Message-ID: <25133asstr$963277810@assm.asstr-mirror.org> X-Original-Path: not-for-mail From: mighty_lyssa@my-deja.com X-Original-Message-ID: <8kd3vh$112$1@nnrp1.deja.com> X-Article-Creation-Date: Mon Jul 10 18:17:39 2000 GMT Subject: {ASSM} Boots, 3/14, (Rape, Romance) Date: Mon, 10 Jul 2000 21:10:11 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: newsman, english, IceAltar I received far more feedback than I expected, thanks! (Though, I really don't think I'm a "sellout bitch".) The story takes a more gentle turn in this part. Further feedback will continue to give me a cheap thrill. :o) For better or worse, this is my work, so please don't post it at other places on the net. If you want to do that, write your own stories. Lyss mightylyssa@yahoo.com ************** Boots (3/14) I wake up on the table, shackled. "She comin out of it?" Jimmy is eyeing me. "Yes," Dr. Mark is carefully replacing a hyperdermic into his case. "I told you it wouldn't take long." "Damn cunt you had one hell of a dream," Jimmy laughed his guffaw. He slapped my head and all the pain rushed back. "Now it's time for the nightmare!" What? Despair settled in. No God in the universe would do this too me. My escape had only occurred in my dream, under the sedation while they moved my position on the table. But surely I could use it! To get free, to throw the saw, to kill Eric with the power cord. I let loose with a long, plaintive wail as they laughed. I was shackled securely. Flat on the table. Eric hit my head and forced a rubber ring into my mouth. I couldn't force it down or out, as it wedged painfully in, spreading my cheeks. "WhooHOO!" Jimmy hooted. "Look at that open mouth! Damn I love an open mouth! First you're gonna drink our cum, then our piss, then our shit!!" "GYYYRRAAARRRRGGHHH!!!" I sat up as far as the shackles would let me as a pain thundered through my arm. I looked down at Bradley as he crushed my middle finger in a pair of pliars. He twisted viciously. "Told you I'd remember," he grinned. Then he was between my legs, raping me. Thrusting violently. Blood began to seep around his penis as he pounded in and out. More and more blood, it was gushing against him. My head was grabbed and slammed back. Eric was over me, thrusting himself into my mouth. I gagged and tried to scream. I closed my eyes to the anguish. I opened them and it was Jimmy above me, with his horrible curved penis in my throat. I felt something moving under me and Dr. Mark was somehow there. I lay atop him as Bradley raped my vagina and Jimmy force fed me his penis. There was another terrible pain as my rectal muscles stretched and ripped, Dr. Mark's penis forcing its way inside me. They all moaned together, their voices rising and falling in unison, dreadful. With a grunt, they all began to ejaculate, filling me with a hot thick, sickening seed. With loud pops, they retracted from my orifices and then Eric was there with his bat. He smashed the bat into my legs and I heard the shin bones splinter and pop. Then the pain hit like a tidal wave. I screamed so hard blood flew out of my torn throat as I watched my legs being decimated. My beautiful legs. My best feature. My ticket through soccer and track to a college education. The shattered bones ripped outward through the skin until my legs didn't even look like legs any longer. I heard the power saw and Jimmy was there. Dr. Mark was now in a white lab coat furiously pumping injection after injection into me, but the pain could not be deadened. The right side of my body came free as that arm was severed. I cried out to the heavens that this shouldn't be. With the grin of a devil, Jimmy hopped up on the table, straddling me. He brought the saw down in a side sweep and removed my poor left breast. Blood geysered. He paused, looking down at the ruin that was me, his eyes wide with joy. In his eyes I could see the reflection of my torn chest and my exposed, beating heart. He reached for my heart, screaming, "Ellen! Ellen!" "Ellen! Oh please Ellen!!" I opened my eyes to my mother holding me. I gasped for breath. Things began to swim into focus. A hospital room. "Ellen, thank God," my father materializes at our side, holding us both. I develop a fear that nothing is real. "Am..." I croak out the word. My voice sounds like sandpaper. I try to speak again but just a dry rasp. "Here honey," mother is holding a paper cup of water to my lips. I drink it and it disappears quickly. The cold wetness feels heavenly on my throat. I want to ask for more, but she is already refilling the cup. I smile. "Ellen," Dad is watching my face and my smile makes him beam one back. "We're so happy you're safe." I down the next cup of water. The haze is fading now. When I awoke, the room was all white and faded, like someone had turned up the brightness too much. Now I begin to see clearly. It's a small utilitarian hospital room with two beds. The other bed is vacant, though the covers are rumpled where someone had been sleeping atop them. Probably Mom or Dad. I look out the window and it's dark. Night. I think about