To that small group of disturbed people who have enjoyed my previous efforts and encouraged me, thank you.
It was another very quiet ride home from work. My wife and I work in the same building on the Air Force Base and we ride back and forth to work together every day. For the last few days we have hardly spoken. We weren’t mad at each other. We’re scared.
We both work with highly classified documents in different but related fields. We’ve both been working in the same building since we graduated from college. For me that was three years ago, for Sharon it was two. Not long after Sharon started working there a mutual friend thought we would make the perfect couple and she introduced us. It turned out she was right. We hit it off immediately. We quickly discovered we have nearly everything in common.
We’re both young and I’m embarrassed to admit that we’re both quite naïve. We were inexperienced when it came to matters of the opposite sex. We are both quiet and shy and much prefer getting comfortable with a good book to a night out on the town. We have the same taste in music. We like the same foods and we vote for the same political candidates for the same reasons.
We also share the same distaste for religion. Don’t misunderstand. We are both moral, honorable, honest people. But we have both come to believe as we were growing up that a lot of what’s wrong in the world can be laid directly at the door of religion and we see it more as a force for bad in the world than for good. I realize that puts us in a minority of the world’s population but I’m just trying to be honest here.
We knew right away we were perfect for each other and we hadn’t been dating six months before we became engaged. Our original plan was to get married in six months, after knowing each other for a year. We didn’t last. We were too much in love and we both knew we had found our ideal mate.
So after three months we had a quiet wedding in her parent’s backyard. Her parents have been very successful. They live in a nice, large, custom built home outside of town. The ceremony was performed by a justice of the peace and the guest list was kept down to twenty-eight friends and relatives, though not without some difficulty.
We had not moved in together before we married, but we had become intimate after almost two months. Neither of us had been virgins, but neither were we very experienced. We had a lot to learn about sex but we were taking it slow and enjoying the journey. When we first had oral sex it was the first time for both of us.
We tried to approach the subject of sex like we would anything else. We read about it and experimented and we were quickly learning what we liked and what we didn’t like. We weren’t all that adventurous though. We enjoyed a lot of touching and we liked oral sex. I enjoyed it more than Sharon did but she seemed to gradually be getting more comfortable with it.
Neither of us was interested in anal sex or any of that kinky stuff like bondage or anything like that. For the most part, when we had sex there was a lot of touching and kissing and then we made love in the missionary position. I’m embarrassed to admit that I often reach orgasm long before Sharon does.
But I am getting better about that and I always try to make sure that she has an orgasm after I do. She often insists that she enjoys it and it isn’t necessary but I think it’s only fair.
It isn’t that I’m a premature ejaculator. Well, that was a problem at first. Sharon is beautiful and sexy and I’m constantly amazed that she fell in love with me. I had trouble being near her and not getting an erection in the beginning. But after months of more and more frequent lovemaking I had begun to last much longer and now we’re trying to figure out what we can do to increase the amount of pleasure she receives from intercourse. My penis isn’t overly large, but I have read up on the subject and it’s within the range of what is considered normal; if only just barely.
We’re still working on it, though, and since we are both healthy and relatively open minded, at least within our limited scope of experience, I’m pretty sure that with a little more practice we’ll get better.
Our present difficulty resulted from what happened when we went out for dinner to celebrate our second anniversary last Saturday. We don’t go out often. We make pretty good money but we have been living frugally since we married. We’re saving up for a down payment on a house and a house full of new furniture and we’re trying to put something away out of each paycheck towards retirement. When we do go out to dinner, which is only about once a month, we normally go somewhere quiet and cheap.
On this special night, though, Sharon wanted to cut loose a little. She wanted to go out and have a nice dinner, a bottle of wine and really enjoy ourselves. I thought it sounded like a great idea and I made reservations at a new restaurant everyone is raving about.
It was just as good as we had heard it would be. The food was great and since we almost don’t drink and know next to nothing about wine the waiter helped us select a bottle of wine that we both enjoyed very much.
We were having so much fun that when dinner was over we didn’t want the evening to end. There’s a small dance club adjoining the restaurant. The entrance is through a door at the far end of the restaurant and we’ve been listening to the music all through dinner. Sharon wanted to check it out. She suggested we go in, have one more drink and maybe dance a little and then go home and make love.
