I noticed you because your hair was the same color as new, copper pennies. It shimmered and gleamed in the soft lighting of the bar each time you faked a laugh at one of your friends’ jokes. What was obvious to me clearly wasn’t to them; your air of sadness couldn’t penetrate their alcohol-induced fog of glee. While your friends drank colorful cocktail after cocktail in frosted martini glasses, you nursed a lonely chardonnay all night, clutching your fingers around the glass like a talisman.
It did not keep you safe. When the three of them stood up to go to the bathroom, you shook your head and smiled a smile that could not make it to your lips. Go ahead, I read upon them, pink and shaped like Cupid’s bow. I’ll be fine. They barely noticed and did not seem to care, but I noticed, and I noticed how a bit more of the light left your eyes at how easily they deserted you.
And so, I made my move. Standing up from the table, I made my way across the floor toward you. Your eyes were trained, unseeing, on the television above the bar. “I think if I got nothing but a sea urchin and some green onions in my basket,” I said from above you, fixing a good-natured smile on my face, “I’d take the urchin as a souvenir and book it.”
You finally looked up at me; confused for a split second, you cocked your head to the side. Then, a smile, genuine this time, stretched your face. The way you laughed, low and rich, made me know in that instant I had made the right choice. “Yeah, I’m with you,” you agreed, motioning at the television. “I’ve never eaten an urchin, and I don’t think I ever want to.”
“I’m Jack,” I offered, along with a firm handshake. I never tore my eyes away from your liquid brown ones. “Your pretty average meat-and-potatoes guy.”
“I’m Rebecca,” you replied with a soft chuckle. “Your pretty average meat-and-potatoes girl.” Suddenly, you sat up, motioning at one of the seats. “Please, sit down,” you instructed me, and I obliged, pleased at the invitation. “I’ve never seen you here before. I come here all the time with the girls.” The explanation seemed rote. “It’s Tuesday. We always have cosmos on Tuesdays.”
I nodded at your still half-full glass of chardonnay. “Not you.”
“No,” you murmured, dropping your gaze down to the table. “Not me.” Before you could become lost in your sadness again, I captured your attention. It was easy to draw you in, and you wanted the attention badly. I made no mention of your willowy beauty. Interspersing my jokes with questions, I pieced together the ragged details of your life. You’re a nursing student at the local community college, and you just turned twenty-two last week. You have a golden retriever named Jeannie. The pictures you showed me on your phone were cute, and my compliments genuine.
Before I knew it, your friends had returned. “Ooh, Rebecca,” one of the drunker brunettes crooned. “Who’s this?”
“This is Jack,” you answered, giving me an encouraging little smile. “He’s new in town.”
The blonde gave me a pointed, heavy-lidded look. “Oh? And is he single?”
You shrugged. It had not come up in the conversation. “Yes, indeed, ladies,” I cut in smoothly. “Interest noted.” The three women giggled, and I saw you relax. You thought I was a nice guy, a friendly guy, with a good sense of humor. I could tell.
“We’re gonna go to the club downtown,” the other brunette informed you. “Are you gonna come?”
I saw you hesitate; you did not want to disappoint your friends, but you did not want to go. “I guess you’ll have to put off studying for that big test tomorrow,” I interjected, my tone light.
“Oh, no, you have a test tomorrow, Becca?” the blonde gushed, laying a sympathetic hand on your arm. “You should get some sleep, then. Nothing’s more important than your education.” It was sweet, how much your friends cared about your well-being. “I’ll pay for you to take a taxi home. It’s not fair for you to pay the whole thing.”
“No, no,” you argued. “That’s not necessary. I don’t mind, really.” I could tell, however, that the thought of paying for a cab was worrisome. A nursing student attending community college could not have much disposable income.
I nodded toward the parking lot. “If you’re okay with it, I can take you home. I completely understand if you feel uncomfortable, though,” I was sure to add. The relief in your eyes at the addition had a bubble of laughter welling in my chest, but I quashed it down without dropping the look of concern on my face. I was right—you were just as easy a mark as I thought you would be. My instincts were never wrong.
