by Liz Crowe
“Whaddaya say, Jules? Join me?”
She shook her head, but it must have looked like a nod. He grinned and got to his feet, pulling her up next to him. She gasped when he held her close. His body was hard, hot, angular, not bad exactly but somewhat alarming. Trying to be calm, to not let him know that she was just about to experience the very first real kiss of her life, she shut her eyes, hoping she looked like Scarlett O’Hara and not like some drunk slut at a high school party.
He kissed her, and she let him; it was… weird, involving a lot more spit than she’d anticipated. His tongue was huge, and she worried her mouth could be too small for it, until realizing he had to be kidding, just joking around, because this was about as far from sexy as she could imagine. It was like a donkey was licking the inside of her mouth, a donkey that tasted like an ashtray. She tried to relax, but he gave up after a few seconds and laughed, dragging her behind him out into the yard.
They lay on the grass on their backs, and he taught her how to suck in a huge breath of the pot, hold it without coughing, and then blow it out her nose. She managed this after the third try, and by then felt as if she were floating ever so lightly above the grass, making her way up into the tree limbs, then into the sky. “Being high” was a damn good description for this she thought holding out a hand, convinced she could grab one of the stars by its pointy corners and drag it down to earth with her. She giggled uncontrollably until tears rolled down her face. Nathan kept talking, but she heard nothing, only the sounds of her own laughter. Her mother’s voice kept reminding her that she had to “keep her knees together” so as not to end up “just like her, saddled with a kid at seventeen.”
Just as she was about to sit up, Nathan made a sudden move and was on top of her, shoving that giant tongue into her mouth, groaning and grinding his body down onto hers. Her lungs screamed for air; panic suffused her addled brain. All the time she was letting him gnaw on her lips, she could feel what must be his erection, his hard penis, like a live, frightening, separate something against her. She’d read the books. She knew what was supposed to be happening. Her body was supposed to “melt into his,” her clothes should disappear under his “talented hands,” her sex should “yearn for his touch.” But when she realized all he was doing was pressing against her already full bladder, she started laughing so hard he propped himself up on his hands and glared at her in the moonlight.
He frowned, then headed back down to slobber into her lips again, so she shoved against him, hoping to hold off the mouth assault for a minute. He grinned, rolled off her and onto his back, bringing her, giggling, with him. She sat astride his hips. He had his fingers down the top of her sundress, groping for her nipple. She struggled some, fuzzy, sluggish, and a little aggravated at his ineptness. Where was the finesse? The teasing, tingling need? Yeah, it was in books, right where it belonged, she realized, as he laughed when her strap broke, making the dress dangle half off her, exposing the demi bra she’d stolen out of her mother’s dresser. He yanked it down too and sat up, his eyes wide at the sight of her breasts.
She knew her body was more lush, more full than the majority of her classmates. But now here it was, exposed, and embarrassment flooded her every nerve ending, closely followed by a bright shaft of anger. She pulled the remnant of her dress back up and tried to stand.
Nathan struggled to his feet, muttering about being “sorry” and “rushing” and “thinking she wanted it.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and was about to say something when the flashlight hit them both in the face, making her scream and blink and forcing Nathan to turn and run into the woods separating the party house from the one behind it.
Julie kept blinking. Her ears filled with the sounds of girls squealing and boys hollering, “It’s the cops! Run!” Bodies brushed by her, knocked her down, making her lose her grip on her dress. She sat sobbing on the lawn, her obnoxiously large breasts showing. This was perfect. Just exactly what one would expect from her life. Her first real party, first real moment drinking, smoking pot, and getting slobbered on by Nathan Harrow. And now the cops were here.
One of them helped her to her feet, averting his eyes until a lady cop ran up and bundled her off with a blanket mumbling about “date rape.” Julie just sighed and let it all happen, not surprised, resigned to her fate.
“I can’t even begin to tell you how disappointed we are with you.”
