The Party

I walked into a party nervous about being there by myself and knowing no one but the host. It was only my 2nd month in the new city and though there was nothing to complain about, life wasn't that exciting too. So there I was, trying to spice things up a bit, building my social circle, and prancing around in party clothes that would otherwise have gathered dust in my walk-in closet.

There he was, looking forlorn, standing by the window with a beer in his hand. I took in his blue shirt and stone-washed jeans and wondered if he was single. A quick glance at his ring finger confirmed that he was not married but I was pretty sure that he either had a girlfriend or was gay. After all, isn't that the sad story that most single girls narrate after they spot a cute guy?

I glanced at him several times hoping that he would not notice. It was hard to stop myself from looking at him. He had the most gorgeous blue eyes that complimented his outfit and his silky locks of hair made him appear like a model straight out of a "Head and Shoulders" commercial. My silent prayers were not heeded. He indeed did notice me while I tried to pretend that I was staring into space and not at him. My heart began to race as he approached me and said with the smoothest voice ever, "Hi! I am Paul." Tongue-tied, I barely managed to smile back. With a questioning look on his face, he continued to stare at me.

"Sheela!!!". I was shaken out of my reverie as my friend yelled out my name. "When did you arrive?", she asked completely ignoring Mr. Paul. "About 20 minutes ago.", I managed to mutter. "Great!! Hope you are having fun!", she said and wandered off into the crowd while Mr. Paul grinned at me.

"I thought you had strep or something.", he said with a smirk on his face. His sarcasm failed to perturb me, as it would otherwise have with anyone else. "I am sorry!", I exclaimed. "I was just a bit distracted then. I am Sheela. Nice to meet you!" And that is how Mr. Paul and I struck a conversation that evening that lasted well into midnight. The house began to fill up as guests of all shapes, sizes, and colors arrived and danced to loud music. It was apparent that Paul and I both knew no one but the host and his wife, my friend. It was as if God had brought us both together to keep each other company that night, I thought.

We managed to slip out of the party without anyone noticing. I was a bit tipsy from having had 3 pegs of Bacardi and Coke and knew I had a little too much to drink.

"Are you drunk?", he asked flashing his magnetic smile yet again.
"Yes, I think so.", I said, and without any further thought wrapped my arms around him.

Before long, we were in the backseat of his car, kissing each other fervently.
"Are we doing the right thing?", I managed to say as he paused to catch some breath.
He did not answer me and continued to kiss me all over my face and neck. Very soon, he had undone my bra and his hands had deftly made their way into my shirt, groping my breasts. As he pinched them hard, I began to gather my senses. I opened my eyes, squirming in pain, and tried to make myself sit up. I failed to do so as Paul grabbed my wrists and bound my hands together.

"STOP!", I shrieked. He refused to listen. "STOP, Paul. Please, stop.", I pleaded. "You are hurting me!", I screamed. He merely chuckled. No one heard my wails that night as Paul gagged me with his handkerchief.

Thirty minutes later, I was back in my apartment.

Today, all my party clothes are gathering dust in my walk-in closet. I refuse to go out of my apartment after sunset. I refuse to date. I refuse to let any man touch me. I refuse to talk to anyone whose name is Paul.

This is the story of Sheela, a victim, who lost her virginity the night Paul raped her.

This is purely fictional. Any resemblances to anyone you know is purely coincidental.