“No, no, that’s fine,” you told me, giving me the second genuine smile of the night. “I-I really appreciate that. You don’t life too far from Oak Heights, do you?”
Of course not, I assured you. I lived only a few miles from there. The lie slipped easily off my lips. Your friends left then, after what seemed an eternity of hugs and last sips, splitting the check and slipping into puffy coats, an amusing juxtaposition to the skirts that barely covered their asses.
Then, finally, we were alone again. “Well, since you’ve got a designated driver, how about I buy you that cosmo? I’m gonna have another Coke, and I’d love the company.” You looked, for a moment, as though you would turn me down. “Please?” I added with a crooked smile, making sure it reached up to crinkle the corners of my eyes.
It was enough. “Sure,” you accepted with a slight nod. “That sounds great.”
If the bartender saw the bottle of eye drops in my hand, he said nothing. I was used to it; the silent acceptance, and unwillingness to create trouble, of others was the greatest protection I could ask for. Your offered a murmur of thanks when I returned with our drinks. A thrill ran the length of my body when our fingers brushed as I handed off your pink cocktail. I kept you laughing as we finished our respective drinks, and the effects of the alcohol, and Rohypnol, were beginning to have their effect on you. Finally, I suggested I take you home, and you agreed, leaning on me for support as we left the bar. Most of the way to your apartment—the address of which I had to get from your state ID—you dozed against the window, only half-aware of what was going on.
At long last, I could finally take a good look at your body, reaching over to spread your jacket open wider. Unlike your friends, you wore plain blue jeans and a loose tank top that skimmed your slight curved, adorned with some sort of sparkling gem or rhinestone. Beneath the dark red fabric, you wore no bra, and I could just see the bump of your nipples beneath it. “Mmm,” you moaned when we stopped at a red light. “Are we there yet?”
“No, Rebecca,” I answered softly, my voice no louder than the soft sounds of Vivaldi’s Four Seasons playing over my speakers. “We’re very close, though.”
“I have to pee,” you admitted, sitting up and scrubbing at your eyes. The sight of your hands slipping between your thighs to press into your vulva had my body physically reacting. “Really bad.”
I tapped the screen of my GPS. “We’re almost there. Can you hold it for ten more minutes?”
Biting your lip, you considered it, finally coming to the conclusion that you could with a sweet little nod. “I think so. Just hurry, please, Jack?”
I nodded, my hard cock jumping against the fly of my pants.
Your apartment was on the third floor. When we arrived at the dilapidated apartment building, you fumbled helplessly with the seat belt, until I leaned over to unclick it, getting a whiff of your floral-scented hair and skin. “Thanks,” you muttered, patting blinding against the door and finally tumbling out of the car with a laugh.
I hurried around to help you up, brushing the gravel off your coat and pants. “You have to be more careful, Rebecca,” I chastised lightly, smiling when she leaned into my side. “What floor are you on?” I asked anyway, knowing full-well the answer. When you confirmed it was the third, I led you into the old building and toward the elevator.
The alignment of the stars could be the only explanation for the out-of-order sign on the elevator doors. “Noo!” you wailed, pressing your hands flat against the door and dropping your forehead down, too, wiggling your butt back and forth in a desperate effort to control your bladder. A distressed glance at the stairs dragged a second whimper from your lips.
“Have no fear,” I announced smoothly, then easily lifted you into my arms. You giggled, wrapping your arms around my neck. “To the third floor!”
It was hard work, but well worth it. Once we got to the third floor, you were no longer laughing. “Oh no, oh no, oh no,” you moaned instead, eyeing the long hallway with obvious distress. “I can’t-” A groan escaped your lips, and you clutched yourself between the legs. “Oh god, I’m gonna—put me down!”
