The V Girl: A coming of age story

by Mya Robarts

  Aleksey’s eyes search mine eagerly, as if looking at them gives him the same satisfaction as touching me. His mouth moves to my stomach, my hips, and my underwear.

  The sensations are becoming so overwhelming that my mind flips and my thoughts disappear into a strange haze. Something is happening to my brain.

  When his fingers tease the ties of my underwear, time loses its meaning. I have difficulty breathing as the room disappears.

  * * *

  The Accord Unit tells the international audience that everything was done according to Patriot law. They turn off their cameras and flee the university gym.

  Fifty recruits, the majority of them girls, are placed on big stones.

  I close my eyes, revolted by the spectacle, but I can hear everything. What is happening on that stage is making Starvillers gasp and groan in horror.

  At times, troops use a different kind of violence: the victim is drugged and forced into an orgasm. Nobody will believe later that she wanted none of it.

  Just when I think it’s over, Angie Weaver screams. A sergeant drags her to the stage. Buck Weaver shouts that there’s been a mistake. She’s his wife. She has a marriage tattoo. The soldiers shoot him in the leg before taking turns debasing her with delicate, mechanical precision, massaging her in front of the whole town.

  They make her come twice.

  A hand rests on my shoulders. I turn around and see Gary. “It’s your turn.”

  I writhe and scream at the top of my lungs.

  “Shh! It’s okay,” a masculine voice says, bringing me back to reality.

  I’m trembling. I study the cape covering my nudity. Somehow, I’m still wearing my underwear.

  He is very careful not to touch me when he passes me a hot beverage. “Drink this. Dr. Velez has to know you had another hallucination.”

  I blush intensely. “No!”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t tell Dr. Velez what we were doing. But it’s important that he knows you’re having PTSD episodes.” There’s a sliver of concern in his blue eyes. “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m okay. I want to drive back.”

  He nods and walks out of the room to let me dress.

  This wasn’t a hallucination. For the most part, all those things have happened. I’m not sure whether it was his touch or the look in his eyes that triggered the memory, but I’m sure he caused it. If his touch brings back memories of events I want to forget, I can’t have sex with him.

  If Aleksey is disappointed because he’ll get blue balls tonight, he doesn’t show it. When we arrive to the clinic, we get into his bed even though we haven’t exchanged a word since we left the Gyges love-room. He reaches his hand to touch my cheek, but I pull away. I won’t risk another hallucination. His face remains impassive, but my rejection, after everything that happened today, is a huge step back in our friendship. Does he suspect that I’m about to tell him that I won’t have sex with him because I won’t risk having another flashback?

  Even so, I need to know more about him. I have to ask him. Gary’s voice replays in my mind. See if he dares to answer.

  Tomorrow. We’ll have to talk tomorrow.

  37

  Aleksey’s secret

  The wind on the roof of the clinic hits me with force.

  “Watch out! Your balance is feeble,” Aleksey says after five minutes of battle.

  His wooden sword descends hard on me. In a swift move, I slide around him and attack him from behind. He dodges easily and brings his sword down on my head. I lift my sword arm above my head to block the attack and stagger under its force.

  “No. Plant both of your feet firmly on the ground. Slide your feet. Don’t lift them.” His voice is stern. He’s been repeating the word balance since we started the spar.

  I manage to block the thrusts of his sword as I try to attack his legs. That’s usually the weakness of taller opponents, but his movements are as fast as lightning.

  I jab forcefully at his right leg one last time. My sword finally finds his shin as I dodge another swing at my side. He’s so stout that the blow doesn’t do any damage, but he takes it as a sign to stop the sparring match.

  I fall to the ground, exhausted. I don’t care if it’s not sunset yet, I’m ready to sleep on this roof if necessary. It’s my second training session of the day, after a morning parkour session. I also had a stressful shift at the factory. I was supposed to take charge of a training session with TCR, but Aleksey insisted that we make our remaining time together count. I didn’t think he meant training.