We weren’t planning on going dancing when we went out this evening. But as we were discussing it our waiter came over and offered us coupons for two free drinks. He said that he overheard us say that it’s our second anniversary and the free drinks are management’s way of saying happy anniversary. The coupons were only good for this evening.
That’s where the trouble started. I paid for our dinner and we went through the door into the club. It was crowded but we were able to find a small table after a short wait. I should admit here that I’m rhythmically challenged. I hate dancing and I hate music so loud I can’t talk to my companions. Sharon knows how I feel about it but I can’t really complain. After all, it’s the first time in two years she has asked to go dancing. The problem is that I’m a terrible dancer. It’s embarrassing. I dance like I’m spastic. When I dance people think I’m having a fit and dial 911.
We ordered a couple of drinks. We had to ask the waitress for her recommendations since we don’t drink alcohol. When the drinks arrived we paid with the coupons and a few dollars for a tip. After I had a few sips of liquid courage I asked Sharon to dance and we went out onto the crowded floor. I tried not to make too big a fool of myself while Sharon danced rings around me. We stayed out there for two numbers and went back to our table. We drank a little more and the trouble started when Sharon wanted to go back out and dance some more.
I didn’t refuse, but I kept putting it off. I was hoping a little more alcohol would numb the embarrassment as I made a fool of myself out there. My normally very patient and understanding wife was not feeling quite as patient this evening, probably due to the unusually large amount of alcohol we were consuming.
We weren’t exactly fighting, but it was obvious that she was upset with me. It was so obvious that the four men at the next table noticed and one of them asked Sharon to dance.
She didn’t even look at me. She smiled warmly and accepted his invitation. I sat there watching her prance off with a complete stranger who appeared to be twice her age. She was twitching her cute butt in that little black dress as she walked towards the dance floor with the man’s arm around her waist.
She was gone for a long time. They danced through the rest of the song that had been playing when they went up there and the next three songs as well. I caught glimpses of her from time to time. She looked sexy and beautiful out there. She was smiling and laughing and twirling around. I got to see a lot of her firm thighs as she danced around with that man, and I could see that I wasn’t the only one watching.
I glanced at the table next to me out of the corner of my eye and I saw my wife’s dance partner’s three friends watching just as closely as I was. Now and then one of them would look over at me with a barely disguised look of disdain. It was very unsettling.
I resolved to leave this place as soon as Sharon returned to the table but when she was finally escorted back to the table her dance partner had stopped at the bar on the way back to our tables and as soon as Sharon sat back down a waitress delivered two fresh drinks.
I told Sharon I want to leave. She just pouted and said, “Let me drink my drink honey! Come on, relax Mike. I just want to have a little fun.”
I sipped my drink slowly and watched Sharon make quick work of hers. She had just about drained her glass when another man from the next table came over to our table and without even so much as a glance in my direction he invited her to dance and she was off again.
I was starting to get upset now, worried and upset. I gulped down the rest of my drink as I watched for glimpses of my wife dancing with another strange man on the dance floor and this time the waitress brought us two fresh drinks before my wife even returned to the table. I glanced over at the table next to mine and the first man my wife had danced with smiled and lifted his glass in salute.
I managed to try to look a little less pissed off and raised my glass in gratitude I did not feel. I quickly took a few sips of my fresh drink. This was my third drink after drinking half a bottle of wine with dinner. I’ve never had this much to drink before in my life. Sharon hasn’t either.
I thought at the time that three must be the magic number because by the time my glass was half empty I was starting to relax finally. I felt my cares drifting away and I was even enjoying those glimpses I was able to catch of my sexy wife dancing and flirting with those strange men.
Sharon finally returned to our table and the man she had been dancing with pulled a chair up and sat with her, talking in her ear while she quickly drank her latest drink. For some reason it didn’t bother me at all that a strange man was sitting with my wife and they were laughing and joking and he had his arm around her shoulder.
It didn’t even bother me when the man’s friends stood up and moved to a large booth that had just emptied out. I’m not really sure how it came about but somehow Sharon and I found ourselves sitting with them.
I don’t remember very much at all after that. Some things stick out in my mind and as the days pass since that evening I have had some of my memories return, mostly from the earlier part of the evening. Most of the night is still a blank though.
I remember not being alarmed at all when the first man who danced with Sharon pulled her down onto his lap and encouraged her to finish her drink. I watched her laughing and smiling and sipping her drink while the man’s hand moved up her thigh, pushing her little black dress ahead of it until her underwear was nearly exposed. I can remember thinking that something wasn’t right, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on what was troubling me.