You slid down the length of my body, fumbling with the keys in your pocket, but it was too late. Darkness blossomed across the denim, and tears flooded your eyes as you finally lost control, urine dripping down your legs and pooling on the cheap linoleum beneath your feet. Relief mingled with horror as you wet yourself, standing perfectly still with your legs parted. The hiss of pee escaping your body, and the soft plop of it onto the floor, were the only sounds for a long moment before even that faded into silence.
Before you could react, I’d grabbed your keys, and swept you to the side. With your door finally unlocked, you fled inside and into another room. I stopped by the bathroom and wet a terry washcloth, then went to the door you disappeared through. When I peeked in, I saw you’d collapsed on the braided rug on your bedroom floor. “Rebecca,” I murmured, squatting beside you and sliding off your coat. “You can’t stay here. You’re a mess.” Standing, I hung the coat on a hanger and stowed it inside your closet. “Do you want to clean up?”
You said nothing, just shrugged forlornly. “I’m so dizzy. I knew I shouldn’t have had that stupid cosmo. God, I’m so embarrassed-” I shushed you, kneeling beside you on the floor and reaching for the button of your pants. “Hey, what are you doing?” you slurred out, attempting to bat my hands away.
“You can’t sleep on the floor in your wet jeans,” I explained calmly. “I’m taking them off.” You shook your head, trying to push my hands off, but I was too persistent. The wet denim was plastered to your skin, but I managed to peel your pants partway down your legs. I could smell the scent of piss, and see the cleft of your pussy through your wet cotton panties. Slender and pale, you were so beautiful it took my breath away, your red hair shining in the soft, warm light from your desk lamp. When I told you as much, you didn’t respond. Slipping your pants off the rest of the way, I admired your smooth, round, freckled thighs.
“Please, Jack,” you whispered softly, your voice trembling with apprehension. “Stop. I’m fine. Thank you so much for helping me, but this isn’t necessary.” I ignored you, sitting you up and lifting your blouse over your head. You shivered, goosebumps erupting over the tops of your milky white breasts. “P-please,” you repeated, looking up at me with those big, brown eyes. “Please don’t.”
“I’m just getting you cleaned up,” I reassured you in a low murmur, skimming the tops of your breasts with my knuckles. “You pissed your pants, remember? I’m just cleaning it up and getting you dressed. You’re fine,” I soothed, rubbing your back slowly. “Just relax.”
Coaxing your legs apart, I grabbed either side of your wet thong and pulled it down your legs, laying the wet underwear out neatly beside your jeans. A soft tuft of auburn curls lay at the apex of your thighs, which were already getting tacky from the dried pee. Taking the damp cloth, I wiped the sticky urine off, then forced your thighs apart again to dab at the curls between your legs. “No, stop, please,” you begged again, your voice shaky and fragile. “Jack, no! Stop!” You attempted to force my hands off your body, but in your drugged state, you were weak as a kitten. Thrashing against me, you tried to escape, but to no avail.
Breathless and frightened, you looked up at me with wide, confused eyes as I reached around to unhook your bra. “I thought you liked me,” you whispered, tears trailing down your face. “I thought you were a nice guy. Why are you doing this to me?”
Your nipples were small and pink and soft. Lifting you into my arms again, I ignored your fruitless struggles as I laid you out against your daybed, littered with throw pillows and stuffed animals. Sweeping them to the floor, I pried your thighs apart again. “Please don’t make me hurt you, Rebecca,” I said, my tone reasonable and somber. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if you keep resisting.”
The strength in my hold and the steel in my voice made you pliant. Leaning down to your breasts, I captured one of your nipples in my mouth. “Please,” you whimpered, “don’t do this to me. Stop, Jack, please, please, I’m begging you.” Your pleas had turned to soft sobs as I worked your nipple into a hard little peak, then turned to the other. “Please stop.”
“They’re hard,” I pointed out, leaning down to flick the nipple with my tongue. “You like it.”
“No, I don’t, I want you to stop!” you shouted, shoving me as hard as you could, struggling to sit up and get away. I grabbed you by the calves and yanked you back down against the mattress. “Please, I don’t like it. I don’t want this. I just want you to leave me alone.”