  Aleksey scoops me up in his arms and carries me to his room. I want to talk to him, but I’m worn out.

  I’d love to skip a shower, but exhausted or not, I never go to bed without washing my feet. I’ve always felt self-conscious about them, and after all the exercise I’ve had, they’re in worse shape than usual. I stagger to the bathroom, wash myself paying close attention to my feet, and change into my sleeping gown.

  When I return to bed, I’m surprised to see that Aleksey has undressed. It’s too early for him to go to bed.

  He surprises me with a quick kiss. When he pulls back, I’m wearing something I wasn’t wearing this morning. A rose-shaped pendant. It’s orange, the color of my favorite glade flowers. Nobody except my family has ever given me a gift.

  “It looks lovely with your green eyes.”

  I want to say something, but I’m overwhelmed by an emotion that makes my chest swell and that forces me to sigh. I blink, trying to find my voice again. He’ll appreciate action above words. Before I know what I’m doing, I lean in to kiss him.

  Our kiss starts sweet and innocent until he rolls me down. I’m under him while his erection rubs against my thigh.

  It happens again. A fleeting flashback to a different set of blue eyes. They belong to my mother’s young attacker. He was so unfair, so violent. Mom was such a kind, pacific woman. She never hurt anyone. Retaliation, the soldier yelled while he was attacking her.

  I push Aleksey away.

  We’re quiet for a long time as I try to catch my breath. He turns to glance at me for a moment before looking away.

  I wish it were a coincidence that every time things get intense, I have a PTSD episode. We can’t go on like this. I might overcome the flashbacks, but we need to talk. There are so many things I want to tell him, and there are even more things I want to know. I’ll start with Gary’s accusations.

  “Clavel,” I say in a sharp voice.

  Aleksey’s head snaps up.

  “Gary said you wouldn’t answer questions about Clavel.”

  At first, his eyes show a hint of surprise, then annoyance.

  “For once, Sleecket didn’t lie,” he says in a harsh voice, scowling at me.

  Another step back in our relationship—or whatever it is. It stings, but it makes me feel good about my decision to not have sex with him. I can’t lose my V to a man who not only gives me flashbacks, but who won’t open up to me.

  My voice comes out edgy. “Clavel. Spanish for ‘carnation.’ Is she your lover, Mr. Fürst? A member of your family?”

  He sits up. “No, she’s nothing of the sort. And I’d rather not talk about her.”

  Her. I knew Clavel had to be a woman, but even so, this confirmation rubs me the wrong way.

  “Just answer yes or no. Are Clavel’s initials C.N.?”

  “No,” he answers curtly.

  “I never read your journal, but I did glance at it. There were several notes that I didn’t understand.”

  He sighs, exasperated, but I feel entitled to know. After all, he knows all my secrets.

  “You mentioned C.N. a couple of times. Why?”

  Long moments pass before he answers in a gruff voice, “I use those initials to write erotic poems.”

  My anger subsides, replaced by curiosity and admiration. Poems? “Will I get to read them one day?”

  To my surprise, he nods, although his tone is stern. “As you are the one who inspired them, it’s only fair that
you read them. But not yet.”

  I inspired him to write erotic poetry. A part of me feels flattered, though another part feels scared. What if C.N. is something too kinky for me?

  “At least tell me what C.N. stands for.”

  He lies down again and turns his back to me. “Sleep. Mental breakdown won’t save you from an early morning,” he says impatiently.

  Hot fury curls its way inside me. Is he implying that I’ve been having too many PTSD episodes? As if I’d offer an excuse for not waking up? I’ve trained even with a fever and a headache. I’ve trained even when my thigh wound causes me pain. As immature as this is, I’ll ask more questions just to irritate him.

  “What’s your kink, Fürst?” I ask him again and again in the loudest voice I can manage. Silence is his answer.

  “Is it so terrible that you can’t tell me? Or are you hiding that you’re into men, too? Because that’s not bad and—”

  In a swift move, he wraps his left hand over my mouth. The other hand traps my wrists above my head. I’m pinned to the bed, immobilized by his considerable weight. It reminds me so much of my dream that desire spreads through my body.

