The sex life of a high school senior who eventually becomes a female serial rapist.
Maneater Chapter 2
Mike's reaction changed everything for me. It changed the way I felt about sex, the way I felt about myself, and most importantly, Mike himself had unintentionally changed our relationship. I knew that telling him the truth was going to have some effect, but I had no idea it would be smiling laughter.
First I thought about waiting a few days and then lying to him, saying I wasn't on the pill anymore. That might've worked. Or he might have decided it was better to get into trouble for fighting me than to have sex with me. I was 5'3" and weighed 93 pounds. Getting hit by any boy could be bad for my health.
I just felt like there was nothing there for me anymore. Mike knew my ways and my temperament. The initial shock was gone. I felt like it was time to move on. I was a selfish, evil little bitch, and I knew it. I just didn't care.
When I got back to school that following Monday morning, I heard a conversation that would change things even more. I was on my way to Mike's locker when I heard three boys having a very interesting conversation. I stopped nearby and pretended to be looking for something in my bag just so I could hear what they were saying.
"Who a virgin?" said a boy who was obviously a virgin. Maybe he wasn't, but he looked like a virgin to me. "I know you not talkin' 'bout me. I beats up on pussy like it owe me money! You wanna talk about virgins? Talk to dis nigga right here! He couldn't get in a pussy if he turned into a condom!"
"Me?" asked another obvious virgin defiantly. "You couldn't find pussy on a map! When you do get you some, call me and tell me how it was."
"Pussy not on no map, stupid!"
"I don't think either one of you ever seen no parts of pussy," said the third boy. He wasn't the most attractive, but he did appear more casual about the subject, as if he'd really had sex before. "When you do get it, you won't even care about these conversations no more. You won't care who did it before and who didn't. All you will care about is what I care about: doin' it again!"
That seemed to end the conversation as the boys gave each other dap and moved off toward their different destinations. I suddenly "found" what I was looking for in my bag and moved on. I'd wasted some time listening to them and was hoping I could still catch Mike at his locker before classes began. After hearing that conversation, I decided to just go ahead and break up with Mike. I convinced myself that I'd actually done him a favor. At least he wasn't a virgin anymore.
I caught Mike as he was taking the last of his books from his locker. As he closed the locker door I looked at him with a very serious face. "Mike, we need to talk."
"Sure, baby!" he said with an easy confidence I'd never seen in him before. He'd never called me "baby" before, either. I looked at how he was dressed, and it was different somehow. The same boy, the same clothes, but neater. "You like my waves?" He looked down so I could see the top of his head.
"Very nice!" I answered honestly. Mike always came to school with either a caesar (a quarter inch or less of hair cut evenly around his head) or a plain old bald head. Waves? They looked nice, but since when did he start caring about that? It seemed to me he was undergoing a change.
He smiled at my compliment and said, "Thank you. What's up?"
"Mike, we have to end this relationship. I'm sorry."
"Why?" he asked. I felt it was a fair question, but I had no intention of answering it.
"That's just the way it is. Please don't make this difficult."
"Huh?" he asked in complete shock. "Did I do something wrong?"
"You're making this hard."
"What? By asking a question?"
"Yes, Mike. By asking a question. I'm sorry." With that I walked away. I can honestly say I felt bad, but only a little. Since I'd done him such a wonderful favor his life would be forever improved and he'd always have me to thank for that.
That first week was the hardest. Relationships were nothing new, but before the introduction of sex they were much easier to end. He called me every day for more than a week. I stopped answering the phone at home so I wouldn't accidentally end up talking to him. I certainly never returned any of his calls. Then, in the middle of the following week, he turned the tables on me. He was the one coming to my house!
I remember it was a Wednesday because empty garbage cans lined the street. As I got off the bus I was surprised to hear, "Rhonda! Rhonda, wait up. It's me, Mike!" I rolled my eyes before turning around. The boy had intentionally taken my bus home and sat quietly the whole way until the driver came to the stop near my house. I guess he didn't want anyone on the bus to hear our conversation.
I really was annoyed, but I made an intentional effort to sound even more annoyed than I was. "Mike, what are you doing here?"
"I came to see you. I miss you, Rhonda. You never told me what I did wrong."
"You didn't do anything wrong. It's over. I'm sorry I don't have an explanation for you, but it's still over. Okay? Please go home."
"Can't we go inside and talk about this?"
When he said "go inside and talk about this," I assumed sex was on his mind, so I figured I might be able to discourage such thoughts. "I'm not on the pill anymore, Mike. Let's not go and ruin our futures, okay?"
"We don't have to have sex. I just want to be with you."
FUCK! I thought to myself. This is just wonderful. Here comes a lifetime's worth of guilt. Why do you have to be so goddamned sweet, Mike? I hadn't been expecting that. After all I'd done to him, and all the changes that had taken place, he was still as sweet as candy. It touched me so deeply I nearly shed a tear and let him into the house.
Then I thought of a song my father used to listen to when I was a little girl. Ain't no such things as halfway crooks. Scared to death and scared to look, they shook. I couldn't be a "halfway crook." If I was going to be an evil bitch, I had to go all the way.
"You're really sweet, Mike, but it's over." I turned to walk away. He grabbed my arm.
"That's not good enough!" he said angrily.
"Who do you think you are?" I asked, trying not to show how frightened I was. "You can't tell me what's good enough any more than I can tell you! Now let go of my arm!" He let go, but the anger was still on his face. "Boy! Sex really does things to a boy's mind, doesn't it?" I said those word without the slightest thought of what it had done and was still doing to my own mind.
A part of me wanted Mike to come into the house with me. I wanted him to hold me in his arms again. Then I thought about how I wanted to date other boys. I thought about what I'd have to do to experience that thrill again, and how I felt when I saw fear in his eyes. For that to happen, I had to turn cold. Mike had to go.
"I'm sorry," Mike said. "I don't know why I did that. Please forgive me, Rhonda."
I was going to walk away at that moment, but I figured I'd at least try to appeal to his logical side. "Mike, there are plenty of girls at this school who really need a guy like you. You'll never find them if you don't try. It's not logical to waste your time on me. Move on."
"No, Rhonda. That's not how it works," he said to my back as I walked away. "Give me a chance! Please? At least tell me what I did wrong! Rhonda! Rhondaaaa!" As soon as I got around the corner I ran toward my house. It wasn't fear, but desperation for the situation to be over as quickly as possible that pushed me to move more quickly. I would still see him in Trig class and in the halls between classes, but I felt like I could deal with that.
