By Aimee DeLong.
No one’s ever going to fuck me the way I want to be fucked. This thought sort of soothed the disillusion that Rachel felt. Perhaps, the world was really just about doing good for others, and not thinking about oneself. This was a depressing idea.
She thought about the missionary slideshows from church when she was a kid. All the children with the big heads that looked so happy just to be loved in the sunshine, in Africa. For a long time, Rachel wanted to be a missionary until she realized that there was no way she could do that with the beliefs and habits that she held. But even so, she only wanted to be a missionary because it sort of seemed glamorously selfless. At least, that’s the way the pictures looked.
She’d been fucked plenty, and sometimes, in impressive ways. One guy had an eight-inch cock and was into tantric sex. Rachel would become bored with how long he could go, and then all of the sudden she would orgasm again, which of course, made it difficult to be too annoyed. Another guy would spank the shit out of her ass with his hand, then with a paddle, then with a crop, and finally, with a cane. By the time he was done, Rachel would be nauseated and shaky, and collapsed in exhaustion. And, in this benevolent way he would kiss her as if he were sucking out her breath. They would go to bed and go down on each other. Rachel enjoyed sucking his cock, and his cum always tasted like camel lights and Stella Artois, as she let it slide out of her mouth. There was a man that would tell her she was a good girl, when she was on top. She liked that, although felt that there was something wrong with her for it. One guy agitated her, because he would never kiss her with both of his lips at once. It was like a spider was crawling on her face.
Rachel wanted to be raped. Not really, but yes, raped. She had always associated true affection with violation. She hated presumptuous people, but they also turned her on. Once at work, a man, who was fired the next week for sexual harassment toward another woman, cornered her and ran his hands over her hips as he asked her out to dinner. She told him to fuck off, of course, but she thought about the sensation for months. His hand rustled her black skirt. The sound even stuck with her. Shhhh. Shhhh.
“I saw you and John the other night walking on Stanton.”
“Why didn’t you say hi?” Rachel asked as Chad looked up and to the side, seemingly, at some clouds.
“I don’t know. I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”
“Yeah?”
“Are you two in an open relationship?”
“I guess you could say that. I mean, I don’t want any romantic attachments right now, other than John. Anything else would just have to be a diversion. I’m only interested in diversions.”
“Really? I want to be that. I want to be a diversion.”
Rachel laughed. The whole thing was funny to her. She, herself was an odd creature, attractive, yes, but she usually went for guys who were a little more, well…less normal looking. Chad was perfect breeding material. He looked like the type of non-descript, ridiculously handsome man that would appear on Sex And the City as one of Charlotte’s boyfriends. He had also been on some Law And Order-esque television show. Rachel was almost embarrassed to be so attracted to him. He did have a really sexy mouth, though.
She met him a month ago at a burlesque show in an audience filled with bachelorette parties. The first thing he did was ask her if she wanted a peanut m&m. She couldn’t remember, now, if she accepted, only that she thought it was hilarious and peculiar. They danced a little after the show, but John and some other friends were around, and there really wasn’t much of an opportunity to discuss Rachel’s relationship status. She quickly told him her email address, as he rolled his eyes into his head with an overt show of memorization.
Chad reached under the table and put his hand on the inside of Rachel’s leg, under her skirt. “What are you into? What do you like?”
“Lots of things, I guess.”
“Are you into role-play at all?”
“Well, apparently, you are,” she teased, making fun of his obviousness.
He laughed. She liked his laugh. It was kind of goofy. He just kept starring at her, waiting for a reply.
“Yeah, I guess. It depends what it is.”
“Do you like it rough?”
Rachel’s legs closed on his hand in excitement.
“Do you?” she asked.
“Tell me how rough you like it?”
“Well, I sort of have this rape fantasy,” she tried to say discreetly at the caf é where the two of them were drinking coffee, as she opened a brown packet of raw sugar.
“That is so fucking hot.” His hand squeezed farther between Rachel’s legs.”
“Listen though. I do not want to do that until all the details are explicitly discussed. And, I don’t want to sleep with you today. Things are a little to crazy right now with John.”
“Of course.”
Rachel and Chad had actually been emailing back and forth just as friends since they met. Rachel knew several things about him. He was an actor. He was in AA. He did yoga. He meditated. And, he cried. He also used words like, intimate and sensitive. These things sort of added up to Rachel thinking that Chad was rather harmless, not because she thought these things made someone a harmless person. It was almost more that she didn’t relate to it. She was never particularly interested if a guy she was involved with were sensitive. She also wasn’t concerned with intimacy. The concept of it. Perhaps if she were, she would have understood that Chad was a little too ideal.
“Well, can we just go someplace and kiss?”
“I guess.”
The some place they went was back to Rachel’s apartment.
This is how Chad later described what happened:
I just entered you a little to see if you wanted to. And you arched your back into me like you liked it. Then all the sudden you pulled away. So, I respected that and we just sort of played around for a while with the struggling until you told me to stop, and then I stopped. You could have told me to stop at anytime.
Rachel was very upset because Chad penetrated her without a condom, without asking.
This is how Rachel described what happened:
You turned me around, and pushed me against the wall, and I couldn’t even really tell what you were doing at first. Then, when I realized you were inside me, I pulled away. At that point I was legitimately scared, because you had already done something that wasn’t agreed to. Then, you threw me on the bed, and we struggled for a long time. I had to lock my knees, by bracing my feet against the wall (Rachel remembered her black boots against the white paint). And, you acted so insane that half the time I really thought you were actually trying to rape me. That’s why I couldn’t tell you to stop, because I was panicked, and was just trying to fight you off. Then, when I finally got some wits about me, I had to tell you to stop several times before you actually did.
Chad also informed Rachel that she was imposing her sexual morality onto him, because he didn’t think it was wrong to penetrate someone without a condom…with or without asking, she wasn’t sure.
After Chad stopped trying to maybe rape Rachel, he said, “Let me taste you.”
She did. Then she gave him a blowjob. Then he asked to check his email. Rachel put on a record. And, when he left they waved to each other as he trotted down the stairs.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Aimee DeLong writes fiction. Her work has appeared in such places as Hotel St. George Press, Cherry Bleeds, Lit Chaos and Yellow Mama. She is also the winner of the 2008 Famas Poetry Prize. Check out her website: it will change the way you think about pseudo-professional, marginally-published writer-websites.
