Fresh from the shower my acquaintance Allie left the bath and approached me where I was lying atop the bed. In nothing but the royal blue robe that she bunched about her ample breasts Allie looked as delightful as ever. As delightful as she had just thirty minutes ago when the pair of us were quite occupado with having sex.
Allie possessed a pair of blue eyes that were the exact shade of the Indian Ocean at a shallow depth; part blue, part gray, part heartbreak. And as the twenty-four year old barkeep spread her languid body alongside my own atop the Marriot bedding those beguiling eyes betrayed more than a fair bit of vulnerability to me.
"Daniel…wh-what…what just happened here? What did you do with me…?
For a girl who had up until a few days ago looked either askance at me or not at all the tone of Allie’s query revealed wholesale interest in what my response might be. A lot can happen in a couple of days. A young woman can ingest a crapload of fresh vistas in the space of a single weekend. Within a single hotel room.
“Come again girl…”
Allie’s eyes narrowed as I chided her. Even as she slipped her freshly scrubbed and scented body out of that royal blue robe without moving an inch from my side. Facing each other.
Atop our bed.
“C’mon sir…be serious! What…just…happened? Today’s Sunday…we checked in Friday. And…and I feel like I can’t even remember my middle name. What did you do to me? Danny…I’ve never cum that hard before! Not that OFTEN…and NEVER that hard!”
I placed my right hand atop Allie’s bare left shoulder and caressed the exquisite perfection of what constituted thee most perfect body I had (just!) ever fucked. Fucked often…fucked hard. Over the past few days and nights. Six stories above the Syracuse streets. And my mind wandered to Friday…when Allie had completed her shift and condescendingly agreed to sit with me at the bar for a nightcap. Her shoulders - in a tank top - had been just as bare then.
How had it happened? Well, the man once sang that ‘even the losers…get lucky sometimes’ and on Friday last Allie had finally opened a window for me. Had listened. Had become intrigued. Had fallen to the guile and wiles of an older Man.
I told her about Arkansas. And the girl whose physical birth certificate I had checked and rechecked to ensure she was legal…though only a third my own age. I told Allie about Miss Warner…and how it came to be that THAT conquest adored being dragged from this bed to that bed by her hair. I even brought up Bree…and the achingly surreal concept of a confident woman pleading on her knees for the privilege of being subjected to humiliation. By me. By Daniel J. Taupin. I told Allie all about my life since my divorce thirty years ago.
I explained to the girl with the gorgeous blue eyes ‘what I did’ with all of my many willing victims.
“Tell me!” Allie giggled. Tickled me. Her heavy breasts prompting another erection from my insatiable sadistic self. “What did you just do to me all weekend Danny?”
In my approach to womenkind since the rise of Pearl Jam there exist myths, fables and fairy tales. There is a code on ‘value’. A corpus regarding ‘domination’. And a required curriculum concerning the benefits of ‘submission’. It takes a good man half a lifetime to learn, earn and deserve this knowledge I had informed Allie on Friday. And then I told my favorite bartender - her bare shoulders gleaming sensually along the foot rail of Gleason’s Pub - that she had been wise to listen. And that the next step would be to experiment.
That’s how we’d ended up at the Marriot. That was the prelude to a barrage of sex that had transformed Allie from what she had always been into what she’d have the good fortune to be for the remainder of her life.
“Tell me please! Please……!”
I looked into my new best friend’s incredibly pretty blue eyes and I told Allie the truth.
“I raped you.”