In school the next day Mike met me at my locker, which was another turning of the tables for him. I rolled my eyes so hard they could've gotten stuck up there. "Mike, don't do this."
"I'm sorry for visiting you at your house, Rhonda," he blurted out. "I thought I could touch your heart, but I see now that you don't have one."
Annoyed, I responded curtly. "Guilty as charged. Anything else?"
I couldn't bear the sight of disappointment and brokenheartedness on his face. This time he was the one who walked away. I stared at the back of his head for a moment. Being a coldhearted bitch was harder than I thought. I slammed the locker door and walked toward homeroom. I hadn't even gotten all my books! I'd end up having to make another trip to my locker after this class, but I had to think about something different before I began to feel something I didn't want to deal with.
In Trig class later that day, a note landed on my desk while I was listening to the teacher. I couldn't even tell who had put it there. At first I was going to pretend I didn't see anything and only say something if the teacher did. He kept teaching, and seemed almost to refuse to see what was going on behind the student in front of me. He actually said something funny. The whole class laughed. While I was pretending to laugh with them, I put the note under my hand. Before making it disappear into the pocket of my jeans, I noticed it was folded in half, not tightly folded in some complex pattern like some geeks do. I unfolded it and saw the words, "I miss you" written in cursive. I was no good for the rest of the class. I silently cried right there in the classroom. I wanted to run to him and cry in his arms. Then the bell rang. I had to think of other things.
It was a good thing high school kept me so busy. By the end of the day I simply threw the note in the trash and stopped looking at it. After some time to think about it, I felt all this was emotional. I didn't need him, and he didn't need me. A three word note wasn't going to change that. Besides, what kind of future would I have if I was such a sap? I laughed it off.
The next day, Friday, a friend of mine named Martha asked me about Mike in homeroom. "I heard you two broke up," she said. I could never figure out how, but everyone knew we weren't together anymore almost instantly.
A tall, nice looking fellow senior came to sit with me at lunch time the same day. "My name's Roger. Do you mind if I sit here?"
"Free country," I responded. I could already tell I wasn't interested, but he wasn't getting the vibe.
"You seem like a nice person. Is there any chance in the world you'd let me take you to the Halloween dance? Are you going?"
"It's a social gathering. I have no intention whatsoever of attending," I responded in the most arrogant tone I could muster without being mean.
"How about a cup of coffee? Or dinner or something? I want a chance to get to know you."
I tapped the back of his hand gently. "If you keep up that approach, I'm sure you'll find yourself a nice girl eventually."
"Well, you mind if I still eat my lunch with you?"
We talked about banal subjects on the day to day happenings in the school. Which teachers were "cool," what student was throwing a party, the football team's record, that sort of thing. After a brief lull in the conversation he changed the subject back to dating.
"What - you got a man or something? I thought you and Mike Brown broke up." I smiled but chose not to respond. "You can tell me. I won't say nothing." I smiled even bigger and tried to think of a nice way to get him off the subject.
"Roger... How can I make you understand? Do you know what the Pythagorean theorem is?"
"No. What is it?"
"Have you ever heard of the Louvre?"
"... The loovera?"
"Do you know what sodium chloride is?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Exactly. We live in different worlds, Roger. It was very nice of you to ask me, though."
"Okay," he said as the bell rang. "I still think you should give me a chance."
I walked away with a smile thinking, Not in a million years.
Science is always difficult. I felt it was time for a new study buddy. Since our science teacher would let us sit where we wanted, I decided to sit next to a very smart, very nice young man named Martin Benson. I smiled at him as we took our seats and he smiled back.
Halfway through the class I whispered to him while the teacher was talking. "I don't understand chemistry. You seem to get it. Could you help me?"
"Sure. How about after school?"
I couldn't believe how easy it was to get him to come over to my house. That afternoon he sat with me on the bus on the way home. As we came past my mother she looked at us and said, "Hmph. You kids and your relationshipis. What happened to Mike?"
Why would she ask me that right in front of Martin? "Oh, he helped me with my math class. Martin here is going to help me with Chemistry."
That was the way it really started out. He honestly did help me to understand Chemistry. We started by memorizing most of the periodic table of elements. That took up most of our evening. We studied many different parts of chemistry while snacking on Doritos, candy bars and snack cakes until well after 10 that night. When I asked if he'd come back the following morning, the only problem was that he needed a ride. Apparently his mom's car wasn't working. He seemed very open to being picked up at any time, so I asked if I could call him when I finished breakfast. Of course he said yes. My mom and I gave him a ride home.
When we got back home my room was a mess. Notebooks, pens, pencils, wrappers and crumbs were everywhere. My bed was a mess too. After cleaning it up, I went to sleep fantasizing about Martin.
I made breakfast the next morning. Grits, eggs and sausages, my mother's favorite. Normally I would soak the grits pot and clean it later, but not this time. Martin was coming over. I wanted every part of the house to be as clean as a whistle. I was so excited! My mom seemed to notice my attitude. "You know, I don't mind if you have someone over if you're going to help keep the house this clean. Maybe we should do this more often! You can drive if you want to."
I was so excited I actually asked my mom, "Drive? Drive where?"
"Ain't we going to pick up that Martin boy after breakfast?" After I'd cleaned my room the previous night, she asked if I had any plans the next day. Barely awake, I told her I was studying with Martin in the morning.
"Oh, yeah. I forgot we talked about that last night. When can we leave?"
"Whenever. Shouldn't you call him first?"
"Oh, yeah," I repeated. "Can I call him now?" My mother laughed at my nervousness.
"The phone's in the den, dear."
"Hello?" answered the voice of an older woman whom I assumed to be his mother.
"Hi. My name is Rhonda Stern. Can I speak with Martin Benson?"
She didn't answer. Instead, she put the phone down and screamed Martin's name at the top of her lungs. I didn't hear his response, but I heard her yell, "The phone! For you!" It sounded like he was coming quickly down a flight of stairs. As he approached I heard his mother say, "What the hell girl you got callin' here? It bed' not be no damn fluzie. Don't have no damn fluzies callin' my house."
