He lifted her skirt. Groped a bit. Let it back down. His hands quaked as he tried to sit up, sweat drops falling off from his forehead and onto the bed, then his white shorts.

"Do it," she whispered, as her heart raced faster. "Please, do it."

"Vicky, I can't ... I'm sorry. I can't," he said in a tremulous voice as he glanced at his wrist watch. It was 8:15pm. "I have to go now," he said, as he made for the slightly ajar door that led to the modest sitting room.

She lay there, with tear drops in her eyes. She knew her family would soon be back from church, which was a kilometre away. She didn't go with them because she had told her father she had stomach upset. She lied. Poor man, what did he know about stomach troubles.

Vicky's mom had died when she was just six, while giving birth to her youngest brother, Vohn. They were three; herself and two boys, who always pestered her like mosquitoes. Her father, a tailor, was tall and dark, with a pair of deep set eyes, and furrow lines on his forehead that got deeper whenever he was angry. He had not remarried, and was always in a pensive mood.

Dennis shut the door to the sitting room as he stepped out into night. It was cold. "Whew!" He exhaled as the wind blew into his face, and walked out of the fenceless compound to the other side of the dirt road to catch a bus home.

Slow Fade played softly from the bus' speakers. "It's a slow fade ... People never crumble in a day ..." He wriggled uncomfortably in his seat and looked out through the window. It was dark save for the few functional streetlights. The row of houses on both sides of the road seemed to be moving backwards, like they had wheels. He had heard that song somewhere, he thought, but it wasn't what he wanted now.

Home was a one-room apartment he shared with two of his friends, Pedro and Kish. The sitting room was modestly furnished with two long upholstery chairs and a single plastic chair, a fine Persian rug, and a glossy center table made from plywood. The TV was a regular 24-inch flat screen, hanging just under the clock.

Pedro was a tattler, always chatting like a bird, and never taking things seriously. A Masters student of clinical psychology, he was probably too loquacious. Kish was the exact opposite, reserved and always close to his phone. He was a part-time Masters student of Physics, and taught same in St. Pietro A-level College down the street.

"How far, Den? How did it go?" Pedro asked with glistening eyes, as Dennis walked across to the opposite chair and sat down.

"I didn't do it," he answered, somewhat sheepishly.

"You didn't what? That's a joke, right?" Pedro shot back, looking surprised.

"Pedro, O Pedro, when are you ever going to be a decent human, incapable of doing evil?" Kish asked indignantly, raising his head from the pamphlet he was reading.

"Hey, Fish," Pedro retorted, wittingly mispronouncing his name, "keep your sermon to yourself. There are no absolutes in life. No good. No evil. Whatever rocks your boat, is good; whatever doesn't, is bad. Religion has messed with your bookish brain!"

"Says the hedonist!" Kish fired, taking off his reading glasses. "You stand there and tell your friend, a teacher, to lay a sixteen-year old student. His student!" He emphasised.

"But she asked for it! You're talking as though am the devil. Sixteen-year olds these days are mature. They have all the necessary paraphernalia for coital worship ..."

"Coital worship!" Kish exploded, cutting him off. "Listen to yourself, Pedro. Listen to yourself, you cold-hearted wretch! That girl is a minor!!"

"Yeah.... Holy Fish," Pedro mispronounced his name. Again. "She's sixteen and wants it! Or, doesn't she, Dennis?" He asked, pouting as he tilted his head comically towards Dennis.

The clock hanging on the adjacent wall was doing a never ending tick-tock. It was 10:15pm. Beside the clock was a large size photo of three of them. Dennis looked at the clock; it reminded him of two hours ago, and then at the photo, and heaved a sigh.

"Am going to bed, guys," he said, standing up. "I don't know how to handle this. Am stumped!" He walked to the room, leaving them to argue.

**********

All rights reserved.

