Name: Anonymous 2009-04-06 17:02
"Jenine," said Jenine's father, "I'm not sure I want you going to all these clubs...especially dressed like that."
Jenine rolled her eyes. She had turned twenty-one a month ago, and had since then been spending every other evening of her summer break clubhopping with her friends.
"Stop nagging, daddy," Jenine said, fixing her lipstick, "its not like I'm going to go get drunk and screw some random guy. You know I'm not like that."
Her father was silent for a moment.
"Yes, I know. Just be careful."
...
At the club, Jenine got into an argument with her friends.
"Bobby Segal?" Said her best friend Sally, "Seriously? Jenine, you are such a slut!"
"NO I'M NOT!" Jenine almost shouted, "he took advantage of me! I fucking explained this!"
"Bobby Segal, Max Woodrow, Jeremiah Fallcrest, advantage seems to be taken of you an awful lot."
"Yeah? So? I'm kind of naive, I admit it!"
"Pffft," Rachel butted in, "yeah, that's right, you naively grabbed Max's tie and dragged him into the bathroom when Leanna wasn't there. Don't even try to deny it, I saw you."
"I don't need this!" Jenine said, "I'll talk to you when you aren't being a bunch of drunken, coldhearted bitches."
She got up and stomped away onto the dance floor, asscheeks jiggling under her skintight booty shorts.
...
Simon was just thinking about heading home (which his friends had already done) when an attractive blonde wearing some very distinctive shorts walked past, looking mildly upset. He decided to give it a go before heading back to his apartment.
He walked up next to the blonde.
"Why so serious?"
She looked up and smiled a little.
"Oh, I'm fine," she said.
"You sure? You look kinda down. Wassup?"
Jenine couldn't help but half-smile a little. This guy had a way about him that stood out...not to mention courage. Also, those were some delicious abs.
"Its nothing," she repeated, flipping her hair a little, "just getting sick of my so-called friends."
Simon related an amusing story about the obnoxious habits of some of his own friends, and Jenine laughed. After talking for five minutes or so, they got a round of drinks (Simon paid) and then went out onto the floor. They danced for awhile (not very well; they were both quite hammered at this point). As the night went on, Jenine began taking more and more liberties, rubbing her back and shoulders against Simon's chest, grinding her ass into his crotch, hands snaking around his torso. Simon, feeling quite flattered with the attention, was happy to reciprocate.
Eventually, they retired to Simon's apartment, where they treated each other to the best performance they could muster in their inebriated state. When he had finished (and she had finished twice; even while drunk, he knew what he was doing), they fell asleep in Simon's bed, bodies held close.
...
"You. Fucking. Whore."
Rachel and Sally tailed behind Jenine at the mall the following afternoon, both guffawing.
"What?" Jenine barked sullenly. She had slept off the hangover for the most part, but still had a bit of a headache.
"We saw you," said Sally, "we saw you leave with that guy!"
"I didn't leave with him! He was just walking me home!"
"You know, Jean," said Rachel, "we wouldn't be judging you about this if you just admitted it."
"Admitted what? I've got nothing to admit to!"
Rachel shook her head. "Case in point."
"You're nothing but a couple of giant fucking hypocrites!" Jenine wheeled around, glaring at them angrily, "Who was that guy YOU were all over last weekend, Sally?"
"Yeah, I'm a slut too," said Sally, "that's perfectly natural for girls our age. Nothing wrong with it. The difference is that I don't lie and act self righteous about it."
Just then, Sally stopped talking. Her eyes grew wide. Jenine's father was standing right beside them, a bag of groceries in his hand.
"Jenine," he said, walking toward them, "where did you tell me you were all last night?"
Jenine's mouth fell open. Her mind raced.
A second later, she began to cry.
...
"I can't believe it!" She sobbed, sitting on the couch, face gripped in her hands, "How could I be so stupid!"
Her father sat across the room, unsure of what to say or do. This was his worst fear...every parent's worst fear. A cold ball of sick feeling rose inside of him, infecting his heart and brain. How was anyone expected to react in this situation?
"I told him to stop!" Jenine squealed, "I kept telling him I didn't want to! But he..."
