Holting It All In
Date: Monday, May 29, 2000 6:46 PM
sue hantak <hantaks@mtco.com>

(I was working on this story when the confession challenge was issued. I had another story in mind for that, and wasn't sure where this one was going at the time. Since it involves a confession of sorts, I held it until others had their chance to complete their assignments. I hope no one minds that I am turning it in as a confession story even though it may not strictly fit into the original guidelines)


by Suejue

They call it date rape now. Their was no buzz word for it back then. Now there is an awareness; the topic has been Oprahfied. When it happened to her it was a common assumption that if you invited a man into your home, "you must have been asking for it."

At times like now, when he is on top, moving with a pulsating vigor, she is reminded of that fateful night. An innocuous invitation for coffee was woefully misconstrued. It seemed the more she said no, the more he was convinced she was teasing. She opened her eyes to reaffirm that he is not HIM and this is so different from THAT. However, she felt trapped, panicked, and unsuccessfully tried to beg him off. Every time she began to pant, "Please" he took it to mean "more." He drove relentlessly into her, his intensity mounting into something she could not stop. Desperately needing this to end, she changed strategies and began "cheering him on" . An insincere , "Oh yes........ God....... yes!" combined with deft muscle control promoted his own climax. She was silently thankful when he finally rolled to his side. With his right arm still draped across her body in a possessive manner, she reminded herself that having sex and making love are two entirely different things. Unswayed by her own reasoning, she smiled unconvincingly at him and calmly extracted herself from his embrace. The bathroom was her refuge. There she splashed cold water on her face. That, however, wasn't sufficient. She turned on the shower valve in an attempt to wash away her distress.

He knew something was wrong. Her Meg Ryan orgasm didn't fool him. They had only been lovers a short while. Fourteen times, if they were keeping count . Had he hurt her? They certainly had more raucous and frenzied instances. Did he force himself on her? She actually was the one who dragged him into the apartment by his tie seizing him first on the sofa before consummating the final act on the bed. She had excused herself to the bathroom before. He surmised it was to "clean up a bit," but this time he heard the soft click of the lock indicating a retreat. She locked the door purposely. Who else was she keeping out but him? The shower subsided and she returned to the bed wearing a tee shirt and panties. He felt like a callous boar, but what he did was still a mystery to him. Feigning sleep, he lay waiting for her to give him a clue.

She leaned over him, pressed her lips to his cheek with a perfunctory "good night" and rolled to her side with her back to him. She reassured herself with a slow and steady breath. A stuttering sigh let it slip that she had been crying. It occurred to her that telling him about it might ease her pain, but why burden him with all her baggage? . It was the first time she thought about that event in a long time. The nightmares ended. Fleeting, painful memories only resurfaced as she lay submissive underneath him. She convinced herself that she would not allow that bastard to ruin what she has now. Telling him might only give him the impression she dislikes being intimate with him. Nothing could be further from the truth. He was the reason she could do it at all.

The next morning she awoke determined to return everything back to normal. She laughed at herself and reasoned that last night was just hormonal or something. Her subconscious was still troubled by it though. He was lying on his stomach, arms hugging the pillow that supported his head. Part of her wondered if he knew something was amiss. Other times they slept in each other's embrace. She was desperate to replace her tainted memories of making love with new ones. She straddled his body, her rear resting on the back of his thighs, and ran her hands up and down his bare back . Her hands pulled the covers down to expose his magnificent backside. She alternated her tease from rubbing to light tickles to torturous nibbling. He shifted involuntarily. Lying prone wasn't very comfortable in his aroused state. He rotated his body and ran his hands up under her top. She reached down to the hem of her tee shirt and started to pull it off. He quickly withdrew his hands, placed them atop hers and protested, "Leave it on."

Perplexed, she joked, "This is easier without clothes."

"But it's incredibly sexy this way too" His hands went to her panties. Instead of stripping them off, however, one hand stretched the elastic crotch aside. The other spread her and with precision, he slipped his hardened member in. His hands returned to her upper body hidden by her clothing. He spoke in beat with each the thrust,

"Do you know.................... how much................. I've fantasized ...............about doing it .............like this.......... ........with you..................still clothed?" unwittingly, he described the rape incident.

Repulsed by his statement, she scurried off him. Before she could completely escape, he grabbed her. Again, unaware that *he* physically restrained her during the act. She wrestled her arm from his grasp.