I think I remember my wife’s dance partner cupping one of her breasts and saying something to the man beside him in the booth, whereupon his friend reached around and cupped my wife’s other breast and they laughed and exchanged comments, presumably about my wife’s C cup breasts.
First of all, my wife would never permit that sort of behavior by me in public. She would certainly never permit two strange men to grope her breasts in public or private! But more disturbing is the fact that I seemed to be amused, though not nearly as amused as she was.
When my wife finished her most recent drink her first dance partner took her back out on the dance floor. As soon as they were gone one of the other three men went to the bar and came back with fresh drinks for my wife and me. I didn’t even notice that they were still sipping on the same three drinks that they had been drinking when we came in.
I was encouraged to drink my fresh drink and it didn’t take much encouragement. I seemed eager to please our new friends, whatever their names were. I didn’t pay any attention to what was happening on the dance floor this time. I couldn’t even tell you how long Sharon and her friend were gone.
I looked up when they returned and I noticed her face was flushed and she looked a bit disheveled but she was smiling and laughing and I saw no reason for concern. Not even when her companion placed her panties and pantyhose in the center of our table for all to see.
Sharon was pulled back into the man’s lap and as she sipped her fresh drink I watched his hand slide up her leg again. As strange as it must seem, not only was I not alarmed, once again I thought it was pretty damned amusing!
Our four new friends were totally ignoring me now. They never even glanced over to see my reaction. Not even when my wife’s skirt was pushed all the way up to her waist, baring her flat little tummy and her sparse patch of light blonde pubic hair to the four men and anyone else who happened to walk by.
I watched as all four men explored my wife’s firm thighs and slid fingers through her slit. One of the men pulled her legs farther apart and I couldn’t swear to it in the dark but it looked very much like they were inserting their fingers right up inside of her tight little vagina!
Whatever they were doing she was finding it very amusing. She was laughing and giggling like a schoolgirl. It almost seemed like she was unaware that her lower regions were exposed and being explored freely by her new friends.
I also remember, vaguely, that she was leaned forward and after a moment pulled back against the man in whose lap she was sitting. The top of her dress was lowered just enough to expose her black strapless bra. After a quick exchange of words the bra was removed and placed on the table with the rest of her undergarments and the four men enjoyed the sight and then the feel of my wife’s firm young breasts for several moments before her dress was pulled back into place and zipped back up.
After that my memories get even sketchier. I vaguely remember Sharon being escorted back out on the dance floor at least once more. I’m pretty sure we both had at least one more drink. I’ve had a few flashbacks since then of all six of us somewhere else. I don’t know where it was but I have the vague impression it was someone’s living room. I know that we were all naked. I can’t be positive, but I’m almost sure I saw Sharon having sex with all four men in various positions, often with two of them at a time. I don’t know what they did to her, but I know that some of the things they did were painful. I can remember her struggling with them a couple of times and I can remember hearing her cry out in pain. I must have been really out of it by then because I know I made no effort to come to her assistance.
As horrible as that is, I have some even more disturbing memories. Well, not memories exactly. I have vague impressions of me doing things, or having things done to me, that I cannot bring myself to even consider. They were terrible things that it is just not in me to do. Except that somehow I know I did them. I knew right away some of those ghostly images flashing through my fuzzy brain were true when I woke up the next morning. I knew by the terrible taste in my mouth and by the pain I felt when I moved.
As I lay there in bed beside Sharon the next morning it suddenly occurred to me I had no idea how we had gotten home. I remember that I started to get up and go to the bathroom shortly after I awoke and I felt the sudden sharp pains in my stomach and ... and in my anus. In addition to the horrible taste in my mouth, when I swallowed my throat felt like I had been eating broken glass.
I lay there quietly then, trying desperately to remember. Some, a very few of the events of the previous evening started coming back, slowly, with great difficulty. But it was all hazy and most of the night is still a blank even now. I know we had a lot to drink but I know that isn’t the reason we behaved the way we did and it doesn’t explain why I can’t remember anything clearly. I’m intelligent enough to know that what happened to us was not the result of alcohol. We were drugged. Both of us were drugged.
I glanced over at Sharon and I realized she isn’t sleeping. She’s lying on her back and she’s naked. We both are! We never sleep in the nude. But the disturbing thing is that there are tears running down her cheeks onto her pillow. She’s crying quietly.