it while Mom and Dad hug and kiss me, showering me with pleasant statements. I fled at night. I could tell I had been asleep more than a few hours, but it was night again. "Did..." I swallow and smile. "Did I sleep all day?" "Three days, honey," my mom caressed my face. Dad has walked away and is quietly talking on the phone. "Three days," I try to work my mind around that. I don't want to settle on any one thought though. I'd rather let my thoughts flit lightly from item to item because, looming over my consciousness like a heavy black blanket, ready to fall and suffocate me, is what happened. I smile again. I prove to myself that I can smile. I ask about Matt, Felicia and Cyndi. Dad says they were here for one day, but he had wanted them to return to school. I'm in Tombright General, in Bakersfield. That's two hours from where we live. I remember that the blindfolded trip in the van took a long time, and then quickly push that aside. A doctor comes in. I think of Dr. Mark and flinch. He is kind and attentive, asking me many questions about my body. He then asks me a series of odd questions with easy answers and plays a short memory game with me using some cards. While this is going on, another man has come in the room and sits in a chair. He is wearing a business suit. When he sits, I see a gold badge on his belt and a gun under his left arm. "Ok," the doctor, Dr. Willingham, smiles. "You're an amazing young woman Ellen. Very strong." "She's going to be alright?" my mom asks. "Yes, physically, I think she's fine now. I'll have her charts and results sent to the hospital of your choice at your home, because she'll need some more tests in about a month. She had suffered head trauma from... from a blow, and we were mainly worried about that. But her thinking seems clear and fine. We'll see how her memory is in just a moment." "All the cuts?" "Superficial," he shrugged. "Most were just from brush and briars. There were a couple of deeper gashes and punctures in her feet but those are clean and didn't even require stitching. Her shoulder was dislocated and that was easily reset. She still has heavy bruising on her back, but no internal injuries. Overall the main injury was exposure and fatigue. Nothing nutrients and sleep didn't fix." My eyes move back and forth from Dr. Willingham to Mom as they speak. I like it how they're speaking about me as if I'm not there. Then Dad is back beside me. He holds my hand and I squeeze it, smiling up at him. "Ellen, there is a policeman here who wants to ask you a few questions. We all need to know what happened but if you're not ready, that's fine." The policeman in the business suit clears his throat as he gets out of his chair. "That's true, Ellen, you need to be sure you're okay, but I'd also like to emphasize that the quicker we get at least some information the better." "Ellen," Mom looked at me. "Would you prefer to talk now or later? If you're tired-" "I'm not tired," I rasp. "I feel pretty rested. My throat is sore though. But I can talk." "I'm Gerald Raney," he gently shakes my head. "I'm a detective for the Bakersfield Police Department." He pulls out a small note pad, jots down something, and continues, "Ellen you were found on Highway 89, fleeing from a man who was shooting at you. The man was struck by a passing car and killed. Who was this man?" "Jimmy." My parents exchanged sharp glances. Detective Raney simply wrote it down. "Jimmy who?" "I don't know. His name was Jimmy." "How did you meet him?" "He was part of the group that abducted me. A man abducted me at the Turtle Creek mall. His name is Bradley. He took me in a van to-" "Ok, just a moment," he was still writing. I could feel Mother gripping my hand tightly. I smile at her. She looks very frightened. "Bradley abducted you at Turtle Creek. Did you know him?" "No. Well, I had seen him the day before. We were buying boots and he kept watching us." Mother gasps and covers her mouth, repressing a sob. "And he abducted you Tuesday?" I thought. "Yes." "How did he abduct you, Ellen?" "Mm, I don't know. I was walking to my car, then something happened. I woke up in his van. I was blindfolded and my arms and legs were tied." "Baby..." Mom dabbed tears from her face with a tissue, still holding me with the other hand. "Do you know where he took you?" "No. It was a hunting cabin out in the woods. He didn't take the blindfold off until I was in a basement they had set up." "How many were there?" "Four. Bradley, Jimmy, Eric and a doctor named Mark." "How do you know he was a doctor?" "He... he had a case with some needles and... he just did a lot of doctor type things." "Would you recognize all these men again? I mean other than Jimmy?" "Yes. Eric is also dead." "What hap-" "I electrocuted him." I was beginning to tremble. I looked around at nothing in particular and swallowed hard. "They were going to rape me and torture me. They said I was the fourth. They showed me a video of one before me. What they did to her." Mother cried, and ran a shaking hand through my hair. Dad muttered something I