At the start of my second year in medical school I felt I was starting over again. My fiancée had moved far away to start her graduate school in psychology. Our relationship was solid but it would be three years until we were together again. I've always been kind of a loner but I actually felt alone. I missed her.
To make matters worse my secret had been exposed. To one person. But that one person could be a nightmare. Randall was a medical student as well and we had several classes together. We had been partners in Gross Anatomy. He was also completely void of respect or compassion for anyone but himself. Once I had manipulated him into fucking my unconscious girlfriend. I had tried a second time but he had figured it out. He had fucked her anyway in the backseat of my car while I watched. It had turned me on and I treasured that memory as I did the other times I had watched her being taken. But I didn't know what he would do next.
At the time he'd said that I shouldn't try to manipulate men into fucking her and should just tell them. Then I could watch without all of the subterfuge. But I didn't want to do that. I didn't want people knowing. People could use that information against me. They could threaten to tell my fiancée Denise. They could just tell her. Plus, I found it a thrill to watch people convincing themselves to do it. Watching their hesitancy overcome by desire.
Denise is very attractive. I always see men ogling her and have always been proud of that, and even aroused by it. I know men think about what they'd like to do to her. I give them the opportunity. I drug her so they can do those things. Watching them understand that and take advantage of it is part of the thrill.
But now Randall knew all about what I had done and I wondered what he would do with that information. I lost sleep wondering about it. I pictured him blackmailing me, saying he'd tell her if I didn't give him money or let him have her whenever he wanted, that he'd push it all too far and she'd find out. I lived in dread of him just telling her for his own amusement.
So, I just avoided him as best I could. The first month of the new year I was successful. We shared some classes, but I stayed away from him. I wouldn't even meet his gaze. He called me a couple of times, but I didn't answer my phone and he left short messages just saying to call him back. I knew something would happen eventually. I knew he'd tell me what he was going to do. I knew he'd do something. I just wanted to pretend it would never happen.
Second year was more difficult than first year. There was much more course work but it was more interesting, focusing on clinical diagnoses and preparing us for rotations the next year. I was swamped and so was everyone else. Randall was even showing up to classes and lectures more than first year.
Still it had been about a month into the new year when he finally did approach me. We were exiting the building from a pathology lecture. I had left as quickly as I could, knowing that Randall takes his time and wanting to get out of there as I had everyday previously. But he caught up to me.
"Mike," he yelled as I hurried down the steps outside of the building.
I pretended I didn't hear him and continued walking.
"Hey Mike!" he yelled again.
I heard him running to catch up to me. I sighed and stopped to wait for him. I looked down at my shoes, listening to him approaching me, and not wanting to look at him.
"So you're avoiding me, huh?" he said.
"Just busy," I said.
I started walking again, letting him walk with me if he needed to talk to me.
"Busy avoiding me," he said, falling in beside me.
I didn't respond. I just wanted him to leave me alone.
"So are you afraid of what I'll do now or just ashamed?" he asked.
I glanced at him and looked away. I was actually surprised that shame was one emotion I hadn't really felt.
"What do you want?" I asked stiffly.
"How about some coffee?" he said. "There's the coffee shop right up ahead. And we need to talk."
I stopped and he came to a stop beside me. I forced myself to look him in the face directly.
"What do you want?" I asked again.
He smiled, that big 'trust me' grin he used often and set his hand on my shoulder.
"It's alright, man," he said. "Just a cup of coffee. Though doesn't look like you need the caffeine. You're fucking tense. Relax."
"Fine," I said and continued walking.
As we walked to the coffee shop he babbled about the lecture we'd just attended and about some female student that had sat next to him that had large breasts but an unattractive face. He asked her out anyway, but she had turned him down which convinced him that she was homosexual.
The coffee shop was mostly vacant, just two students at one end with laptop computers. We ordered our coffees and sat at a tall table at the far end.
"No need to avoid me, man," Randall said as soon as we sat down.
"I've been busy," I said, finding I couldn't bring myself to look at him.
"Look, it's nothing to be ashamed of if that's what's bothering you. I don't care what you do. And I've enjoyed myself a whole hell of a lot," he said and chuckled.
I just nodded, looking down at my coffee.
His laughter subsided and he sighed.
"I told you that night what I thought about it," he continued. "I think you've got it all wrong. You don't need to be tricking guys into doing it. Guys will do it gladly. Trust me."
I forced myself to take a sip from my coffee and looked at him over the rim of the cup.
"Maybe you've been afraid I'd tell her or get you in trouble or let out your secret," he said. "But I ain't gonna do that. Hell, I'd be in trouble too. I was the one who raped her. Twice."
