The Last Night Stand

TW: Sexual Assault / Violence

Currently, the house's sound system was blasting the hottest party music of the late oughts and early teens loud enough to vibrate the walls of the rental. Hanging from the ceiling, black lights cast their purple glow over the hundred people who had crammed into the small college home. The heat generated between our drunk, dancing bodies condensed, forming moisture that dripped from the tacky wallpaper. And at the center of it all, a table had been graffiti'd with glowing letters atop it spelling out ‘The Villa’ to the dozens of students watching the intense glow-in-the-dark beer pong game unfold.

This was my house, or specifically, the one that two of my friends and I had rented for the last two years of university. And the party, one dedicated to celebrating the cast of actors from the play that had just wrapped, was well underway with no end in sight.

The crowd suddenly roared as the small white ball splashed into the last glowing rimmed cup. With their defeat now official, and over half of their cups still on the victor's side, the losers resigned themselves to crawling under the table where they began writing their haiku. It was a simple punishment that we theatre and writing students had chosen to haze those who failed to put on a good enough show when it was their time to shine. It kept things interesting and raised the stakes for anyone bold enough to think they could dominate my table.

My house, my rules, after all.

But, unfortunately, I didn’t have time to play tonight. I was too busy hosting and guaranteeing that everyone was having fun. This meant I was schmoozing with everyone, checking in on each room dedicated to different cliques and making sure those who had purchased a cup had their drinks filled regularly. Meanwhile, as I wandered the house, one of my roommates was busy playing bartender as the other was our disc jockey. We all had our roles, ensuring things went well, and, in fact, the night was going better than expected. Especially considering we accidentally double-booked our parties, and the tennis club had also shown up.

“Tahvin,” Tabitha called out from across the sea of faces."Tahvin! Hey, Tahvin!"

Turning my head, I saw her. She was wearing the short red skirt I liked, even though it was the middle of winter and we had over three feet of snow. As she stood on her tiptoes to catch my attention, I could see it riding up her tight thighs, revealing the bottom of her perfectly round ass. It was one I was familiar with, having been called by her several times in the middle of the night to provide a particular type of comfort to her aching heart. 

By this stage in my university career, I had taken on a bit of a reputation for being someone to be called on for comfort. Whether it was a shoulder to cry on or hair to tug, my phone was always on, and I was always ready. Tabby was a regular, as she was always in and out of relationships and quick to become lonely. This made me the dedicated rebound, and while I wished that just one time she would consider me boyfriend material, I wasn't complaining to be used for pleasure. It satiated a need after all—a need to forget.

The last rumour I had heard was that she and Marcus had broken up earlier in the week. I could confirm this in the way her eyes were locked with mine as she held up a pair of ping pong balls.

“Want to play with me?” She asked, giving me a wink.

My gaze drifted to the one-size-too-small shirt and pushed-up bosom threatening to escape with one wrong step. She was putting on a show this evening, not just for me, but for whoever was her next mister ex-boyfriend. The school year was nearly half over after all, and there was only so much time left before we both graduated and would be forced to leave this wonderful world behind.

“Tabby, I’d love to get my balls wet with you, but my dance card is currently full,” I replied, holding up the two drinks I was delivering to one of the more secluded lounges. “Maybe you and I can play with each other after the party?”

She bit at her lip, giving me a subtle wink that agreed to meet up, and before she could say anything more, I had moved into Shane’s bedroom. Our disc jockeys' private space had been reserved for the tennis club that we both ran, and, as I delivered the drinks, I gave Hailey a wink. Like me, we were in both the theatre and the tennis clubs, though she preferred lounging with the athletes to the theatre geeks.

Admiring the thin leggings that revealed the subtle outline of the boyshorts I liked, I knew that she was also still on for this evening. When she had messaged me earlier in the day, asking what was on the menu for after the party, I had replied with a single word: her. She liked to be discreet with her approaches, never outright asking me for sex or other pleasures, but wanting me to play the game and guess. In this instance, her usage of the word 'menu' meant that she was looking to grab onto my hair as my tongue did the work that lesser men couldn't.

This made her the second nightcap of the evening once things began to die down. Or potentially before, since I knew she secretly liked the risk of being caught. Delivering her drink, I gave her my signature playful smile as our fingers gently rubbed against each other. With a sly rub of my tongue against my canine, I watched as she returned a lecherous look my way. This meant that it was looking good with her as well. 

