~ Some guy
I don't have five contacts on my phone, but I have one. I still keep it. I even transfer it when I get a new phone. I'll always have it.
******
When you wake up in the morning you really don't know what the day will bring. While I was running errands in Gotham City, Jr., the other day, having flown over in the King Air and aced the landing, the wheels chirping on the runway just as the stall warning sounded, and still feeling quite proud of myself about it, I ran into el jefe's friend Jason, and since it was around noon he invited me to lunch and we got seats at the counter of a nearby diner, the only ones available during the lunch rush.
We both ordered the blue plate special, sliced roast beef with mashed potatoes and gravy with a side of peas and a dinner roll. I had coffee black, he had coffee with cream, no sugar. We chatted about this and that as we ate. How're your kids? They do grow up fast, don't they? How's your mom? That's good. What's Jeff been up to? Giving you any grief is he? My eldest is working down at Rayfield's. You know the place. He's making some good money. Oh, the wife is fine, she's working on a new quilt with material from some kimonos she found at that thrift store down on -- and so on.
But as we finished up our coffees and waited for the check, the conversation veered. Definitely veered.
"Say," Jason said out of the blue, "I was was scrolling through some amateur rape porn looking for something good --"
I looked at him with an expression a cross between 'excuse me?' and 'say what now?'
"-- to whack off to and --"
He caught my expression.
"Sorry to be so blunt, Wanda, but I wanted to explain the circumstances and think it's best to just be direct and to the point."
"Uh...maybe I should get going."
"No, wait. Hang on a sec. The thing is," and he pulled out his phone and fiddled with it, "I came across this video. It's really a rocker and I definitely got hard when I saw it. Here, look --" and he slid his phone over to me with a video playing.
"See what I seen? You see? That's you, isn't it? That's you!"
Not quite comprehending what was going on and what he was babbling about and thinking I sure should have turned down this lunch, and wait till I tell el jefe about this, I looked at the video.
And froze. It was me. Being gang raped. July 19 of Year One. For real. Everything rushed back in to my mind. Every detail of every second. But my expression didn't change. I pushed the phone back to him. "That's not me."
"Yeah, it is, Wanda. I know you and I know what I seen."
"No. It's not. I don't even see a resemblance. It's just some blonde, and it's probably fake or staged anyway."
"Oh, no, it's real. This site specializes in videos of real rapes that people send in."
"I see. Well, it's not me."
Jason scrutinized my face, then looked down at his phone, where the video was still playing, not even on mute, then looked back at me.
"Yeah. It's you. I don't care what you say. It's you. What happened anyway? Does Jeff know? Boy, if he doesn't --"
"God damn it, Jase, I told you it wasn't me. It is not me! I've had enough of this. I'm getting out of here."
"Okay, Wanda. I'm sorry I brought it up but you know I just had to know and you know what, it's really a great video, boner heaven. I mash one out every time I watch it."
Every time, I thought, as I got off the counter stool. Oh, that's great. Jesus Christ.
"I'll mash another one out thinking about how I showed it to you and you watched it with me."
"I did not watch it with you, damn your soul!"
Other people in the diner had stopped eating to watch us. The counter server, bill pad in hand, was staring. "Thanks for the lunch, Jason Bowfield," I said loudly, saying his full name.* "Be sure to leave a big tip!"
And I left, not looking back. I heard him say, "Wait up, Wanda! Don't be --" before the door closed behind me.
When I got outside the air was fresh and crisp and I took a deep breath. I wasn't in the mood to do any more shopping and went directly back to the airport and got in my plane. I sat in the cockpit and realized I was shaking. I was in no condition to fly. I got out and walked up and down the ramp, then out past hangers and the FBO office to the parking lot and back to the ramp, then back to the parking lot again, thinking a lot of things. Such a lot of things. After about an hour I was calm enough to get back in the plane and go home.
Once there, I said nothing about the incident to el jefe, Jeff, my husband, other than to say I had run into Jason and had lunch with him and Jeff asked how the old reprobate was doing and I said okay I guess. When we went to bed, Jeff fucked me and I just stared up at the ceiling. When he finished, he asked me if I was okay, I didn't really seem to be into it, and I said that I was just tired and sorry to be a buzzkill. He said, no, no, he should have realized I'd be tired and not bothered me and I said he was never a bother and I always enjoyed his weight on me.
He kissed me, rolled over and went to sleep. I lay awake staring into the darkness.
So. You want to know was it really me, don't you? Yes, it was me. I was gang raped, the men coming back for seconds, even thirds. Yes, everybody videoed it with their cell phones. My surprise at what was happening, my shock, my fighting back, kicking, being slammed down and held immobile by arms far stronger than mine, wrists and elbows twisted so hard the pain was unbearable, the left wrist broken in a colles intra-articular fracture, the thumb carpometacarpal joint dislocated, complex dislocation of the elbow, other injuries...my clothes ripped off, torn and tossed aside, breasts bitten, legs pinned wide, cocks slammed into ever orifice, men laughing, kibitzing, and grunting as they came, saying things to me and about me, urging themselves on.
Okay, I know you want to know did I, at some level, enjoy it? The men jizzed two or three times each. How about me, did I orgasm? Yes, I did. More than once. But I did not enjoy it. I was shamed and humiliated, angered, that that happened. I did not expect and certainly did not want that to happen. But my body...I don't know.... It did. Being hurt, in pain, fearing you are going to be murdered, that the last minutes of your life are this horror...and you orgasm.... Maybe it's your body distracting you.
If you are a man reading this, think if you were grabbed by a bunch of homo creeps, say gym bro types much stronger than you, and they overpowered you and violently sodomized you repeatedly, face-fucked you, and during the course of the ordeal -- and yes, it's an ordeal -- you got an erection and ejaculated, not because you were aroused but simply through the...I don't know, friction...some part of your brain reacting.... And the men raping you saw that and laughed at you -- hey, look, the little punk likes it! How would you feel about that? Would you be turned on? Or would you be utterly humiliated and hate your body for betraying you?
Did what happened to me affect my life? In those days, yes. And I still have a somewhat weak left wrist and elbow. They ache sometimes, as does my left hip joint. My right knee can be twitchy. But it's my personality to refuse to let the bastards get me down -- they may be able to do it to me physically, but they can't do it to my mind -- That's it? That's the worst you can do to me? Pfft! Can't touch me! I refuse to let you. That was the thrill of a lifetime for you, wasn't it? But it was nothing, less than nothing, for me. You think you have power over me? Not in this world or the next. I am the captain of my soul. Not you. Never you.
The next morning, Jeff asked if I was feeling better than last night and I said yes, and I was, and he fucked me again and I enjoyed him enjoying me. While we were at, it my mini me came unnoticed into the bedroom and sat down. When we were through she said, "Mom, can I make breakfast this morning? I want to make French toast with cinnamon."
So a normal day was starting and I thought the whole episode was passed. The sun was shining on a fresh morning and I had things to do. But, of course, it wasn't over. Jason sent Jeff a copy of the video, with a text saying, "Hey, I found this video of your wife Wanda being gang raped. I showed it to her yesterday and she says it's not her but I am sure it is. What say you?"
Jason sent the video in the morning but it wasn't till after supper that Jeff mentioned it. I asked if he had watched it. He said a few seconds of it.
"I don't think it's you," he said. "It sort of looks like you, but I don't think it is. It's not, is it?" He looked closely at me.
"No, it's not," I said.
"I didn't think so. I knew it couldn't be you."
___________________________
*Not his real name, of course.
