The front door creaked open as he entered the dark house. "Sheila? You home?"
There was only one light on, in the back of the house. After closing the door behind him and locking it, he began toward the light. She sure didn't live in the most hospitable of neighborhoods, he thought, as he remembered the few disheveled houses, and the yelling occurring before the few upright seeming habitats. Going down the hallway, he heard soft sobs coming from the sole illumination in the house. The angelic beacon became a simple doorway as Josh's eyes adjusted to the darkness. The sobs became a little louder as he stepped into the room. "Sheila, are you ok?"
Her head was bowed down, and she gasped, glancing up at the doorway. Her raven hair just barely curled at the ends, accentuating her perfect white skin. Her hazel eyes looked like glowing embers in the harsh light. Josh didn't notice until much later that despite her sobs, Sheila did not have one tear stain on her face.
Josh took a seat on the bed next to her and put his arm around her shoulders. They had been friends for a very long time, and he had never known her to be the emotional sort. Much like him, she was a stoic who did well to hide any feelings she had. He listened to her breathe for a second, noticing that each breath was short and shallow, but very quiet. As if she didn't want him to notice. She looked out of the corners of her eyes at him, the fire of her soul burning into his body.
Normally, the only interaction he had with Sheila was on the internet. They had been friends for a long time, but he had been going to an out of state college, and his old affairs hadn't really seen him properly for over a year. Sheila had never been a social butterfly, so he saw her even more rarely than some of his less appreciated pals. While he had made the decision to continue abstaining from romantic relationships with the fairer sex, he had forgotten how enticing Sheila was. Everything about her made his physical form hum to that natural emanation of youth.
He put his mind away from putting his lips on her. He respected Sheila too much to try something like that. Especially after she had told him so long ago that she had loved him. And he knew she hadn't been lying, that in her lovely life she had never said that to another soul. Besides that, she had been the only half-assed normal person to have any feelings for him. However, he just didn't have those feelings for her. She was too liberal, too unchristian, too pretty. He wanted a conservative, Christian, just shy of plain girl to spend his life with. After his stint of bachelorhood finally died around 26, and he succumbed to his own carnal desires.
Watching her grimacing features, he saw her painfully put her arm up, presuming to touch his hand. He felt her fingers slide over his wrists, warm and soft. Then he felt cold, hard reality hit him, like jewelry was sliding on his skin. Josh knew it wasn't one of Sheila's bracelets when he heard the click and felt the band snap over his wrist. She threw his arm and with it pulled his body down on the bed, making sure to place his hand between two bars on her headboard.
Out of surprise and reaction more than common sense, Josh reached for his entangled wrist. Sheila easily secured his other arm above his head. She straddled him, a smirk on her features. Her hair was hanging down like a black silk curtain on one side of her face, tickling the sensitive skin on his neck. He bucked up to throw her off, but only succeeded in watching her close her eyes and moan. When he saw this, Josh knew the battle was over. His cock was betraying him and growing because of her willingness and actions. Her smile widened, and she tenderly bent down and kissed him.
A true stoic all the way, Josh kept his lips hard and uninviting. She implored him to open his mouth to her, to surrender to his passion, but he declined. Pulling away from him, her eyes looked down at him accusingly. "This is not a battle of strength, Josh. This is-"
"You trying to rape me. Yes, I realized."
"Oh no. I'm not trying to rape you. That would imply a factor of my not being successful."
She snickered and buried her lips on the flesh of his neck, slowly tasting him, laving his skin in her desire. Josh's own mouth hung slack, his eyes closed, focusing intently on her- but then logic had to rear its ugly head once more. "You could be arrested for this, Sheila."
"Could is such a relative term. How would you prove that I raped you? Actually, after this was done, I could always throw myself into something, wear those manacles for a moment or two after cleaning them, and profess that it had been I; yes, unfortunate I; who had been raped by the sexually repressed Sir Joshua of Rochester."
