You’ve Got To Pick One.
The idea of gang rape had never occurred to me before that moment.
I had no idea what to do, so I sat down and stared at the TV. I saw absolutely nothing. I sipped my beer, queasy at the thought of what was happening behind my back. I couldn’t run; I would never get to the door before somebody grabbed me. And if I got out, I had nowhere to go.
The banter between the guys had stopped; the only sound was coming from the TV. I didn’t dare move.
They’d seemed so harmless. Why was this happening? And what could I do?
After an eternity, a voice came from behind my head. It said: “You’ve got to pick one.”
I didn’t turn around. I squeaked, “Why?”
“You’ve just got to pick one,” came the reply.
“I’d rather not,” I said, still staring at the TV. If I pick one, I thought, maybe the rest of them will leave me alone.
A few minutes passed. I could make out the sounds of their hands moving, quiet but increasing.
“You’ve got to pick one,” someone said again.
I lit a cigarette. I stared at the screen. Finally, shaking, I turned around.
I took a long drink from my beer can as I surveyed my surroundings. Robert was the one I’d talked to the most; he seemed to be the nicest. All of the guys had seemed nice.
But Jeff was the most classically handsome, with his bright green eyes and perfect black hair swooping over one eye. He was gorgeous.
When would I ever get another chance to just pick someone gorgeous?
“Okay, I’ll pick Jeff,” I said. The other guys groaned a little at my decision, but no one got up – except Jeff, smiling his perfect smile.
“Let’s go,” said Jeff, and we headed into a bedroom together as though this were some elaborate game of Truth or Dare.
I didn’t question what was next; I undressed quickly and – since beds often made me nauseous after drinking – I threw myself down on the floor.
Jeff didn’t waste any time either. He jumped on top of me and started immediately, without even a kiss. Immediately bored, I realized that there was going to be no pleasure in this experience for me.
“Can I pick somebody else?” I sighed.
Jeff stopped and looked at me. “Huh?”
“I want to pick somebody else.”
“Uh, okay,” Jeff said, backing off and letting me up.
Naked, I walked into the living room. “He sucks at this,” I announced. “I want Robert.”
This announcement was followed by hoots of laughter, and even a demonstration of Jeff’s poor form. Finally Robert threw everyone else out and closed the bedroom door.
I had a much better time with Robert. He was slow and gentle and kind and beautiful, but best of all, we laughed literally all night long. We talked and we laughed and we messed around and laughed and cuddled and laughed some more.
We finally fell asleep after the sun came up and within minutes, the other guys were waking us to go home.
I didn’t want to go. I’d had more fun with Robert in one night than I’d had with Larry in two years. I wanted to stay in Robert’s college dorm room and marry him someday.
But instead the guys dropped me at the Pitcairn apartment. I dragged myself up the stairs. Larry – who asked nothing about my night in Seven Springs – was thrilled to have me home.
I wanted to die.