Chapter 8: Two Steps Back

(Four years ago)

Friday, at last, Alex thought. And I don't even have a girlfriend to talk to about what to wear or how far I should let him get or ... anything.

Even as she bemoaned her lack of friends, she realized that between hunting down skunks (that's how she thought of the Marc-Us-type males who merely abused and treated women badly) and bastards (the real MPC abUsers who enslaved their subjects) and trying to have a normal social life and taking care of her charges (the ten women who Ambuster had abUsed and, or course, her job – she just didn't have any more time to spend.

She'd just have to figure it out on her own. This particular Friday, she wouldn't have time to go to work. Oh well, she didn't do much anyway.

Alex went in to Sundance Square – the upscale portion of downtown Ft. Worth – and bought herself an LBD, a Little Black Dress. This particular LBD was all done up with tiny sequins, hugged her body, had a low cut back and front, ended at mid-thigh, made no allowance for undergarments, and improved her overall look by about $5. Counting the starting value of her look, she was now at an even million dollars. She finished it off with pearls and cowboy boots. It was a perfect evening outfit for a Texas girl-about-town.

The problem was, while Alex Chatris could look like a million dollar baby-about-town in her LBD, she didn't have any idea what that would mean or how to act.

At 6:40 Alex drove onto campus and parked her car, in sight of the Computer Science building. She flagged David down as when he, too, parked and started to walk past the shaded bench she was sitting on.

"Hey, David. I went home early to clean up a bit." She raised her voice so he could hear her.

He turned toward her voice. "Wow. You clean up real nice." He closed the distance between them and gave her a innocent peck on the cheek.

"You, too," she said. He was wearing a button-down shirt that had a design the color of which precisely matched his eyes. That can't be a coincidence, she thought. No tie, 'dress' jeans and a sport coat completed his outfit.

"I am seriously underdressed. You look good enough to eat." He put both hands on her waist and pulled her close to him. "You sure you want to go out?"

"Of course, I want to go out," she laughed and pushed him away to gain some space for herself. "I want to have dinner, do some boot-scootin', and then ... we'll see."

They had a very nice dinner at an upscale Mexican restaurant. It was authentic Mexican food, none of the Tex-Mex that filled the menu at so many places. And it had a bar in back that featured a band that played a mix of rock and some slower tunes that were designed to shrink the empty space between a guy and a girl.

Despite David's urgings, Alex limited herself to one margarita. She just didn't want to lose control or misremember what she was sure was going to be a wonderful evening. Then again, she was a bit put off at David's persistence in offering her more drinks. Maybe he's just being polite. I bet a lot of girls don't stop at one, she told herself. Whether she believed it or not was another story.

By 11:30, the lights were turned down low on the dance floor, and the band was playing a series of slow, romantic tunes. They kissed, then kissed again more passionately. He slowly herded her into a corner and his hands were freely roaming – all on the outside of her dress.

Alex kissed him back, of course. She knew about open mouthed kissing – so called French kissing – from reading and from the Internet. A great source of information, that Internet. Only it didn't tell you how you'd feel when you were doing any of the things shown in the videos. Oh, she knew how the performers sounded and looked while they were doing those things. But she knew it was all fake. Well, maybe not completely faked, she thought. They certainly seemed to enjoy it.

So Alex was greatly surprised at the feeling that she got when he kissed her. Hot flashes zinged through her body, from all over, and headed directly to her groin. It seemed to get more intense when she moaned into his mouth, for some reason, so she did that and got even more aroused.

And his hands! Wow. If it could be captured, this source of energy could light up a city! Everywhere he touched her was another source for a hot flash zinging to her pussy. Just on her back, when he rubbed her shoulders, there was so much zinging going on that she thought everybody in the room must have seen it.

He caressed her back continuously, while his mouth and tongue did amazing things to her. She was losing control of herself. It was like a million little porcupines gently touching her skin.

Then he slipped a hand into the bodice of her LBD, and touched her breast. She came immediately, losing her ability to stand and just hanging on him. Seeing her reaction, he didn't stop, and began strumming her nipple in time with the music.

She became almost frantic in her attempts at kissing. He decided that they'd better get to someplace secluded before she raped him in the corner of the bar. His apartment would do nicely.

