I push my hands against his chest and am able to break the connection by taking two steps back toward the wall. “I need some space. It’s a lot of people and activity upstairs, and—”
“Where’s Christopher?” he interrupts, and he closes the distance between us, pushing me up against the wall of the room. Coats are now all around us, and even if someone came into the room, I doubt they would be able to see us behind all the furs and leathers.
“Can you please go upstairs and tell him I’d like to go home?” I ask, panic setting in as Michael is not backing away but pinning me against the wall instead with his hands on each side of me.
“Ah, you don’t need to leave now.” His breath is on my face. “Not when you are upset. Let me make you feel better.”
Michael places his lips on my neck and begins assaulting my skin with wet kisses all over.
I try to push him away, but he’s not budging. “Michael, stop. Stop!”
“Shh,” he says as he moves his lips to my mouth and kisses. “You don’t want someone to hear us. If Christina comes in and catches us, she’ll be devastated. You don’t want to do that to her, now do you? Not to your friend. And Christopher… what will he think if he catches us being intimate?”
“I don’t want this,” I say in a low voice, trying to turn my face away from his kiss, but he only pushes harder and with more force.
His hand lowers and finds the bottom of my dress. He lifts it out of the way and fingers the edge of my panties before I’m able to do anything. I try to take hold of his wrist, but nothing I do stops his advance.
“Michael, I think you’ve had too much to drink,” I say as I do whatever I can to break free from his hold but can’t fight off his strength. “Please don’t do this. Christina and Christopher—”
“Will never know,” he cuts in as he somehow lowers my panties to my thigh. “It will be our little secret.”
His finger pushes past my folds and enters inside me. I gasp at the intrusion. Shame and fear make my knees weak, but I’m too paralyzed with indecision to fight him off. I want to scream for help, but I don’t want Christina to know what her husband is doing. Michael’s right in the fact that she’d be devastated. And what will Christopher do if he finds out his wife has another man’s finger inside her pussy? He may never forgive me.
I can claw and punch, but then that can draw attention to the coat room as well. No, I have to handle this discretely. This has to be our little secret, like Michael said.
“Don’t do this,” I plead. “Michael, I’m asking you to stop. No one will have to know this happened. I won’t tell anyone.”
“Exactly,” he says, pushing his lips hard against mine and pulling us to the ground. “No one has to know.”
Within seconds, he’s on top of me, lowering his pants. My dress is pulled up to my stomach, my panties down to my ankles now, and I know what’s coming.
I push against his chest hard, considering gouging out his eyes, but before I can decide if I possess the internal fortitude to do so, he reaches for my hands and confines them up above my head. With his weight and strength, there is nothing I can do.
His penis is rubbing against my pussy, and he’s trying to find the hole to enter. His dick isn’t hard, so he’s having a hard time at finding his way inside.
“Michael, think of Christina,” I say as tears run down my face, soaking my hair. “Your wife. Think what your wife would think. And Christopher. He’s your friend. Don’t do this. It’s not you. Please don’t do this. Christina, Christina, Christina,” I begin chanting.
He freezes, his limp cock resting against my violated sex. He lowers his face to my hair and begins to cry.
“Don’t say her name. Don’t.”
“Christina,” I say again. “Think of what this will do to Christina.”
“I’m so fucked up,” he murmurs. “I’m so fucked up.”
I take this opportunity of his weakness and use it to my advantage. I’m able to push him off me, springing to my feet as I pull up my panties and lower my dress. I look down at him, still lying on the ground with his pants lowered, sobbing. I consider kicking his ribs. I think about beating him over and over again. But rage doesn’t exist inside me. Only sadness. I’m sad for him, I’m sad for me, I’m sad for all. I should hate him, but I don’t. I should want vengeance, but I don’t possess it.
We all sin.