Julie sat at her kitchen table, head pounding, stomach heaving, and her mouth so dry she wanted to beg for a glass of water. “You are not my father,” she said and glared at the tall man frowning at her while her mother sat, hands folded primly, letting the “man of the house” handle the aftermath of being brought home by the police. Once Julie had reassured the lady cop she had not been raped – date, gang, or otherwise – they had asked for her address and driven her home.
She had hoped to evade the motherly confrontation, noting it was only one a.m. by the time the cop car pulled up to her building. Her mother had been “staying over” with Bart a lot lately, always acting as if she hadn’t meant to, but Julie knew better. Of course, tonight would be one of those nights when she didn’t. Even better, both Bart and her mother greeted the police at the door, their mouths set in grim, serious lines as the police told them about the house party, the booze, and the pot. Bart had taken the policeman aside and had a quiet conversation with him while Julie’s mom stared daggers at her without speaking.
Her dress was ripped, her hair a fucking mess, and she was still drunk off her ass, high as a kite. Having never been that way before in her life, she had no idea what to do with her hands, her feet, or her whirling emotions.
“No, I am not your father. However, I feel responsible for you, since your mother and I went out and left you here to do… whatever this was.” He flicked at her dress’s dangling strap while she sat holding the thing up to cover her boobs.
She glared at him. “Don’t touch me, you jerk,” she muttered, getting to her feet. Her mother gasped, putting a hand to her mouth like some kind of Victorian highborn lady. Julie rolled her eyes.
Bart grabbed her arm hard, digging his fat fingers into her skin. “Ow!” She tried to step away from him, but his cloying cologne got up her nose and she coughed, gagged, and almost lost it all over the kitchen floor.
“Go on, sleep it off. But we will have a discussion about this tomorrow.” His dark eyes were full of meaning. Julie gulped, terror making her heart pound. How did her mother not see this, not sense the evil pouring off this man?
She decided to let the drunk Julie speak, thinking it could be her last chance. “You are disgusting. You stink. And I know what you want from me.” She thought her mother might very well faint to the floor. Her jaw clenched when he put his face right up to hers, grinning as he tightened his grip on her arm ever so slightly.
She felt it then – his finger rubbing the side of her breast. Something like a growl ripped from her throat. “I am so sick of you. Get your fucking hands off me.” She kicked at his leg, thinking she should knee him in the groin like they did on television, but he shifted, let go of her arm, and stood staring at her while her mother did her best ladylike horrified face at her daughter. She slid her arm into the crook of Bart’s elbow and they both glared at her like she was week-old road kill.
“I hate you,” Julie declared, speaking to them both but looking straight at her mother. The woman had done nothing her entire life but remind Julie what a burden she was, how it figured she’d get saddled with a girl, how much her life would be better had she not let that asshole get her knocked up in high school. “You never wanted me. You don’t want me now. Tell you what, Mom.” She lurched forward as real nausea rose, making her close her eyes a second. “I’ll figure out a way to get out of your hair if you give this jerkoff the boot. Deal?” She crooked her thumb at Bart, who blew out a puff of air.
Her mother’s face hardened and she took Julie’s elbow, turning her from the kitchen and down the hall. “Excuse us, Bart. We girls nee
d some time together. Don’t go, just sit and wait a bit. I’ll get her to bed.” But the words she whispered furiously in Julie’s ear were of a different sort. “You are acting like a slut and I will not tolerate it. I will not let you jeopardize my chances with this man. He is rich, he wants to marry me and to help take care of you. Why can’t you see that? Why don’t you want me to be happy? Oh, I remember.” Julie’s sobs caught in her throat as her mother pushed her not so gently into the bathroom. “You’re just like him,” she hissed, her face an ugly mask that Julie had never seen before.
Indifference she was used to. Mild annoyance at Julie’s existence, sure. But never this raw, visceral hatred.
“Just like your fucking useless father. Selfish, too smart for your own good. But I will not let you do this, do you understand? You can’t ruin this for me.”