Reaching between your thighs, I slipped my finger between your labia. They were wet with arousal, and I grinned at the silky sensation of your damp pussy. “Then why are you wet?”
“I-I-I don’t know,” you cried, your shoulders shaking with the force of your sobs. “Please, it’s not my fault. I didn’t mean to get wet.”
Spreading your thighs again, I pushed you further up the bed and hunkered down between your legs. Your sobs grew throaty when I pressed my tongue against your clit. Silence replaced the sobs, leaving me with nothing but the sound of your shaky breathing and the wet sounds of pleasure as I massaged your pussy with my mouth. You tasted slightly salty, a little sweet, the thick fluid coating my tongue. I pulled your clit between my lips, flicking it gently and persistently until you began to breathe faster. Your hips bucked as you tried to escape, whimpering at the sensation of my mouth on your body. “J-Jack, please, don’t,” you cried, scratching at my face until I grabbed your wrists roughly, pinning you to the bed. Even as you begged me to stop, I could feel your clit get hard, your pussy lips swollen and engorged from your arousal. I looked up to see your nipples hard: a twin set of coral-colored peaks, shivering in tandem as you tried to stop your body from betraying you with orgasm.
However, there was nothing you could do. Try as you might, you couldn’t help it, and when I sucked your vulva into my mouth again, delving between the puffy labia for the sensitive nub beneath, you lost control. Tremors ran the length of your body and you cried out, arching your back and clutching the sheets in your fist. I felt the convulsion of your pussy’s orgasm against my tongue, pressing it flat against your body until you fell back against the bed.
As soon as the glow of orgasm left you, the tears started. Great, heaving sobs wracked your body as I stood, unzipping my jeans and groaning with relief as my cock finally sprang forward. The tears tracked down the side of your face, falling into the shining red locks pooled around your head. My cock was so sensitive, I feared I would find my own release before I got inside your body. Removing a condom from my pocket, I ripped open the foil packet and slid it over the head of my penis, then rolled it down the shaft before dropping my naked body down on yours.
Grabbing you by the chin, I forced your mouth open and plunged my tongue inside. You bit me, hard enough to draw blood. I paid your savage little bite no mind, and took a deep breath, the head of my cock pressed against the entrance of your body. When I finally slid inside, I let out a rough groan, only to inhale the sweet scent of your hair again.
I moved as slowly as possible, your tight pussy enveloping my cock like a glove. Your breasts pushed against my chest, and I reached down to cup one in my hand as I fucked you. “Jack, stop, stop it, stop it, please!” you yelled, your voice muffled against my skin. You struggled as hard as you could. Nails raked my flesh, your fists fell against every bit of me you could reach, but it did not stop me.
Increasing the tempo, I closed my eyes, holding my breath as I fought back the urge to lose myself in your tight body. Then, a heaving sigh of release burst out from between my lips as I buried my cock deep inside your pussy one, last time, shuddering as my own orgasm washed me in waves of ecstasy.
When I finally got up, you rolled onto your side, cradling your face in your hands as you cried softly to yourself. I gingerly pulled the condom off, tying it into a knot. Once I was dressed, I stowed the used rubber in my pocket. “You were a good girl, Rebecca,” I told you, brushing your hair back from your face. “Thank you for such a pleasurable evening.” You shivered, and I walked across the room and pulled open drawers until I found your pajamas. Limp as a doll, you did not struggle as I dressed you. Only when I brushed my thumb against your nipple—which puckered instantly—did you react. A small shudder ran the length of your body, and you turned your face away from me. “I’ll see myself out,” I informed you, pressing a kiss to your freckled cheek. “Good night, Rebecca, and good luck on your test tomorrow. I’m sure you’ll pass with flying colors.”
I grabbed your wet jeans and panties from the floor, dropping them into the washing machine, adding the appropriate amount of soap and starting it. The sound of water filling the tub filled your apartment, and I made sure to lock the door before pulling it shut behind me.