"Mom, it's not even like that. We're studying science together, that's all." His voice came to the phone. "Hi, Rhonda! How are you?" he asked, trying to sound cheerful.
"Just finished breakfast. Are you sure it's going to be okay to pick you up?"
He sucked his teeth. "My mom is overprotective, but she'll come around once she gets to know you. She thinks every girl out there just wants to have sex all the time. I tried to tell her you're not like that, but... Let's just say she's 'old fashioned.' What'd you have for breakfast?"
"I made grits, eggs and sausages for me and my mother. You?"
"I made breakfast too, but all I did was toast some pancakes and waffles for me and my little brother."
"Nothing for mom?"
"My mom ate breakfast before I got up this morning."
I heard his mother yell in the background, "Gotta get up early in the morning to keep my boys away from them damn hot pussy girls runnin' 'round here." I couldn't help but laugh.
"Let's finish this conversation in the car. I'll be there in 20." I hung up the phone without even saying goodbye. "We're all good, mom! Let's go!"
When we got there my mom surprised me by getting out of the car. "What are you doing, mom?"
"Letting Martin sit in the front."
"Oh, you don't have to do that, mom."
"Ssshhhh... He's coming."
As he came out of his apartment, I greeted him with a smile and a wave. He smiled back and came over to the car, throwing his backpack into the back seat where he noticed my mother. "Oh, hi Ms. Stern."
"Hello, Martin. How are you today?"
"Feeling good, ma'am. Rhonda, did you look at the period table anymore last night?"
"Oh HELL no," I responded. "I wasn't touching that shit until you were around to explain it to me. I don't want to end up making things worse by getting all confused." He raised his eyebrows and kept rolling his eyes toward the backseat, as if throwing me a hint. I got the hint, but my mother didn't care about foul language after I turned 18. As long as I wasn't cursing at teachers or cursing at her, she really didn't care. I figured I'd have to explain it to him later, but I didn't want to do that in front of my mother. "Mom, can we go to the supermarket and get some snacks?"
Mom breathed an annoyed sigh. "Take me to the house. I'll give you some money and you and Martin can go to the store. Bring back my change and a receipt."
When we got to the house mom got out of the car and handed me a $50 bill. I was surprised that she gave me so much. "How much of this can I spend?"
"I thought all you wanted was some snacks? Can't I trust you to just get some snacks and come home? If you spend up all my money, why would I let you drive anywhere anymore?"
"Point taken. We'll be back in a few minutes."
"I'm brewing coffee. Should I brew enough for three?"
I looked at Martin. "You want some home brewed coffee, Martin?"
"That's the best kind! Sounds great!"
At the supermarket, the parking lot had two driving lanes that were divided by double yellow lines like a two way street. As we stood together waiting for cars to go by, I grabbed Martin's hand. I smiled at him but at that moment he was more interested in making sure we got across the "street" safely. When we saw an opening, his grip tightened slightly as we jogged across. He didn't let go when we got there, and I liked it that way, so we ended up holding hands as we walked through the supermarket aisles.
We got Hot Pockets, cookies, candy bars, pizza rolls and some supermarket brand baclava. I actually got him to put his arms around me while we waited in line at the checkout. He grabbed the bag while I put the change and receipt in my pocket, and we held hands all the way back to the car. I couldn't believe how easy it was to get affection from a boy I'd just started talking to the previous day.
We got home around 11:15. Martin was ready to get right to work, as expected. I pretended to be a coffee addict, and that I couldn't possibly look at books until I'd had a couple of cups. The three of us sat at the kitchen table sipping coffee and yammering. My mom and I tortured the poor boy by asking him personal questions about his childhood. I told her what his mother was like, and he blushed. I enjoyed making him blush. It was so easy! Finally, around 1pm or so, I felt like he'd had enough and we needed to begin studying. I had him grab the cups and saucers and I took the entire coffee pot into my room. Apparently coffee was great for bringing him out of his shell.
From that point forward it was mostly Chemistry for the rest of the day. There were frequent breaks and the conversations went off on tangents, but for the most part we stayed focused. By 9 pm I was getting tired, and he was much more focused on the subject than I was. We both layed side by side on the floor on our stomachs with our feet casually waving through the air.
"What is the symbol for iron?" he asked.
"'Fe.' I like you a lot, Martin. How do you stay focused on this stuff for so long?"
"I like you a lot too, Rhonda. As far as studying Chemistry, I love it. Chemicals are very powerful things. What's the symbol for sodium?"
"'Na.' When I went to the bathroom earlier, my mom asked if I was sure we weren't seeing each other. I thought about that. If someone asks you what I am to you, what are you going to say?"
He thought for a moment. "What should I say?" I laughed. I took the book from his hand and moved closer until the side of my body was against the side of his.
"What are you comfortable with?"
"I think we're beating around the bush. Would you be my girlfriend?" I smiled and threw my arm around him. When he smiled, I grabbed his chin and planted a big smooch right on his lips. When he raised his arm (I assumed it was to put it around my shoulders) I pushed him onto his back and quickly got on top of him. Then I kissed him on the lips again and rested my head on his chest. I could feel him becoming aroused. He tried to shift so I wouldn't feel it, but I wouldn't let him. I enjoyed feeling him get stiff underneath me, so I pressed my body against his and made complaining groans when he tried to move. He actually let me have what I wanted and laid quietly while I got my little thrill.
I knew I was wrong. If a boy did that to me I would've slapped him. It felt like I was testing the waters, in a way. If he'd let me do that, what else would he let me do? The poor boy had no idea how dangerous it was for me to get aroused in his presence, but he was safe for the time being. There was a Chemistry test in the middle of the following week. I couldn't have him undergoing any changes until at least that point.
I tried to convince him to let me talk to my mother about letting him sleep on our couch for the night. Like a good little boy, he refused. I liked that. I found myself relishing the idea of chasing and catching him and then having my way with him.
If I'd known where his locker was, I would have met him there on Monday morning. I scanned the halls between classes hoping for a glimpse of him. Unfortunately, I wouldn't see him again until science class, which was after lunch.
I had to sit behind him at first. He sat to the far right of the second row and, even though I got to class on time, another boy had taken the seat next to him. I saw him lean over and whisper something to the boy. He looked at me and smiled while Martin was whispering. Then he nodded, gave Martin dap, and switched seats with me. I was smiling from ear to ear. How ironic that we barely said a word to one another for fear of getting into trouble. He did, however, touch my hand every chance he got. He would squeeze it lightly anytime the teacher wasn't looking, and my heart raced more each time. I was so turned on that by the time the bell rang that I just blurted out, "Are you coming over today?" without thinking.