  “I told you to go to sleep, Velez. You’re wearing out my patience, and you of all people shouldn’t provoke me into losing control.”

  My eyes are open wide in surprise, excitement, and a little bit of fear. The atmosphere of the room is charged with sexual energy. His breathing becomes uneven.

  I struggle to get free, but his grip is too strong. It turns me on, but, above all, it confuses me. It’s one thing to dream about his physical power taking away my control and my having an orgasm because of it. It is a very different thing to fear not only that he’ll lose control in real life, but that his touch will bring on another hallucination.

  He inhales intently. I’m sure that, with his soldier’s sense of smell, he has noticed the scent of my arousal.

  “You want me to take you like this, don’t you? Blink once to say yes. If you want me to let you go, blink twice.” My eyes open even wider. A part of me wants to have sex with him, but I don’t want another flashback. And yet …

  I blink once.

  Without releasing his grip on my wrists, he unties my translucent sleeping gown. The back of his hand trails from my waist to my now-exposed breasts. Aleksey touches them in a way that’s more like squeezing than caressing. His touch is almost rough, but it makes me writhe in pleasure. He places kisses on each breast.

  I whimper under his touch. My nipples harden so much that it hurts. The tingling, smoldering sensation between my legs is overcoming my fears. His erection grows harder, if that’s even possible.

  Aleksey’s mouth clasps my nipple while his eager fingers tear apart my pants. His lips move south all over my torso, my stomach, my hips. I know where he’s heading. The dizzying sensations threaten to make me lose my mind.

  And then, another flashback. “Ah! Stop!”

  He collapses on the bed. We stare at the canopy, taking a moment to normalize our breathing.

  I close my sleeping gown. “I told you … I need to know more … and you keep avoiding … my questions,” I say breathlessly.

  He looks at me with eyes full of fire. “I’ll answer everything you ask, except questions about Clavel. She is a secret that is not mine to tell.”

  I use the bedspread to cover my bare legs. “It’s your kink that worries me the most.”

  “You have nothing to worry about. I wouldn’t ever expect you to take part in it. When I become your first lover,” he says this so confidently that I gape at him, “I’ll be gentle and start with the basics.”

  I cover half my face with the bedspread and look at him with huge eyes. “Do you get to … live your kink as often as I live mine?”

  “No. It’s difficult to find women with the right mindset.”

  “Even among visitants?”

  “Especially among visitants.”

  I muse about this for a moment. “If this mindset is not found among visitants, where would you find it?”

  He looks at me and then at the ceiling. It seems that he won’t volunteer more information.

  “Correct me if I’m mistaken: Visitants don’t participate in your kink, but regular women sometimes do.”

  He nods.

  Why can’t visitants perform his kink the way he likes it, but other women can? If he had even the slightest trace of romance in him, I’d say it’s because visitants don’t have feelings for their clients. I would never hire a visitant, even if I could afford one. But I’m the kind of girl who thinks that love and sex should always blend. Aleksey cares about the human touch, but he’s still an extremely sexual man who seems to follow a practical approach toward satisfying his needs. He has used visitants even if they’re not into his kink. There must be a reason.

  “Why is your kink not good for visitants, but good for non-professional partners?”

  He looks away, and I’m starting to think the worst. Oh no! This is bad. Positively bad.

  I have to repeat my question several times before he reluctantly answers.

  “Visitants always act as though they enjoy it.”

  No. A shiver runs through my spine. So, his kink is women who don’t enjoy it? Oh no! Because of the recruitment ceremony, I’ve watched many women engage in sexual activities that they don’t enjoy, and it’s the saddest, most horrifying vision I’ve ever seen. What kind of man likes something like that? Oh. I know what kind … the worst kind.

  No. It can’t be. Perhaps his kink is to have sex with shy women? Yes, that must be it.

  I’m trembling violently. “You’re saying … you like it better when your partner … doesn’t … respond?”