I reached over to hold her, to try and comfort her but she pulled away. I thought for a moment she must be mad at me but she sobbed and said, “Don’t touch me, Mike! I’m ... it’s just ... you don’t want to touch me, not now.”
I reached out, pulled her back and took her in my arms. She struggled at first and then she collapsed into my arms and cried like I’ve never seen her cry before. She was nearly hysterical and it scared the hell out of me.
I said, “Honey, we need to call the police. We need to go the emergency room.”
She shook her head violently and said, “No! I can’t! I can’t tell anyone I was raped. You don’t know ... it would be too humiliating. Besides, we don’t have any idea who those men were.”
I tried to insist. “Sharon we need to report this. We need to be tested for diseases. We have to make sure they don’t do this to anyone else. They knew what they were doing last night. You know they must have done this before.”
She shook her head and said, “I don’t care! I can’t! I can’t tell anyone about this. Besides, I don’t remember everything I did last night. But I do remember that I let them do anything they wanted and laughed and smiled like an idiot while they raped me. Everyone in that club who saw us would testify that I was behaving like a first class slut last night.
“Oh god Mike, I’m sorry. It’s all my fault.” She sobbed quietly for a moment and then she asked, “How can you stand to touch me after what I did?”
I didn’t want to admit it. I’m humiliated, too. But I thought it might help. “Sharon, it wasn’t just you. They ... they did things to me, too.”
I shivered in revulsion at the thought of it and then I saw the look in her eyes. She already knows! She buried her face in my neck and sobbed a little longer before she said, “I can’t remember much, just bits and pieces, especially towards the end of the evening. Oh Mike, it was horrible. And it was all my fault. You didn’t even want to be there!”
I held her tight and said, “It wasn’t your fault Sharon. We were drugged. You, I mean we had every right to go into a dance club last night. We didn’t give up our rights by entering that place to dance a couple of dances on our anniversary.”
We were quiet for a few minutes and Sharon asked, “What do you think that they’ll do with the pictures?”
That was something I didn’t remember!
“What pictures, Sharon?” I asked in a whisper.
She started sobbing again. Finally she was able to say, “Oh Mike, there were two men with movie cameras. They filmed everything. They filmed every perverted thing both of us did.”
I don’t remember that at all. Oh god, our security clearances! If those pictures get out we’re as good as dead.
Sharon pushed away from me and sat up and stared down at me, looking me right in the eyes as if trying to read my mind. Finally she whispered, “You don’t remember the last part, do you?”
I guess she could tell by the look on my face that I don’t have a clue what she’s talking about. She swung her legs out of bed and groaned in pain as she got up and ran to the bathroom.
I heard her lock the door and I heard her vomit loudly for several minutes. I finally struggled to my feet, despite the pain in my lower body, and I struggled to the guest bathroom and relieved myself.
I washed up and went back and stood outside our bathroom. I heard Sharon crying quietly. I tried to get her to open the door but she just kept telling me to go away. I finally went to my nightstand and got out a little screwdriver and unlocked the bathroom door from the outside.
I opened the door and saw her sitting on the toilet with the lid down. She’s holding her stomach and rocking back and forth and she has a wild, scary look in her eyes that sends chills down my spine. I rushed in and tried to put my arms around her. She tried to fight me off again but I ignored her struggles and took her in my arms and held her until she gradually settled down and then seemed to collapse.
I told her over and over that I love her and I held her tight. She sobbed, “You won’t. You won’t love me when you know what I did, what they made me do.”
I led her back out to the bed and we sat on the edge. I tried to calm her down and convince her that if she can live with the memory of the things they made me do then nothing will change because nothing they did to her could possibly make a difference in how I feel about her.
I didn’t try to find out what they made her do that was so awful. I just tried to assure her that it didn’t matter. A horrible thing happened to us last night. That doesn’t mean we’re evil. We were victims. We are still soul mates. Maybe it will be difficult, but we’re intelligent people and we can get over this.
She made a high pitched keening sound that raised the hair on the back of my neck and then she screamed, “I fucked a god damned dog! They ordered me to kneel down and I let a fucking dog lick me between my legs and then fuck me while they laughed and took pictures!”
I’ll admit that gave me pause for just a moment. And not just because I’ve never heard Sharon say fuck before! I wasn’t expecting something like that. But I pulled her back into my arms. I made her look me right in the eyes and I said, “I don’t care. We were raped. We were drugged and raped and made to do terrible things. It’s over now. I still love you just as much as I did when I watched you getting dressed to go out for dinner last night. Sharon, we will get over this.”