"I'd love to!" he answered with a broad smile. "Meet you at the bus lane?"
"See you then!"
He and I stood together outside the school and waited for the buses to arrive in an area known as the 'bus lane.' As soon as I grabbed Martin's hand, Roger walked by. "Oh, you gotta be kiddin' me!" he spat.
"What?" I asked incredulously.
"You wouldn't give me a chance, but you hooked up with this nerd? What the hell does he got that I don't got?"
"I can name two things: a brain and a future."
"Yo, who you think you talkin' to?" Martin responded. I'd never heard him use bad grammar before. I assumed it was a symptom of his ire.
"Martin, No. Please don't do this," I begged. They were about the same height, but Roger was much bigger.
"You gotta stand up for yo'self when shit like this happens," he declared. "You can't just let people push you around."
"You're right. You're absolutely right, Martin. You've stood up for yourself and me both, and for that I'm deeply appreciative. Our bus is almost here. Let's go!"
"Nah, let him come," said Roger arrogantly. "I'll teach him better."
"Do it then!" I tried to pull on Martin, but he gently pushed me to the side without taking his angry glare off Roger. "Teach me better!"
I screamed at the top of my lungs, "MARTIN IF YOU DO THIS I WILL NEVER SPEAK TO YOU AGAIN!" That worked. He slowly backed away from Roger, who laughed like an asshole and walked away muttering low brow insults as the buses rolled up.
"Martin, please calm down, baby. I left something in my locker. I need you to get on the bus and find us a seat. Okay, boo? Are you going to try to calm down?"
His face finally began to soften. "Anything for you, baby."
"I'll be back in three minutes. Tell the bus driver not to leave yet, okay?"
He managed a smile. "Okay."
There was nothing I needed from my locker. I knew Roger was on his way to the parking lot because of the direction he was going in when he showed up. That meant he had a car. I saw him in the parking lot hanging around a shiny red car (which I assumed was his) with a bunch of his friends. I walked over to him mad as a hatter and I didn't care who saw.
"That was fucked up, Roger. But you fucked with the wrong one this time. Watch your back." His friends began to laugh as I walked away.
"What? Please. I don't give a fuck what you think." I pretended not to hear and kept walking. "You ain't gon' do shit to me. I'll get my little cousin to beat your little skinny ass."
My ass wasn't so skinny when you were trying to get with me.
Martin's bag had been in the seat to prevent anyone else from trying to sit with him. He very kindly grabbed his bag with a smile and put it in his lap, assuming I wanted to sit next to him. I grabbed the bag, put it back on the seat, and sat in his lap. He looked around, and I assumed he was embarrassed. I wasn't the only girl on the bus sitting in a boy's lap, but most of those boys were thugs and b-boys. Since it was (technically) against the rules, the good boys didn't do such things. I didn't care. Sitting next to him just wasn't close enough after that ordeal.
Martin wouldn't stay late that night because it was a school night. We hardly studied anyway. I made him lie down on my bed and I laid on his chest. I didn't care whether he was uncomfortable with my groin against his. We talked until around 6 when mom let me borrow the keys to give him a ride home. Before he got out of the car I made sure to find out where his locker was.
The next day, on the way to Martin's locker, I ran into Roger again in an enclosed stairwell. He was literally the very last person I wanted to see that early in the morning. Fortunately, my trepidation seemed unwarranted. "I'm sorry about the way I acted yesterday," he said rather sheepishly. "And I'm gonna apologize to Martin, too. He may be a nerd, but that wasn't right."
"Oh," I said with a smile. "That's very big of you, Roger."
"You think you could give me a chance now? I know damn well that nerd ain't doin' shit for you. Let me buy you something nice and take you somewhere special." I was appalled. Roger's buffoonery seemed to know no bounds... until he spoke again. "I bet his dick ain't big as mine." I wanted to walk away, but Roger pressed his body against mine, and my back against a nearby wall. I was terribly frightened. It felt like I was about to be raped! "Can you feel it? Can you feel how big and hard it is for you? Here, feel it."
"No! I don't want to feel it!"
He ignored me and reached for my wrist. I tried to pull my arm away, but he pressed my arm against the wall until he could grab it. I tried to close my hand but he was so much bigger and stronger than me that he easily forced all four of my fingers open with his powerful thumb. He pulled until my palm was on his manhood. It felt disgusting, like a giant worm shifting in his pants. Boys clearly don't understand girls. Why would I want to feel the sex organ of a boy who was as horrible as Roger?
"Hey! Get off her!" yelled Mike as he ran up the stairs. He wasn't as big as Roger either, but he was coming up the stairs with a teacher when he saw what was happening.
"What are you doing, Roger?" asked the tall male teacher as he followed Mike up the stairs. Roger disappeared through the door so quickly that by the time I looked in his direction he was gone.
I couldn't stop crying. Not only because of the trauma itself, but also because I felt like I knew what I'd put Mike through. Actually, what I did to him was much worse. I moved toward Mike hoping for some sympathy, but he backed away. The teacher put his arm around me and Mike just rubbed my back.
"Come on," said the teacher. "Let's go to the principal's office."
"No," I objected. I moved away from the teacher and tried to regain my composure. "I just want to go to class."
"You can't let him get away with that, young lady. What's your name?"
I knew the dangers of telling him my name. "I'm fine," I muttered. As soon as I said the words the bell rang. "I'm late for class," I said as I wiped my tears away and started up the stairs.
I got to the floor where Martin's locker was before I realized what I'd done. I was on my way to his locker, but the bell had rung. He was in his homeroom and I didn't know where that was. Cursing myself, I went back into the stairwell and down to my own homeroom.
The period before classes known as "homeroom" was only about 8 minutes long. Just before that eight minutes ended I heard over the loudspeaker, "Rhonda Stern to Principal Davis' office, please. Rhonda Stern to the principal's office." I rolled my eyes with a special disdain for Mike, who most likely told that damn teacher my name.
I so seldom saw the principal that I had forgotten she was a woman. I figured that would make things worse. Being a woman she'd probably have a "hard on" for boys who assaulted girls. I couldn't admit to anything if I wanted the situation to be over with as quickly as possible.
