"Clayton?" I said.
He turned quickly and before I could react, leaned forward and kissed me. It took me by such surprise I was speechless. I thought I might even laugh. It was the most awkward kiss in history, I thought. He missed my lips and kissed my cheek.
&nbs
p; "Olivia Gordon, I do find myself attracted to you," he declared.
"What?"
"I think we could be very successful together." "Clayton, we've just gone out for the first time and I hardly think
He lunged at me again, this time seizing my shoulders so he could pull me toward him. His lips fell on my neck. I started to struggle. He held me tightly, surprising me with the strength in his fingers, and then he practically dove at my breasts, pressing his mouth to them and shoving his tongue into my cleavage, the hot wetness nauseating me immediately. He groped at my bosom and maneuvered himself until his weight was on me, his left leg trapping my right leg.
I cried out and continued to struggle, but he pressed on, pushing his pelvis against my hip. I felt his gyrations and heard his quickened breathing and moans. As he lowered more and more of his weight on me, I began to feel like someone drowning, someone being pushed under water.
I managed to get my right hand out from between our bodies where it had been locked against his chest and my own, and I began to pound the top of his head. He didn't seem to mind or to feel it. His movements grew more frenzied until he cried out like a man in pain and collapsed against me.
For a long moment we lay there, motionless. I was afraid to turn or straighten up, afraid he would initiate some new attack on me. His breathing grew more regular.
Then, he suddenly sat up, straightened his tie and wiped back his hair.
"Thank you," he said. "That was very nice."
"Take me home immediately," I said with as much command in my voice as I could muster. I was still so surprised and frightened, I couldn't stop my heart from pounding.
"Of course," he said calmly. "It's just the right time anyway."
He started the engine. I sat as far from him as I could, my shoulder against the door. He turned the car around and drove down the gravel road, not speaking until we were on the highway.
"So," he said, "you like the property. I'm going to buy it this week. I can build us a beautiful home there."
"Not me," I said. "You can't do anything for me."
"Pardon?"
"I don't know how or where you got the idea you and I could ever . . . Just shut up, Clayton. Just take me home."
"Really? I thought . . . Oh. Well, you should give consideration to the value of that property and the potential a marriage would bring to our families and ourselves."
I said nothing until we reached my house. He started to get out to open my door, but I jumped out of the car and slammed the door before he could come around.
"Good night, Olivia," he said. "Can I see you again?"
"See me again," I said nearly laughing. "I think you're a sick, disgusting individual. I don't want to ever see you again," I said and rushed up the steps and into the house.
Both of my parents were still up, my mother reading, my father watching the late news on television. He lowered the volume immediately after he set eyes on me. Mother put her book on her lap and smiled. A few moments after looking at me, however, that smile evaporated.
"What happened?" Daddy asked, his eyes small. I couldn't hide my emotions from him. Besides, my hair was messed and I looked like I had tumbled down a hill.
"Clayton is an oaf," I replied.
"What happened?" Mother asked, her lips trembling in anticipation.
"He was not the gentleman he pretends to be," I said. "Let's leave it like that. Okay?" I followed looking at Daddy.
"All right," he said. "No harm done, I suppose."
"Fortunately, no," I said and marched up the stairs to my room. When I looked at myself in the mirror and saw how disheveled I looked, how far I was from the pretty, put-together young woman I had been earlier in the evening, I started to cry. Then I sucked in my tears, telling myself this is just what Belinda would do.