He stopped touching her breast, and she pouted. It was a fake pout, of course, just the usual thing one would expect when taking away a very favorite thing from a young girl – or, more precisely, when one stopped strumming the nipple of an almost virgin.

"That was very nice, wasn't it? Let's get out of here," he suggested.

"Mmmmmmmmmyeah. Let's go."

He pulled her close, putting both of his legs between hers. He licked the outside of her lips and said, "You are going to love what I do to you."

And she froze.

Those were the same words that the rapist had used.

His legs were between hers just like this.

He had licked her lips just like David had done.

"No!" she cried. "No! Get away from me." She pummeled his chest with her hands. David was too shocked to believe her actions. "Get off me!" She was shouting loudly enough to attract attention, now.

He backed away but she followed, trying to hit him, but he blocked most of her punches with his arms.

The band stopped and somebody called for the house lights. A trio of bouncers appeared and separated the two: David not putting up a fight, Alex going nuts.

"What happened, sir?" one of them asked.

"We were, uh ... making out. She was ... seemed to be enjoying it. I suggested that we go somewhere else, to ... you know ... uh, take the next step. And suddenly she turned into Attila the Hun. I don't know what happened, I guess."

The other two were trying to get Alex composed. This was accomplished by them standing with their arms spread open and letting her beat on their chests. Finally, she had had enough and she just stopped.

Then the crying started. The bouncers closed on her and folded her up into a small bundle in the arms of one of them. They slowly took her into a back room and questioned her.

"Want to tell us about it, miss?" asked bouncer #1.

She shook her head, blonde hair flying in every direction, and sobbed. The bouncer waited. Sometimes they were like this. Just had to give 'em time, he knew.

Her hair covered her face as she looked down toward her knees. "He said..." and she realized that it wouldn't make sense without a long explanation. And she didn't feel like explaining to the general public the flash of panic that reminded her of the rapist.

Then she remembered. Everything. She remembered the feeling of the loss of her virginity – the first rape. She was partially awake. He entered her while she was still dry. He didn't care. It hurt. A lot. She must have bled. He ripped her apart as he drove his penis into her.

In an instant she remembered every single one of the thirteen times she was raped that night and the next day. She'd blocked it off, going to the 'study' she created in her mind. But she remembered now. The shame. How she'd suppressed any feeling, any sense of enjoyment. But she had physically enjoyed it. Not in the emotional sense of 'Whoopee! I'm having a wonderful time.' In the purely physical sense of stimulation of her vagina's interior spaces, and the occasional, accidental brush of her clitoris.

She bit down on her tongue as she remembered how she'd bitten down on her tongue then, too, to suppress her physical reactions.

She couldn't have let the rapist see her enjoyment. She just could not allow that.

She was weeping freely now, and the bouncer said, "You just let it all out now. We'll send him home and get you a taxi. Will you need someone to go with you? We can do that."

David! I owe him some sort of explanation. And then aloud. "Is he still here? I need to explain all this to him. He's not to blame; it's all me."

Well, duh! thought the bouncer. The guy looked like he'd been poleaxed. Didn't know what was happening. Shouldn't let them get together tonight, though. "I think he's left already, miss."

She nodded her head. "A taxi then. I'll be all right by myself."

Alex sat in the taxi, and then later, in her own car as it drove itself to her home. She was morose. She had blown her chance for a normal date with a normal guy. And she remembered everything – every damn thing – about the horrible period when she was raped. The images kept coming back to her at random times.

She could program them away. Call up her own MPC record and make the remembering just go away.

Great. And then she'd have a big hole in her memory when the most significant event in her life had happened. Okay, so it wasn't significant in the good sense. But she just couldn't imagine living with a big blank spot in her mind.

She remembered everything the rapist had said to her. "You are going to love what we do." "You'll love it this time." "I'm going to fuck a baby in you." "You're going to remember me for the next nine months." "You're going to love it ... You're going to love it ... You're going to love it..." She wished she could forget all of it. Blot it out. Replace it with a good feeling. She couldn't – wouldn't.

Could she make David forget last night? Or make him think it was a good evening? It's not nice to fool Mother Nature. The thought came unbidden to her mind. I can't do it to me, and I need it. It's not fair to do it to somebody else. He might go there again, or meet somebody who saw me go crazy. And then he'd be like... 'What are you talking about?' She shook her head. It would not be fair to him. And he didn't even do anything to make it happen.