Chapter 4

It was twenty minutes before his deadline. Ben put the finishing touches on his manuscript, addressed and email message, attached the file and pressed the Send key. Then he locked his hands behind his neck and awaited a response confirming receipt of his submission. He heard footfalls in the corridor and a door slam. It sounded like the door next door.

He sat up and listened -- he thought he heard crying. Then came a muffled shout, "Stop calling me!", and sobbing.

Ben rushed into the corridor and pounded on Molly's door. "For the last time -- leave me alone!" she shouted.

"Molly -- it's Ben."

"Ben?" The door opened and he regarded her. Her blouse was mis-buttoned, her skirt was askew, her hair was mussed and she was barelegged. Through the fabric of her white blouse he could discern outlines of her areolas. "Oh, Ben!"

He opened his arms and she fell against him, clutching the fabric of his tee shirt in her fists. She sobbed and trembled. "Molly -- what happened?"

"Oh, Ben..." The phone on her desk rang and then her cell buzzed. "She won't stop calling me. I thought she was at the door."

"She would've had to ring the bell downstairs," he replied. He pried her loose enough so he could hold her face in his palms. "Let's go to my place -- change of scenery. Okay?"

She nodded. "Change my clothes first?"

"Fine. I'll leave the door open."

Her cell rang again and Molly covered her ears. Ben grabbed it from the table, turned it over and ejected its battery. Then he went into his apartment and began looking through his cabinet for the strongest liquor he could find. He grabbed a bottle, pulled the cork and poured two stiff ones.

Molly stepped in wearing shorts and a tank. She closed and bolted his door.

"This looks like an appropriate application for medicinal alcohol," he said, handed her a glass and shepherded her to his sofa.

She regarded the drink. "What is this?"

"Maker's Mark bourbon," he replied. "It's strong but smooth."

Molly took a big swig and swallowed it. She gasped, her eyes popped and she pressed her hand above her breasts. Ben rushed to his kitchen and returned with a glass of water. "Chase it with this."

She drank some water. "That's better -- it's the first time I've had strong liquor. It burned all the way down 'til it landed in my stomach ... started a fire there."

"Are you okay?" he asked.

She nodded, sipped some more bourbon and drank more water. "I'm feeling it already."

"Can you tell me what happened?" he asked. "I assume it had something to do with Brittney."

Her lip quivered and her eyes filled. She nodded.

"Take a deep breath. Relax and tell me the whole story. Take your time."

Molly drained the bourbon glass and drank more water. "I went to her place for dinner. She met me at the door in a long, white satin robe ... it came just to her knees. She was barefoot and I assumed she had something sexy on underneath. The food was already there. She let me in and bolted the door."

Ben gave her his hand and she squeezed it. "Then, what happened?"

"After dinner, we sat and chatted. She asked me if I wanted to slip into something more comfortable. I told her I wanted to take off my pantyhose and freshen up and she showed me to the bathroom."

"Relax and don't upset yourself," he said.

"I took off my pantyhose, brushed my hair and splashed some water on my face. When I was done, Brittney had taken off the robe. She had on a sheer teddy that fit her like paint -- it left nothing to the imagination. I was dumbstruck -- I just stood and drank her in ... her compact breasts, and her long, slender legs. I felt downright frumpy in my suit skirt and blouse.

"Anyway, I sat on her sofa and she sat on my lap. We did some necking and some kissing and some touching. She unbuttoned my blouse and slipped it off, and then she took off my bra. I really did feel like a virgin on Prom night, Ben."

He nodded. "What went wrong?"

"I'm getting to it." Her eyes filled again and her lip quivered. He could see her hand start to shake.

"Do you want more bourbon?" he asked. She held up her thumb and forefinger. Ben fetched the bottle and poured a splash into her glass. She downed it and finished her water.

"After a bit, she suggested we go into her bedroom. She said she had a surprise for me there. I followed her in. It had a walk-in closet and she stepped inside. I took the time to take off my skirt, and I turned down the bedcovers. And then..." Molly distorted her face in despair and started sobbing.

"Sit on my lap," Ben said. "Hold onto me. It's all right -- it's over."

She drew in a deep breath. "She came out of the closet wearing a strap-on!"

"A strap-on dildo?" Ben asked.

