This post deals with sexual assault and might be triggering for some readers.
No, that’s not your name. But to be honest, I don’t remember it. So, to save my embarrassment and your privacy, let’s call you John.
Do you remember our fleeting encounter? It was years ago. Don’t feel ashamed if you don’t. I don’t suppose it was overly memorable for you.
We met at a bar. We flirted. We drank bourbon. You liked that I could hold my liquor. We danced, and I felt your erection grinding on me.
We went back to my place. I invited you.
Remember how I tore at your shirt as our lips met for the first time? I’m sorry you lost that button, by the way. I can still recall feeling the heat of your chest under the palms of my hands.
Our kisses became hungry and breathless. The kind of frantic kissing that leaves your lips throbbing afterwards, in the most delicious way.
Without breaking the kiss we collapsed onto the bed and I straddled your lap, feeling your hands fumble with the hooks on my bra.
We awkwardly smiled into each other’s mouth which quickly turned into a shared chuckle as your hands became more desperate in their approach to unlatch. I threw my head back in relief as I felt the sweet release of the straps from my body.
Your lips began to explore my neck and burrowed into my collarbone, tasting, marking their territory.
Your hands meanwhile moved up my thighs, under my skirt, carefully tracing the seams of my lacy underwear.
This was when I felt a shift. It was familiar, like someone had suddenly opened the door to my insides and a cold breeze swept in, taking all the heat from the moment, in one fell swoop.
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The passion that was driving this interaction had taken a backseat and my thoughts were beginning to take control of the wheel.
Overthinking each movement.
I could suddenly feel the roll of fat that collected around my waist. I was aware of the sweat gathering in the small of my back.
I felt heat re-enter my body in an entirely different way. Total panic.
I shook my head trying to recapture the moment, as you rolled me onto my back.
You didn’t seem to notice that I’d stopped kissing you. That my hands were shaking a little.
My mind was racing. Completely out of my body. I started to feel angry. Why did my anxiety come to ruin this moment, why couldn’t I just be fucking cool about it??
As I stared at the ceiling completely frozen, I took a deep breath and distracted myself by counting the cracks around my ceiling fan.