Raw Drafts / Theater Kid

Theater Kid For The Win

Part 1

They say you never forget your first, but I barely remember mine. It was really almost entirely an accident, plus I was absolutely impaired. But, when the opportunity for the second one showed up in front of me, the memory of the first rose to the forefront and I knew what I had to do. 

***

I was in my senior year of college finishing a degree in Theater Arts Management with a minor in acting. I had a pretty solid head for business and I was no Meryl Streep, but I could put on a good performance for the right role. I took a Spring Break trip to another college for an exchange program

***

We spent the entire night flirting. Starting out at the theater then continuing when the group moved to the local bar they favored. He didn’t quite fit in but wasn’t entirely an outsider. There was lots of talking close to each other’s ears, light touching on arms, a hand at my lower back. That hand tried to move down and I shifted out of range entirely to avoid him grabbing my ass. It should have been a clue, but, again, I was fairly impaired. I wouldn’t realize it until later. Which, I really should have caught on much earlier, since one of the girls in the group followed me to the bathroom and warned me that he had a reputation. He was known for pushing limits and not being a good guy. But she wouldn’t say anything more than that. Knowing my own experience with martial arts and my ability to defend myself, I wasn’t worried about him taking advantage of me. 

So, when we kissed and it was pretty good, we moved outside. Kissing outside the door then moving around the corner into an alley. I was very into it until his hand slid up my shirt and grabbed harder than I would tolerate. I tried to tug his hand away and instead he pinched my nipple harder than the grab had been. 

“Ouch!” I shouted. 

“Oh, come on. It wasn’t that hard.” He pressed me against the wall, leaning in to kiss me again. Since his hand was out of my shirt and he was a really good kisser I kissed him back. This time his hand grabbed my breast over my shirt, but just as hard as the first time. That was worse because I wasn’t expecting it. 

“OUCH!” I shouted, shoving at him. “I told you that hurt!” 

“But you didn’t tell me to stop.” He answered with a nasty grin. 

“Well, stop. Don’t grab my boobs hard like that.” He moved in to kiss me again, but I put my hand out to hold him back. “I don’t like things rough. At all. Ever.” I stated emphatically. 

“Ok. ok. I won’t do it again.” He replied, leaning in to resume the kiss. I really ought to have stopped it then, but with being drunk and him really seeming like an incredible kisser, in the moment, I didn’t. I don’t know what I thought was going to happen, but that is only something you think about later on. They talk in romance books all the time about making out and doing multiple times of just kissing or kissing and fondling before doing the deed, so I guess I figured this would be one of those times. 

It wasn’t. 

I had my arms wrapped around his neck, our lips plastered together, his hands roaming my ribs and back, gently cupping my butt. Sliding one hand down a bit, he lifted my leg up, hooking it on his hip, the skirt I was wearing naturally sliding down to my hip.. As he was doing that his lips had moved from my lips to my jaw and were toying with my neck.God that felt good. I hadn’t realized how long it had been since I’d been that fevered and pleasured by a man.

Then in the blink of an eye, he was somehow pressing me hard into the brick wall of the bar and was grabbing me hard in my most delicate place. I tried to shout out, but he put his other hand over my mouth, muffling the noise. I obviously dropped my leg, but could only move so much with his hand squeezing and pinching my labia through my panties. I knew I was a bit wet from the kissing and wondered if he could feel it. Something told me he didn’t care either way. 

“Stop it!” I tried yelling around his hand, shoving my hands against his shoulders. Remembering too late that he was on some sports team and was pretty fucking strong and heavy. When he didn’t change anything he was doing to me, I reached my own hand between our bodies, looking for his dick. Thinking I had changed my mind, he shifted enough that I could reach it, but not enough that I could escape. I never did figure out how he managed that. But, I managed to get ahold of his very clearly aroused dick and reach down and squeeze it along with his balls as hard as I could squeeze my hand. I did try to not dig my fingernails in. Too many crime drama episodes told me I didn’t want his skin under my fingernails, but it wasn’t a conscious thought and I couldn’t have told you why. 

The squeeze managed to cause enough pain to piss him off enough to shift away from me.

“What the fuck!” he said, outraged. “Bitch.” he said, releasing his hand from my mouth so he could slap my face. 

That is when the training kicked in. This was almost exactly a scenario we had practiced in the dojo. I kicked him hard in the balls, focusing on the “follow through” of technically aiming for his belly button. This bent him in half at the waist. Switching legs I brought my knee up hard against his head. He had stumbled a bit away from me so my knee only connected with his forehead, but it disoriented him. I heard a noise that could only be described as an inhuman growl, that’s how it would be described in a book, and I realized he was charging at me. Now having the space to do so, I stepped out of his line of attack, thinking only of my own self preservation. Without me in the way, he barreled head first into the brick wall at a scary speed. He crumpled to the ground. I stood there for a moment, stunned, wondering what I should do, if anything. 

The fellow theater girl’s words about him pushing limits floated through my mind. Serves him right.  I thought, and decided to return to our friends. Checking my clothes and running my hand over my hair I left the alley. I double checked my hair and makeup in the window of the bar. I looked like nothing had happened. I didn’t even think I looked like I’d been making out. 

Walking up to our table I noted about half the group had left. My roommate was still there. 

“I was waiting for you.” She said with a smile. “Are you ready or …” she trailed off, clearly asking if I was leaving with someone else. 

“I’m ready. Those last couple shots wiped me out.” I used as an excuse. 

“Where did … whoever, go?” She couldn’t remember his name either. 

“I don’t know. I think home?” I lied smoothly. Not knowing exactly why I lied, but feeling it had something to do with all those crime shows. Leaving the bar we headed back to the dorm room we were staying in for the weekend and crashed. It was the last night (did I mention this above) of our stay, so the following day we packed everything up and were gone by noon. 

I didn’t think anything more about him until the following weekend when a bunch of us were out at our own favorite haunt and one of the other theater majors that had gone on the trip with us told the group. He explained he had been found in the alley with an assumed concussion and bleeding in the brain. No one found him until almost noon the following day so they couldn’t be certain of the concussion because he was already dead. He obviously framed it as some huge tragedy but considering the warning and his treatment of me, I wasn’t sure it was actually much of a tragedy. I didn’t say anything about making out with him or going into the alley with him. I just nodded along like everyone else. 

Later, I did some internet sleuthing and found some very private groups of women sharing warnings, where I found his name and photo posted multiple times. They were totally unrelated groups and as far as I could tell the women each had tangential connections to each other, at best. Knowing there were only a few places considered verifiable “truth” I looked up the police records for the places he had lived and that the women were from.  I found multiple arrests for fairly violent charges that were later dropped or plead down. The worse being charged with a strangling charge of some sort and a violation with an object, that were both plead down to disorderly conduct. Seeing that made me want to scream and throw up. It also made me realize that I was right, his loss was not so tragic or terrible for the world. Hopefully those women would find out about his demise and get some peace and closure in knowing he couldn’t hurt anyone else. 

I spent the rest of the semester focused on finishing my final projects and finding a job after graduation, so I kind of forgot about it until I found myself in a bar again with a man being a little too aggressive.