The Game Ch. 05

The bar man moved away writing Rachel off and moved back into the crowd.

At midnight the bar lights came up and glowed like spotlights as the contest was about to begin. Rachel moved closer to watch and I followed her. She was clearly torn about her decision to experience what was going on and her embarrassment of dancing on the bar. I am sure the alcohol we had consumed had weakened her inhibitions because she was not normally interested in being the center of attention. I was confident that she made the right decision and would agree after she saw the mindless ogling of the women that was about to occur.

Two minutes later 12 women stood side by side on the bar and the 'Thong Song' started. The women began swaying their hips and those that were friends were grinding against each other much to the satisfaction of the men.

Rachel was at the end of the bar where the two men that she had previously talked to stood. The greeted her with smiles before their attention was drawn by the woman on the end that had unwisely chosen a skirt to wear while dancing on the bar.

Rachel giggled as she got a flash of panties from the woman in front of her. I stood behind the scene letting her get close to the bar. Suddenly one of the men spoke in her ear and she laughed and shook her head yes. The next thing I knew Rachel was being hoisted onto the bar and a wave of applause broke through the crowd as she pranced next to the girl in the skirt shaking her butt.

Her mom would shit if she knew that her daughter was dancing on a bar less than 12 hours after her arrival in the Windy City, but I figured what the hell. Let her get it out of her system.

After some encouraging cheering the girl next to Rachel lifted her skirt to display her 'Thong' underwear as the song suggested she should. The guys went wild as she spanked her own ass. The women let her skirt fall back into place, but she had raised the bar for applause and the other girls were not to be outdone. One in the middle of the bar lifted her skin tight t-shirt to reveal her 32A tits that apparently did not require a bra. The guys once again went wild. This was getting out of control now and all the girls were flashing either their underwear or tits. The girl farthest from Rachel gave up and hopped off the bar knowing she could not win without showing skin.

A chant slowly rose out of the testosterone laden room. "Skin to Win. Skin to Win. Skin to Win..."

The other women on the bar seemed emboldened by the attention and a kind of group mentality overcame both the men and women that can only be described as "The Spring Break Effect".

Within seconds the women were beginning to show more and more skin for more and more applause. One woman in the center of the spectacle actually took off her top and threw it into the crowd.

I watched Rachel. She was no longer dancing, but watching the spectacle with flushed cheeks and an uncertain look. I thought it was time for her to call it a night and hoped she would before the crowd turned their attention to her.

Before the thought left my head someone in the throng yelled, "Girl on the end, let's see some tits!".

Rachel realized they were talking to her, and the two guys who had hoisted her up on the bar began chanting "Tits! Tits! Tits!" Their chant was soon picked up by the rest of the bar.

Rachel stood there absolutely stunned as if time had stopped. She was bright red and just stood there for several seconds. Then she half heartedly began to sway her hips hoping clearly hoping to redirect the crowd from her top half to her bottom half. This was a losing strategy and the booing began almost immediately as the crowd realized that she was not moving in the direction of flashing them.

Rachel blushed harder as the chant for her tits increased. For a second her hands moved to the bottom of her shirt. She paused and looked out at the crowd at me. Almost every guy in the place was focused singularly on her. "Jesus either do it or get off the bar" I thought.

And at that moment Rachel shook her head as if clearing it, and then hopped off the bar and pushed her way through the crowd and back to me. I took her by the hand and guided her to the back of the room ignoring the booing from the horny mass of men we passed.

We made our way through the crowd and up the stairs to the second level bar which was much more sedated. We found our way to the couch in the corner and sat down. Rachel was sweating and flushed. She grabbed my beer and downed half of it in one gulp.

"Shit. That was insane." she said.

"Yeah you gotta be careful what you get into up here." I replied.

Rachel sat quietly reflecting and sipping her beer. After a few minutes we decided to leave and made our way back through the bar and out into the street. I hailed a cab and we were on our way back to my apartment.

