Surviving the ravages of life

"It looks amazing Sara. Honestly, you look beautiful in it. Like really stunning."

"I don't know Phoebe, where would I wear it, I don't go out much these days. I'm a bit of an old maid."

"You could wear it anywhere, it's not like formal or anything. It'd be great just for going to a pub or something."

Seeing an opening, I replied. "Tell you what. If you'll go with me, we could go out for a drink somewhere?"

"Go out." She spluttered. "I'm not sure."

"That's all right. I understand."

"No, I mean I'd love to go out with you, like for a drink. Not on a date or anything, but, I'm not sure I'm ready."

I held her shoulders, smiled reassuringly and said. "it's okay Phoebe, relax. I might buy it anyway. You never know when you're going to need a little black dress."

Back at her apartment, she asked. "Do you have time for a coffee or something?"

"No, sorry, I have a patient coming in."

"Oh... right. Thanks for going with me today."

"Phoebe, can we go down to the police station tomorrow?"

She nodded. "Yeah, guess so. I do want to make sure he gets the longest sentence."

"Good, what time?"

"Afternoon maybe. Give me a chance to build up some courage."

"Three O'clock?"

"Yeah, I'll be ready."

I drove away, with my heart beating erratically, my face felt flushed. It had been a long time since feeling that way. I was attracted to her, and it was more than a mild interest. Bugger, a patient. That was against all the rules, and my ethics as well.

I had to slap myself. Phoebe, was off limits, not only was she a patient, but a very vulnerable one. If only she wasn't so... So... Alluring. The rest of the day was difficult. My mid drifted back to the feel of her as I held her close.

She appeared completely lost as she pulled the door shut behind her. "Are you ready?"

She nodded, although hesitantly. She fidgeted with her skirt, toyed with the necklace that dangled between her cleavage. "Is that Citrine?" My eyes fixed on the little sparkly gem between her fingers.

"Yeah, my grandfather gave it to me."

"It's beautiful."

She held it up so I could see it better. "There's two Peridots on the top. They're supposed to bring good luck."

"Phoebe, we don't need luck. This is just you telling your story. Just as you did to me the other day. If we let them video your statement. It would stand in court as well."

She squeezed the necklace, swallowing hard.

We were escorted into an interview room, and the two female officers set up the recording equipment, and Phoebe, was directed to the chair facing the cameras.

She struggled, her tension palpable. Twice she had to run to the ladies room.

"Right, Phoebe. We're recording. Start whenever you're ready."

Slowly, detail, by painful detail. She related the events of that day. Even the officers cringed as she detailed every punch, every kick, slap and of course the suffocating strangulation. Then the final smashing her head up and down on the blood covered tiles.

Three times she had to stop for a glass of water. She wasn't the only one. It brought back painful memories of my own assault. This bastard at least was going down, and hopefully for a very long tine.

As we walked out to the car, she leaned against me. My arm circling her waist for support. Her eyes, red and raw. Her cheeks tear stained, her nose red from the constant wiping.

"God I could use a drink." She sighed.

"We could stop at a pub, if you really need something."

"Could we?" Her eyes pleading.

I spotted a clear parking space outside the Empire Tavern on Nelson Street. "What would you like Phoebe?"

"Vodka, and orange please."

"I'll have a glass of Chardonnay please." After paying I guided her to a small table out in the atrium.

"How are you feeling after that?"

"Surprisingly better."

"You were very brave Phoebe. I realise it must have been difficult, but it will hopefully earn him some extra time inside to think about the harm he's caused."

"Do you think it matters? I looked into his eyes, as he strangled me. I begged for mercy, but there was none. His eyes, god they were empty, no remorse, no empathy. Certainly no conscience."

"The true signs of a sociopath."

She shivered, taking a large sip of her drink. "Thanks for stopping. I really needed something to take the edge off. I felt completely strung out."

"It's fine. To be honest. I needed this as well."

"What are your plans for the evening?"

"Me... Oh I don't know. By the time I cook dinner, it will be late. I have some notes to read for a patient tomorrow."

"Homework huh?"

I smirked at her joke. "Yes, there's no escaping it unfortunately."

"What nights do your rape support groups meet?"

"Tuesdays and Thursdays."

"Do you attend, like do you organise, and chair them?"

I nodded. "I attend, and yes, organise. I try to switch the chair though. I'm hoping somebody will take over."