Julie’s chest heaved with a sob. She tried to remember she was supposed to love, to be loved, by someone at least. The woman who had borne her was one of the people who was meant to do that, to listen, and to care about her. But she never had. And never would. “Mom,” she said, her lower lip shaking. “I’m sorry…I…”
“No, don’t start that now with me. I see how you look at him. Don’t think he hasn’t mentioned to me how you flirt with him, tease him. Honestly, I had so hoped you would not be like this… so…” Her mother flailed around with her arms, miming a curvy hourglass shape. “Oh hell, just stop coming on to Bart, okay? I’m trying to make things better for us and you’re acting like this slut with your big tits and… Oh!” She threw up her hands and walked out, slamming the door behind her.
Julie sank to the floor, unable to process what she’d been told. Until her body finally rejected the alcohol and she leaned over the toilet, retching until her throat ached and her ribs hurt. By the time she came out of the bathroom the apartment was empty.
Chapter Five
When the inevitable happened about three weeks later, Julie just nodded her head at her mother’s girlish glee and walked out of the room. Bart Hardin was to be her stepfather. They were moving out of this shitty apartment, one in a long line of them, and into his giant, hulking house on a hill overlooking a park. She could go to college; he would pay for wherever she got accepted. She was getting a car, a boat, a summer house on Lake Michigan, a fucking pony, and a house full of servants, caviar and champagne and whatever else. But all Julie heard was that she had to live under the same roof as the man who raped her with his eyes every time he was in the room with her. And her mother was convinced Julie was trying to seduce him?
She dialed Amy’s number and lay back on her single bed in the perfectly adequate room she would give anything to stay in, sending her mother away to live the life she always dreamed of with a big, strong, wealthy creep to take care of her. “Well, the deed is done,” she said when her friend answered.
“Really? You did it? When? Who? Did it hurt? Did you come? Tell me all about it.”
Julie groaned and put her hand over her eyes. “No, you bimbo. I didn’t have sex. Poor Nathan won’t even look at me anymore. I think my giant tits scared him or something. No, my mom. She is marrying the super jerk, Bart.”
Amy whistled. “Wow, you’ll be a member of the Hardin family. Big bucks there, my friend. Enjoy it. Make him buy you whatever you want by just batting your eyelashes.”
Julie shivered as she twirled the cord around her finger and rolled over to her stomach. “God. Gross. I told you about him. He is dying to get his nasty hands on me.”
“Yeah, but I think you’ll be okay. I mean you are a hot chick and all, but you’re only there a few more months. Milk it for all it’s worth, sister. I would.”
The wedding was small, as befits a third for the groom and a first for his down-market employee. Julie and Amy sat and watched, giggling while Julie’s mother simpered and smiled and waved at the sparse crowd. Julie would have given anything to have enjoyed it. She knew her mother honestly believed this thing she’d just done would solve all their problems. But every time her new step-dad laid his beady eyes on her, she glared back at him.
Amy elbowed her over the champagne toasts. “Um, I think you should come live with me.”
Julie scoffed into her bubbly drink. “Oh sure, now you believe me.”
“Julie, I am not kidding.” Julie frowned and downed her drink, grabbing Amy’s to suck it back, as well. “I don’t like this. You’re my friend and I… don’t like the way he’s… Oh, hello there.”
Bart had appeared, looking somehow rumpled in an expensive tuxedo, his dark eyes darting around and taking in the crowd in the restaurant’s bar where they were hosting a small reception. He grabbed their empty glasses and refilled them, arching an eyebrow at Amy, who leaned away from him. Julie giggled. Bart shot her a funny look.
“Thanks for coming, Amy,” he said, putting on his sincere face.
Amy blinked. Julie sighed. The guy could flip the creep switch on and off so fast, it did take you by surprise the first few times.
“Oh, um, well, Mr. Hardin, I’m… um… Congratulations.” She raised her glass, clinked it to Julie’s and Bart’s, and they drank in awkward silence.
Julie’s heart pounded. This was going to be bad. She turned to Amy, who still had a shell-shocked look on her face at Bart’s hypnosis. “I may take you up on that, Amy.” She tried to get the girl to snap out of it.
“Huh?” Amy smiled when Bart, now handsome somehow, refilled her glass. “Oh, right, ha-ha,” she said, still mesmerized by Julie’s new stepfather.