As I entered the room I suddenly felt absolutely terrified. The principal was seated at her desk and standing around were Mike, Roger, the male teacher, and two other girls. I wondered why the girls were there, but I figured it couldn't be good.
I tried not to be nervous, but it was useless. I was horrified. There was a table nearby where the other students had apparently placed their books. It wasn't until I put mine there as well that I remembered I hadn't been to my locker. I still had the books I had taken home the previous night. Where is my mind? I wondered.
"Well," said the principal in a rather gruff voice. "Now that you're here, Miss Stern, tell me what happened?"
I wanted to lie, but I never realized how much composure is required to tell a lie properly. I ended up stammering and couldn't get the words out. Eventually I decided to tell the truth.
"He was coming up the stairs as I entered the stairwell." I couldn't stop the tears from falling or my voice from breaking up. "At first he apologized for something he said to my boyfriend. Then he -"
"What did he say to your boyfriend?" asked the principal.
I took a deep breath. "Well, yesterday we were waiting for the bus together. Roger came by on his way to the parking lot and said something like, 'You didn't give me a chance, but you'll date this nerd? What does he have that I don't have?' I said I could name two things: a brain and a future."
The girls let out a spiteful little giggle. "Good one," I heard one of them whisper.
"He didn't like my response, but we weren't bothering him. My boyfriend stepped up to defend me. I tried to stop him because I didn't want it to elevate any further. Roger said let him go so he can teach him a lesson."
"Oh, yeah?" Roger said angrily. "Tell her what you said in the parking lot." I ignored him. So did everyone else.
"Then I came in this morning and saw him in the stairwell."
"So that's what he was apologizing for. What happened then?" she asked. I could tell her anger was building.
"Right after apologizing he asked if I could give him a chance because he knew that 'nerd' wasn't doing anything for me. He told me that he bet his... manhood... was bigger than my boyfriend's." I couldn't help myself. I began to cry all over again. "He... told me it was big and hard for me. He pushed me up against the wall... and he... and he..." I tried as hard as I could, but I could not bring myself to say the words. When I opened my mouth nothing came out but sobs. Perhaps I was more traumatized than even I had realized.
The principal remained perfectly composed. "He pushed you against the wall and what?"
I honestly tried again, but the words just wouldn't come out. Mike finally took pity on me and hugged me as I sobbed like a little girl. I actually felt a bit jealous of the principal and her ability to maintain composure. "Can you continue?" she asked. With my head against Mike's chest and tears continuing to fall, I looked at her and shook my head.
"All right. Mr. Feinberg. What did you see?"
"As Mr. Brown and I were coming up the stairs we heard, and I quote: 'I bet his dick ain't big as mine.' End quote. She eventually responded with, 'No! I don't want to feel it!' We ascended the stairs and saw Roger had this young lady sandwiched between himself and the wall. His hand was holding hers to his groin."
"Just a moment, Mr. Feinberg. I hate to interrupt, but I need absolute clarity. He was holding her hand to his groin? Please explain exactly what you saw."
"His right hand was holding her left hand flatly against his groin. It was clear that he was forcing her to feel him. It was also abundantly clear that she had no desire to do so, and was deeply traumatized by the event. As we came up the stairs, Roger went through the double doors and apparently went to class. I wanted to bring her here immediately, but she refused to give her name. She said she was fine, which she clearly was not, and that she just wanted to go to class. She wiped away more tears as she walked up the stairs, at which point I asked Mr. Brown for her name."
Mike was clearly very angry. I could hear the anger in his chest as he spoke. "It was exactly the way Mr. Feinberg said. I couldn't have said it better myself. The only thing I'd like to add is this." With those words he gently grabbed my left wrist and showed it to the principal. There was a bruise there! I hadn't even noticed! I also noticed my hand was trembling and I couldn't make it stop.
"Roger Robertson, have you anything to say in your defense?"
"Yes. Axe her what she said in the parking lot."
"What? WHAT?" The principal was very angry, but she managed to maintain that stony composure of hers. "Did she press you against a wall and say, 'Feel my vagina. It's tighter than your girlfriend's?' What words could this young lady possibly say that would justify sexual assault? That's three strikes, Roger. You're expelled."
"Why? So you can graduate to rape on a college campus? I don't think so. Because of the nature of your crime, and yes I said 'CRIME,' the police have to be notified. Now get off school property. If I see you here again, I'll have you arrested."
"But Ms. Davis-"
"Expect the police to visit you at your home. GOOD DAY, SIR." Mike and the two girls were clapping as he left. Mike clapped his hands behind my back.
She had used the term "sexual assault." I hadn't thought of it that way. I just thought Roger was an asshole. If that was sexual assault, then what had I done to Mike? What was I planning to do to Martin? For the first time I admitted to myself that the proper term was "rape."
"Mr. Feinberg and Mr. Brown, I'll need you to leave the room. Ladies, please remain."
Mike helped me into a nearby chair, then he and Mr. Feinberg brought in chairs for the other two girls before they left. The three of us sat side by side in front of the principal's desk. She looked solemnly at us and took a deep breath before she started.
"Far be it from me to blame the victim, but it seems you all need to learn a very valuable lesson. As far as I'm concerned each of you made the same mistake: You allowed a boy to do something to you with impunity. Do you know what that means?"
The other girls shook their heads, but I knew what it meant. "It basically means you let him get away with it. If you'd reported it right away, it might never have escalated to this point. If teachers witnessed the three events I've heard about today, how many do you think he did that no one witnessed? How many girls needlessly suffered through what you did? When you report a crime, you at least have a chance to prevent it from happening to someone else, or worse yet, to you again.
"Did you know that 75% of rapes go unreported? Victims want so desperately to go back to their lives and forget about what happened that they just don't think. They don't think about how they'd feel if it happened to their best friend, their sister, their cousin, their mother. By that logic, it's probable that there are nine other girls whom we'll never know about simply because they refused to come forward.
"Mr. Robertson has apparently had a very busy morning. The three of you are excused from school for the day. Take this time to rest and get your mind off school. When you return these incidents will be in the past, and you will find them easier to deal with. If you ever need someone to talk to, someone who will just listen, I hope you'll come to me. If not, there are counselors, church groups, family and friends... There's always someone you can talk to rather than keeping it bottled up inside. I'll have the secretary give you a note for your parents. The three of you are dismissed."