"Let go of me," she threatened, with a tone and intensity that frightened him.

"What did I do?" he questioned, obviously at a loss over what just transpired. She sat on the edge of the bed with her feet hanging over the side. "Oh god, I'm so sorry," she spoke softly. Her hands covered her face, embarrassed and upset.

Without a word she got up from the bed, donned a robe and made her way to the kitchen. He slipped on a pair of boxers and followed her. He stood behind her as she slammed about the kitchen, turning the simple task of making coffee into a major undertaking. Twice he opened his mouth to say something, but held his tongue fearful it would have been the wrong thing.

Almost as if she were reading his mind she turned to face him, "Just say it."

"Say what?"

"Tell me how I disappointed you.......that I'm a tease....that I need to have my head examined."

"That wasn't what I was thinking," Truthfully he was disappointed. "What just happened in there?"

She tried to a more chipper approach, "I just realized how late it was, we can't dally all day, I have work to do."

"You're upset about something............... admit it.....................Tell me what I've done," he pleaded

"I've dealt with this for six years just fine, you need not concern yourself." She turned her attention again to the coffee maker.

"Dealt with what for six years?". He gingerly put his arms around her and kissed the back of head just behind her ear. He whispered, "What is it?.....Please tell me." Another kiss assured her. His chin rested on her shoulder waiting for her reply.

"Nothing" she patted his forearm, "just nothing."

"Are you lying to me or to yourself as well?" he snapped back with some annoyance.

"It has nothing to do with you.... It happened a long time ago.......I' m better now."

"Did someone hurt you?" he held her tighter.

" It was an unfortunate misunderstanding," She sighed heavily at the understatement.

"What sort of misunderstanding?" He loosened his grasp. A sick, uneasy feeling instinctively told him what she was referring to.

"I went on a date with this guy and when he brought me home, he was all over me."

"You mean he .........." unable to come up with an alternate word, he apprehensively asked, "...raped you?"

Her silence and labored breath gave him his answer.

"Oh dear God........ why didn't you ever tell me?"

"I didn't want you to treat me like some pathetic victim........ I was afraid you would be too cautious and it would define our relationship."

"But last night was different..............why last night and not any other times?"

"I don't know ............I just felt claustrophobic......helpless.........then it was like it was him on top of me instead of you."

"I would never do that to you."

"I know.......I know." She tugged on his arm to return him to his comforting position behind her.

His right arm curved around her waist bent upward toward her chest. He angled his left arm downward to rest against her hip. He felt compelled to hold her completely. She began to sob. He pressed small kisses again down her neck.

"Shhhhh it's alright" he languidly caressed her.

She became keenly aware of his touch. A whirlwind of confusion churned within her. Embarrassment, shame, anger, and sadness combined with relief, security, desire, and affection for the man behind her. She covered his arms with her own to halt his progress.

Aware of his own repressed need, and the fact he was about to lose control, he quietly asked, "Are you okay with me holding you like this?"

"You have no idea how much I wish I could say yes."


An apologetic expression prefaced what she was about to say, "But, I just can't be with you right now."

He allowed her some space. Two days' worth of strictly business interaction actually didn't benefit either of them. Like an infection, the longer it went untreated the more damaging it became. The thought that someone violated her made him ill. She didn't even tell him anything more specific than it was a misunderstanding and he was all over her. Part of him needed to know the details of what happened to her. They couldn't be any worse than what he already imagined.

She construed his detachment as a personal condemnation. She reasoned that he must think she's 'damaged goods.' They were both on edge and short-tempered. On the afternoon of the third day, a minor disagreement erupted into a major brouhaha. Agitated, she went to the bathroom to get some aspirin. After washing it down, she placed the drinking glass on the counter a little too emphatically, shattering it.

He heard the smash from his office and from the doorway saw her hand bleeding into the sink.

She reached awkwardly for a towel, swearing. He grabbed the towel and tenderly applied pressure to her palm.

"Let me see," he took her hand, lifted the towel, "I won't hurt you." They looked into each other's eyes both recognizing the deeper meaning of what he said. He applied a healing kiss to her palm and replaced the towel on her wound. While still holding her close he bent down for a tentative kiss. After two-plus days of restraint, a minor kiss erupted into a passionate lock . He whispered, "Plenty of time for this later, let's get you to a doctor."