Twenty minutes later we were in my living room. Rachel asked if she could have something to drink. I headed for my room to change and told her to help herself. When I returned, she had also changed into shorts and a t-shirt and had a large glass of wine in front of her. She had also poured one for me and I joined her on the couch.

"Thanks for taking me out tonight, Aunt Sara. I had fun and I am sorry if things got a bit out of control at the bar. I guess I got caught up in the moment." She said.

I smiled and told her, "Don't sweat it honey. I had fun and you are not the first girl to get caught up in the moment. Do you regret dancing on the bar?"

She reflected for a minute and said, "Yes and no. It's hard to describe. It was fun at first but then when the crowd wanted me to flash them, it was kind of scary. But it was also exciting. I don't know... Its just that..."

She paused sipping her wine speculatively, and I waited for her to continue.

"I guess it was strange. When I was up there part of me felt like I was someone else. It was like I was playing a role kind of. It was surreal. For a moment I didn't think of myself as whom I am, but more of someone more like the other girls that were up there. Part of me wanted to go crazy like them. Part of me wanted to flash those guys. Sitting here now I can't believe I even considered it, but in the moment... I almost did it."

My whole world tilted and my head spun. I knew exactly the feeling she described having experienced it over and over during The Game. Rachel had just articulated my own feelings over the last several months. My mouth went dry at the realization that she had experienced that rush I felt while playing The Game, albeit on a much smaller scale.

"So why didn't you do it?" I asked in a whisper. My mind reeling. Rachel was hitting too close to home without even realizing it. I felt both a tidal wave of relief that I was not alone in my feelings, but also a wrenching worry of what might happen should Rachel decide that she enjoyed the feeling of the rush I understood all too well.

"Honestly, I would have except I saw you in the crowd and reality came back to me. If you had not have been right there, I probably would have at least flashed my tits. Maybe more. I don't know." She replied honestly.

I sipped my wine contemplatively lost in my own thoughts.

"You probably think I am a freak." Rachel said.

For the first time in moments I looked at her and saw the worry on her face. I immediately realized the courage it must have taken her to share her feelings with me. My own epiphany had blocked any empathy I should have had for her. I thought of what it was like to tell Michelle about my experiences and realized how strong this young, beautiful woman was. I was not her girlfriend. I was her Aunt and she was only 18. Jesus I was being insensitive.

I went to her immediately and hugged her fiercely. "You are not a freak." I told her and meant it.

She hugged me back, but she was obviously confused by the intensity of my reaction.

When we parted she looked much more at ease, but very curious. I smiled at her and she smiled back both of us sharing a moment of camaraderie. I giggled and said, "Hell Rachel I've flashed my tits once or twice before. It's not the end of the world. See." And then I lifted my t-shirt and flashed my 34 B's.

Rachel's eyes went wide and then we both started giggling.

"Ohhh Aunt Sara you naughty girl." she said giggling. "Look I'm naughty too, but not quite as big as you." And then she flashed me her boobs.

We both giggled the ice broken and just like that I had a room mate.

We drank wine the rest of the night talking like the old days.

Sometime around 2 AM it was time to call it a night. I told Rachel I was going to bed and she followed me on drunken legs. As we separated in the hallway she paused and turned to me as if remembering something.

"Aunt Sara?" she asked.

"Yeah Rachel."

"So when exactly did you flash your boobs and to whom?" she asked.

I considered her for a moment, my mind flashing on the vision of myself grinding on a stripper pole. "That is a story for another night." I said.

She seemed to accept this and turned to her room until morning. I went to my own room and climbed naked between my cotton sheets.

As I lay there, my thoughts once again returned to the game. I had thought about nothing else recently and as I lay in my bed slowly drifting toward sleep, my mind relaxed and I realized that I was truly afraid of The Game. It was not just nervousness or guilt although there was plenty of that, but true fear. It was all too clear in that haze of thought between wake and sleep; something dark and sinister swimming in the deep pool of subconscious. I couldn't see it, but it was there.

