine, filling my mouth. His bristly upper lip and chin scraped me raw.

Just as I started to choke, he pulled away, leaving a long strand of spittle between his mouth and mine that broke and landed across my chin. I was too paralyzed even to wipe it away.

His hand released my hair and went to his belt, undoing the buckle. He didn’t seem to be in any hurry. He was even smiling a little.

“You’re such a little tease, Nicola. Such a classic little tease. No,” as I started to protest. “No, of course you don’t mean it. Teases never mean it. It’s all harmless, right?”

He pulled his belt free and took hold of the zipper of his fly.

“It’s just a little fun, isn’t it, Nicola?”

He jerked the zipper down, his voice getting tenser, harder.

“Just a little fun, right, baby? That’s because you don’t know shit about what it’s like to be lonely, honey. You don’t know what it’s like to have somebody pretend to want you -- and you want so bad for it to be true – and you know all the time the little bitch is just having

fun

.”

His fly was down, and reached inside his pants, rubbing himself.

“You don’t know lonely, baby. I think you might be learning, though. Don’t you wish somebody was here right now? Don’t you wish somebody was here to save your sweet young ass? But you’re along, aren’t you? Just you and me. ”

He grabbed me under one arm pit, jerking me onto my feet.

“Stand up,” he said. On my feet I was almost as tall as he was, but he was so much stronger. His arms went around me like iron and he was kissing me again, even rougher, forcing my head back and plunging his tongue into my mouth with rough, angry strokes.

He stepped back and grabbed the hem of my tight T-shirt. “This comes off,” he snarled, and hauled it up.

I tried to keep my arms down, struggling to keep the shirt on, but he shook me hard, and slapped my cheek with his open hand. My head spun, and he took advantage of my confusion to tackle me to the ground and roll on top. He pulled the shirt up over my head and left my arms tangled in it.

Pinning my wrists in the shirt over my head, he started kissing me again, my face and neck. His hand went hot and heavy to my breast, mauling it. He scooped one little breast out of its bra cup and ran his thumb over the nipple. Despite myself, I felt the flesh get hard. He lowered his head and started suckling and biting. I was crying out. I told myself it was fear, just fear. Not excitement. Not a thrill at the feel of his burning lips surrounding my nipple, his teeth nipping the tender underside of my breast.

His hand kneaded my other breast, sending sharp bursts of feeling through it – pain or pleasure, I wasn’t sure. I stopped squirming under him, hypnotized by the sensations in my body. I lay still and panted while his hands and mouth worked at my nipples.

He raised his head from my breast. “You like that, don’t you Nicola?”

I shook my head, dazed.

“I think you do. I think you like it very much. The little tease does want to get fucked.”

“Fuck you,” I whispered.

“Oh, still playing hard to get, huh? Well, don’t worry. I don’t mind. Good thing you’re wearing a skirt though. Pretty hard for you to pretend to fight me while I was getting you out of a pair of jeans.”

He forced his knee between mine, urging my thighs roughly apart. His hand moved down to rub my mound, over the skirt. The heat of his hand penetrated into my pussy. I whimpered and tried to sit up, but my arms were still tangled in the T-shirt above my head, and he easily pushed me back down. He dragged up my skirt and slipped a finger inside the crotch of my panties and between my pussy lips.

He groaned. “Nicola, you’re wet. You little liar. Your pussy’s begging me to fuck it.”

He reached inside his jeans and brought out his cock. God, it was big – not porn star huge, but bigger than any boyfriend I’d ever had, and it looked hard as rock. He knelt between my legs, pulled the crotch of my panties aside, and positioned his cock at the mouth of my pussy. I wasn’t struggling anymore. Maybe I’d given up. Maybe I was mesmerized.

The spell was broken the next second, when, with a grunt, he shoved himself into me with one thrust. I might have been wet, but I wasn’t nearly wet enough to take his whole length all at once like that. I screamed with pain, and his hand clamped down over my mouth.

He started thrusting, furiously, and the lips of my pussy were pulled in and out by the force of this strokes.

“That’s right, you little slut,” he hissed. “I’m all the way in you, I’m fucking you. Take my cock in you, whore. Your little cunt’s so tight, so fucking hot and wet and tight.”

He picked up speed, slamming into me over and over. I guess I was getting wetter. It stopped hurting so much, and the friction of his cock, wet with my juices, sliding in and out of my pussy, started to feel different. I’d never felt so much sensation in my pussy before, never been so aware of having a hard cock moving inside me.

I shut my lips tight, but couldn’t help letting out little whimpers and moans.

“Ohhh, that’s right,” he whispered against my cheek. “That’s right, come for me. Cum on my cock. I want to feel your tight little pussy cum.”

He was pounding me savagely now, moving my whole body up and down against the floor with the force of each thrust. I was really moaning now. All I could think of was his hard cock inside me, going faster and harder, getting ready to cum. I wasn’t thinking clearly anymore – I wanted to cum myself so much. I started to buck up against him, trying to feel more of him inside me.