Currently, I was juggling two flirtatious encounters, and, if I played my cards right, I'd be able to satisfy both by night's end. That was at least the plan. But there was also a third, wild-card figure who had messaged me and asked us to meet up after the party. Unfortunately, I had only seen her at the beginning of the night, and she had disappeared before I'd had a chance to initiate my pre-game flirting.

Exiting the Tennis Cliques room, I reentered the main party and gave a glance over the hundred heads, where I spotted a few more of my regulars. Melissa and Tanya, a pair of blonde volleyball bombshells who regularly liked to destress after their games, were chatting off to the side of the retro pull-out couch we had scored last summer. I'd heard they had a tough match-up against Saint Catherine's University on Tuesday, so the fact that they were here meant that they may have been looking for comfort. And with all of my experience, I'd never had a two-on-one deal, so it could be an interesting opportunity should it present itself. Then there was Aimee, the good Catholic girl who spent Sundays on her knees with God, and, occasionally, Saturdays on her back with me. She was in the far corner making out with Zach, but I knew he actually only had eyes for Josh. Finally, there was Corinne, currently at the table as Tabby's beer pong partner. She only usually called me when she was really drunk and wanted a quick hookup, which usually involved a little simultaneous oral elation. But, judging by the way she sloshed her spiked lemonade around, she was also a contender.

This was all to say that at any moment, any of these girls could approach me in search of the comfort I had become known to give. The comfort that lasted an evening and never more. Because I wasn't relationship material, I was just Tahvin, a name and number on a stall that you called for a good time.

“Hey, Tav,” Jeremy called for me as he poked his head out from the nook-turned-bar. “We’re running low on the top shelf stuff. Would you mind checking if we have any more stashed away upstairs?”

“On it, Jere!” I replied with a wave before making my way up the narrow staircase at the back of the beer pong room.

The entire upstairs was technically my room. My share of the rent was a bit more, but I gladly paid it since it was my parents' money anyway. Plus, it was worth it for my own bathroom and a second room, which served as my private walk-in closet. That was why I was surprised to see that the closet was currently open to the hallway when it should have been closed.

Stepping towards the room designated as the coat and bag storage for the night, I began to realize something was going on. No one had come in since the final person arrived and deposited their things in the space, making me the last one to enter the room. With the same reasoning, I hadn't seen anyone leave out the only entrance to the house, so no one would have come up to grab their things.

“Did I forget to latch the door?" I mumbled to myself, fiddling with the handle.

I looked up, eying the second door that connected the 'closet' to my bedroom. Continuing towards my private space, I slowly entered and glanced around. As I did, I felt a chill race down my spine as my hypervigilance kicked in. I immediately noticed that someone had been lying in my bed as the sheets that I often cleaned before my weekend activities had become rumpled. Indents for knees made their way to the four corners, where it appeared someone had lain down. Curious, I crouched to take a look at the strange cord that had been added to the foot of my bed when I heard the closet door behind me close and lock. 

That chill once again raced through my body as a frightful panic took hold of my heart. I hadn’t noticed anyone following me up the stairs, and there was no way that I was drunk enough that my hypervigilance had failed to notice someone in my room or closet. That meant that they had been waiting in my bathroom for me to arrive, like a predator stalking a watering hole. Quickly turning, I saw the face of someone I had only briefly seen earlier in the night. She was the third person who'd reached out for an evening of comfort.

Madi stepped towards me, the oversized sweatshirt she wore, my sweatshirt, was unzipped halfway down, revealing her pale, naked body beneath. She moved closer, placing a hand on my chest as she looked up at me with that hungry expression she had worn every time we talked. Immediately, my heart began to race. Excitement and anxiety bled together into a knot of nervous energy that, for some reason, urged my legs to move.

“You know something—” She spoke assertively, causing the hair on the back of my neck to stand and my body to begin to shake.

Something felt wrong about this moment. It wasn't like with the other girls. Sure, they would call or text me to let me know what they wanted in much the same way. Then we would meet up, chat, and flirt, and all the while, I let them lead me towards what they wanted. But, ultimately, I was usually in control of the situation. I had a choice. I was prepared. But, in this moment, the way Madi acted—how she ambushed me. Cornered me. It felt…

I couldn’t find the words to explain my terror as her hand reached up to my shoulder.

“There is something about you, Tahvin. You’re this tall, awkwardly charismatic guy. I can’t hold myself back around you. I don’t want to hold myself back around you.”