couldn't hear. His mouth was tight and his face was afraid and angry. I went through the ordeal then. Telling them what had happened. I kept it matter-of-fact and carefully steered clear of emotional context, like my fear. The detective scribbled away in his pad, then quickly left to make some calls. I was crying again and both my parents held me. I felt so good between them. Later I got out of bed and walked. My feet were sore from the injuries to my soles, but it felt good overall to walk around. My body was incredibly stiff from being in bed so long. I ate and the hospital food was terrible. I received a call from home and chatted with Matt and my sisters. More warmth and love from them. I could tell already that the support of my family would be what lifted me out of this. That night I saw him. I had drifted off to sleep. Mom and I were watching a Seinfeld rerun with the volume turned rather low. I woke up and it was ending. Mom was over by a small table checking my medication chart. Because she's a medical transcriptionist, she can understand all that. The door to the small bathroom was open a crack and as my eyes scanned past, a vision snapped them back. I could see someone standing just on the other side. I could see his eye peering out at me. I sat up in the bed and screamed, "Mom!! He's in the bathroom!!" Mom whirled and looked at me, her face a mask of fright and confusion. I was pointing at the bathroom door, getting out of bed. I had to get her out of there. She stepped over and swung the door open and he was there. Dr. Mark. Grinning lasciviously at me as he held a long hyperdermic. Mom wasn't looking at him! She was looking at me as she opened the door! "Mom, move!!" I was out of the bed and going to her. She met me halfway, grabbing my arms and crying, "Ellen, what's wrong!? Who!?" I looked at her and back at the bathroom. It was empty. "No," I whispered, cautiously going to the small room. "Ellen, there's no one there, baby. I promise you." Mom was trying to sound strong but she couldn't. She was afraid. Not of someone being in the bathroom, but of what was happening to me. I checked the bathroom. Small and empty. No other exits. I was awake. I had not been dreaming when I saw him. That narrowed it down to a hallucination. Great. I frowned and pulled a bit at my hair. I didn't want to go crazy. This was so unfair. I had beaten them. I didn't want any lingering effects. Mom was still talking but I ignored her and climbed back into bed. I rolled onto my side under the covers, my back to her, and curled into almost a fetal position. I closed my eyes and quickly drifted to sleep. The sun was bright and hot, and it felt good. I stood on the orange concrete, the long oval of the track extending in front of me. I lean forward again, from the hips, knees locked and allow my head to hang between my shins. My hamstings are still tight from the week of inactivity. I maintain that position for a full minute then raise up. I look down the track again. I'm ready to run. I don't really need to stretch more. But it's hard to take that first step. Athletics, especially track, had always been my haven. I can think and solve problems while I'm running. Just me and my body. Stepping back into this will be going back through the door into my normal life. So why hesitate? I try to do what my high school psychology teacher said and sort my feelings. Maybe I'm just scared to embrace life again because of the threat of losing it. I bounce up and down on the balls of my feel. I do high knee lifts. On the well tanned skin, as my thigh muscles ripple beneath, I can see faint white marks as the scratches from the brush fade. "Hey Ellen." I gasp and turn with a start. Damn me! I've got to calm down and stop acting like a frightened deer every time someone says something. It's Craig. A fairly well known local, he plays on the football team. I think he's a linebacker. "Hey, I'm sorry," he's stopped his approach and is holding his hands out. "I-" "No, no," I smile and shake my head, looking at the ground. People had been going out of they're way to treat me normal, even people who had never spoken to me before. So that in itself wasn't normal. But I wasn't helping matters by acting so jumpy. "It's my fault. It was quiet out here and it just scared me a little." "Ok, cool," he smiles a broad, easy smile. His face crinkles around his eyes. I like his smile. He puts his fingers in the pockets of his jeans and shifts from one foot to the other as he looks at the track. "So, ah, doing the track thing huh?" "Well, trying to get back into it. Missed a week..." I pause as anything that touches on the subject may cause mutual discomfort, "... you know." He nods, his lips still conveying a friendly smile. "You're good. I mean, I heard. You set a record at Pearl High?" "Oh, no," A small laugh. "Our relay team set a record. I was part of that. But, no individual records." "Ah, I bet you smoke em," his smile broadened into a grin again and I smiled back, biting my lower lip. His Hilfiger tee, blue and deep red, draped his