She finally seemed to get herself under control. She looked me in the eyes and timidly said, “Mike, I don’t think it’s over.”
She saw the confused look on my face and she said, “They took those horrible movies and made us to terrible things. They must know where we work. They know where we live. If those pictures get out our clearances are gone. Our jobs are gone. The only jobs we’ll be able to get if those pictures get out will be at a fast food restaurant or cleaning bathrooms in gas stations. And think about our parents! Mike, your dad has already had one heart attack. Those pictures would kill him.”
It doesn’t make sense. We don’t have any money. The documents we work with are all highly classified, but they’re not really the kind of thing spies are interested in stealing. What can those evil men hope to gain by blackmailing us?
We sat there on the bed despondently for a long time before Sharon got up and said, “I need to take a shower. I still smell like dog.”
I thought about joining her but she doesn’t seem to want my company at the moment. She has been severely traumatized and she is understandably fragile. More than anything else at the moment I think she probably just needs to calm down. I put my robe on and went to the kitchen. I put the coffee on but my mind is still preoccupied, thinking about how best to comfort her. I thought about getting out the bacon and eggs but I can’t stomach the thought of food right now. Instead I went back to the bedroom and waited for Sharon to finish her shower.
When she got out I took a long shower. I dried off and then, last but certainly not least, I thoroughly brushed my teeth a couple of times and then threw my toothbrush away. I got dressed and went to join Sharon in the kitchen. We sat together in uncomfortable silence at the kitchen table and sipped our coffee.
As I sat there, bits and pieces of what happened to us last night began to come back to me. Not the dog. I don’t remember the dog, thankfully. I remembered more of what happened before we left the club. I don’t want to but little snippets of those humiliating acts just kept flashing into my mind. I remembered seeing Sharon stretched out across all four men’s laps at one point. Her dress was gathered at her waist, her breasts and her lower body exposed. She was being groped freely while the waitress stood at our table and smiled as she watched as if women were undressed in that dance club all the time.
I remembered Sharon being pulled to her feet and one of the men casually letting her dress fall back into place over her hips as he pulled the top back up over her breasts, very slowly, while the growing crowd of amused onlookers enjoyed the show.
The next disjointed scene that popped into my mind was a cloudy memory of Sharon dancing naked in a living room. It wasn’t our living room, though. I have no idea where they took us after they took us out of the club.
The hot coffee soothed my sore throat but I suddenly remembered how it got so sore. I can’t remember the man’s face but I remember staring at his hairy belly, apparently without a thought in my head. I remember that I didn’t struggle even though the pain had been awful. It isn’t a clear picture, though. I can’t actually swear that it happened or that it happened as I’m remembering it. It’s obvious from the pain in my throat I’m now experiencing that something of the sort happened.
I don’t remember the other, what they must have done to make my anus hurt like this. But I’m reasonably certain I know what must have happened and I really don’t want to remember.
I tore my mind away from those horrible thoughts and glanced up at Sharon. I can see that she’s trying to deal with these horrible memories, too. She has finally stopped crying but the look on her face is enough to make me cry.
I thought again about calling the police. If nothing else I thought getting the authorities involved might protect us from being blackmailed later. But we washed away the evidence and Sharon is right, if the things that were done to us became public knowledge it would kill my father. And I’m not so sure we wouldn’t lose our jobs anyway.
I reached over, placed my hand on top of hers and squeezed lightly. Sharon looked up and tried to smile but it didn’t work. I want to say something to make her feel better but damned if I can think of anything. I could keep saying that everything will be alright over and over but we both know that it won’t mean a thing. The odds seem to be pretty high that it’s not going to be alright. We both have a very bad feeling about this.
We had no plans for Sunday beyond going grocery shopping. As it turned out neither one of us could stand the idea of going out and facing other people so we put it off. We have enough food in the house for a few days. If we run out of real food we can always eat soup.
We finished our coffee finally and went into the living room. We sat together on the couch. I held her in my arms and we sat like that most of the day without talking. Neither one of us even thought about the Sunday paper until almost bedtime. We normally spend an hour or so doing the Sunday crossword puzzle in the morning, but not today. Maybe we should have tried. We could have used a distraction.