"You must get sick of hearing nothing but sad news. I can't imagine you get a lot of funny stories, or confessions."

"It can be stressful, but it has rewards as well. Seeing people take control of their lives. Watching them slowly crawl back to the light. That is such a wonderful experience."

"Does everybody make it back to the light?"

"Not all, but most, eventually."

"Isn't it hard reliving rape? Surely it must take you back."

"Yes, that can be tricky, but I try to focus on the good bits."

"There are good bits?"

"Phoebe, at some point everybody has to take ownership of their own life. I made a decision. I wasn't going to spend the rest of my life living in fear. I haven't forgotten, but I try to concentrate on the pleasant aspects of life."

"You think I'm playing the victim then?" Her tone accusatory.

"Heavens no. Your rape, is fresh, your injuries still hurt. It takes time for that darkness to lift."

"Thank you." She sighed. "How come you don't have a date?"

"To busy really. Work can be challenging. I have only recently started my own practice. I have had to work hard to grow it. To build a reputation, get people to understand they can trust and depend on me."

She smiled... I felt my tummy flip, tingle. God, when she smiled it was like a light turned on. "You can sign me up for your fan club. I can't believe how much you've helped me. I think I'd be hiding under my bed at Mum's place if it weren't for you."

"That's silly, you are much stronger than that. You have been through a huge traumatising ordeal. You shouldn't expect to just get over it. You have to allow for bad days, when for no reason it all comes flooding back. Trust me, it will happen."

She jumped up out of her seat. "Your glass is empty. I'll get us another." I watched her walk to the bar. What a stunning creature. She didn't exactly have a statuesque hour glass figure. She wasn't athletic, or muscular. There was however a presence about her.

She didn't glide like a runway model, there wasn't an elegant grace to her meandering stroll. There was something about her though, who knows what it was but I couldn't take my eyes off her. Her bum, stretched the tight denim of her skirt, it wasn't short, but there was the hint of creamy thigh beneath.

I tried not to stare, or ogle as she walked back to the table. We sat in a comfortable silence. We sipped rather than gulped.

"You don't do casual dating?" She asked.

"I date, not often recently, but yes I date."

I watched on interestedly, as she toyed with her glass. It was nervous, filled with anxiety. One finger sliding around the rim of the glass, the other twisting the stem. There were questions, but for the life of me, I couldn't decipher it.

"Sorry, Phoebe, but I have to go. Are you going to be all right?"

She looked up, her breasts rising as she sucked in a huge breath. "Yes, I'm the one who should be sorry. Thanks for coming with me today, and taking the time to sit with me." She threw back the last of her drink.

In the car she asked. "Should I still come to my session?"

"What, good lord. Of course you should. I was hoping you might like to attend one of my support groups. Thursday is the better night, there are usually about nine women."

Parked outside her apartment building, she reached over and lifted my hand. Squeezing softly. She looked at me with those wonderful brown eyes. "Thanks, Sara."

God, what was I doing. The desire to grab her and kiss her so crushingly overwhelming. I felt like a drowning woman, fighting against a wild rip. My senses clouded in her scent. Hints of Lavender, honeysuckle. I could taste it, the musk was so heavy.

She looked sad, like a cuddly toy begging for a cuddle. I yearned to hold her, to run my hands through her hair. Sinking... surrendering to my desires. I was about to make a terrible mistake, when she let my hand go and climbed out of the car.

"Bye..." She whispered with a little wave as she closed the door and walked slowly across the pavement.

"Oh my god. Pull yourself together girl." I muttered, sliding the car into gear. "She isn't even queer."

"Bugger." I complained. The chairs had all been stacked away, and now I had to unfold them and set them out. I put out twelve, you never know. There might be a couple of extras. The group was fairly settled. We did get new faces who appeared to see what it was all about.

Mostly they were women who had suffered, and survived rape. One poor woman, who had been raped multiple times by the same man. Her uncle for gods sake. She had been so traumatised, so petrified She didn't report it the first couple of times. He took that as some sort of invitation. The third time though was when she realised she had to do something.

The court case had been horrific. Her Uncle claiming it was consensual. Thankfully, the judge saw through it. Her victim impact statement outlined her reasons for not reporting it. Her Uncle was very close to her mother, he had saved her from a house fire when they were younger. She knew reporting his crime might destroy her relationship with her mother.