She dissolved into tears again. Her father was silent. He wanted to comfort her, but he didn't know what he was supposed to do.
Jenine sobbed for a few more minutes. The alcohol had eaten holes in her memory of the last night, and she was busy filling those holes. What had once been a night of passionate lovemaking slowly, memory by memory, transformed into a grisly rape. Yes, that must have been what happened. After all, she wasn't a slut, like those jealous bitches Sally and Rachel.
Finally, her father stood up. As Jenine looked up and watched him with tear-stained eyes, he crossed the living room and picked up the phone.
"Who are you calling?" She asked between sniffs.
"The police."
"What? No!"
Her father looked at her. His face was harder, colder, and more serious than she had ever seen it. The intensity of his expression was actually frightening.
"Why not?"
Jenine's mind raced.
Why not? Well, of course she couldn't get the police involved! That would be...but then again, he did rape her, didn't he? Aren't you supposed to call the cops about things like this? Simon did rape her, didn't he? Didn't he?
"...um..."
Her lips trembled. Her father waited, his fingers on the dialer. She had to decide now.
...
Simon sat in the interrogation room, looking across the desk at a big, grim-looking police officer. The badge on his chest read "Rennart."
"Did you meet this woman at the club last night?"
"Yes," Simon repeated for the fifth time.
"And did you take her back to your apartment?"
"Yes."
"Before you opened the door to your building, did she tell you she wanted to go home?"
"No."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"You say you were drunk?"
"Not that drunk. I still remember most of the evening."
"Uh-huh. So you brought her into your room?"
"Yes."
"And you engaged in a sexual act with her?"
Simon sighed. "...yes."
"And did she tell you, in these words 'stop, I don't want to do this?'"
"For the last time, no!"
"Calm down," said Officer Rennart, "just work with me here."
...
Rennart read the transcript of the questioning over again, cross-referencing it with the testimony of the victim and witnesses (including two of the victim's friends who were at the same club that night). He talked to the DA, and consulted with the chief of police. Soon, he came to a decision.
...
After getting off of work the next day, Officer Rennart, still in uniform, drove to a certain neighborhood. After searching for awhile, he found the young blonde woman who he recognized from the previous day. She was on her way back home from the gym. As she walked, he noticed the way her hips rocked back and forth under her sweatpants, as well as the sensuous, hourglass shape of her body and the long, platinum blonde hair that spilled down her back.
He waited until she was passing by the park, away from any houses. It was a chilly day, so there was no one else on the street. Rennart pulled the police car up beside her and opened the door. She looked up at him in surprise.
"Jenine?" Officer Rennart asked.
Jenine looked slightly confused. "Yeah, that's me. What's going on, officer?"
Rennart stepped out of the car and stood in front of Jenine, standing to his full height.
"Officer?"
Suddenly, his big, muscular arms lashed out, grabbing her around the torso in one hand and covering her mouth in the other. Her eyes widened and she tried to struggle, but Rennart had wrestled big gunmen to the ground before; the girl had no chance of escaping. Pulling her into the back of the car, Rennart put her in handcuffs and slammed the door, locking it.
Getting back in the driver's seat, he drove the police car out into the woods for a ways before pulling over at an abandoned campsite. Opening the back door, he grabbed the struggling Jenine again, forced a rag into her mouth to stop her from screaming, and then forced her down onto her belly. Standing between her legs to stop her from kicking and keeping one hand on her back to keep her down, the officer of the law pulled her sweatpants and underwear down. Standing on the ground outside of the car, he pushed his stiffening instrument into her dry, unwilling passage, reveling in her every, muffled scream of terror and agony. He pushed in and out for a good fifteen minutes before her tight, bucking body squeezed him too much, and he emptied his load.
Throwing her back in the car and locking the door again, Rennart sighed in post-orgasmic contentment. He pulled off the condom her was wearing, burned it to a crisp with his cigarette lighter, and tossed the ashes into a bush. He wiped his dick, pulled up his pants, and drove Jenine back to the gym, where he uncuffed her and threw her out of the car.
...
Jenine was too humiliated and guilt-stricken to say anything, just as Rennart had expected. Simon wasn't indicted due to lack of evidence; he returned to his daily life, angry, flustered, and feeling rather emasculated, but at least he wasn't in jail. Everyone besides Jenine lived happily ever after.
