Chapter 8

Jessica's turn:

I have determined that I am going to do it. 'It' being getting married. And no, it's not one of those throwaway first marriages. I have a bunch of friends in my age range, from, say, eighteen (out of high school) to thirty, and I find it odd that almost half of them have been married already. And divorced.

I've heard the talk. "It's no big deal" is a common refrain, and in so many cases I know BOTH parties to the divorce and usually the one who's all 'It's no big deal' is leaving behind one to whom it WAS a big deal. So many times it's one of my female friends who thinks that if she gets this exciting 'bad boy' into a marriage then she can fix him up. She's usually wrong.

The reverse happens, too. And all manner of shadings and permutations in between. You know, I'm sitting here on a Monday morning, drinking a cup of coffee and thinking that I wish that Barry and I had a week to run off together and I realize that I never bought into all that. I knew it was temporary. I'm just lucky that I didn't do myself some permanent damage.

I honestly don't know why. But here I am, sipping coffee in Barry's recliner, petting two cats who seem as happy to be with me as Barry does.

Cats. Harv is always in the middle of things. Barry thinks that Bobby was abused before she got rescued. Bobby's almost furtive, scared of her own shadow.

We end up with both of them in bed with us at night, but Harv's usually there when we crawl in. He hauls his cat butt until he determines that things are quiet. Bobby sneaks in later, leaves immediately when we wake up. She's almost like a ghost cat when Barry's here. Something about me, though, tells her that I'm safe. I have her perched on my shoulder, purring, while I sip my coffee.

Ol' happy, goofy Harv is on the arm of the recliner.

Assessment. I don't have a hangover or any of those odd feelings that are the usual result of a weekend's exploration into undocumented pharmaceuticals. I don't have the need to go to the clinic and get myself tested because, 'Uh, I'm sorry ... I guess the rubber wasn't on very good... ' I don't have to worry about what might be found in my purse/car/house if the police were to come knocking. And the police have no reason to knock.

As I walk through the house, I know that I'll find his stuff and my stuff and nobody else's stuff that they'll be calling or looking for. I do a survey of the laundry hamper in the master bathroom. Not enough in there for a load of laundry. I guess this is a good day to throw some boxes in the car and make a run to the old house. I still have stuff over there and some of it even makes sense to bring into my new life. The rest? I'm not going to leave a mess for Britanny or her new co-occupant. Shara was chomping at the bit, I'm told, to take my place in the house that Brittany and I had been sharing.

I pull some empty boxes from a previous foray and load them in the back seat of my car, then head off. I know Brittany's working this morning, so I think I'll have the house to myself while I work.

I'm humming along with the classical music on the public radio station as I drive across town to my house. When I get there, I expect to see an empty driveway. I don't. there's a car there, some little Japanese compact rendered unidentifiable because a) I don't pay attention to cars – I can read logos and that's it, and b) it's rendered even more unidentifiable by the addition of aftermarket 'ground effects' and a spoiler on the back so that the rear end won't lift off the ground when driving to the convenience store.

The effect is ridiculous enough that I use my iPhone to snap pictures to share with Barry. He's commented about some of those and I'm sure he'll appreciate this one.

In retrospect, I should have just turned around and gone off to do something else. Retrospect is nice. I was just a bit too wrapped up in how good things were going. I didn't think anything bad could happen on a day like today.

I grabbed a couple of boxes and walked up the steps. Used my keys to open the door and went inside. Same house. Lived there for the last year and a half. Did note that without my input into the situation, the general housekeeping took a noticeable downturn.

I had just put the boxes down when a male voice greeted me.

"Hey, Jess. 'Sup?"

I looked. Justin Conner. All too frequent participant in my life before. He ran in some of the same circles that intersected with mine. Matter of fact, he and I intersected pretty vigorously a time or two. Part of the life that was behind me, you know.

"Nuthin'," I answered. "Just getting my stuff outta here."

"Yeah..." he said. "Britt tol' me you was movin' out. Some old guy..."

"I finally found THE guy ... Yeah, he's older. Doesn't matter to either of us."

"You'n'me ... We..."

"Yeah, Justin. I had to outgrow that crap. You 'n' Britt?"

"Nah ... she's on the rag. Had to let 'er blow me last night."

Always the epitome of decorum, was Justin. "Thanks for that picture in my mind," I said. I didn't smile. I didn't laugh. The idea of him and Brittany was distasteful, especially after the tone of his voice.

"Awww, don't look like that, Jess. You 'n' me we had fun, right..."

"I dunno, Justin. Was it drugs or alcohol that got me there? I cut that shit out." I paid a little attention. Ol' Justin was still under the influence of something. I decided that I really needed to be someplace else. "I'm gonna drop these boxes off and come back when Brittany's here," I said. I turned towards the front door.

