I'd just graduated from University when it happened. I was twenty with a brand new degree in Art and was looking for work. I was hoping to find a job as an illustrator. Mainly something that would bring in some cash to help me support myself and give me practice at sketching. What I really wanted to do was paint, but I didn't really see myself starving in an attic while doing so.
A friend of the family had invited me to stay with her in her rented unit until I got myself settled, and I was happy to take her up on her offer. I moved in on a weekend, looking forward to living in the city and finding a job.
Monday morning Ella was up early and off to work. I took advantage of this to sleep in and it was nearly nine before I crawled out of bed. It was already quite hot and I had a nice relaxing shower. I could hear music in the kitchen. Ella had apparently forgotten to turn the radio off. Either that or she'd deliberately left it on to encourage me to wake up and get up.
As soon as I'd dried off after my shower I headed towards the kitchen to get some breakfast. I was starving. I didn't even stop to dress. After all, if you can't walk around starkers at home, where can you?
So here am I, waltzing naked into the kitchen, still idly trying to do something with hair that was all over the place after my shower. And there in the kitchen, standing next to a hole that used to be the oven, was this workman, eyeing me appreciatively.
"I knocked," he said, "but no-one answered. My instructions were that if there was no-one home I was to let myself in and install the new oven. I was given a key by the estate agent."
By the time I finally registered his presence I was standing in the middle of the kitchen, still brushing at my hair. Now that I saw him I remembered that Ella had told me that someone was coming over to replace the oven. The new oven had been sitting in a box next to the old one. This I realised was the man. I hadn't heard him knock over the noise of the radio, so he'd assumed no-one home and let himself in.
"Oh, right," I said. "Yes. Ella warned me that someone was coming over to do the oven. You go right ahead. I won't get in your way."
He was still looking me over very appreciatively, which I thought was a bit odd. I mean, men do look at me, because I'm well worth looking at, but they don't normally keep looking the way he was doing. I glanced down at myself to see if there was something wrong. That's when I remembered what I was wearing – nothing.
My face must have flared red like an emergency light. I squealed and tried to cover myself, but it's a bit hard when you only have two hands and a hairbrush.
The brute just kept looking and actually had the gall to laugh at me. What I had originally thought to be a nice large kitchen was suddenly a very tiny room, and that man was right there next to me. And I mean right next to me. I didn't actually see him move but he wasn't over by the oven any more.
"Don't be silly," he chided me, effortlessly taking my wrists and moving my hands away from where I was trying to cover up. "I've already seen it all and I must say it's very nice."
Somehow or other he pushed my hands behind my back and held them in one of his. While I just stared at him he ran his free hand lightly across my breasts, just skimming my nipples. The blasted things promptly peaked in interest and I could feel this funny feeling deep inside.
I was about to yell at him to let me go but he beat me to it. He let go my hands, put a hand on my shoulder and turned me back towards the passage. I was about to bolt for my bedroom and my clothes when I got another shock.
His hand dropped down and cupped my bottom.
"Come along," he said, urging me towards the bedroom.
Come along? What did he mean, come along? And why was he walking with me down the hall? Surely he wasn't getting any ideas about me?
He was. I just knew it. And I was just walking along beside him like a lamb. After that initial squeal I hadn't said anything, even when he'd touched my breasts. I opened my mouth to ask him what he wanted, but then closed it. I mean, what if he said he wanted me? What did I do then? What did I do now, for that matter?
My bedroom door was open and as soon as we reached it the pressure against my bottom shifted slightly, urging me towards the door. I went in and he followed me. At least, he finally let go of my bottom.
I had some clothes lying on the bed, ready for when I wanted to get dressed. I decided that now was the time and reached for them. Not quickly enough, as a longer arm than mine just reached out, scooped them up, and tossed them to one side.
The great oaf was smiling at me, and then he patted the bed, indicating I should climb onto it. He had to be kidding. I wanted to shake my head and shout a refusal but to my horror I found I was obediently climbing up onto the bed and lying down.
A little voice was yelling at me, asking what the hell was going on and just what did I think I was doing, but I didn't know so I couldn't answer it. Actually, I suppose I did know. This man, this complete stranger, was going to climb onto the bed and ravish me, and we both knew it. Why wasn't I protesting? I should be doing something other than lying there like a good little girl waiting for her lord and master.
I just lay there, watching him as he looked down at me. He was getting undressed, quite calmly taking off his clothes and dropping them on the floor next to him. I wanted to scream when he dropped his shorts and I saw his erection, but this strange paralysis just kept me lying there.
