Continued from… No Big Deal (2)
By now I was sitting up. The lights from the house was just enough to illuminate some things in the bus.
“Andy, I am tired and want to sleep. Could you please go?”
“Oh, come on, be nice. We can just talk if you want.”
“I have nothing to talk about.”
“You are a sexy woman, Jenny. Rick told me about your body.”
I kept quiet. There was nothing I could think of to say. What else had Rick told him? Of course, I should have known Rick had told him everything. He must have boasted about how easy it was to get me in his bed.
“Andy, can you please go?”
“I have nowhere to sleep,” he said, “all rooms and couches in the mansion are occupied. I’ll sleep here with you.”
I didn’t want him to sleep there. What would people think of me? Deep down I realized how stupid this thought was. All week I never once thought about my reputation when sleeping with Rick, and now suddenly my reputation was a thing? My inner struggle continued even when Rick undid his denims. Should I allow him to sleep here or should I insist he left?
“Come here you, I know you want to,” Andy said and reached out to pull me towards him.
“No, Andy, please let me go.”
I pulled away hard and fell backwards on the bunks. He threw himself on top of me and between our bodies, despite my struggle, he managed to undo my pants. I wriggled and struggled and moaned and called out ‘no Andy’ but he seemed to have gone deaf. He got off me and for a split second I thought he had come to his senses. Then he grabbed my denims, pulled them down to my ankles, grabbed my feet and pulled me closer to him. My struggling and asking him to stop didn’t seem to register with him.
In a matter of mere seconds, he was on me, pinning me down and pushing himself into me. It hurt. He pushed. I moaned and tried to struggle out from under him. One arm pinned my hands above my head. The other disappeared between our bodies and either tried to rub my clitoris or to push his half-hard cock deeper into me.
“Lie still, bitch, I know you want this. Andy had you so I can have you too.”
The pain between my legs, the heavy body on mine, the shame I felt when I heard his words, the fear of him hurting me even more… I stopped moving. I let it happen…
The room is quiet for several minutes after Jenny stops talking.
“It was rape.”
Jenny lifts her head to look at the man across from her. She realizes her cheeks are wet with tears and awkwardly looks at the tissue in her hand. It is streaked with the blue of her make-up and the black of her mascara.
“It was rape,” she confirmed.
“You’ve always known.”
Her voice is small and choked with tears.
After another bout of silence in which he gives Jenny time to compose herself, the man speaks.
“Men of power intimidate you. You are a strong woman and you know how to stand your ground, but when a man with a certain authority demands anything from you, you forget your own boundaries.”
Jenny opens her mouth to protest.
“No, it was not your fault. That is not what I am saying. None of this was your fault. Those men took advantage of you. They saw a vulnerable woman and used you in their own selfish ways. What they also saw, was a strong woman, one they wanted to conquer. Their basal needs overruled their common sense. The strength you radiate is frightening to men who always want to be in control. They are the weak ones, not you.”
That evening, safe in her own home, Jenny thinks back on the conversation with the counselor. He has not given her any practical advice, but somehow, telling him about the rape – it’s strange to refer to it as rape after all these years of not calling it that – has made things fallen into place. Her stance towards the new managing director will be different, but she knows it will take practice and more meetings with the counselor.
Jenny reaches for her phone and for the first time in weeks she types a message on social media: #metoo
Author’s note: This story is based on personal experience.
© Rebel’s Notes