My Face Hurts
Ryoichi saucily straddled my tightly pinched legs, boring his half-lidded leer into my frozen eyes with an unscrupulous smirk playing on his fine lips. As long as he continued to grip me with that stare of his, my eyes refused to break away, like there were multiple staples embedded in my eyelids and a thread preventing my pupils from deviating by the slightest fraction. My eyes even began to water a little. I was sure my expression was haphazardly painted like
The Scream from petrified horror because of the harrowing possibility that I could end up rotting in a manhole in a distant city because of this celebrity's compulsive wiles. At the same time, he was an undeniably, devastatingly handsome man literally sitting on my lap, and conflict bubbled up to combat my common sense.
Although he was not actually using me like a saddle, for his weight did not fall heavily on my thighs, his looming body heat made me more conscious of the fact that he had effectively trapped me against the leather couch, and it would require force to free myself. I could not believe that I let this get out of hand in my internal strife. This dread. This position. This is sexual assault, damn it! I had to defend myself and get his lecherous hands, as smooth as they felt on my neck, off of my skin, but somewhere in my mind I could not forget about the possible repercussions.
However, let's not forget that I
am a woman, and surely the judicial system would be on my side. If he did anything more without my consent (not that this current situation is not bad enough), I could sue him dearly – and lose my job, and likely my credibility... Rich people have that power, right? Wave around a fancy wand of cash, and people will look the other way, or make him out to be the victim. Would his own friends vouch for me, or him? How about that woman? But, what, just let him do whatever he wants with me?
It astounded me how quickly alternate scenarios of my demise flipped through my head before I reacted, but, sure enough, I reacted.
I headbutted him.
The recoil of pain in my forehead caused my whole body to sharply convulse, and my knee inadvertently flew upward, making clear, harsh contact with his crotch the moment he rose from my lap from the force of our heads colliding. Ryoichi grunted – rather,
squeaked – as he fell backwards onto the shag carpeting, nearly catching his head against the wooden coffee table. My assailant now writhed on the ground, gasping expletives every other breath, hands guarding his precious jewels.
Heart thudding wildly at the display, I did not know whether I should apologize or laugh at his expense. But I was free! Shifting my eyes back and forth at nothing in particular, I found myself on my feet, making a beeline for the exit.
"...Your glasses..." the voice rasped from behind me.
...Ah, crap. In my haste, my blindness meant nothing for my escape, and only then did I realize that my glasses were still on the couch near Ryoichi.
A soft, low laughter rose in volume, and I hesitantly, fearfully, looked back at the damage. He was no longer in fetal position. The man coughed once, seeming to have recovered enough. Holding his forehead under his bangs, he staggered to his feet, shoulders still twitching.
Lips trembling as though he were trying to hold back a slew of vomit, a full-blown laugh erupted from his mouth instead.
Is he mocking me? I remained rooted where I stood, and he combed his hair back during his episode. His ebony bangs quickly fell to obscure his forehead once more, but not before I saw that the spot where our heads hit had bloomed a splotchy red. I wondered if my own forehead looked as bad.
"That was the first time a woman reacted like that. Haha... A headbutt and... Really!" His gaze lined up with mine, and he quirkily smiled. "As much as that hurt, I must admit that that was quite priceless. Yet
so unsexy." All through his words he drew closer and closer, as though he learned nothing from the minute before.
"Here." Ryoichi snatched my limp wrist and turned it upwards, placing my glasses in my palm. His voice fell to a hushed whisper, for none but me to hear. "But if you're into that type of thing, I can endure all pain. Just wear something sexier next time." The heat of his fingers contrasted with the cold frame, and I jerked my hand away with a frown.
"Screw you, jerk! Y-you deserved those blows!"
"
Blows...?" he pleasantly cooed, cocking his head to the left.
Face flaring, I roughly threw open the door and made a point of slamming it in his face. I swear that I could hear his giggles as I urgently stomped down the hall, rubbing the sore spot on my head as if it could miraculously erase the last day.