Several hours later they returned to his apartment. She proceeded him through the door, "Eight stitches doesn't make me an invalid, you know. I could have gone home."

"I know, but you may need help with buttoning............or unbuttoning, " he cringed realizing what he just implied. "..............Sorry, I didn't mean to offend you"

"You see.......that's EXACTLY why I didn't want to tell you........you're treating me differently."

"Actually you didn't really TELL me much........I believe you called it an unfortunate misunderstanding."

"I'm not very comfortable talking about it."

"You won't even tell me?" he challenged

"Especially you."

"Wha................Me?................Wha?." he couldn't believe what he was hearing. He took a deep breath and tried again, "You talk a good game...... always giving me the lecture about trust, and honesty, and ...........and commitment, but when it's your turn, you hide behind 'I'm-not-comfortable-talking- about-it.'"

" You want to know all the gory details?" she taunted.

He nodded .

"Fine," fuming from his accusation, she crossed her arms and paced across the room. "It was summer, I was wearing a sundress......... no hose," she clarified. "We went to a wine festival. We were both a little tipsy, I invited him in for some coffee. We kissed in the kitchen while the coffee brewed. I said something about being hot and wanting to change out of my dress. I guess he got the wrong impression." She stopped as if that were the end of it.

He cast a impatient look in her direction. "And....."

"I think you can fill in the rest."

He was well past impatient by now. In a exasperated plea, he nearly shouted, "That's all I've been doing for three days.....My God...... I have imagined that prick doing unspeakable things to you................I've been out of my mind....................... I need to know what actually happened."

"Maybe I don't remember that part."


"Don't swear at me."

"Sunday night?, Monday morning? You remembered SOMETHING while we were in bed."

"I knew it! I knew you would hold that against me." He hurt her with that last remark. After four years of bickering, quarrels, and heated disputes, he became quite adept at reading her emotions while they were arguing.

"You're right, you're right, that was unfair.....................I just don't want to do.........whatever I did......"

"It wasn't anything you did...............................you're making too much out of it."

"Did he hit you?"

"No he didn't hit me...............you're not going to let this drop, are you?"

"If you would just tell me, I'll never bring it up again."

"Okay.......... he followed me into my bedroom. I asked him to get out so I could change. I turned around and he had unzipped his pants. He made some crude remark about helping me change. I was pushed back on the bed. He laid on top of me...... ........are you sure you want to hear this?"

Again he nodded.

"He pinned me on the bed. I couldn't move. He was about six-one, weighed 200 pounds. He pushed my dress up, tore my underwear and ......"she glanced at him sitting in the chair looking ill at ease. She decided that was enough details for both of them, "A few times.........He was done.....It all happened so quickly."

"Did you call the police?"

"I had a friend in the department. She said given the wine, my invitation, no visible trauma, it would be hard to prove rape. She also said the victim usually gets raked over the coals which does more damage than the actual attack. She advised me to get counseling."

"Did you?"

"No, I thought I could handle it by myself."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" he replied rather sarcastically. "Was the other night the only time you've thought about it?"

"Sometimes I'd get a whiff of someone wearing the same cologne or I'd see a similar pattern of a man's shirt.......... I couldn't sleep in my bed for months. "

"What about........recently?"

She knew he was referring to his own aggressiveness. He was worried that she thought he was an inconsiderate, selfish asshole like the other guy. "When I'm with you, I am a WILLING participant. Hell, I think I've even attacked you on a few occasions."

A huge grin lit up his face.

She sat on his lap in the chair. "I don't want this to change anything between us. Please forget what I said the other morning, I want to be with you." To prove her point, she reached out with her 'good' hand and began to unbutton his shirt.

He put his hand over hers "Unbuttoning is my job" One by one his buttons separated exposing his skin. She reached out to run her fingers through the hair on his chest as their lips met in the space between them. He undid the cuffs and shook the garment free of his body. His hands moved to cradle her jaw, never breaking the kiss. His left hand slipped around to her back. She shivered from his touch. She leaned into him as his actions continued to elicit involuntarily moans and movement. Afraid he may be advancing too quickly, he moved both hands to her head and pulled back from the kiss. He looked at her intently, "Are you sure?"

"I took self-defense classes after it happened. If I wanted you to stop, believe me, you'd get the message."

She stood from the chair and walked toward the bedroom. A few steps from the door, she turned, raised her bandaged hand as a reminder, "I could use some help unbuttoning."

The End?