That's when his hand caught my arm. "Y'know, Jess, that BJ wasn't enough. I think you 'n' me..."

I steeled myself. "I think you need to take your hand off me, Justin."

"Awww, Jess, doan' be that way. Just a quickie. Not like we ain't been there before..."

"Let me GO, Justin!" I said, jerking.

His grip tightened. "Nuh-uh. Don't be a bitch, Jess. Just a quickie ... I'm loaded. Won't take long..." he spun me into his arms.

My mind was a maelstrom. I was getting ready to get raped. I decided that slut or no slut, I was NOT in favor of the idea.

What is it they always say in those stupid martial arts sequences? 'Use the opponent's movements against him'? He had me to rights. The dude's BIG, too lazy to go out for sports, you know, but still BIG. Fighting him from this position's not going to do much good.

Sooooo, Jessica, go with the flow. In his arms now, I forced myself to soften. "Hey, Justin ... You SURPRISE me. I thought since you were here with Britt, there's, like, no WAY!" I wiggled a little, hoping he'd think I was being provocative.

"Britt ain't shit to me, Jess. You know how I am."

"Yeah," I feigned a purr. "I remember how YOU are." I pressed my hips forward. Yep. One thing about it. Dude's hard. "Right here? Or in bed? An' you get better'n Brit's blowjob..."

He smiled. "That's more like it. Bed, baby. I'm wantin' to pound that ass..."

"Oh, yeahhhh," I said. "Let's go..."

I'd done EXACTLY this too many times to think about, but this time...

My bed's still made, so this turd spent the night in bed with Brittany. Mind still running in overdrive, I start to peel off my jeans. Ol' Justin's thinking he hit the pussy jackpot as he strips out of his pants. He beats me in the race and he's in the bed.

"C'mere, baby," he says.

I climb in the bed, my hand goes to his dick and I stroke it twice, hating myself for ever having touched him before. Then my fingers range down to cup his balls. One caress, his mind is centered on his impending orgasm.

I have short nails. Not too short, though, because when I close my fingers to grip his scrotum, I pierce the skin way in back. I squeeze and pull and he's all of a sudden screaming. He hit me in the side of my face with his hand. It dazed me, but I hung on, jerking...

He hit me again. I saw stars ... nothing...

When I woke up, there was blood all over the bed. A trail left out the door. The stupid little car was gone.

Cellphone.

"9-1-1. What is your emergency?"

"A guy just tried to rape me. He knocked me out."

"Is your address..." She read off the address.

"Yes, it is."

"Do you need an ambulance?"

"No, but this is a crime scene. I need police."

"We're dispatching police and an ambulance. You said you were knocked out."

"Yes, Ma'am. I'll be here..."

The next call was to Barry. I don't call him at work, so...

"This is Barry..."

And the floodgates opened. "I ... I ... I went to the old house to get some stuff. Britt was gone. This guy was there ... He tried to RAPE me..."

"I'll be right there. Are you okay?"

I sobbed. "Yes ... He didn't ... I ... Barry, I think I hurt 'im BAD..."

"I'll be there as soon as I can, baby. If you leave, let me know..."

"Barry, I love you..."

"I love you too, Jessica..." Click.

I did a quick survey of myself. My arm was sore, discolored, bruises beginning to form. There was another area on the outside of my thigh. I don't remember that. Probably from the kicking when I grabbed him.

I touched my cheek tenderly. This was going to be the visible one, red, puffy now. When it turned blue...

I heard the 'whoop' of a police siren. At least I'd had the forethought to pull on my pants.

A knock at the open door. "Police!"

"Come in," I said.

The first of two officers entered, warily surveying the room, especially the trail of blood.

"Geez," he said.

The second officer appeared beside him. "You ... attempted rape?"

I nodded. "I fought back. He knocked me out. I guess he left while I was out cold."

"Did he ... while you were out?"

"No. I hurt 'im pretty bad..."

"The blood," he said.

"Yeah ... Grabbed what I could ... his balls."

I saw the two of them wince.

The second cop said, "I think I'll give somebody a call to check on the emergency rooms."

The first one asked for my ID. I gave him my driver's license.

Speaking of emergency rooms, the next vehicle pulled up – the ambulance. The two attendants walked up to the house, all the while looking at the trail of blood.

I answered questions about my condition, both my vital signs taken, had a flashlight shined in my eyes and ears, and I tried refusing to be transported to the hospital.

"Lady," the older attendant said, "You're bruised. Probably have a concussion. That one on your cheek, it's bleeding a little bit ... Let us take you in."