32 Flavors ~ Trust


In response to the Daily Prompt 32 Flavors: Vanilla, chocolate, or something else entirely?

Interestingly enough, this prompt actually started something different. This is the second story in what will become a series of I don’t know exactly how many. Sometimes to reclaim who you are you need the love and support of a special someone. So this one is a tribute to these special someones who guide us back to the light.


When he prompted her with a hand the first time, she didn’t react. She seemed to be enjoying herself and he was glad. But he wanted more today: vanilla was all good, but they’d been together a year and still she was shy. But when he placed his hand on her head, and a little bit more intently pushed her down, she froze.
“I can’t.” She whispered. Stephen looked at her, slightly shocked, uncomprehending. “I’m sorry.”
Deflated, quite literally, he sat up. Why wouldn’t she? Was it a flavour she didn’t care for? He hadn’t guessed it would be so. And yet, ever since the beginning they’d taken it slow.
“What is it?”
He asked. She shook her head. The look of shame on her face worried him. It seemed as if she couldn’t possibly tell him; as if she feared his reaction. That hurt slightly: he thought he’d been kind and understanding since they started dating.
“Sweetheart, don’t you trust me?”
“I do.” She blurted. “It’s just…”
She seemed to scramble, as if she had no idea how to start. He could make this easy for her.
“Tell me. Start at the beginning.”
“You promise you won’t laugh.”
Why would he do that? Something that made her fear this particular act of love couldn’t possibly be funny. But he wanted to reassure her.
“I promise.”

So she started explaining. She spoke to him of Warren. He knew of him: he and Sally had been Lara’s best friends since they were 6 years old. He knew how close they were, even though it was weird. Warren and Sally were rich kids from uptown whereas Lara came from the poorer neighbourhoods. That didn’t bother the 3 of them. They were always at each other’s places until Lara’s father moved to another city.
Apparently things had changed before that. One day they were spending at Warren’s parents, Sally went home earlier and they were left alone. Warren asked Lara if she wanted to see something cool and brought her to his father’s study. There he pulled a gun. Stephen had an inkling of what might come and found himself worried. Lara obviously didn’t relish the recollection but she didn’t seem overly concerned. She was scared of the gun; her father never had one.
Warren said he wanted to play a gangsters. She indulged him: it could be fun. Until he aimed at her. She was his hostage he said. He pushed her on her knees. When he unzipped his pants, she made to leave but he didn’t let her go. Stephen tensed as Lara explained how he pushed the gun into her mouth reminding her who had the power. Her best friend forced his penis into her mouth and made her suck it. How when she gagged he prevented her from removing herself. How he thrusted deep until he came and made her swallow.
“So since then, the idea of it in my mouth makes me want to throw up.”

She hesitated. Of course it did. He didn’t know what to say: he was torn all directions. A part of him wanted to kill the guy right now, another to embrace Lara and protect her. And yet, beyond everything else he wanted to apologize. How could he have missed this? Of course she’d wanted to wait before she shared his bed. Of course that was why there were so many instants where she appeared tentative, awkward in her own skin. What an idiot he was! She appeared to misunderstand his silence.
“It’s the truth I swear.” She said defensively.
“Oh I believe you honey. Why would you not tell me that you were raped.”
“Oh no, it wasn’t rape.”
Now he was furious. Who would tell her that it wasn’t? For heaven sake, how did her parents not press charges at the time? He took her hand; maybe more roughly than he intended for she shuddered.
“Lara, of course it was rape. You were forced. He threatened you.”
She shrugged.
“The school nurse said it wasn’t. It was just my mouth. I must have misunderstood. And the gun wasn’t loaded.”
Stephen fisted his hands, his knuckles whitening with the pressure of it. Who the hell was this nurse? How more useless could she be?
“I told Sally. I didn’t know what to do. But she laughed; said I probably wanted it anyway. She stopped talking to me afterwards. And if she did, that was to call me a slut and all.”
“How old were you?”
“I’m sorry Lara.”
“It’s ok. I mean, it wasn’t. Things changed. Sally stopped talking to me. Warren too. I couldn’t explain to my parents what had happened. And then dad was promoted so we moved away. I left it all behind.”
“Obviously not love, you’re still carrying this like a burden. I’m sorry I didn’t ask before.”
“You’re not angry?”
“Of course I am angry Lara. But not at you. It’s not your fault.”
“Isn’t it?”
He embraced her and kissed her then; how could he show her that love was about trust, that it was a gift? Like a kiss of two innocent kids at sunset.



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