Rape and Reflection

Getting ready for my date, I stood in front of the mirror, critically examining what I saw.

Not my image in the mirror. The mirror itself.

The mirror had come from Mickey, one of my roommates in Eau Claire. I had never owned anything like it, and couldn't believe she had given it to me, but she gave away a lot of good stuff before going on the road with her new musician boyfriend. A portable, full-length mirror on a hinge. Some of the edges were beat up, but with all the elaborate woodwork, it still looked pretty good.

I thought I did too, and was sure I would look good to him. Black laced boots, an ankle-length earth colored skirt and a white blouse with some frills on it. I was determined to please him. I knew he wanted a girl on his arm he could be proud of, and my reflection in the mirror was just the way I thought he'd like me, pert, bubbly and cute. Quite a difference from four years ago.

Then, my reflection had been completely nude. Trembling with fright. And in the mirror with me, three boys. Big, fully clothed boys, who leered as they forced me to stand in front of the mirror with my hands on my head, unable to hide anything. They had been there to rape me. And as the mirror watched, they did.

I remembered their dirty comments, how they had used that mirror to make sure I saw my humiliation and their lust. I remembered their strength, brutishness and what it was like to be outnumbered by boys bigger and stronger than I was. The perverted things they had done to me and made me do, the pain and pleasure they had forced me to feel. And the surprising tenderness they had shown afterwards.

It had been a horror. For weeks afterwards, I'd carefully walk down the streets of Eau Claire to the house I shared with two girls, lock the door behind me, then go to my room and think about the "event", as I called it. My feelings were so confused. I'd lay on my bed dreaming of all the horrible forms of revenge I could take for their violation of my privacy, my intimacy, my body, but as I did I would think of what they had forced me to do, and the tingles would begin. My hand would slip into my pants and I'd rub and rub and shudder in orgasm.

Afterwards, my cheeks would burn and I'd cry, deeply shamed by my behavior and wishing they were dead. But I couldn't help it; the pleasure was delightful and I'd find myself wishing they were back. Sometimes I'd take all my clothes off and stand in front of the mirror, imagining they were in it, grinning as they watched me masturbate, the way they had once forced me to.

That mirror that had seen a lot that day, and nothing since. Until last night.

******

That night began at Chewy's, and had been the final straw for me.

After graduating from Chippewa Valley Technical Institute as a medical transcriptionist, I had surprised my family by taking a job in Manitowoc, a small town on Lake Michigan. If getting out of the house and into my own apartment had been a milestone in my life, moving two hundred sixty miles away had been another. I had fantasized about being really adventurous and moving out of Wisconsin, but decided to stay where I had some friends.

In Manitowoc, rent was cheap, food was cheap, everything was cheap. I worked at the Aurora Health Care Center on Lakeshore Drive, halfway between Manitowoc and Two Rivers, the pay enough for me to buy my own car and rent a fairly large apartment on Reed Avenue. I was really on my own, living an adult life. For the next three years I worked and went to the festivals and park parties. I'd swim at the Y, go to the county fair and treat myself to chocolate from Beernsten's candy store.

That was about it. Manitowoc is a quiet town. Millionaires park their boats at the marina, but the social life is centered around the athletic events at the local high school and the hundreds of small taverns on every corner. That was fine with me. I wasn't looking for any grand adventure, just a life with a husband, a house and a family. I hoped that would be easier to find in a small town. Manitowoc is a clean, green city, surrounded by beautiful countryside. Everything you need is within five miles of where you're standing; the schools are good and the crime rate practically non-existent. It seemed a great place to build a home and bring up kids

Provided you had a partner. By this time, I was twenty seven, still single, and hadn't had a real boyfriend since high school. At work, all the men were married, so I had to go to the bars to meet new people.

I had made a friend. Carrie Poulas worked in the cubicle next to me, and had spent her whole life in Manitowoc. She mentored me in the customs of the natives. This close to Green Bay you had to be up on what was new with the Packers. At the Manitowoc Maritime Museum, you had to tour the U.S.S. Cobia, the old submarine parked in the river, and be knowledgeable about its history and the streets near Culver Avenue that were named after submarines built there. You got your burgers at the Penquin, a garish old diner on Calumet that looked like it was out of a 1950's movie, and you condescendingly referred to Two Rivers as "Carptown", unless you lived in Two Rivers. Then you referred to Manitowoc as "Skunk Hollow". Just like Eau Claire, where we used to make jokes about Chippewa Falls. Seems every city needs a rival.