vee-shaped solid upper body nicely. His chest broad and not too thick, his stomach a flat plane disappearing into his Levi's. Narrow hips and what looked to be good legs in those jeans. His long ovaled biceps were tanned and generous. Black hair and blue eyes. "So, listen, I haven't really met you yet so I don't want to be forward. We're having a party at Tom Mabry's house this Friday night. It's a jock party." He saw my brow furrow a bit, and added quickly, "And jockettes." He grinned. "Atheletes?" "Yeah, sorry," he looked down and ran his fingers through his straight hair, pulling it back. "It's for the athletically inclined members of our fine student body." He laughed a little. "Cool," I nodded. "A jock party. And jockettes." "Yeah, so I was wondering if I could take you. I mean, anyone can go on their own, it's not like you have to have a date or anything, but I would be happy to pick you up and take you there." He continued before I could answer, "And, a date is really cool too. I mean, I don't even know if you have a boyfriend, Josh Bander said you didn't, but if you do just blow me off. It's cool." He finished, looking at me and running his fingers through his hair again. I began to take that as a nervous fidget of his. His face looked a little vulnerable now, like he had hung it all out there, so was I going to shoot him down or what? "Yeah," I shook my head with a smile. "Yeah, sure. Sounds fun." "Cool," his smile was back in full glory. "Cool. Ah, ok then. Well, man, it's only Tuesday. I'll talk to you again before Friday ok?" "Ok, sure." Another nod and another smile. "You having lunch today?" his eyes widened again. "Ah... yeah, I'm sure I am. I have Algebra at 11:15 but that ends at 1. I'll probably eat then." "Cool. You, ah, want to grab a bite at Sonic? My treat. I just love their onion rings but I feel like such a hack sitting there by myself." I laugh. "Ok, sure." "Hey great! What building is your class in?" "Murrow. I hate algebra." "Yeah it really sucks. I hate it too. I'll meet you there at 1. What side you usually come out of?" "Ah, doesn't matter. I can come out on the parking lot. That'll be easier." "Cool," he nodded, his face very happy. "Ok." "Ok." I smile, nodding. "Ok. Well," we both laugh. "Look you're trying to get your runs in and I think she wants to talk to you so I'll look forward to seeing you at 1." He waved and hurried off, and I turned to see who he was talking about. Joan Mason was sitting on a small flatbed cart used for moving the hurdles. She got up and came over. I had only met Joan once, at our soccer team's initial meeting. She and I were the only two soccer scholarships on the team. It was widely assumed that, despite our both being freshmen, one of us would end up captain. Joan was two inches shorter than me, at 5'7". She had a nice athletic body, though a bit curvier than mine. Really nice breasts, I noticed with envy. Long red hair, slight curls, piercing green eyes. Joan's expression was an unwavering one. An expression that told you she was no nonsense. When I first met her and saw that expression I had a feeling that, talent aside, she would end up the team captain. "Hi Joan," I smiled. "Hi Ellen. We had our first practice yesterday." "I know. I'm sorry, I-" "Hey," she waved it off. "After all that shit you went through, no one's going to fault you for missing a practice. I just saw you out here and wanted to say hi. Get to know you a bit better." "Oh," I nodded. "Yeah. So, practice went well?" "This team has a long way to go. They're all out of shape. Can't dribble, can't kick. Forget passing. You're good though. We didn't play you in high school, but I watched you at the State tournament." "Thanks, everyone says you're great too. You going for the captain?" "I plan to be captain yes. It will be a lot easier if I have you at my side. I think we can forge this team together." I nod. That's a pretty declarative statement from her, considering she must know I'm also a candidate. "You still going to do track?" she looked around the field. "Not on the team, no. I want to keep up my practice though. It helps me a lot in soccer too." "Yeah. So that was some shit you went through, huh?" "Oh. Yep, pretty bad." "I bet. Listen you need to run if you're going to get anything done before your classes. I have my playbook from high school. A lot of them are plays I designed. I'd really like to go over them with you. Get your feeling on how well they'd work with this team." "Oh," I nod quickly. "Sure." "Great, can I come by your house tonight?" "Oh. Ah, yes, I think so. I'll finish my homework here at the library. I'm never able to get anything done at home." I laugh. She smiles, watching me. "Say, 7?" "Pure excellence. I'll see you at 7. Directions?" I explain how to get there, with street names. It sounds pretty easy to her. She extends a closed fist towards me, knuckles outward. "Hang tough sister." I grin and put my fist out, guessing that's the thing to do. She raps my knuckles with hers and shoots me another smile. Then she's gone. I stand alone for a