Jenine rolled her eyes. She had turned twenty-one a month ago, and had since then been spending every other evening of her summer break clubhopping with her friends.
"Stop nagging, daddy," Jenine said, fixing her lipstick, "its not like I'm going to go get drunk and screw some random guy. You know I'm not like that."
Her father was silent for a moment.
"Yes, I know. Just be careful."
...
At the club, Jenine got into an argument with her friends.
"Bobby Segal?" Said her best friend Sally, "Seriously? Jenine, you are such a slut!"
"NO I'M NOT!" Jenine almost shouted, "he took advantage of me! I fucking explained this!"
"Bobby Segal, Max Woodrow, Jeremiah Fallcrest, advantage seems to be taken of you an awful lot."
"Yeah? So? I'm kind of naive, I admit it!"
"Pffft," Rachel butted in, "yeah, that's right, you naively grabbed Max's tie and dragged him into the bathroom when Leanna wasn't there. Don't even try to deny it, I saw you."
"I don't need this!" Jenine said, "I'll talk to you when you aren't being a bunch of drunken, coldhearted bitches."
She got up and stomped away onto the dance floor, asscheeks jiggling under her skintight booty shorts.
...
Simon was just thinking about heading home (which his friends had already done) when an attractive blonde wearing some very distinctive shorts walked past, looking mildly upset. He decided to give it a go before heading back to his apartment.
He walked up next to the blonde.
"Why so serious?"
She looked up and smiled a little.
"Oh, I'm fine," she said.
"You sure? You look kinda down. Wassup?"
Jenine couldn't help but half-smile a little. This guy had a way about him that stood out...not to mention courage. Also, those were some delicious abs.
"Its nothing," she repeated, flipping her hair a little, "just getting sick of my so-called friends."
Simon related an amusing story about the obnoxious habits of some of his own friends, and Jenine laughed. After talking for five minutes or so, they got a round of drinks (Simon paid) and then went out onto the floor. They danced for awhile (not very well; they were both quite hammered at this point). As the night went on, Jenine began taking more and more liberties, rubbing her back and shoulders against Simon's chest, grinding her ass into his crotch, hands snaking around his torso. Simon, feeling quite flattered with the attention, was happy to reciprocate.
Eventually, they retired to Simon's apartment, where they treated each other to the best performance they could muster in their inebriated state. When he had finished (and she had finished twice; even while drunk, he knew what he was doing), they fell asleep in Simon's bed, bodies held close.
...
"You. Fucking. Whore."
Rachel and Sally tailed behind Jenine at the mall the following afternoon, both guffawing.
"What?" Jenine barked sullenly. She had slept off the hangover for the most part, but still had a bit of a headache.
"We saw you," said Sally, "we saw you leave with that guy!"
"I didn't leave with him! He was just walking me home!"
"You know, Jean," said Rachel, "we wouldn't be judging you about this if you just admitted it."
"Admitted what? I've got nothing to admit to!"
Rachel shook her head. "Case in point."
"You're nothing but a couple of giant fucking hypocrites!" Jenine wheeled around, glaring at them angrily, "Who was that guy YOU were all over last weekend, Sally?"
"Yeah, I'm a slut too," said Sally, "that's perfectly natural for girls our age. Nothing wrong with it. The difference is that I don't lie and act self righteous about it."
Just then, Sally stopped talking. Her eyes grew wide. Jenine's father was standing right beside them, a bag of groceries in his hand.
"Jenine," he said, walking toward them, "where did you tell me you were all last night?"
Jenine's mouth fell open. Her mind raced.
A second later, she began to cry.
...
"I can't believe it!" She sobbed, sitting on the couch, face gripped in her hands, "How could I be so stupid!"
Her father sat across the room, unsure of what to say or do. This was his worst fear...every parent's worst fear. A cold ball of sick feeling rose inside of him, infecting his heart and brain. How was anyone expected to react in this situation?
"I told him to stop!" Jenine squealed, "I kept telling him I didn't want to! But he..."
She dissolved into tears again. Her father was silent. He wanted to comfort her, but he didn't know what he was supposed to do.