It was like a memory of that person you went to high school with but have not thought of in ten years. You can picture the face, and you know the name, but you just can't come up with it. It swims under the surface of your mind. You can see its shadow, but never reach down and pull it out into the light of consciousness and say, "His name is Mike."

My fear was like that and as I drifted ever closer to sleep, my fear swam further toward the surface so that I could almost see its scaly reptilian body below the black waters of my subconscious mind. It was something deep down, which was now just out of reach. There was something I was afraid of, and The Game was making me go fishing in those dangerous waters of the soul.

I finally drifted off and my last conscious thought was an image of me standing on a diving board over a dark pool and stepping off. I fell and fell toward whatever waited for me in the dark water below...

**********************************

... It was dark. That was the first feeling I had as I climbed the steps to my apartment. Somewhere in the back of my mind it was the first indication that something was wrong. Usually the stairwell was well lit, but tonight both the lights at the top and bottom of the stairs were out as I made my way home. It was late and although I had no real indication of time, I knew it must be somewhere well past midnight. My heels clicked with an ominous metallic sound against the staircase as I climbed.

I reached my door and fumbled for my keys. I retrieved them in the darkness and inserted my key into the lock and as I pushed it home, the door gave way with no resistance. "That's odd." I thought realizing my door was left ajar.

Any sane person would call the police at this point, but I did not. I was transfixed by the oddity, and although I didn't feel fear yet (although I was only minutes away from a terror that was unimaginable), my whole body tingled with anxiety.

I took a deep breath to calm my nerves and told myself, "I'm in control here." I didn't believe it, but I forced myself to. It was all about control. I had to be in control. I thought of my mother's stern face and resolved to be strong.

I pushed the door open gently into the darkness of my familiar apartment that at this moment did not feel familiar at all. The door squeaked on that one hinge I have been meaning to oil for months, but instead of sounding familiar and comforting, it sounding like the voice of a predator stalking me in the dark.

"This is my apartment. I am in control." I told myself again. I shivered at the thought but did not know why.

My apartment was like an alien landscape of shadows that I barely recognized. Everything appeared outwardly normal except the feeling I got standing there in the doorway. There was something deeply wrong here.

I cannot describe the feeling in words, but it was as if my own home no longer felt like my refuge from the world, but a dark and foreboding place where I was trespassing. It was as if the place itself was trying to tell me, "Get out. It's bad here. Don't come in."

But this was about control. I knew that on a deep level. I felt it. I would not willingly give it up.

I desperately wanted to run away, but instead found myself taking the first tentative steps into my apartment. I could control my fear. I was in control of everything.

I felt to my left to reach the light switch and flicked it. Nothing happened.

"RUN!" my brain screamed.

But I didn't. I was in control.

I took another step into the darkness. Why was I still here?

"RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN!" the mantra of my mind continued.

But I could not run, scream for help, even use my cell phone, or any other reasonable thing that I should have done. I was being stupid and I knew it, but I was unable to stop. I took another step and was now inside my apartment. The door stood open behind me. I was only a few feet from the kitchen lights. Two or three more steps separated me from the light and I became obsessed with the idea that if I reached it I would be safe.

Loss of control? No. Not here. Not me.

Tingles ran through my body. I could feel the tension in the air. My anxiety turning to fear, but I was unable to leave. I was drawn into the darkness like a moth to a flame. I took another step toward the kitchen and away from (control) the door.

The door slammed behind me. My apartment had just become a cell. Control was fading. Someone was here with me. I could feel his (its) presence.

I started to turn toward the door when someone from behind me wrapped a gloved hand over my mouth and pulled me hard against his body. Another arm wrapped around my waist immobilizing me. I was suddenly deprived of the basic freedom to move.

My control dissolved around me. I grasped at it like smoke, but it was fading.

I fought in vain to be free until the man slapped my face with an open hand sending stars through my brain and rocking my head back. I tasted blood in my mouth, but not much. The slap was not meant to hurt, but to send a message: You have lost control to me.

NO

The stinging pain sent tingles of anxiety through my whole body. My mind raced although my body could not move.