moment and breathe a smile. "Wow." That was cool. Everyone knew about the abduction. It had been in the newspapers on the front page. A naked girl (no one had gotten pictures of that, thank goodness) running down the highway being chased by a man firing a gun is pretty big news in our area. Add to that the gunmen getting his just desserts right there on the spot, his case adjudicated by a passing motorist, and you have quite a sensation. But the details were not known. The media was going on leaks and assumptions that there were two men involved. The abduction had failed, I had escaped, one of the abductors had died, and the other was at large. That was close enough for me. I had turned down all contact with them for further details. I think the first reporter to contact me had turned me off. He had come into my hospital room unannounced. I don't want to say he "sneaked" in, because the room was certainly not off limits to anyone. But the whole situation and his mannerisms reeked of "sneaky" and sleazy. I turned down his requests for information and buzzed for the nurse. He was escorted out. I trashed his business card. What I had experienced was nightmarish in the purest sense of the word. I wanted it behind me. The only way I would address it would be to be sure the other two, Bradley and Dr. Mark, were made to pay. Not to satisfy the lurid curiousity of others. It had concerned me, however, as I was in the hospital reading the papers and watching the news coverage, that I would be regarded as ... unclean. I felt unclean. It wasn't that I felt as though I had done anything wrong, but rather unclean by association. An innocent bystander infected with a plague of the vilest sort. If humanity were an organism, people like those four men were a disease. And I had been in contact with them. But, wow. Craig had asked me out. He was cute, nice, and seemed to have a lot of friends. My main competitor on the soccer team had come to me with an opening greeting. I bent once more stretching my hamstrings and, as I raised, I broke into an easy run. Finally. I felt good again. The familiar bite of my shoes on the coated cement surface, the muscles starting to work in my calves and thighs, the rhythmic breathing taking hold, the first sweat breaking out on my forehead, the breeze in my face. I felt good again. I showered and arrived at Algebra about 5 minutes late. I hated walking in late, and everyone staring at me. Particularly since now was the time for me not to draw attention to myself but to simply meld in, becoming one of the student body. The teacher even smiled at me in an apologetic way. I wished he would reprimand me for being late. This had nothing to do with me being abducted a week ago. This had to do with me taking too long to do my run and shower. I spotted an empty seat and hurried to it, melting into the chair. During class I kept my eyes on the book and the whiteboard but could see in my periphery other students continually stealing glances at me. I put myself in their shoes and decided I would probably look too. I didn't like it, but knew it wouldn't last forever. Just had to wait until this whole issue lost its sensationalism. The bell rang and we all got up. I hoped to see Becky in the halls and say hi before meeting Craig. She had come to visit me in the hospital twice and had called every night. Becky and I had been friends since kindergarten. She was a once in a lifetime friend. As much a sister to me as Felicia or Cyndi. I smiled happily as I spotted her. We met and gave a quick hug. I stepped back, peering down. "Wearing the boots?" I giggled. "Yeah, they rock," she grinned. "Feel great, and I look tough." "Encountered any jungle muck?" We laughed. "What are you doing? Want to grab a bite?" she asked. "Oh. I'm supposed to meet Craig Lobrano at ... well, now." Her eyes showed a sudden million questions so I continued, "I mean, just... you know... going to Sonic. You can come!" That sounded wrong. But she grinned at me. "Craig Lobrano? The football player? Woot! Look at you Ellen." "No," I shook my head, grinning like an idiot and turning red. "Just Sonic." "Uh huh. No, you go to Sonic with him. I wouldn't interrupt this for the world. Here, I'll walk with you to meet him though." She giggled. "You've got to give details tonight though." "Of what? The texture of the onion rings?" "The texture of his sexsay lips," she said in a low voice, pulling me close as we walked and smiling an evil smile. I laughed. "His sexsay lips... I think not Becky. It's just a getting to know each other." "Want to get together tonight? Details like this are not given justice over the telephone." "Sure." I was on air. I was once again immersed back into my normal life. If anything good could come of what happened, I think it could be the appreciation for the little good things. "Oh! Do you know Joan Mason?" "Mm, that's the girl on the soccer team right? I think you told me about her." "Right, I told her she could come over at 7. She wants to get to know me I think, and go over some plays she has. Want