(Caution:
This scene contains graphic sexual content)
Rudy’s Valencia eyes took in her
exquisite body. He had seen it before but not like this, not so close and not
his.
Up until he dropped out of school,
he had friends who were girls, but no one he could say was his girlfriend. In
his mind, they knew he wasn’t the forward type. That relieved them of the
concern that he might display some unwanted attention toward them and do the
unimaginable like hit on them. The older he got, the more frustration built.
Just the thought about any one female for too long fueled his unfulfilled
desire. To find release and subdue the gnawing beast for a day or so, he
invented intimate stories in the night hours.
This was a simple operation and had
been in the works for several weeks. When he watched Natalie perform at
yesterday’s shoot, however, he knew the time to implement was perfect.
Now he stood wearing a dark blue
bathrobe with his hands on the naked flesh of the object of his desire. She
waited for him to take her and, within moments, he would have her.
He let his robe drop to the
floor behind him and guided Natalie backwards a step. At the edge of the
makeshift bed, he steadied her as she sat down and then eased her to her back.
She lifted her feet from the floor, and rested them on the edge of the pallet.
He placed a hand on each knee to push them apart. At first she resisted, but
then he felt her relax.
He leaned in over her body and
kissed her lips. The fragrance of her perfume drifted to his nose. He inhaled
deep and held the pleasure inside. His left hand found her right breast and
then he moved his mouth to the other one. He kneaded it with the tip of his
tongue. When he finished, he slid his lips down her body until he reached her
golden triangle. She released a gentle moan. She’s probably acting, he thought, but then dismissed it. He chose
to believe his tongue pleased her.
He found the place where he knew
his pent up urgings would be satisfied and pushed through the portal into her
conduit of pleasure; the coupling more erotic than any fantasy he had ever
imagined. He leaned forward, placed his hands on her forearms, and began the
instinctive lover’s rhythm.
Natalie felt her body secrete an
involuntary response. An unexpected urgency in her core embraced a raw
determination to move with him, but a cognizance in her mind began to fight
back. She was being violated and yet she had chosen this. It was not against
her will. With both hands, she grabbed the blanket covering the platform on
which she lay. She had to persevere. For Ansell, and her career, she had act
the scene and fight Amy’s deliberate effort to sabotage her chance.
She tried to take
her mind somewhere else—the smell of the lilacs growing next to the front porch
on the farm, a Sunday School class picnic with handmade potato salad and fresh
squeezed lemonade, her sister popping her chewing gum and drinking a bottle of
Coke after dinner in their secret hideout—the weeping willow. Nothing but her
present trauma, though, made any offer to relieve her of the weight of this
moment. Physical stimulation on the cusp of pleasure, yet mentally she was
under the most degrading attack imaginable.
The awareness continued to mount
until her natural instincts were crushed by a voice. It came from her depths
and roared more like a possessed guttural growl than a scream. “Stop!” She
pulled and twisted her hands to free them from the man’s grip but he held on
too tight. “Please no!”
His thrusts deepened and
continued. Can’t he hear me? Why doesn’t
he stop? Amy Westerhill be damned,
this has to end.
“Stop!” She screamed again.
“Stop now!”
The man still didn’t listen and
the others didn’t step in to help. She reasoned they thought she was performing
her role. She was supposed to resist. Tony had told her earlier she could leave
if she wanted to, but now his silence and inaction meant the violence
continued.
She tugged harder than before
against the firm grip on her right arm and wrested it free. She threw her hand
to the blindfold and tore it away. The face of the man between her legs jolted
her. A boy, rather than a man, hovered over her, his face strained with
lust—but not just any boy. It was the boy with the brown helmet hair. He had
stood at her dressing room door yesterday at the Xandar studios. She witnessed
the spark in his eyes transform from disarming to deceptive and back in a
flash. Now, with his head thrown back, he panted like he couldn’t take in enough
air. Those same eyes were squeezed tight shut. A smile of ecstasy radiated on
his face. This was no screen test. There was no movie deal. Ansell Parker had
nothing to do it. She had been lured here like a trout chasing a spinner. It
had to stop.
“You!” she shouted. She drew her
legs back, planted her feet on his chest and pushed him backward hard.
He stumbled as their union
parted. In that second, his eyes flew open. Despair and grief tore across his
face. The expression was more than being robbed of the culmination of his
desire. This was no act of violence for him; he was making love.
Natalie slammed her eyelids
closed and wept. Despite his
motivation, making love or having his way with her by the seduction of the hope
of fame, she had let him invade her body. There was no way to go back. She had
been used to satisfy this boy’s carnal fantasy.
She needed to get up—to
leave—but the humiliation of letting herself be baited paralyzed her. For a
moment she couldn’t force her will to open her eyes sure the men gawked at her
nakedness and naiveté in amusement. But all was silent, only the arc of a
florescent light’s ballast filled the room. And then an uneasy knot took root
in her chest. The longer she lay still, the more dread festered and swallowed
the quiet.
_____
©
Jearl Rugh 2012
All
Rights Reserved
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