A virgin with women and a virgin with men. I was twenty-one years old, a graduate, holding down my first job and living in my first apartment. Went on letting it happen when his tongue came into my mouth and his knee pushed between my legs. Any further resistance would have been pointless, resulting only in getting me hurt more than I was going to be in any case. Not a nasty laugh, but enough to let me know who was in charge. I said, ‘Please don’t do this,’ and tried to push past him but I was eight inches shorter than Dekker and eighty pounds lighter and I went nowhere. He laughed and said, ‘It isn’t what you’d like that counts.’ Then he kissed me again.
I didn’t resist, except to say, ‘I’d like you to go.
Closer still and now the hand was holding my chin, tilting my face upwards so that he could kiss me on the lips. He moved closer and put his hand on my cheek. I wondered afterwards: just how obvious had it been? And did everyone know? When Dekker stood in front of me and simply refused to move his six foot four, two hundred pound body out of my way, was he guessing? Or taking a chance, not really caring what I was and what I wanted, gambling that I wouldn’t go crying to the police afterwards? Whatever the reason, he was in my kitchen and in my way, wearing a smile that said “What you want doesn’t really matter.