"Ma'am?" I chimed in as the other two got up and left. "I can't go home today. You see, I have a Chemistry test tomorrow, and my boyfriend is my study buddy. We studied for this all weekend and I really want to ace that test and I -"
"Who is your Chemistry teacher?"
Fuck! I don't want to go home! "Mr. Cocolla," I answered with a sigh.
She picked up the phone and dialed four digits. "Mr. Cocolla? Hi. I need you to excuse a Rhonda Stern from her test tomorrow , as well as from class today. Tomorrow? I can't say. I'll need the same for a..." She looked at me.
"Martin Benson. I can't say in his case, either. I really appreciate it. Thank you." She hung up the phone. "I'll excuse him too if his grades won't suffer too terribly. If his grades are bad and he's already behind, you'll just have to study chemistry alone."
"Now go and get some rest."
"Can I go to his classroom and get him?"
She took another deep breath. Then she silently pressed a button on her phone after picking it up. "Martin Benson to Principal Davis' office, please. Martin Benson to the Principal's office." She hung it up lightly. "I'll have him meet you in the main office."
After that incident I went from seeing the principal as an absentee hardass to one of the most influential women in my life. Her lack of emotion and her perpetually stoic composure made me want to be exactly like her. I felt like she would have given Roger a run for his money if he'd tried that with her. She wouldn't waste time on guilty feelings, either. I walked to the main office wondering what her sex life was like.
Going home would have been so boring that I would have preferred to go to school. Going home to be with Martin was a horse of another color. When I got to the main office one of the other two girls was using the phone, so I had to wait. I didn't mind. It gave me time to fantasize about Martin.
Unfortunately, something in my mind had changed. I felt guilty. I wanted to enjoy a nice fantasy of holding him down and chewing on his skin while he cried and begged me to stop, but it felt wrong. I convinced myself that I was going to stop. I told myself that I wasn't going to do to Martin what I did to Mike. He came into the main office and I smiled at him as he took a seat next to me.
"Come to my house, Martin. Tell your mother whatever you have to. I really don't want to be alone right now."
"Sure," he responded. "What happened? How did I get excused from class?"
"I'll tell you at my house, okay? I don't want to talk about it right now."
"Rhonda," he said with deep sympathy in his voice. I wanted to sit in his lap, but there was no way they'd allow that in the main office. So I sat in the seat next to him and held his hand.
"Hey, you two!" my mother said with a smile as she pulled up in the car and rolled the window down. I hadn't told her anything over the phone except that Martin had been excused too. I never did that sort of thing so she assumed it was an emergency and came over right away. I didn't respond to her greeting. I just ushered Martin into the back seat and got into the front. "Rhonda, what's wrong? Why are your eyes so red? Have you been crying?"
"Mom, Martin, I wanted to tell both of you at the same time. There's something I need you to know, and I need assurance that you won't overreact, and that you won't get angry. Please don't do that to me right now."
"Okay," Martin responded first.
My mother was more tentative. "I can't say I won't get angry until I hear what you have to say." I began to cry. "Tell me, Rhonda! What's wrong?
"I can't until you promise not to get angry," I said, trying not to sound angry myself.
My mother's voice became more sympathetic as she realized how serious the situation had to be. "All right, Rhonda. I promise."
I took another deep breath. My mother handed me a tissue. As I used it I searched for the right words. I didn't want to say his name and I didn't want to lie, but I had to say more than just 'A boy was mean to me.' I needed her to understand why I was excused from school without trying to take me to a hospital or the police precinct. "I... I almost got raped in the hall today."
"WHAT?!? Oh, HELL no! What the FUCK is going on at this GOD DAMN SCHOOL? Who was it? Huh? Rhonda, you tell me who it was RIGHT NOW!"
"MOM PLEASE!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, sobbing. "You promised! Don't do this to me right now. I can't take it!" Martin put his hand on my shoulder from the back seat. I leaned my head on his hand, kissed his knuckle and touched his fingers in desperation for affection. "The boy got expelled," I told her, still rubbing Martin's hand. "The police have been notified, and they'll find him at his house and arrest him."
"If he's still there. Why didn't they have the police pick him up at the school?"
I hadn't thought of that. "I'm not sure, mom. I got the distinct impression that they didn't really have a procedure for this sort of thing since it doesn't happen very often. Can we get something to eat, mom? I'm suddenly hungry as a hostage. Can we go to McDonald's?" I knew my mother would give me almost anything I wanted within reason.
"Of course, baby. I'm sorry for getting so upset." She reached her arm around me and kissed me on the cheek. When she was about to let go, I put both my arms around her and hugged her tightly trying not to sob in her ear. She kissed me again, and after a long moment I finally let go. I looked into the back seat and Martin was wiping away a tear. I suddenly wanted to get into the back seat with him. "You want a Big Mac?" my mother offered as I looked at him.
"I think it's too early for that. Can I get a McGriddle?"
Mom smiled. "Of course, baby." She looked in the rear view. "I think your friend needs you back there."
I pushed the seat back and climbed over it without getting out of the car. My mom usually hated when I did that, but she dealt with it at the time. I sat in Martin's lap and finally I could stop crying. Martin asked me no questions. He just rubbed my shoulder and kissed my forehead.
I was surprised when we got home that it was only 9:30. After all that happened that morning, it felt like it should be later. The three of us sat in the living room watching an old movie my mother loved called "New Jack City." My mother was seated in her old comfy chair, Martin was seated on the sofa, and I sat in his lap.
During a commercial my mother got up and went to the bathroom. As soon as she disappeared through the door I straddled Martin's lap and tongued him down. I grabbed the groin of his pants so I could feel his meat as it grew in my hand. I stopped just long enough to let him catch his breath while I kissed up and down his neck and rubbed his nipples through his shirt. As I heard the toilet flush I bit him on the neck. "Ow!" he exclaimed I kissed the bitten spot. Then as the water was running for her to wash her hands, I stuck my tongue in his ear. The way he moaned sent waves of pleasure up my spine. Then the water stopped running. I sat back in his lap just as my mother was coming back into the room. The look of absolute shock on his face as she took her seat was priceless.