It did destroy a relationship... Just not hers. It was her mothers relationship with her brother that burned irrevocably, not hers. They in fact grew closer than ever. Her mother flooded with guilt for not seeing the signs was devastated. She came to me for many sessions trying to assuage her guilt.

The attendees drifted in, I made tea, and lifted the tea towel covering the biscuits I baked. Peanut brownies, caramel squares. I loved to bake, and these group sessions were my feeble excuse for feeding my urges.

We stood around, idly chatting, enjoying the delicious morsels. "Hi, Sara."

I turned to the voice. "Oh Phoebe." I opened my arms, and she walked into my hug. Although with a cup and saucer in one hand, and a half eaten caramel square in the other. I couldn't hold her as I wanted.

"Sweetie, make yourself a drink, and there's some cookies on the bench." When she returned, I introduced her to the other girls, who all welcomed her with open arms. There were kisses and tight hugs. Words of welcome.

I watched as her nervousness evaporated. "How did you get here?" I asked.

"My friend Selina dropped me off. I was hoping I could get a ride home with somebody afterwards."

"I can drive you love. No worries."

Finally, we all sat down, the chairs in a tight circle. The usual attendees, were already holding hands. "Phoebe, we like to start by holding hands, and giving thanks."

She followed the others as the hands linked around the circle. "Thank you ladies for coming along tonight. Thank you for being such wonderful caring souls."

Slowly each woman in the circle offered their thanks as well. Phoebe, added her thanks, although hers was just a greeting.

"Would somebody like to start?"

"I had a bad day today." Felicity, one of our longest standing members said. "I can't explain it. I was at the supermarket, standing in the line to get served. This man, got to close. I could feel him bumping into me. The more I tried to move away, it felt like he tried to push closer. In the end, I screamed for help. People came rushing, and the man stood there staring embarrassed and confused."

"What happened?"

"I had to explain to the store manager, and he took some notes. The man apologised saying there was no intent, and he was sorry I interpreted his movements as creepy."

"Was he being creepy?" Joan asked.

"I thought so, but later when I sat in the car. I'm not sure. I think I over reacted."

"No, you did the right thing." Belinda, added. "Better safe than sorry, aye!"

"Not all stories during the share were bad. There were good ones, funny ones. Spirit lifting shares. Phoebe, didn't really participate, apart from scoffing the remaining cookies.

She helped me stack away the chairs at the end. "Where did you buy the peanut brownies? They were delicious."

"I baked them today."

"You made them... Wow, they're hip broadening good."

"Thanks, and thank you for coming along tonight. Did you get anything from it?"

"Yeah, it was insightful actually. Listening to the other girls talk about their anxiety. How they deal with it. That in itself reassured me. Just knowing others have walked my path. That there is a chance for a normal life."

"Everything is possible, the only boundaries that hold us back are those which we erect. We... You are capable of anything. All you have to do is work for it."

"Would you like to come up for a drink?" She asked as we pulled up outside her apartment block.

"No, I better not. I have to drive home."

"Oh." She sounded disappointed. "Would one hurt, I have wine?"

Sensing there was more to the request than her wanting a drinking partner. I nodded. "Yes, let's. A wine would be a nice way to complete the night."

Her apartment looked nice, she kept it immaculately clean, almost clinically clean. It made me wonder if she suffered OCD...

She poured us both a glass of what smelled like a lovely Chablis. I sat beside her on the small two seater couch. "Thanks for coming up."

"No thanks needed Phoebe."

"I have to go back to work next week, and I'm scared. I have tried to get out and mingle with people but I chicken out. I'm worried that I'll freak out and look like a complete nincompoop."

"we could meet up tomorrow, and go shopping, if that's any help?"

"Really... I loved that day we shared. Don't you have to work though?"

"I can rearrange things. I could schedule a couple of hours late tomorrow afternoon?"

"Sweet, thanks Sara. You've been so awesome."

"We're friends, Phoebe. I want to help."

"Friends?"

"I like to think so."

She grinned nervously, played with the glass, swirled the wine. Her eyes catching mine, then quickly looking away. "I like that... Friends. It sounds so much better than therapist."

Trying to stifle my giggle. I said stupidly. "Do you know the absolute worst part of my job?"

With a curiously dubious frown, she replied, "No... What?"