"Yes..." Molly made a vain attempt to quell her sobbing. "Oh, Ben -- the rape came flooding back. She approached me and said the same things -- called me a bitch -- said she was going to fuck me purple. She pushed me onto my knees and forced it into my mouth."

"At least you didn't have to swallow anything," he remarked.

"What? Oh, Ben! That was so not funny!"

"I'm sorry, Molly. That was a cheeky remark that was inappropriate at a time like this."

"Or ever! You don't understand -- when I was thirteen one of them put his in my mouth while the other moved my head up and down until he squirted. It made me gag and vomit. Then he restrained me while the other one lifted my skirt and pulled down my panties..."

"That's enough," Ben said. "Don't tell me any more." He stroked her cheek. "Will you forgive me?"

"I forgive you." He held her until she calmed a bit. "She chased me around the room. I was hysterical. I grabbed what clothes I could and made a run for my car. I was so distraught -- I almost got into an accident on the way home. Oh Ben! I was re-living the rape!" He held her as she sobbed and her body shook. "Why would she do that? Why would she persist when I was yelling for her to stop?"

"I can't speak for Brittney," Ben replied. "I can only conjecture. The charitable explanation is that she got caught up in a game and she thought you were playing along. Did you discuss a safeword?"

"Safeword?"

"When a couple engages in rough loveplay, it's a good idea to agree ahead of time on a word -- redlight, tomato ... dickcheney ... and to agree when one party utters that word it means stop for real. That way they can play a rape game where stop doesn't mean stop."

"No. We never discussed anything like that."

"Maybe she's just too inexperienced. I won't discount the possibility that she gets off on this behavior. I know some guys do."

"How could anybody get a thrill from it?" she asked.

"You're asking the wrong guy. I'm pretty tolerant of most folks' kinks. I have a few myself. I will never understand anyone getting a thrill from dominating another, from causing pain to another or from molesting a child. That stuff is simply too far outside my domain of comprehension." Molly tightened her grip on him. "I imagine Brittney is by now pretty distraught herself -- or at least, bewildered. You really should clear the air with her."

"I can't, I can't," she said. "I can't right now." He stroked her back and arm as she clutched him. "Could you talk to her, Ben? Please?"

"If it would help."

Molly dug her latchkey from her shorts and handed it to him. "I'll be right back with your cell."

He returned, popped the battery into her cell phone, switched it on, set it on his coffee table and sat beside her. Molly eyed it. "Let's see how long it takes her," he said.

It wasn't long before the device buzzed. Molly picked it up and flipped it open. She nodded and handed it to Ben. "Hello," he said. "My name's Ben -- I'm Molly's friend. She told me a bit about what happened." He listened. "Brittney, I don't know if Molly mentioned it but when she was thirteen she was raped. The gist of it is, whatever transpired in your bedroom brought back her memories of that event." He listened again. "I'm sorry but she's not in any condition to talk right now. I'll give her the message."

He folded the phone and set it on the table. "Well?" she asked.

"She really is very sorry, and wants to make it up to you. She sounded genuinely contrite. You probably ought to give her a chance -- at some point."

Molly shook her head. "I can't. I'll have to find somewhere else to go for lunch. It's going to take me a long time to recover from this. A long time."

"Was this your first encounter with a strap-on?" he asked.

"Yeah," she replied.

"To be honest, I've never seen one. I've seen pictures but never one in the flesh ... plastic."

"Neither had I but I knew they existed. When I was in college and living with my girlfriends, we confined ourselves to fingers and tongues. We didn't have a need for ... prosthesese."

"So, you've never used a vibrator or a rabbit or anything like that."

"No," she replied. "Never."

"Britney's strap-on -- was it anatomically correct?"

"It looked so to me," she replied, "very anatomically correct."

"And when Brittney approached you with it -- did it feel like a shot of adrenaline?"

"Yes..."

"Your heart started pounding?"

"Yes..."

"You froze in a panic? You developed tunnel vision?"

"Yes, Yes..."

"You tried to look away but your gaze was fixed on it. It grew to fill your entire field of vision. You wanted to look away but couldn't, and the longer you stared at it the greater your fear and loathing?"

"YES! YES! YES! Please, Ben!"

"It sounds to me like a phobic reaction."

"Phobic?"

"My sister has arachnophobia -- she reacts that way whenever she sees a spider. That's what a phobia is -- an irrational fear."