Romantically, Carrie was having the same problems as me. She still lived at home with her family, which made dating difficult. Neither of us liked to drink or be around people who did, but we had little choice. We once discussed getting all dolled up and seeing if we could get some rich people who owned boats to invite us on board, but nothing ever came of it. We were too shy, and felt we weren't pretty enough.

That night, after ranting about how hard it was to find a nice boy at this or that place, she suggested we go to Chewy's, a bar on Eighth Street. She said it was a sports bar, and attracted a somewhat older crowd. She explained that when she had been in high school, it had been called Uncle Thirsty's, and all the teachers and local professionals liked hanging out there. She hadn't been there in a long time, but it promised the best prospects, and it was someplace different.

At first, I was disappointed. There were no professionals there, just the usual sad drunks and a bunch of guys just turned twenty one, maybe younger, since I didn't see them carding. We weren't interested in them, and judging by the way they ignored us, the feeling was mutual. Then things picked up. Around eleven a group of men came in, fresh from a softball game. Right age, right attitude, and to the delight of Carrie and I, they started talking to us. We were having fun; the boys seemed positive, friendly. They bought us a round of drinks then invited us to play a game of darts.

I had never played before, and watched the first two boys to see how it was done. I had been talking to a guy named Rick, who handed me three darts and told me to step up to the line marked on the floor. When I got there he told me to touch my toes, which unthinking, I did.

And I felt a sudden sting in my rear. He had thrown the dart into my behind.

"Bull's-eye!" roared a male voice, and the entire bar filled with laughter. "Hard to miss a target that big…" "Scored at least fifty points..." "Next time, use a harpoon..." The nasty comments began to fly. The boys were all gathering around Rick, congratulating him. It had been a set up, right from the beginning. Furious and frustrated, I walked, no, stormed out of the bar, feeling the tears sting my eyes. Carrie rushed out to meet me.

"Laurie…"

"No!" I blurted out to her.

"Look, they're just some jerks who…"

"Even if they're jerks, why did they do that?" I cried. "What did I do wrong? Did I say something that …"

"Stop! Just stop it! Don't let them bother you."

"How can I not let them bother me? That hurt!" I was about to go on, but caught myself, and took a deep breath. "Look, all I want right now is to be alone."

Carrie looked skeptical; then nodded. "Can you get home ok?"

"Yes." I'd often gone home disappointed and always made it ok, but it was nice of her to be concerned. "Should I drive you home first? I'm ok to drive, really."

"No. I have some friends across the street. Over at Digger Dave's, I can get a ride from them."

"Oh." That was the first I'd heard that she had friends at a bar right around the corner. Why had she suggested Chewy's? I was about to ask her, irritated that she was still interested in going out, but decided not to pursue it. I watched her go into the tavern and behind her entered a boy and a girl, the boy looking at the girl with obvious adoration. A real couple, the kind I wanted to be a part of. The night's final insult.

I leaned against my car, looked up at the sky, the stars bright even against the lights of Eighth Street, so clear was the air. I thought about the idea of pushing thirty, and finding nobody. Was there nobody to find? Was I wrong to want what I wanted? Should I think of moving, again? Or was there just something hideously wrong with me that would follow me wherever I went?

I got in, closed the door and sat behind the wheel, trying not to burst out sobbing. I was afraid that if I started I'd never stop. I was struggling to get control of myself when a deep male voice greeted me from the back seat. "Hello, Laurie."

I recognized that voice

******

It was Frank. The boy who had led my gang rape four years ago. I don't know what expression was on my face as I turned to look at him, but it must have been something. The passenger door opened, and a man entered. A big man, a huge man, struggling to get into the seat in my Toyota Yaris. It was Ted. He had also raped me that day.

"Get the car started." Frank was as commanding as ever.

I felt cold. I couldn't say or do anything. Ted took the keys out of my hand, put them in the ignition, and started the car.

"Drive," said Frank. "Straight."