"The name... Therapist."

"What's wrong with that?"

"Well. If you break it down, and I mean you don't have to even rearrange the letters. Therapist... It spells, 'the rapist'."

I saw the gasp of disbelief, before the smile. "You are the rapist, who works as a rape crisis support person."

"Terrible isn't it."

"Ironic, I suppose." She sniggered sardonically.

"Phoebe, I have to go. Thanks for the drink."

She walked me to the door, "What time should I come to your office?"

"Three O'clock would be perfect."

"Sweet, see you then." We leaned in for a hug, and the warmth of her body radiated through me, little shock waves of desire forcing my nerves to stretch and tingle. I held tight, my eyes closing embracing the contact, the beat of her heart.

"Bye." I said as we separated, and I headed for the elevators.

"you stupido." I snarled at myself, the elevator doors opening on the ground floor. "Blimmin fool." I admonished myself quietly. "She's a flaming patient."

My legs parted, my fingers finding their way into my vagina, already moist, sticky and gooey. The lustful carnality seeping, flowing through every nerve ending in my body. I gasped as I convulsed, stretched. My vagina clutching wantonly on my fingers.

Like pebbles of yearning. My nipples rubbed on my goose bumpy arms. The images wouldn't go away. They flooded my central cortex. Phoebe's beatific face her breasts, her legs. "Oh god." I moaned in ecstatic pleasure as I imagined her soft full lips grazing mine. Whispering how much she liked the feel of my fingers.

I imagined her taste, my own juices sticking to my flesh as I licked the delicious stickiness from my fingers.

My hips thrust jerkily against the palm of my hand as it plunged deep into my salacious depths. Faster, harder, deeper. The orgasm raced down the tracks, a thunderous wave crashing bursting on the beach. Higher and higher it built.

Then, with my body shuddering uncontrollably. I came, an explosive body draining cum that made magnitude 8 earthquakes insignificant.

The next day, those lurid images persisted. Everything I said or did, there she was, smiling at me... Taunting me. When she finally turned up looking especially delightful. I felt new waves of attraction. A femme goddess. Her heels, pushed her cute tushy up just enough. The yellow dress fitted just right. The ultimate blend of woman and seductress.

"Are you ready?" She asked, as I pulled my office door closed behind me.

"Yes, lets go. Have credit card, will travel."

"Have you done a lot of travelling?" She asked.

"Not a heck of a lot. I had planned to travel around America, but the rape spoilt that for me. I struggled to trust people after that. I know I talk a lot about moving on and letting go, the truth is, I struggled with exactly that. Zac, the guy who raped me I thought of as a friend. He used to hang with our little group. The girls loved him because he was never without money. He always brought all the drinks."

"Wow, slimy bugger. I'm sorry you missed out on the fun bits."

I hugged her, as we walked out into the bright daylight. "Lets focus on shopping, forget everything else."

We chatted warmly as we walked in and out of boutiques. The big box stores, the little speciality stores. We laughed, we talked about nursing, and why she decided that was her thing.

We talked about her time down in Dunedin. It was a party town after all. The city was built around the University, and the students ruled the local pubs.

I felt her hand slide into mine, as we wandered into the mall. It overflowed with people, kids running around, shoppers and people in a hurry. The atmosphere changed, and I sensed her fear overwhelming her. I needed something to distract her, and it turned up in the form of Laurels, a little lingerie boutique.

I dragged her in, immediately surprised by her interest. We looked through the racks. She picked up several skimpy little bras. A couple she held against me. "This would be so hot on you." She cooed flatteringly.

"I don't really wear lingerie, not like that." I muttered.

"You should though, you have the perfect body for it. So ripe and curvy."

I blushed at her assessment. I wasn't exactly model thin. I always admired those waifishly thin girls. Lusted after more like. God, I would love to have that physique. Unfortunately, I had the curvy girl, okay, that's the polite way of describing my slightly overweight form.

She held up the tiniest bra, held it against herself. "I think I might get this one. What do you think?"

The thing was so small, dainty, the burgundy colour suited her perfectly, the sexy lace, trimmed with black looked so Blimmin sexy.

I nodded. "Yes, it does look nice."

She waved to the shop assistant, and we were shown to the fitting room. I waited outside like a security guard, listening to the ruffle of clothes until she popped her head out of the curtain. "Come in, I need your opinion."