He groaned, triumphant. “That’s right. You want it, don’t you, you want it so bad. Go on and fuck me. Fuck me, Nicola. Fuck me,

fuck

…”

Suddenly he pulled out of me and buried his face between my legs. His tongue lapped at me furiously, squirming up and down my pussy lips, grinding against my clit. A few seconds of his hungry mouth and I was over the edge, cumming hard, my whole body bucking and spasming. I grabbed his hair and pulled his face into my pussy, grinding my pelvis against him as I rocked out the last few jolts of my orgasm.

“Oh my God.” I covered my face with my hands. I couldn’t believe what had just happened. I’d just been raped, and I enjoyed it. I’d mashed my pussy against him, my body begging him for more. I was starting to cry now, and tried to roll over onto my face, but he was beside me, pulling me into his arms to lie across his lap. Cradling me.

“Shhhh,” he whispered. “Don’t start crying now. You were so brave. Such a brave little girl.”

He laid his cheek against mine. “You needed that. I knew you did. I could hear it in your voice.”

Still in shock, I had no answer.

“You wanted to sound like you were joking, about being lonely. You wanted to sound like someone who could never really be lonely – not that girl, that sexy, confident girl. But you are lonely, Nicola. Your life is lonely.”

His voice was a spell I was under. It was as if he knew me, as if he had reached right into my mind and read everything there, every sad secret, every small, persistant pain.

“You don’t have a boyfriend, do you, Nicola? You live alone – or maybe with a cat.”

My cat – Mr. Bones – God, how did he know all this?

“It’s so hard for you to meet people, Nicola. You feel so ugly. You’re not ugly, you know. You’re beautiful. You’re every bit as beautiful as the Nicola you pretend to be.”

I lay still, bewildered. I should be screaming now. He should be wiping off his filthy dick, zipping it back in his pants, and vanishing into the night. Definitely, he should not be stroking my hair, pulling my head against his shoulder, laying light kisses on my cheek. I should not be pressing my face against him, should not feel comforted, even – absurdly – safe.

He should not now be turning me around, placing me gently on my hands and knees, pushing my skirt up slowly over my ass. I should not be letting him do this, shouldn’t be sticking my ass up higher, giving him better access to my pussy. Shouldn’t moan eagerly when I feel the head of his cock nudge back between my lips.

I couldn’t help it. I let out of a sigh of total surrender when he sank his cock into me, moved back to impale myself deeper onto him. I ground my hips in circles as he began thrusting, the better to feel his hard shaft against every side of my pussy tunnel.

At first he fucked me slowly, a gentle rocking motion inside me. I begged him to fuck me harder, to make me cum again with his cock inside me, to cum inside me himself and empty his load in my pussy.

Soon we were fucking in a frenzy, my face pressed down against the floor with the weight of his thrusts. He grabbed my hips, forcing his hot cock deeper inside me. I felt the muscles of my pussy begin to clutch his shaft.

I was begging him to bury himself in me, to make me cum, to fill me with his cum. Behind me he groaned, gave me one last thrust that seemed to split my pussy apart, and froze inside me. I felt the splash of his hot cum hitting the insides of my walls, and I spiraled into orgasm, screaming out and reaching behind me to pull him even further in.

I was aware of his limp cock being withdrawn, and of weight rolling off me. I pushed myself up on my elbows. The station phone was ringing off the hook – I had no idea how long it had been ringing.

I got up, shakily – my knees were almost too weak to hold me – and staggered over to the desk. I put the phone against my ear.

“KLGR,” I said. I could barely shape the words.

“Hi.” It was a guys voice on the other end. No one I knew. Just some guy out there listening to the radio at 3 am. “I was just wondering if everything was OK. There’s been dead air for, like, twenty minutes.”

Oh my God. The CD had run out forever ago. The whole time we’d been fucking the air waves had just been dead. I pulled myself together.

“Yeah, sorry. We’re having technical difficulties. Um, should be back any second though.”

I fumbled for a CD case. Anything. The first one I grabbed was Dashboard Confessional, that new album, “Swiss Army Romance.” Man, I hate that fucking emo crap. Well, whatever. I popped it in, cued it up.

I looked over my shoulder. He was gone. Totally gone. Vanished. I pulled the door shut behind me, locked it. No more surprises tonight.

“You sure everything’s OK?” the guy on the phone was saying.

“Yup, fine. Oh, hey, we just got our signal back,” I babbled. “Gotta go. Thanks for calling. Bye.”

I put the phone down, flicked on the mic and leaned into it. “Hello there, ladies and…others.” Was my voice shaking? Did I sound strained? “We do apologize for the pause while we repaired an equipment malfunction…I’m sure you found something productive to do while you were waiting…”

I sounded fine. My voice was sultry and confident as ever, like it never had a second of doubt in it’s life.

“I know

I

did.” I laughed huskily. “The time is 3:38, boys and girls, and you’re listening to KLGR, student radio. This is Nicola, standing by as always to take

all

your requests…”

This is fantasy, the kind you might act out with an understanding partner. Real rape is not erotic, and is a crime. If anything like the events depicted here happens to you, you should seek help and contact the police immediately.