I intentionally sat my butt right on his erection. It was uncomfortable, but when he tried to move I made little groaning sounds as a complaint. Spoiling me much more than I deserved, he sat there and dealt with it just to keep me happy. I could tell it was uncomfortable because of the way he sat. It slowly disappeared into his underwear as the movie continued, and he could sit normally again. Of course, I was turned on by then. I wanted to take him into my bedroom and do bad things to him. After all that had happened, one turn on and I was back to square one. The only thing that saved him was the fact that I had a Chemistry test the following day.
Against my principal's advice, I came to school the next day. We both aced the chemistry test. Martin and only two others got perfect scores. My score wasn't quite perfect, but it was still an A+. Martin came over to my house every day that week, and every night we gave him a ride home. Friday came swiftly, but I was still glad the week was over and was more than ready for the weekend.
Martin usually went home around 6 or 7 in the evening. That particular Friday evening I wouldn't hear of it. Six o'clock rolled around and Martin started getting ready to go home, but I didn't grab anything. "Put your stuff down, Martin. You're spending the night."
"That's really nice, Rhonda, but you know my mother would kill me. I can't spend the night with a girl. She'd have a conniption."
"Then don't tell her you're with a girl. Tell her you're at a friend's house. You're 18. You can tell her whatever you want, but you're not leaving tonight. Do you understand?"
Why was it so easy to push Martin around and make him do what I wanted? He called his mother and told her he was in a hotel room with the other members of the chess club, and they wanted to stay up all night playing chess. Apparently his mom wasn't buying it. I could hear her yelling into the phone even though I couldn't make out what she was saying.
"Tell her you never do this sort of thing. Remind her that you're a good boy, you're over 18, and you'd never do anything to ruin your future." He repeated what I said, almost word for word, into the phone. He looked at me shaking his head as I could hear her screaming voice emanating from the telephone.
"Now ask her if she's throwing you out."
He covered the phone with his hand and whispered, "I can't ask her that."
"You can and you will. And it will work. Do it."
When there was a break in the cacophony, he swallowed and breathed deeply. "Are you throwing me out?" The screaming stopped. I had a feeling that would work. Martin didn't understand what I understood. He looked at me and whispered, "She's crying? I think she's crying." He went back to talking to her. "Tomorrow night, mom. I promise. I'll be ready for church Sunday morning, and everything will be the same as it was. Thanks, mom." He hung up the phone with a quizzical look on his face. "How did you know that would work?"
"Overprotective mothers are often holding on to an ideal. She still sees you as that eight year old kid playing in the yard. She doesn't even want you to take the risk of ruining your life because she did things to ruin her own life when she was young. The only thing that forces her back into reality is the thought of losing you altogether. It's a common psychological hangup, actually."
"Damn," he said, surprised. "Remind me never to piss you off." Then he sighed. "She's going to be mad as hell when I finally do come home."
"No she won't. She'll hug you like you just got rescued from a kidnapper. She'll spoil you for the rest of the evening. And from now on she'll give you at least some of the respect you deserve. Having an overbearing mother can be like having a leash around your neck. If she loves you, it should be possible to make her see when she's choking you."
"Have you studied psychology or something?"
"I've studied a great many subjects, Martin." I grabbed his arm and pulled him back toward my bedroom. "Tonight I'm going to study you."
Despite the nonchalant outward appearance I was trying to maintain, there was a fight to the death going on in my mind. I had promised myself that I wouldn't do to Martin what I did to Mike. I remembered the way Roger made me feel. I remembered the rejection of Mike backing away from me. I even remembered the first time I realized that what I had done was a crime called "rape," and that it was a heinous crime. I pitted all that against my desire to take Martin and do with him as I pleased, and the desire was still winning.
What was worse, I was developing a modus operandi. The first step was to get him into a mindset where fighting back or resisting would be much more difficult. As I pulled him into my bedroom I sat him down on the couch while I paced back and forth. I don't think I'd ever done that in front of him before. I could tell from the look on his face that he was wondering what was going on. The way I saw it, that was a good thing.
"You know, you can't go home tonight if you want to maintain your mother's respect. If you go home tonight she'll hardly let you out of her sight. She won't even let you come over here anymore after school. Do you understand?"
"Yeah, but... Why are you pacing?"
I ignored his question. I wasn't done trying to dismantle his ability to resist. "Have you ever hit a girl, Martin?"
"Hit a girl? No! I'm not that kind of guy."
"I know. You've never been arrested, right?"
"Do you know what happens to boys and men who are accused of rape?"
"Rhonda, what are you talking about? You're not going to accuse me of anything like that, right?"
"Not if you do as I say."
"WHAT? What the hell's going on here, Rhonda? Why are you asking me these weird questions?"
I walked over to my bedroom door and locked it. "You have a perfect criminal record. That is to say, you have no criminal record. My mother has learned to trust you. Have you ever had sex, Martin?"
"Rhonda, you're making me uncomfortable. Why did you lock the door?"
"Because I'm going to rape you, Martin."
He laughed. "That's cute, Rhonda. Maybe you haven't noticed, but I'm a lot bigger than you. Besides, I'm going to UCLA in the fall. It's fun making out with you and I love to touch you but I just don't think it should go any further than that right now. In fact, I don't like this conversation. Maybe you'll be thinking more clearly in the morning." He got up and walked toward the door.
"In order to go to UCLA, your mother has to respect you," I said as he grabbed the doorknob. "Why should she let you travel over a thousand miles when she can keep you at a local university and under her thumb?" His hand was still on the knob, but he didn't turn it. "It's time to become a man, Martin, and your readiness is of no importance to me."
"I can't Rhonda. Not just because my mother would kill me, but I just think we should wait. You know?"
That was his way of saying he wasn't ready. I'd already told him I didn't care. "Try to leave and I'll scream 'rape.' My mother will come in here with a knife. She'll stab you before asking any questions. You saw how she acted in the car. Then she'll call the police and tell them she was defending me from you, and you'll go to jail with a stab wound. There goes that perfect record."
"You can't do that!"
"Is it my intelligence or my resolve that you doubt? Is it both? You know how the system works. They claim it's 'innocent until proven guilty,' but you and I both know it doesn't really work that way. Once you're in the system they need a good reason to let you out. Now let go of the doorknob and take off your clothes."
He was shocked. Though he let go of the door, he wasn't ready to get naked yet. "You can't be serious! Rhonda, what the hell are you doing? I thought we were falling in love. I thought we had something special."