to sit in? Won't take long I think, and then you and I can kick back." "Mm," she frowned. "Nah, but call me after she's gone. We'll just have to make do with a phone conversation." She punctuated this with an exaggerated sigh. "Okay," I laughed. We exited the Murrow Math and Sciences building into the bright early afternoon sun. I immediately spotted Craig standing nearby, chatting with another guy. "Oh there he is." "No," Becky shook her head. "He is too fine Ellen. There is no way I can let him waste himself on you. He must be mine to experience life to the fullest." "Away, skank," I laughed, pushing her. "Don't push me, slut," she pushed back. "I have my combat boots." "Oh, oh," I feigned fear as we continued our progress. "And me without my jungle muck." "Hey, Ellen," Craig smiled that great smile as we approached. He nodded to Becky and I noted happily he kept his eyes on her face. "Hi Craig, this is Becky. My eternal enemy." He laughed, "Cool. Nice to meet you Becky." He continued to address her but he turned his face to me, "We're just going to the Sonic... pick up a bite..." "Yep, yep," Becky said quickly. "I'm going to the cafeteria to eat. I need to look over a project. Can you believe they're already giving us projects? Hello? We, like just started this week?" We laughed and agreed that sucked, then said goodbye. Craig drove a red Dodge Dakota pickup that looked to be the newest model. Nice. The truck let out it's double beep as he thumbed the keyless entry and opened the door for me. I slid in. Yep, that new car smell, the air inside hot from sitting in the sun all day. Probably a graduation present from his parents. The seat was bench. If things did progress to an actual date, and he was nice, that would be fun to scoot over and ride next to him. For now, however, I sat on my side, picking up his CD binder and flipping through it as he got in. "Yeah," his grin was there as he fired the engine, "I probably need to update my selections there. Haven't picked up a CD in a while." "No, cool stuff," I smiled. Smile. Grin. Smile. Grin. We were obviously both anxious to get off on the right foot. "I really like Collective Soul." "Cool," he nodded, easing the truck out of the parking spot, checking both ways. The A/C had come on full blast, and the radio had opened up rather loud as he cranked it. He lowered the volume on the radio, diminishing a Limp Bizkit track. He left the A/C up, which I appreciated. "Nice truck." "Thanks, yeah. Don't know how long I can have it, but I'm enjoying it." "It's not yours?" "Yeah, it's mine. Well, it's really Southtrust's." He laughed. Ah. Not a graduation present, but something he was trying to buy. I liked this even better. "Payments are high?" "Yeah, a little over $400 a month, including insurance." "Wow." I frowned. My Camry was $110 per month and I fretted over that. "I got it because I was making good money over the summer. I contract for Barnette and Sons. They do a lot of stuff from what I can tell, but they're big into personal satellites like DirecTV and Dish Network. I go out to their customers and do the installation." "Cool," I settled into his seat as we leave the campus, pulling out onto the highway. My skirt rides a little on my legs as I shift, so I self consciously tug it down. "And that's pretty good money?" "Yeah, and easy. I get $40 per installation. I was able to do 3 installations a day if that many were available. Problem now is, I've got my classes and football. I think I'll skip baseball, but I can't skip football. I can still do installations on the weekend, and I have short class days on Tuesday and Thursday, but I doubt I'll be able to manage it." "That's a bummer," I nod sympathetically. I can relate to his struggling, and admire it. He moves into a turn lane to cut across the highway and stops at the red turn signal. He takes the engine into neutral and relaxes. Red light. I smile. Maybe at a further juncture we can fill these moments with something better than awkward silence. "Hey, Ellen, you look great by the way." He looks at me, and smiles, his eyes asking me if that was a goofy thing to say. I wish I had worn something better, but I'm also happy that I didn't scuzz out and wear jeans or something. I have a fairly tight green knit top. My breasts, though not large, are perky and my lean torso lets them stand out. I have good shoulders and arms, feminine but strong from my training. The neckline falls below my collarbones and displays my brightly colored woodbead necklace. My earrings, large flat toucans, match the bright colors. My skirt, another flower print that I'm fond of, reaches just above my knees. I have light blue pumps. My yellow pumps would have been better, but I lost them at a hunting cabin with four animals. "Thanks," I feel my cheeks flush and I look away, biting my lip and moving my head to the music. It's retro on the radio. The Beatles are belting out Come Together. "Better than my sweaty track gear." "No, you looked great then too." I broke into a toothy smile, and looked at him. "Thanks." "Cool," he