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Encounter With a Bad Boy

And why I don't date anymore.

I always liked the bad boys, you know the ones, they never followed the rules, were always good looking, and never cared about anyone but themselves, but they had sex appeal.  The kind of appeal that made me hurt deep down inside just thinking about them, and as I grew older, I began to act on those feelings, but one date taught me to reign in my hormones and think about my life.


It was summer, and there was something about the water and the sun that made me go sort of crazy.  I was down by the lake, my tiniest bikini on, and rubbing sun screen into my skin when I spotted him. He was about six foot three inches, and his hair was  brown and straight, with part of it combed to one side.  His eyes were intense when he looked at me, and I was embarrassed to admit his eyelashes were longer than my own.  His skin looked smooth and taken care of, something a man doesn't usually do unless he's a lady's man.  He had that smirk, the one that says he's a bad boy, and I didn't care. All I knew was I wanted to go out on a date with him, and I would do anything to fulfill that need, and damn the consequences.

He was on his cell texting someone, and I needed a way to get his attention, so I decided to stroll past his towel, turn, and give him a smile as I passed.  The sand felt hot under my feet, and my heart was going like a freight train, but I continued to put one foot in front of the other and continued to walk toward him.  He immediately caught the look in my eye, and smiled, putting his phone down and staring right at me. I suddenly felt I was in over my head, out of my  league, but it was too late now. I had to pretend at least that I knew what I was doing.

He gestured toward his towel and offered for me to sit down with him, the thing I had been hoping would happen, but now that it had I was completely stressed about the entire situation.  I sat down slowly, trying not to fall on my butt and embarrass myself, and then smiled, not knowing what to say.  He told me his name and took my hand and kissed it gently, and then asked me if I had a name.  It must have been so obvious to him that I was putty in his hands, and looking back, I wish I had never seen him or walked his way.

I stumbled over my words, not like me at all, because usually I'm outgoing and don't hesitate when I speak. He had me in a trance, and I wasn't making any sense even to myself.   As if I shouldn't or didn't have an opinion, I suddenly found myself walking hand in hand with him back to his beach house.  I have dated a lot of bad boys, and even went out with a motorcycle gang member one weekend, although my parents didn't know, and I never told them.  None of those guys gave me the gut feeling I was having at the moment. Something inside my head was screaming for me to run, go back, but I didn't listen and decided it was just nerves and I would be fine.

At first things were fine.  He kept his place neat and clean, but somehow it was a little too neat and clean.  Especially for a guy who lives at the beach.  He offered me some white wine, and I took it thinking it would calm my nerves and I could start thinking clearly, but instead, everything became very slow and fuzzy.  The next thing I knew, he was carrying me into his bedroom and put me on the bed.  He slipped off his swimming trunks, exposing himself completely to me, smiled, and sat down on the bed next to me.  He was trying to untie my top, and I had enough mental awareness left to push him away, hoping that gave him the idea, but instead, he pushed my arms above my head and used his teeth to untie my top in the front, exposing my breasts, which he began licking and would occasionally stop to look at me and smile, as though I was enjoying it.

Obviously this man had slipped me something and was about to take advantage of me, the way he probably did so many other women in his oh so perfectly arranged house.  In any other situation, I would have gone for him with his muscular body and sex appeal, and the way he always smiled and held his head high.  He was an amazing looking man, but I still had that knot in my gut, and it was getting bigger

I decided the only way to get out of the situation was to make him think I was just as into it as he was, and then run when his guard was down. He most likely locked the front door, so I would have to find another escape route.  I immediately got up and took my bottoms off, throwing them across the room and in front of him where he was standing in front of a mirror, admiring himself.

Now it was my turn to lay on the charm, so I smiled, and grabbed my long, brown hair and began making it messy and asking him if he had any music we could put on.  He hesitated at first, and I was afraid he was on to me, but instead he went over and rattled off a few names of cd's, none of which I recognized, and I agreed with the one that seemed to delight him the most.  I spun as best I could, still feeling a bit dizzy, and tried to weave in and out to the music, beckoning him over to dance with me. He didn't hesitate, and began sweeping me across the floor in his arms, not really aware that I was there, but almost as though he thought I was someone else. This guy was a nut and I was here with him, God knows I asked for it.

The shower, that was a great place to leave him and I could find an escape while he was in there waiting for me to return.  I quickly suggested the shower and said I had a lot of sand on my body and wanted to get soft and silky for him, and he went for it. I spent a long time washing his back and every other part of his body, making sure he was enjoying each and every stroke of the washcloth.  I squatted down as though I were going to perform oral sex on him, but then I stood up and said I wanted more wine first, and could I get him some too?   He nodded, and said he was going to wash his hair while I was gone so he didn't offend me with the sand in it. I smiled, and assured him I would be right back.  When I left, I went directly to the kitchen in case he suspected me and would come out, but I didn't hear a thing, so I went back in the bathroom with two glasses, asking him which he preferred, and he was indeed washing his hair. My appearance back in the bathroom did seem to calm him, and I left again, only this time I tiptoed into his room and grabbed my bikini, at which point I noticed the window was open. I ran over and got out onto the lawn where I quickly dressed, and then ran as fast as I could back to where I had left my towel, grabbed it and headed for the parking lot. I ducked in and out of the cars, watching to see if he was following me, and finally decided I better get going.  My hands shook as I inserted the key into the ignition, and I backed my little Honda Accord out of the parking space and immediately went to the police station to report him.

I stopped going to the beach after that, stopped frequenting bars so much, and began to unravel the reason I wanted a bad boy, and why when I finally got the worst of the worst, I ran.

Denise Willis
Denise Willis

I have a bachelors degree in accounting, and a masters degree in psychology, but art and writing have always been my love.  I have three grown sons, and recently, I finished a novel of around 200 pages finally posted to Amazon.

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