Just before we went to bed I went out and got the Sunday paper out of the box so there will be room for the Monday paper. But we didn’t even open it. I suddenly realized as we were getting into our pajamas that we hadn’t eaten all day. I guess we’re both still too upset to eat. I am anyway and Sharon is having a worse time of it than me.
I glanced at Sharon as she was putting her pajamas on and I saw the scratches and the bruises on her back. I can’t even imagine what it must have been like for her to let that dog ... oh Christ! I can’t even say it to myself!
What those monsters put me through last night was horrible, but it had been so much worse for her. She had been raped over and over by those four men and then forced to be with that dog. I can’t remember most of what happened to me, and I’m so very grateful for that.
Apparently they gave me more of the drugs than they gave her because she seems to remember a lot more. Or maybe I was just more susceptible. I wish I could forget the things I do remember from last night. Every fuzzy image my mind conjures up is more disturbing than the last.
We both lay in bed for a long time before we finally went to sleep. I tried not to think about it but my stubborn brain continued to betray me. Several new and unwanted memories flashed through my tortured mind. I saw a fuzzy image of Sharon taking on three men at once with apparent eagerness. Another image of Sharon with two men whom I didn’t even remember seeing last night came to me and I puzzled over it for a few minutes before I realized that those must have been the cameramen. For the life of me I can’t remember anyone taking pictures of us.
Sharon somehow managed to fall asleep before I did and not long after she fell asleep she began making terrible noises and sobbing quietly as she slept. I debated with myself over whether or not to wake her but I decided that it would be better if she slept.
The next morning we got up and went through our normal Monday morning routine without speaking. We ate a little cold cereal and I drove us in to the office. I dreaded having to interact with people but it turned out to be a relief to be able to throw myself into my work and not think about what had happened to us. Or at least not think about it constantly. As much as I tried to avoid them those flashbacks kept stabbing me in the brain.
We met at lunch time as we usually do. We went to the small break room and sipped on a can of coke for lunch. We sat together quietly after I asked her if she’s doing okay. She shrugged and we sat at a small table and held hands and tried to ignore the other people in the room.
The people we work with left us alone except for Anne, the woman who introduced us and almost ordered us to go out together. She came over to our table and said, “You guys look like hell! You aren’t fighting are you?”
I tried to smile at her and said, “No, Anne. We aren’t fighting.”
I couldn’t think of anything else to say but Sharon said, “We just lost a friend from college and we’re feeling kind of down.”
We did go to the same college but I was a year ahead of her and as far as we know we didn’t have any friends in common. But Anne doesn’t know that and she accepted Sharon’s excuse easily.
After she offered her condolences and walked back to her table I smiled wryly at Sharon but we still don’t feel like talking.
After work I drove home nervously. I’m terrified that someone will be waiting for us or there will be something in the mail from a blackmailer. I can tell that Sharon has those same fears.
Much to our relief when we got home there was nothing but a handful of junk mail and a dark, empty house. We still couldn’t relax, though. Just because they haven’t contacted us yet doesn’t mean they won’t. We managed to put together and eat a light supper. After we cleaned up we sat at the table and had a glass of lemonade. After a long silence I said, “I feel like we should talk. I want to say something to make it all okay. I would give anything if I could turn back the clock or even just make you feel better in some way. It’s tearing me up to see you suffer like this, Sharon. I love you so much and I can’t stand to see you like this.”
She lifted my hand and kissed it and gave me a tiny, fleeting smile. She said, “I know Mike. It’s just going to take time. Don’t worry. I’ll be okay after a while I guess. But there are no magic words and we both know that ‘it’s going to be okay’ is a pile of crap. Even if those bastards never contact us the awful things they did are going to hurt for a long time. My traitorous mind keeps remembering things that happened and I want so much to forget it, all of it.
“Maybe you were right yesterday. Maybe we should have called the police instead of taking showers. Maybe we should have gone to the hospital. It’s too late now, though. Still, I’m starting to wonder if maybe we shouldn’t both talk to a rape counselor. I’m really having a hard time dealing with this.”
The idea of telling someone what happened to me, what little I remembered of it anyway, is more than I can stand. But if that’s what it will take to get our lives back then I’m willing to try.
I told Sharon, “If you want to see someone I’ll make some phone calls.”
She squeezed my hand and said, “Let’s give it a week. I’m not sure I could actually tell someone what happened to me, to us. But we have to do something if we can’t get over it on our own. We can’t live like this.”