Out of Control...

My attacker pinned me against the wall and I felt his hot breath against my face and neck. I was pinned between him and the wall. My breasts flattened against the large man. I kneed at him hoping to get his balls and missed. He slapped me again, harder this time.

"Stop it bitch. I'll teach you what sluts get" He growled at me in the darkness. Our faces inches apart. I could smell him. He smelled like old spice and sweat. But I could also smell his arousal and satisfaction at taking control from me. I can't describe it, but I could smell his need tangibly. My fear multiplied 100 times. The smell was reality for me as much as the hands that held me.

I could barely breathe and could not move.

I was dying in my mind. My brain was screaming for sanity in an insane situation.

I felt my attacker's hard cock against my crotch. It was big, hard, and thick.

The man dragged me from my living room to my bedroom. It was a blur of grunting darkness as I struggled to free myself from him.

He pinned me face down on my own bed, furthering his dominance of me. I felt like a butterfly on a stake.

I knew what was coming. He would rape me and take all control away. I knew this deep in my soul and shivered at the violation that was happening to me.

The loss of control was wrong. I was supposed to be in control. I am in control. I could make it stop if I was good enough.

But I am out of control. My mind could not process this fact and even in my current predicament I held on to the belief that my rape would not happen and I would be able to assert my control once again.

I was pinned face down on my bed. The soft smell of fabric softener that was normally so comforting filled my nostrils. A knee was pinned squarely between my shoulder blades and my arms were bent behind me. My cheek was pressed against the bed and I screamed my frustration at my situation, "Get off me you fucking pervert." I spat at the man pinning me.

A face came close to my ear. "Just take it bitch. This can go easy or hard, but its going to go, so just shut the fuck up and take it like the slut you are."

I shivered. I would not regain control. I knew it in that moment and something inside of my mind shattered and I traveled back in time...

********************************

... To when I was twelve. When Sara was twelve and she had a bad sister who did bad things. But Sara was the good one. Sara was always the good one.

I remember sitting on the stairs listening to my parents fight. They were scared and frustrated and that scared me on a level I was too young to express. My sister was already a problem and Mom and Dad were fighting over her.

"She's a nightmare," my mother ranted. "And a complete slut. You know she fucked that Jansen boy while his brother watched. I am ready to disown her. What will the neighbors think?"

"Calm Down Margaret. She is out of control, but she is still our daughter." Dad replied.

"Not my daughter. You keep her. She's a fucking whore and let her fuck the whole world for all I care. I'm done. And what about Sara? How will she turn out with that whore of a sister around? She's only twelve for God sakes and I swear if she turns out to be a slut like her sister I will literally kill her and her sister both."

My mother stormed out of the room, my father following her saying, "You don't mean that..."

I sat on the stairs stunned at what my mother said about my sister and I shivered in fear at the threat she had made. I curled up wrapping my arms around my knees and put my chin on my knees and rocked slowly back and forth feeling sick to my stomach. What if she found out about what I sometimes did to myself lying in the dark when everyone else was asleep?

I shivered cold imagining her face if she knew I touched myself there. At that moment I vowed never again lose control like that. I would stop touching myself. I would stop having those tingly feelings about boys. I would stop. I was in control. Control. Control. Control. I would not disappoint her. I was good and in control.

And then days later as I lie in bed doing what I vowed I would never do. The guilt was overwhelming...

*****************************

I had not thought of that night in 15 years or more but there it was now. The image of childish self and the illusion of control I created stripped naked before me. The wall of illusion that I had built over my entire life came crashing down around me. My whole reality was an illusion. My whole world was gone in an instant of comprehension. I was NEVER in control. Not once in my whole life. No one ever was in control. It was all a lie I told myself.

My clothes were stripped violently from my body as the fabric of my reality was also stripped naked. First my shirt and bra (and illusions) were torn away from me leaving red marks where the fabric bit into my flesh. Then my skirt and finally my panties pulled way, ripping. I lay naked under this man as my reality was equally stripped.