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She didn't laugh in return. "Do you want to hear what I have to say, or not?" she chided.
I realized this was no time for feeble humor. "Sorry, Holly -- go ahead."
"It's okay, Derek. I don't mean to be rude. I just really need to get this off my chest."
I resisted - with great difficulty - the immediate urge to look down at the part of her anatomy she had just named.
"I'm listening," I replied.
"My mom and dad always wanted the best for me. They pushed me in academics, in sports, in the fine arts. But they were -- and still are -- overbearing Catholics of the worst kind. Ever since I was entering puberty, they drilled into me the importance of saving my virginity until marriage."
I desperately wanted to drill something a little less spiritual into her. I'd been suffering from a massive erection for about an hour. If something needs to sink into you, let it be my cock, I telepathed silently. My close proximity to and frank discussion with this incredibly hot and intelligent woman -- whom I'd lusted over for half my life -- was getting the best of me.
"So why didn't you just ignore your parents?" I prompted.
"That's the crazy part, Derek. They didn't just teach it to me. They scared the hell out of me with it," she explained.
"How?"
"They didn't just talk about unwanted pregnancy, AIDS, venereal diseases and all that shit. Those are real enough, but you can protect against them."
"Then what?"
"They taught me about something I can't protect against. About the danger to my mortal soul -- that I can go to hell for deliberately consenting to sex outside of marriage."
"And you believe that?"
"I -- I don't know, Derek. I truly believed it when I was younger. I started to question it toward the end of high school. I sure as hell -- no pun intended -- don't WANT it to be true, but even the possibility it's true scares me shitless."
"I'm no theologian," I said, "but I can't picture God as being ready to throw you into a fiery pit for something like that. After all, who gave you hormones?"
"If you're going where I think you are with this, Derek, there's a logical flaw..."
"Just hear me out, Holly. If God made us, and we have hormones, don't you suppose God expects us to act on the impulses those hormones give us?"
"Well, I'd like to think so -- but that doesn't account for the logical flaw. We're supposed to be able to rise above our instincts. It's not like we have no say in the matter. The issue is not the act -- it's the consent."
"I see..." I replied, though I really didn't see. That's why I was shocked almost out of my shoes at what she said next.
"Of course, if I was RAPED, then there'd be no consent, and I'd get the experience without the danger to my mortal soul."
"Holly -- I'm shocked! Why in hell would you think in such positive terms about rape?"
"Why in hell, indeed? Because I'm scared shitless about GOING to hell, but I've been THROUGH hell for years, with feelings that I can't bring myself to act upon."
"But Holly -- women who get raped go through their own private hell. It's a TERRIBLE thing. They're scarred for life."
"That's why I'd want it to be someone who cared about me. Someone I trust..."
She simply wasn't making sense to me. "You're talking in oxymorons, Holly. Raped? By someone who CARES about you? How can a RAPIST be someone who CARES about you?"
"I'm talking about someone who wants to release me from my torment by taking away my consent - not a REAL rapist..." She reached across the table and squeezed my hand.
The light bulb in my alcohol-impaired brain was slowly beginning to flicker on. "Are you saying what I think you're saying, Holly?"
"That I'm wondering if you have the balls -- and other equipment -- to help me out? Or are you still too much of a fuckin' goody two-shoes?"
I pondered my dilemma for only a moment. Then I made up my mind and grinned.
