“You were young,” I observed. “Yes I was, and my heart was pulsating with love. There were moments I could not breathe by merely thinking about the possibility of his leaving me; and if I did not see him for a few days, I would pack up my bag and run to his house.” “I suppose it was in one of those your unplanned frequent visits that he took your virginity from you,” I said. Camilla smiled as if my assumption had brought back for her a wave of pleasant memories.
“It was in his apartment, but there is a story to how it happened. When I brought up the sex topic and told him I would want to give him my virginity, but at the right time, he was cool with it. He bought the idea and gave me his support. I didn’t like that. I had expected him to fight, argue and ask for it. He didn’t, and that made me feel he didn’t want me…” “And so you began to doubt his love and seduced him to take it from you…”
“Stop reading my mind Dennis!” “I am not reading your mind, Camilla. Your story is run of the mill. We hear it every day…teenagers letting their insecurities make them do stupid stuffs. I made my own mistakes too.”
“So why ask me to tell you the story when you already know how it ends?” “I am sorry ma’am, I won’t squeal a word again.” “Good. It was like you said. I felt unwanted because he did not cry and beg me for sex. All my friends at that time had tales about how their boyfriends were crying and badgering them for sex. You should have seen how that made them feel. They walked on water, they flew without wings. They felt wanted and precious.
Sadly, my prince in shining armour wanted me to keep my virginity till I was eighteen years old…because I could not bring myself to tell him to take it from me after I had sermonized to him how precious it was for me to keep it till I was at least eighteen…” She paused.
I had forgotten my promise to keep my lips sealed and so opened it to say something when her face folded into a frown. I recalled my promise and kept it sealed. She smiled again, making my heart go pitter patter. “For months, I hounded him with all forms of seduction. From sending nude pictures of me having bath, walking about half naked in his apartment, sitting indecently when we were alone and to using sexually provocative speeches. At some point, I began to think that perhaps he was not straight. One day, just when I had given up, he attacked me in his bathroom. It was not the romantic sex I had been dreaming. I was a rape; a vicious endless rape. According to him, he had taken an aphrodisiac his friends introduced him to. He kept riding me till I passed out. He only stopped because he thought I had died.