nods. "I was hoping you wouldn't think I was already coming on too strong, like a jerk. Just wanted you to know I think you're cool and you look great." I can't say anything, just look out the front, grinning like a bozo. "Light's green," I say. On cue an angry horn flares behind us. "Shit," he puts it in gear and moves out, across the highway. "Sorry." I giggle, brushing a few strands of hair off of my forehead. I'm not sure if he's apologizing for missing the light or saying "shit". Either way, it's cute. At the Sonic a group of his friends are there, but he pulls into a bay on the opposite side. They are all congregated around one pickup, sitting along the bed, eating and laughing. They all wave at him and yell, then grow quiet, boy grins going over their faces as they see he's not alone. "Cool, your friends are here." I feel a bit good. I'm the center of attention, and it's attention of a good sort. Not a macabre interest in my recent ordeal. Or at least, I hope it's not. "Yeah, we better stay over here. They're dogs," he laughs. "I wouldn't take a girl in around them until she was acclimated." I laugh, "They're that bad? And you hang out with them?" "Well, no we're not bad. Just guys. You know." One of them seperates from the pack and walks across towards us, moving between the small manicured bushes. I recognize him from my high school. "Oh, that's Steve Jordan." "Yeah," he nods. "You know him?" "Mm, same high school." Craig has lowered both of our windows, and Steve approaches his side. "What up dawg?" "Hey man, it's all good." Craig's voice lowers an octave now that he's speaking to another guy. Small macho mannerisms. "You guys messin around?" They exchange a guy sort of handshake, palms together and thumbs interlocked. I remember the weird little knuckle exchange with Joan and I'm happy. "Eatin and watchin the girls," he grins at me. "What up Ellen?" "Hi Steve. How are you liking college?" "Sucks." We laugh. "Why you slummin with this dawg?" "I heard you guys were the dogs," I laugh at him. "We are! But he's one too." Steve and I laugh. "Yer killin me man," Craig shakes his head, smiling good naturedly. "Hey Ellen," Steve's face turns serious and uncomfortable, and I cringe. "That sucks what happened... you know, but I wanted to tell you we're all behind you." I swallow and smile a difficult smile, "Thanks Steve." "That really pisses us off. We all talked about it. If anyone ever bothers you again, you call any of us and the whole football team will go have a scrimmage with em." Craig is looking at his lap, a bit uncomfortable. "Ok," I nod. "Thanks." "Ok!" he forces a smile back onto his face and backs away from the window, jabbing an easy punch into Craig's thick arm. "You two kids be good." I laugh and Craig has a false smile, "Yeah, ok Steve." After Steve is gone, he takes a very deep breath. "Well, what you want to order? My treat, I promised." "Oh, ah, the #2 combo. Mayo and onions only." "Good," he smiles. "A burger girl. In as good shape as you are I was afraid you'd be into tofu and all that." "I like tofu," I giggle. "But burgers too. I just have to work harder after those." "You're winning that war," he says. He pushes the button on the big plastic menu board and places our order. Retro is still on and Rush is playing Tom Sawyer. I like the strong sound. Our radio is off, but Sonic is tuned to the same station and it's coming over their speakers. "Listen, I don't know if I need to apologize for him bringing that up." I jerk my face towards him, cursing myself for the jittery movement. He continues. "I wasn't going to say anything. I won't say anything. It's not my business other than I know you had a tough time and if there's anything I can do to help, I will." "It's ok," I nod. "I mean, it's really tough to talk about, you know. Just the memories, I guess. My mom said time heals these things." "Yeah, no doubt. I hope they catch that other guy." He shifts in his seat, looking like he shouldn't have even said that. Everyone walks on eggshells around me. It's why I had been really enjoying the brief interlude into normalcy. "Listen, Craig. No one really says anything to me about it. I mean, other than they're sorry or that they're supporting me. And all that's great. But, what are people saying about me? What do they think?" "Everything that I've heard, everyone thinks you're incredible." This was not the answer I expected. My face showed my puzzlement. "Why?" "Well, I mean, from what we know you were like someone in a movie. Not that... I mean, in a good way. Just, the kind of fight and resolve you showed, you usually on see in movies. You fought and they couldn't... well you beat them." I was quiet, assimilating this. Wow. One thing I didn't want to be was pitied, as that just worsened things. And people obviously did pity me for having to go through the whole thing BUT they were also thinking very positive things about me. "Ok, thanks for letting me know. That's better than I had feared." He nodded, drumming his fingers on his thigh. Joe Walsh and Rocky Mountain Way had the