Memory of a Bartender

We had both been drinking. I never drank as much as he did, though. I don’t think it was physically possible. We had been friends for a while, not good friends, but bar friends. You know the people that you hang out with when you see each other but never call or plan anything.
I don’t remember much, if anything about the evening and not because of alcohol drank, but because it wasn’t anything different from any other night. He knew my preferences and my likes. I am not shy about who I am or what I like. We had known each other for a while. I never really thought that for as much teasing as we did to one another, it would go anywhere.
It was cold out that night and I offered him a ride home. Once we got to his house, my car running, he leaned in and kissed me.
“Come with me.” he said
I am an obedient girl. I do listen to direction. I followed him into his house where he kissed me again and in his room with it dark, I got my shoes off. Kneeling on the bed, I swallowed him while he had no gentleness about him. He knew what he could do with me and he knew I wouldn’t say no.
It must have looked violent when he slapped me or when he pulled me to the ground. It must have sounded like something was wrong, but I don’t think I could have answered you if you asked in that moment. I was safe within his lust. I was safe because I had what he wanted, he knew to just take it, and I, for whatever reason, trusted him to leave me in condition to walk out of there.
There were a few bruises, welts, and my lip was cut unintentionally. I was high for a week afterward. I did walk out of there. I may be crazy, but I wish I could walk back in.