“You want to talk?” He shakes his head. Billy probably isn’t a wordsmith, and he might very well be alexithymic. I notice that BIlly is totally ...coping out my tits. I should be disgusted but my inner-exhibitionist is enjoying the attention. Maybe it's because him scoping me out means that he isn’t so far gone in his break-up hurt that I need to worry about him. I look back up into his face and as our eyes meet I feel my world start to spin. Is it his soft green eyes, the weed? I’m not sure but. "No" I told him, and I pushed him away harder than I should have. I got about 2 steps from him and he grabbed my jacket and pulled me back to him. I was struggling to button my jeans as he shoved my hand away and thrust his hand into my pants. I was hot and wet as he drove his fingers into me. At his mercy, I clung to the stairwell, begging my knees not to buckle. My brain told me to force him to stop, that this was not what I wanted, but my body seemed frozen to the spot only able to move when. More

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