Stepping closer still, she locked her lips to mine in a passionate kiss. Then, in that brief moment, the nagging voice in my mind disappeared. I reassured myself—lied to myself—that this was like every other time. That this was what she wanted, and therefore, this was what I wanted. And as I grew comfortable, things changed. She suddenly bit my bottom lip. Hard.

“Ah.” I gasped, shocked by the taste of blood in my mouth. “What the hell?”

Touching my lip, I looked back at her. I'd never been bitten so hard that it drew blood. I wasn't the type of person who liked being hit or abused. It wasn't for me, and therefore it was a hard no on my list of can's and can't's. But in the time it took me to struggle to find the words, her other hand had already undone my belt and was moving onto my zipper. Her intensely lustful blue eyes stared into mine, stunning me into a frozen submission. I felt helpless, locked in her gaze as conflicting emotions overwhelmed my senses, all the while, the house shook beneath me. I didn’t know what to do, as I suddenly didn’t feel in control.

But wasn’t this what I wanted? I asked myself in this brief moment as apprehension reared its head. Whether or not this moment was how I wanted didn’t matter, right? Regardless of whether it was her, or Tabby, or Hailey…

“You’re mine tonight.” She whispered into my ear, her words coercive, dripping with lust and an animalistic hunger. “I am going to break you, lonely boy.”

Then, with a sudden, hard slap across my face, I began to see stars. In an instant, I sobered up to the situation and no longer liked what was happening. I wasn't an aggressive person. I did my best never to be that person again. Never to hurt another living soul in fear of breaking them. And, as such, my constitution for abuse was low.  But before I could say anything, before I could protest and tell her to stop, she continued.

Madi's fingers slipped between the spaces of my button-up shirt, ripping it open and scattering the buttons like beads across my room. Then, as though she were an animal digging into its prey, she raked her claws down my chest. My face, still stinging from the strike, looked down at her attack. I could see droplets of blood revealing themselves from the thin claw marks she left.

“Madi, stop.” I tried to say, but she wasn’t listening as she raised her hand. "Ma—"

With another swing, she struck my other cheek, dazing me further. Madi wanted something from me. And I wasn’t stopping her. I feared that I couldn't stop her.

“You like that?” She hissed as I stumbled back towards the bed.

"N-No—"

Taking advantage of the moment, she shoved something delicate and lacey into my mouth with all her might. Panicked, I flailed, tripping over my loosened pants before falling to the bed and knocking my head hard enough against the wall to send flashes of light across my swirling field of vision.

“Uhg—” I grumbled through the gag, disoriented and panicked by the pain. “M-Madi, sto—"

But she was already straddling me, taking my hands and binding them to the bedpost with cuffs that had not been there at the start of the night. I suddenly remembered the rumpled sheets and the cords tied to the foot of the bed. She had been lying in wait for this moment. Waiting for me. Preparing. Wanting something of mine, no matter the cost.

The world spun as she spoke silent words, tainted with liquor, as she made quick work of my hands and feet. And, as I struggled weakly against the bindings, trying to spit out the gag, I felt her warmth press against my waist and consume me in my entirety. Her hand shoved into my mouth, keeping the fabric in as she forced my face down into the mattress.

"You deserve this, you dirty boy." She hissed, her other hand raking against my chest and arms repeatedly. "Slutty boy."

I felt her claws ripping away at my flesh as she rode my hips. Sliding me deeper into her, unprotected and without consent. I didn't want this. Not this way. I wanted my first time experiencing that raw feeling of warmth to be with someone special. I wanted my first time of being unguarded and vulnerable to be with the woman I loved. The woman I would marry.

"No," I whined, weakly struggling to free myself. "Stop."

Not this way. I thought, feeling the pressure building inside of me—the feeling of release edging closer.

Her hand slipped from my face and gripped my throat as she rode me harder. Faster. I felt her grip on my throat and my hips growing tighter as she growled and cursed. Her free hand slapped my face again and again. I wanted to cry. But I couldn't. Men didn't cry. I wanted to scream. But I couldn't. There wasn't enough air in my lungs, and the gag muffled my whining.

Then the voice returned—distant and quiet but louder than the last time I had heard it. I felt the pressure of Madi's body, gripping me, pulling me deeper, taking what she wanted. The pressure was so great that I knew I couldn't hold out much longer. And as she made me look at her, striking my face once more before the end, she spoke. Her hand gripped my jawline as the voice that came from her lips was not hers. But I listened. Not yet broken, but obedient.