"Take off your clothes NOW, Martin."
When he reached for the doorknob I screamed at the top of my lungs. "MOOOOOOOOM! Help me! Heeeeelp!"
That was when the reality of my threats came crashing down around his ears. He got on his knees and groveled at my feet. "No, please! I'm sorry! Don't call your mother! Please!"
"Rhooooondaaaa! What's going on in there?"
I grabbed a handful of the flesh of his shoulder with my fingernails. I squeezed tighter and tighter until I got the reaction I wanted: a clear expression of pain. Just before he was about to scream I covered his mouth and answered my mother, "Sorry mom! I thought Roger was going to fall out the window. He's fine." He grabbed my wrist and squeezed, hoping to loosen my grip on his shoulder, but I didn't let up until I saw tears welling up in his eyes. He breathed a sigh of relief as I let go, followed by heavy breathing. "Take your clothes off, Martin."
"Rhonda, please... Just think of -" I backhanded him and clutched his shoulder with my fingernails again. This time a half second of a scream came out before I covered his mouth. I held it for a few seconds, then pulled his body close to mine. Since he was on his knees, his face slammed into my bosom. I lowered my head and whispered into his ear, "You're only making things worse. You know I'm not strong enough to force you out of your clothes. So I'll torture you, leaving bruises and scratches all over your body, then I'll get scissors and cut the clothing off of you. I'll still have my way with you and send you home in the torn rags that remain. Is it really worth the pain and humiliation?"
He looked at me with tears in his eyes and muttered, "For my future? Yes."
"Then you will suffer." I covered his mouth as I scratched deeply into the flesh on the side of his chest and held it for a few seconds. Then I went to the drawer for a pair of scissors, which I opened and closed three times for effect. Upon hearing the sound he gave in, sobbing like a tiny child.
"Okay, okay. I'll do what you want."
"Are you sure? You've still got those terribly uncomfortable clothes on. I want you to be comfortable. This will be unpleasant enough as it is."
"I thought you were sweet, Rhonda. I thought you were a good girl," he sobbed as he took his shirt off. I lavished the sight of his chest emerging from his shirt, but the real treat was watching him expose that thick, black piece of flesh between his legs. Of course, being so terribly embarrassed, he quickly covered it with both hands. "Where do I put my clothes?"
"Lie down on the bed." I replaced the scissors and pulled out a roll of duct tape. He didn't see it until he was flat on his back on my bed. Then he tried to get back up, apparently terrified of what I might do with it. I pushed him back onto the bed and put my knee on his chest. "Don't do anything rash, Martin. When this is over you'll be glad you didn't force me to leave any... permanent marks."
"I'll eat your pussy. Please don't tape me down. I swear to God I'll lick it like you've never had it licked before. Just please don't tape me to the bed. I'll do anything!"
I wondered how he knew how to lick pussy. I'll have to remember to ask him about that later. Since I really wasn't in the mood to get my pussy licked, I decided to think more long term. "Anything? Are you sure?"
He hesitated a moment, but realizing the alternative he said, "Anything."
"Will you still be my boyfriend?"
Swallowing hard he answered, "Yes."
"Don't move." As he lay there I let him watch me put the duct tape back into the drawer. He continued to watch as I removed every article of clothing from my body one by one. "Hands above your head," I commanded. As he complied I climbed on top of his body.
"Can I use a condom?" he asked. I ignored him.
Finally, I thought. He's mine. I kissed his lips, then I kissed the side of his face, and slowly kissed my way down to his nipple where I first kissed, then sucked, then chewed while he groaned from the pain. Then I paid equal attention to the other nipple, relishing the soft sounds of discomfort. I kissed my way down to his manhood and watched him squirm as his pole grew in my mouth.
I slowly climbed on top of him, unable to help but smile at his trembling. I used one hand to hold his erection in place and the other to hold my pussy open. "You forgot the condom! Do you have a condom? I didn't bring one." I laughed and slowly began to push down. It felt so good that I was already getting weak when I got him all the way inside me. Then I bent downward and whispered in his ear, "No condoms needed. You're going to make a good daddy." He began to fight and push me. "It's not worth going to prison!" I reminded him. When he heard me say that he stopped moving right where he was with one hand on my shoulder and the other on my arm and began to sob openly. I grabbed his wrists and slowly pushed them onto the bed near his head. With great care I kissed his neck, moving up and down on him as I enjoyed orgasm after orgasm. He cried the whole time.
It was nearly midnight when I was done with him. I made him shower with me. That poor boy cried silently as I washed his body and made him wash mine. He started to dry himself off, but I snatched the towel from his hands and dried him myself. Then I handed him a towel, put my hands on the sink and stuck my butt out with my feet far apart. He got the hint and dried me off. Even after I'd been so cruel he dried me off gently and thoroughly from head to toe.
The next morning around 8:30 there was a knock at the door. "Are you still asleep, Rhonda?"
Martin gasped, Apparently already awake. "Your mother!" he whispered. It wasn't loud at all, but the walls in our house were very thin. I still worried my mother might hear it, so I quickly gave an angry response.
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" I mouthed through clenched teeth. Then I relaxed my voice to sound like I just woke up. "No, mom. I'm up."
"You normally have breakfast made by now. How did Martin get home last night?"
"His mother came and got him," I lied.
"I thought they didn't have no car."
"They do, it just wasn't working. I guess she got it fixed. Can I have Martin over for breakfast?"
"That's fine, baby. You go get him and I'll put the grits on."
"Can I do it mom? Please?"
"Don't you wanna call and see if his mother will bring him over? Or I could lend you the keys and you could pick him up. I'll probably have breakfast done by the time he gets here."
"Please, mom? I wanna cook for him." I could hear her breathe a heavy sigh, further proof that the walls were paper thin.
"Oh, all right. Yo' grits better be mighty good to keep me waitin' this long, Rhonda. Wake me up when it's done."
I slowly turned my head toward Martin. It took him a moment to realize what was on my mind, but when he did he looked scared. "No, wait. Rhonda, think about this!" he said as I got on top of him.
"Don't make a sound." I mouthed as I covered his mouth and bit into his chest.
By the time I dropped him off at home late Saturday night I'd done it again. Three times I assaulted him in a 24 hour period, and I still expected him to keep his promise of continuing to be my boyfriend.