guys across the way dancing in the pickup bed, entertaining two girls in a small Honda next to them. That's the way it should be, I thought. Those guys were no problem. I'm sure they could get rowdy and I'm sure some of them were not angels. But I didn't believe for a second the two girls in the Honda were in danger. There's a huge difference in men acting like men, trying to claim a woman as their own, being territorial, etc., and scum like those at the cabin. Everyone has basic desires. What sets us apart from animals is a moral center to decipher these desires into right and wrong. Those men in the woods had given in to their animal desires, which is just moral laziness. It's sometimes difficult to recognize you can't have everything you desire. It's easy to just try to selfishly take it anyway. In the hospital one night Dad and I were alone in the room. We were talking, and I could tell he was trying to get a handle on how psychologically scarred I might be. One thing he said was, "Honey, please remember not all men are like that." I had replied, "I know daddy. I didn't really consider them men." And I didn't. The same way they had tried to reduce me to "cunt", I had seen them for what they were. Something less than human. I remember thinking during the intial stages that the man who kidnapped me had humanity. I had been wrong. No matter what apologists may say, anyone who does what they did has voluntarily relinguished their humanity. There would be no other way to silence the moral heart inside them, crying out against what they were doing. And, with their humanity gone, they become highly intelligent animals. The rest of us cannot teach them. We cannot reason with them. Their way of thinking is alien to us. Craig has said something. I turn my head to him, looking apologetic as I realize I've become lost in thought. "I'm sorry, I zoned out. What?" "Yeah, cool, I do that too," he nods. He seems ever anxious to lend approval to what I do and say. I like that. "I asked if you were pumped for soccer?" "Yes, I'm excited. Tonight-" I pause as the food arrives. We divide the feast and start eating. "Tonight, what?" he asks, munching on his chili-cheeseburger. "Mm," I nod, washing down my own mouthful with the Coca~Cola. "Tonight I'm getting with Joan Mason. She's on the team too." "Yeah, I know Joan." "You do?" I look at him, smiling, not really thinking about it. "How?" "Same school. Same high school I mean. She..." something is going on in his mind. Craig is one of those people that I can read easily. "... coming over to ... I mean, for soccer stuff?" "Yes," I smile and look off. What else would she be coming over for. "Cool," he nods but it's almost a shrug. "What?" I look at him. "Huh?" he looks a bit alarmed. Then it occurs to me what the problem must be. "You just seem to be thinking something about Joan. Did you two date? I'm not moving into anyone's thing here am I?" For a moment he has a blank expression. This surprises me. Then he kind of laughs. "Ah, no. We didn't date." "Then what?" He licks his lips, grinning and looking off. "I don't know if you know, but ... or even if you care. Joan Mason likes other girls." "Get out," I frown, going back to my burger. This doesn't really startle or alarm me. Lots of guys have overactive imaginations about female athletes. Wistful thinking. For some reason the thought of lesbianism turns guys on and they try to find it where they can. "No, really," he laughs an easy laugh. "I'm not lying." "How do you know this?" I ask. That's always the clincher. "Did you... see her engaging in lesbian activities?" He laughs. "No, but it's pretty well known." "Did she ever say she was a lesbian?" "Not that I know of," his smile was one of resignation as he returned to his burger. He knew where this was going. I let it drop though. "Okay, then. I really don't know her." "Cool, for a second I didn't know if I was wasting my time or not." I laugh in a burst, my napkin coming up to try and catch some of the food I spit out. I'm so embarrassed, but it's so funny. He's laughing too. "It's cool, that's all biodegradable." This sends me further into giggles. I'm trying to swallow what remains in my mouth, and I snort. I half turn away from him, covering my face, my knees raising and my body convulses with the mirth. He's laughing too, a slow easy laugh, and this encourages me. Our laughter dies, and I look at him, then quickly away. We eat with Cheshire expressions. "So, I'm not?" I have no idea what he's talking about. "What?" "I'm not wasting my time?" I blush profusely. "No." He looks happy. "Really I'm not anyway. I mean, you're so cool to talk with. Just that has been great. No waste of time at all." We have to go back, as he has an installation to do and I have a class at 2:45. Back in the campus parking lot, and I feel the difficult first parting coming up. Where we both try to figure out what level of intimacy we had just shared and gauge our parting on that. Do we hug? A quick kiss? High five? End 3/14 -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+