Jenine sobbed for a few more minutes. The alcohol had eaten holes in her memory of the last night, and she was busy filling those holes. What had once been a night of passionate lovemaking slowly, memory by memory, transformed into a grisly rape. Yes, that must have been what happened. After all, she wasn't a slut, like those jealous bitches Sally and Rachel.
Finally, her father stood up. As Jenine looked up and watched him with tear-stained eyes, he crossed the living room and picked up the phone.
"Who are you calling?" She asked between sniffs.
"The police."
"What? No!"
Her father looked at her. His face was harder, colder, and more serious than she had ever seen it. The intensity of his expression was actually frightening.
"Why not?"
Jenine's mind raced.
Why not? Well, of course she couldn't get the police involved! That would be...but then again, he did rape her, didn't he? Aren't you supposed to call the cops about things like this? Simon did rape her, didn't he? Didn't he?
"...um..."
Her lips trembled. Her father waited, his fingers on the dialer. She had to decide now.
...
Simon sat in the interrogation room, looking across the desk at a big, grim-looking police officer. The badge on his chest read "Rennart."
"Did you meet this woman at the club last night?"
"Yes," Simon repeated for the fifth time.
"And did you take her back to your apartment?"
"Yes."
"Before you opened the door to your building, did she tell you she wanted to go home?"
"No."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"You say you were drunk?"
"Not that drunk. I still remember most of the evening."
"Uh-huh. So you brought her into your room?"
"Yes."
"And you engaged in a sexual act with her?"
Simon sighed. "...yes."
"And did she tell you, in these words 'stop, I don't want to do this?'"
"For the last time, no!"
"Calm down," said Officer Rennart, "just work with me here."
...
Rennart read the transcript of the questioning over again, cross-referencing it with the testimony of the victim and witnesses (including two of the victim's friends who were at the same club that night). He talked to the DA, and consulted with the chief of police. Soon, he came to a decision.
...
After getting off of work the next day, Officer Rennart, still in uniform, drove to a certain neighborhood. After searching for awhile, he found the young blonde woman who he recognized from the previous day. She was on her way back home from the gym. As she walked, he noticed the way her hips rocked back and forth under her sweatpants, as well as the sensuous, hourglass shape of her body and the long, platinum blonde hair that spilled down her back.
He waited until she was passing by the park, away from any houses. It was a chilly day, so there was no one else on the street. Rennart pulled the police car up beside her and opened the door. She looked up at him in surprise.
"Jenine?" Officer Rennart asked.
Jenine looked slightly confused. "Yeah, that's me. What's going on, officer?"
Rennart stepped out of the car and stood in front of Jenine, standing to his full height.
"Officer?"
Suddenly, his big, muscular arms lashed out, grabbing her around the torso in one hand and covering her mouth in the other. Her eyes widened and she tried to struggle, but Rennart had wrestled big gunmen to the ground before; the girl had no chance of escaping. Pulling her into the back of the car, Rennart put her in handcuffs and slammed the door, locking it.
Getting back in the driver's seat, he drove the police car out into the woods for a ways before pulling over at an abandoned campsite. Opening the back door, he grabbed the struggling Jenine again, forced a rag into her mouth to stop her from screaming, and then forced her down onto her belly. Standing between her legs to stop her from kicking and keeping one hand on her back to keep her down, the officer of the law pulled her sweatpants and underwear down. Standing on the ground outside of the car, he pushed his stiffening instrument into her dry, unwilling passage, reveling in her every, muffled scream of terror and agony. He pushed in and out for a good fifteen minutes before her tight, bucking body squeezed him too much, and he emptied his load.
Throwing her back in the car and locking the door again, Rennart sighed in post-orgasmic contentment. He pulled off the condom her was wearing, burned it to a crisp with his cigarette lighter, and tossed the ashes into a bush. He wiped his dick, pulled up his pants, and drove Jenine back to the gym, where he uncuffed her and threw her out of the car.
...
Jenine was too humiliated and guilt-stricken to say anything, just as Rennart had expected. Simon wasn't indicted due to lack of evidence; he returned to his daily life, angry, flustered, and feeling rather emasculated, but at least he wasn't in jail. Everyone besides Jenine lived happily ever after.