“You are welcome to stay over anytime. I know you girls love your sleepovers and stuff. If you promise not to invite any boys, of course.” He raised an eyebrow and Julie nearly threw up on her shoes.
Amy blinked as the man moved away, glad-handing and pouring more champagne. Julie’s mother never even acknowledged she was in the room the entire time.
“Okay, Jules, I gotta go,” Amy said about an hour later. Julie was well towards drunk by then, wondering how the hell she would get home. She grabbed her friend’s arm.
“Don’t leave me with him. Please?” Panic had her throat in a vise. She gulped at Amy’s sympathetic look.
“Oh, I think he’s probably harmless. Just count the days, and spend the Hardin fortune. You can come over anytime. But I have a date tonight, so…” She did a little eyebrow dance. “Tom has promised to do the deed, although I think he’s more nervous than I am.”
“Great.” Julie flopped back into her chair, mad, jealous, and more than a little afraid of what awaited her now that the movers had boxed up her entire life and transferred it into the giant Hardin family mansion on the hill.
To his credit, Bart Hardin was on his best behavior for at least a month, playing the role of benevolent stepfather to perfection. Then just as Julie was starting to relax and enjoy herself, driving her own car to school, never sweating the groceries or the rent money or anything that used to haunt her childhood days, something shifted.
She should have known better. Should never have accepted the offer of a date from no less than the slobbery kisser himself, Nathan Harrow. He’d been passing her notes in class, poking fun at their goofy drunken moment on the grass at the doomed party. Actually agreeing to go out with him was her first and ultimately catastrophic, mistake.
She’d gotten the full, painful, messy, and embarrassing de-flowering story from Amy. But somewhere in the middle of all that, Amy and Tom had gone and fallen in sick high-school love with each other and were inseparable. Tom tolerated Julie’s presence. He was a nice guy. But he was a guy, an eighteen-year-old one at that, who now had regular sex at his disposal and was not about to let Amy’s best friend get in the way of it too much.
The night of the first true date of her entire life, Julie was a sweaty, nervous wreck. Her mother was out, having taken over management of Hardin’s restaurant and never happier than when at the damn place. Julie sometimes wondered if she’d married Bart just for that, not for the Hardin fortune which, like many old mone
y ones, had gotten tattered around the edges thanks to Bart’s stupid investments. He loved to remind Julie her future was secure. She could rest assured that her college money was there, even if she wanted to do something silly like go out of state. Luckily, even while her mother declared the whole concept preposterous, Julie had many teachers on her side, helping her fill out applications, getting her the app fee deferments, and writing killer essays. She’d applied to ten different colleges, three of them Ivy League, which she reminded Bart of more than once, making him scoff and whip out his bank statements as if in some kind of dick-measuring contest.
Nathan was due to pick her up at six. They were going to dinner and a movie. A real date, no fooling around, no parties, no cop raids. And Julie wished she could crawl under her bed and hide until it was over. She liked Nathan. He was funny, cute, and admitted his own failings like a champ. He was the “cool kid” hero of their senior class. Not the super jock or the super nerd but a strange combination of the two.
Julie bit her lip and stared into the mirror in her private bathroom, the one connected to her giant bedroom full of expensive furniture in the huge house where she’d tiptoed around her stepfather so long she’d forgotten how to walk like a normal person. She sighed, patted some powder on her face, applied mascara, ran the brush through her newly highlighted and smooth blond hair, with hands that boasted a fresh manicure. She spent a moment marveling at how she’d become such a sell-out in exchange for a few feminine luxuries.
“Julie!” Bart hollered up the steps. “Your date is here.”
Julie winced at the tightness in his voice. “All right. Coming.”
She grabbed a cardigan and yelped in surprise when she saw Bart filling the doorway, his brows furrowed. She could smell the beer fumes from across the room. Taking a long breath, she reminded herself of how normal he’d been since marrying her mom, how non-threatening, supportive even. But she sensed the reappearance old predatory Bart now, and her skin pebbled with fear.