Shock. It must have been, for it was like I was watching somebody else as I put the car in gear and started north on Eighth Street. Up the hill, past Holy Corners, past the sporting goods store. We crossed Waldo Boulevard, stopped at the light at the Piggly Wiggly. Frank ordered me to turn right on Reed Avenue, and we passed the Kentucky Fried Chicken, the hospital, crossed the bridge over the Little Manitowoc River and came up to Johnson Drive. Frank told me to turn left and I did, the rusty ruins of the nearly empty mall on my right. Frank told me to turn left again, and we were in the parking lot of my apartment complex. Frank directed me right into my assigned parking space. They knew where I lived, knew where I parked my car. They had been stalking me again.

Ted turned the car off, took the keys. He got out, went to the driver's side, opened the door and took my hand. Still numb, I got out of the car, Frank behind me. Another car, a big SUV, pulled up in the space next to us. Two girls, one in her late twenties, the other younger, got out with six-packs of beer in their hands, loud and laughing. Out of the driver's side came a young man who seemed made of squares. It was Bill, call me Bo. He had been following us. The whole rape team was back.

Ted and Frank hooked their arms in mine, with Bill walking behind me. They handed my keys to the girls, who went ahead of us to open the doors. To anybody watching it would appear that I had some company visiting, and they would not notice that the boys had me boxed in with no way to escape. My heart began to beat harder as they led me into the building. Frank whispered. "You know we're here to rape you, right?" I didn't reply, but the squeeze my arms gave as I cringed must have told both Frank and Ted that yes, I knew that they were there to rape me, again. Just like last time, it had come from out of the blue and happened very fast.

I didn't have a clue how to stop them.

******

We were all in my bedroom.

Frank sat on the bed, drinking a beer. Four years older but as I remembered him. Five foot ten, one hundred sixty pounds. His thick brown hair was still curly, but cut shorter. I noticed his designer glasses, a big improvement from the coke-bottle bottoms he'd worn before. He was wearing khaki slacks, a nice sweater and expensive shoes, looked successful.

Leaning against a dresser, Ted was different. He dominated the room with his six foot six inch frame, but the mullet was gone, his dirty blonde hair now cut short but hardly fashionable. He wore khaki shorts with a black polo shirt, and I suspected he'd drifted into a blue collar career. He was grinning, showing that familiar gap between his teeth.

Also in khaki shorts with a white polo shirt, Bill leaned against the bedroom door, which he had closed behind him. Bill, call me Bo; five foot four tall and five foot four wide. His nose and other features were still sharp, but his blonde hair was not as short as I remembered it.

The two girls sat on the divan in front of my vanity, sipping beer and looking at me curiously. The older girl was short, plump, wearing a black dress, her brunette hair cut in a page. The younger one was probably blonde but had her hair dyed purple. She was thin, wearing a choker with gold beads, baggy black pants and a black bustier that showed her belly. Her eyes were done up in punky raccoon makeup and she had several piercings. I stood there waiting. Bill spoke first. "You remember the drill," he said. "Get your clothes off." And the two girls giggled.

If it had been just the boys, I probably would have done it. While undressing in front of three boys had been indescribably embarrassing, I had done it and survived. But now they wanted me to do it while girls watched, and that changed everything. I've always had body image issues. In school I had worn my gym clothes under my regular clothes so I wouldn't have to undress in front of other girls. I was afraid of what they might say about my body. I had been ashamed of my body and I guess I still was, because I couldn't do it, and I told them so.

They were not pleased. Frank came up to whisper in my ear. "You know, if you don't, we're just going to have to rip them off." But I was in a bad mood after what happened at Chewy's, and it bugged me that he'd whisper like that. "If you have something to say, say it where the whole room can hear!" I said that in a strong, clear voice.

Frank was surprised. "What?"

"Say it so everybody can hear!"

"If you don't take your clothes off, we'll have to rip them off."

"What's stopping you?" All the boys expressed their surprise with wide eyes and silence. I got bolder. "Do it or leave me alone!" Bill looked at Ted, who looked at Frank, who looked at Bill. It was like watching the Three Stooges and I snorted, which must have decided things for them.

