It was a game, I realized but it was affecting me.
Breathing faster, I said, ”You called me…?”
He stood up, slowly. Crossed and came to stand a few feet from me, his drink in his hands. There was something frightening about him and I guessed that he had been drinking steadily since afternoon.
I stepped back carefully but his hand snaked out and pulled me hard against him.
He grated at me, “Why the f*** can’t you wear decent clothes?”
Furious, I tried to pull away but slamming the glass down on the table, he gripped me with both arms. ”Do you want men to lust over you? Is that it? Every male who sees you should want to ..’
He never finished.
I kicked him hard on the shins and remembered too late that it was his injured leg. With an oath, he ripped open my shirt and twisting my arms painfully , rammed me against the wood paneled wall. I panted, in anger and desperation and hissed,”I don’t have any fancy clothes, I don’t
As he continued to press into me, I asked wearily, ”Gaston, please, what have I done wrong this time?”
But there was no room for explanations. He roughly plundered my mouth, subjugating me and I, fool that I am, I surrendered to his touch.