I nodded. It would be harder for her to relive that night with a stranger than it would be for me I’m sure. But she’s right. We can’t go on like this.
I said, “Okay, let me know if and when you’re ready. Why don’t we go to bed and read? Or would you rather watch television?”
She replied, “I can’t stand the idea of all of those happy people saying all of those stupid things on television. I vote for reading.”
We took the Sunday paper to bed and read it. When we finished reading the paper we worked on the crossword puzzle together. It was such a little thing but it seemed to make us both feel better. It’s such a normal thing for us to do I guess.
It was still too early to try to go to sleep when we finished the puzzle and I don’t think either one of us wants to lay in the dark any longer than we have to and have those horrible mental pictures play out in our minds. So we read our books for a while.
I read to the end of a chapter and put my book up. I turned my light out and snuggled up to Sharon. I held her in my arms while she read. She tensed up when I first snuggled up behind her but then she took a breath and relaxed. I held her like that until she finished reading and then she turned her light off and lay down on her back.
We lay there in the dark for a few minutes before I said, “We haven’t kissed since Saturday.”
She squirmed until she was lying on her side facing me and asked, “Do you really want to kiss me?”
I was shocked that she would ask. “Of course!” I exclaimed. “I adore you. I will always want to kiss you.”
She put her hand on my cheek and leaned over and kissed me lightly. I smiled at her and said, “Is that the best you can do?”
The next thing I knew we were holding each other tight and kissing passionately. She was pressing her body against mine and crying and kissing me and then she broke off the kiss and asked, “How can you want me after what you saw, what you know?”
I didn’t even have to think about my response. I immediately replied, “I’m not going to rush you. I know you’ve been through a lot and you’ve been traumatized. I didn’t suffer anywhere near what you did but I’m dealing with some of my own memories so I have at least an idea of what you’re going through. But I adored you on Friday and I adore you today and nothing that has happened has changed that. I will always want you. I want to hold you and kiss you and make love to you and I fully expect to go to my grave feeling that way. I will give you all the time to heal that you need and I’ll do anything I can to help you, but I don’t want you to ever doubt that I love you and I want you.”
She held my face in her hands and whispered, “Oh Mike! Make love to me. Please. I need that now. I need to believe you love me after everything I’ve done.”
I kissed her and said, “You didn’t do anything Sharon. Things were done to you. And I care because they hurt you, but they don’t matter to me. They don’t change what I feel for you or what I think of you.”
I pulled her close again and as we kissed I move my hands over her beautiful body. I was careful, more gentle than usual. I know she has scratches and bruises and I tried not to hurt her. I carefully unbuttoned her pajama top and caressed her perfect breasts as we kissed. I was relieved when I realized that she isn’t just making love to me because she thinks she should. She’s actually becoming aroused. I had feared that it was too soon. I believe now that it isn’t. I kissed my way down to her breasts and teased them with my lips and tongue while I unfastened her pajama bottoms and worked them off.
When she was almost naked I rolled her onto her back and kissed my way down to her pussy. She tensed up at first, but I was gentle and loving and soon she relaxed and let the pleasure take over. Before very long she was moaning and her hands were gripping my hair and pulling my head down as she lifted her hips and began to grind her mound against my mouth with more passion and more abandon than I can ever remember her showing before. It made me think of what has happened to her but I was so pleased to discover she can still enjoy what I’m doing that I just pushed that evening and my fears out of my mind.
I ate her until after her third orgasm when she pushed my head away with shaking hands. She gasped and said, “Mike! Stop, please! Enough! Oh baby, that was wonderful. Thank you so much. I love you baby.”
I kissed my way back up her beautiful body and held her tight. We kissed for a minute and then she said, “I was afraid. I was terrified that I wouldn’t be able to feel that again. I love you so much Mike. Thank you for being so sweet.”
I felt her hand moving down and her fingers wrapped around my hard cock. It was my turn to gasp and she smiled and said, “Hmmm, I guess you love me after all!”
I chuckled and said, “Yes, I do. But that isn’t how you can tell.”
She pushed me over on my back and said, “Maybe not, but it makes me feel better when I reach down and feel that there. I was afraid you’d never want me again.”
She got up on her knees and opened my pajama bottoms. She leaned down and kissed my cock and rubbed her face over it. She smiled up at me in the dark and in a husky, sexy voice she said, “I think you’re going to get a kick out of this.”