  He doesn’t deny it. Oh dammit! C.N. I didn’t understand the meaning then, but I do now because I’ve just remembered something that I read in one of my dad’s books. Still, I want Aleksey to confirm it.

  “Just answer yes or no. Your kink has to do with hurting your partner?”

  His scowl deepens. “Lila, listen—”

  “Tell me what C.N. stands for.”

  He whispers the meaning of those initials, and I freeze. I don’t want to believe it.

  I’m not breathing. My stomach clenches in panic, and I know that I will remember this moment for the rest of my life.

  Aleksey’s kink is … to rape.

  38

  A father’s feelings

  My breath comes in ragged intakes of air. What a foolish girl I am! I was so attracted to him that I wanted to believe that he wasn’t a monster.

  For the first time since I met him, hints of desperation show on his face. I sprint out of bed. Aleksey reaches to stop me, but I jerk my hand out of his reach.

  “Don’t you dare touch me!”

  Poncho growls and puts himself in a defensive stance in front of me. I take Aleksey’s bow and point it at him. “You’re a rapist! You know how I feel about recruitment, and still—”

  Aleksey takes a step toward me cautiously as if I were a doe about to flee, scared at any sudden movement. “It’s not like that. Women love it, hence the name.”

  “Consensual non-consent is the name! Non-consent! That’s rape.”

  His voice is even and low. “Nobody gets hurt. It’s only role playing, Lila.”

  “The roles of a rapist and his victim. A rapist! Dammit!” I spit at him, but he easily avoids my attack.

  Aleksey runs a hand through his hair. “It’s just another expression of—”

  “Don’t try to make it look good!” I kick his double bass case, which crashes noisily to the ground. “You know that is what I’m afraid of the most. You know what I saw when the soldiers attacked my mom! How could you—?”

  He paces in front of me, frustrated by my reaction. “I won’t try this on you.”

  “The hell you won’t, you disgusting, creepy freak!”

  A fleeting expression of hurt appears on his face, but he soon recovers his usual confident attitude. “Lila, C.N. is an activity
that—”

  The bow in my arms trembles as much as my voice does. “No. It’s rape.”

  “It’s not.”

  My nose wrinkles in disgust. “Struggling with a woman so that you dominate her is—You’re a rapist!”

  He steps back and walks toward his wardrobe. Red capes and armor are neatly hung up, but what he takes from the wardrobe makes my stomach tighten in panic. It’s the most illegal object in Starville: a firearm.

  He strides toward me pointing the gun. What is he going to do? Force me into submission?

  I’m shivering violently. I look around the room, racking my brains for a way to escape. That’s when he throws the gun at my feet.

  “Kill me. If you indeed think that I’ll take you against your will, it’s the only thing you can do to stop me.”

  I reach for the gun. It feels heavy in my hand, but I take off the safety and point it firmly.

  He waits a few minutes before saying in a defiant tone, “If you are so convinced I’m a rapist, why don’t you kill me? Shoot the gun, Lila.”

  Even with all the emotions that are hazing my mind, I know I won’t kill him. The last thing I want is to face charges of arms possession. They’d kill not only me, but my family as well.

  His glare is as cold as his voice. “You don’t need to flee, Lila. Stay here. Sleep with the gun if you prefer.” Aleksey strides furiously toward the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow in training.” He slams the door shut behind him.

  I remain glued to the spot for a long time, still pointing the bass bow and the gun.

  Just when I thought we had connected. Just when I was starting to feel secure around him. I sit on the bed, putting my head between my hands.

  A whirlpool of emotions threatens to make me pass out. Fear, disappointment, disgust, regret, and self-loathing. How could I have been so stupid? I should’ve known better than to trust an ex-soldier.

  I curl up, still trembling. Why do I feel scared and betrayed? He never lied to me. He never betrayed me. We weren’t even friends. There was sexual attraction, but hardly anything else. After all the things that have happened between us, we’re still perfect strangers.