"Ok," said Ted, who grabbed my left arm, which I pulled away. Bill grabbed me from behind, and I pushed my butt back into him, that butt that he always joked was so big. It turned out to be big enough to give him a good shove, and before he recovered I made my move for the door. Frank lunged at me from the side as Bill grabbed me again from behind and lifted me off the floor. I weigh one-hundred-eighty pounds, and he stumbled backwards, giving me the chance to give Frank a good kick in the chest, sending him against the wall. But Ted had grabbed one wrist in his big paw, Bill had grabbed the other, and they began twisting my arms behind my back. I began yelling.

"Man, shut her up!" said Bill.

I tried to get my wrists free while kicking back at them, but wasn't strong enough. Frank was rummaging through my dresser while Ted and Bill twisted my arms and forced me to bend over. I heard the brunette say "use this"; felt metal, heard two clinks, and then my arms were securely locked behind my back. They had handcuffed me. They had come prepared.

I still tried to kick, but it was hard in that bent over position, and then Bill and Ted hooked their arms in mine and lifted me off the floor. I raised my head to yell again and felt something soft. Frank had shoved a rag into my mouth, and then tied one of my stockings around my head to hold it in place. I still flailed around, but suspended and handcuffed there wasn't much I could do.

"Now strip her!" said the purple-haired girl. "Get her naked!" added the brunette. As if the boys needed cheerleaders. Frank reached down to my left shoe, roughly pulled it and my black sock off. He did the same to the other foot, positioning his shin to block any kicks I might make. Tugging at my belt, he pulled it right out of my black slacks, undid the button and pulled it apart so hard the zipper broke. The other boys lifted me higher as he worked my slacks over my hips and pulled them off, first one leg then the other, throwing them into a corner.

"Bend her over," he said.

Bracing themselves, Bill and Ted put me on my feet, and bent me over. Frank pulled and tugged at the light blue sweater I was wearing, but was frustrated trying to get it off while I was handcuffed. I looked up to see the brunette hand him the shearing scissors I kept on the dresser. Frank made an incision at the bottom hem of the sweater, reached down and with great strength ripped it in half, all the way up to my neck. He pulled and tore at it, and it hurt as he ripped it around my shoulders. He soon had the sweater lying in pieces on the floor. He cut the bra straps and my boobs dangled free. Frank ordered them to suspend me again, and he began pulling my white panties down. I spread my legs to try to stop him, but he just pulled harder, and I heard them tear as he yanked them over my feet.

And so they had me. Naked, handcuffed, gagged and suspended off the floor. I looked over at the girls and was embarrassed to see them checking out my bare body. The brunette's eyes focused between my legs. "She's a natural blonde!" she said, and I tried to cross my legs to hide my genitals.

"Check this out," said Ted as he and Bill turned me around. "Is that a big ass, or what?"

The girls laughed their agreement, and for the second time that night my behind stung as Bill gave me a hard smack on my rear. I felt both shame and rage, but gagged like that I couldn't say anything. Frank whispered something, and they turned me around and threw me on my back onto the bed. Twisted behind, my arms hurt as I bounced. Ted grabbed my right ankle, Bill my left, and as I futilely fought them, they began spreading my legs, wider and wider until I felt the tendons in my thighs begin to stretch. Frank had more of my stockings and began wrapping them around my knees, tying them off to the posts of the expensive bed that I now regretted buying. He pulled hard, leaning back to put his body weight into it. When he was finished, my knees were tightly bound to the posts, my feet sticking out over the sides of the bed. With bonds as tight as the handcuffs, they nearly had me doing the splits.

The boys stepped back, breathing hard, their faces flushed. They looked down at me and congratulated each other, high-fiving themselves over their success.

"We won!" said Ted.

"Jolly good hunt old man!" replied Bill.

Coming over to join them, something caught Frank's eye. "Look at this," he said. "Remember this thing?"

A grin passed between them. They moved the mirror, my big full length mirror, to the foot of the bed and adjusted it so that my situation was reflected in it. Frank addressed the girls. "Ladies, come take a look at Laurie Vannes, the hottest fuck in Eau Claire and back for more!"

Breathing through my nose, I lifted my head and looked down. Déjà vu; I saw myself naked, tears in my eyes, my legs spread wide and my genitals exposed and vulnerable. In the mirror with me, three boys and two girls, fully clothed and leering, their eyes shining with anticipation. They could do anything they wanted to me.