I have it up on my facebook wall, but decided to share it here. It's a three-part short story. Please, leave comments if you liked it. Thanks.

nice start
pls continue

khalz:
nice start
pls continue

Thanks for leaving a comment. I'll post the other parts.

A NIGHT -- Part 2

Dennis lay on the bed staring into the ceiling. He couldn't explain what he was feeling. A part of him was a bit ashamed that he even bothered to touch Vicky. A man of twenty-six shouldn't be moved by a girl of sixteen, he thought. But he was at a loss why he couldn't get last night off his mind.

"Hey, what's up, Den?" Pedro asked, startling him out of his reverie. He didn't notice him walk into the room.

"Oh. Nothing really," he muttered.

"Tell that to the birds! Let me guess, you're still thinking of that girl, Vicky?" It was more of a statement than a question.

Dennis looked at him, heaved a sigh and nodded. "I can't seem to get her off my mind, although I think I shouldn't ..."

"Shouldn't do what? Pedro asked, cutting him off. "See here, my friend, you are in a self-made prison. You are making a mountain out of a little matter."

"Hey guys," Kish greeted as he dropped his books and threw himself on the bed. He was just coming from St. Pietro, and was tired.

"So, life is not as serious as you are taking it," Pedro continued. "It's either you do it, or not. It's your choice. If you think she can handle it, then, by all means fire down."

"Pedro, you're asking him to 'fire down', on a sixteen-year old, someone's daughter, entrusted into his hands to teach and guide? You're a wreck. I don't care what degrees you have, but you are a cold-blooded wreck!" Kish said, scowling.

"My man, Fish," Pedro misspoke his name, an act he knew annoyed Kish greatly. "It's a freebie, and freebies don't come always. I repeat, Vicky is sixteen, and has it!"

"Has what, Pedro, has what? You are thinking with your third leg!" Kish erupted, sitting up. He was so full of disdain for Pedro that his visage said it all. If only eyes could kill!

Dennis hadn't seen this angry and disdainful side of Kish before. He was surprised, and wondered why Kish was vehemently against having the freebie, as Pedro called it.

He looked at his wrist watch and it was 3:15pm. He had a class for 4pm. With Vicky.

"I was eleven when I was plucked, like a fruit. An unripe fruit!" Pedro protested, tilting his head backward and squinting as though he was recalling a long lost memory.

"Lord!" Kish and Dennis exclaimed simultaneously.

"Yes," he continued, "and that's why when you judge me I take it that you are naive and one-sided. You've only had one side of the coin of life -- the good side."

Dennis was shocked. Kish, surprised, dropped his chin into his right hand and supported his elbow on his thigh.

"It was Kate. Kate ..." The words tailed off as his face contorted into a sad smile. The name seemed to hold a dark memory for him.

"Kate and her parents lived in the building with us," Pedro went on. "She was twenty-one, and was a student at the university. Her parents didn't always let her go out whenever she came on holidays, even though they were not always at home. My parents liked her because she was nice and respectful, she taught me Math whenever she came on holiday."

He paused, drew a deep breath, and shook his head pensively. There was complete silence. He hadn't told them this before.

"On that heaven-cursed day, she did it. I didn't know what I felt, but it was strange. It happened each time she came home on holiday and continued until we moved out of that building. I never told my parents. I couldn't."

"This is serious. Eleven and twenty-one. Boy and woman. Just when you think you've heard the worst," Kish muttered to himself.

Pedro looked up at Kish and said, "I didn't ask to be plucked, but I was. I didn't even know what the heck it was! Right now am grown, having endured that abuse. If any woman of sixteen -- yes, that's what they are, women -- comes asking me for stuff, I'd give it to her!"

You could feel the steel in his voice.

"Pedro, I understand, and am sorry," Kish said concernedly. "But you are angry. You've been angry for about seventeen years now. Abuse is abuse; it doesn't matter if it's a boy or girl. And it's a horrible experience. But two wrongs don't make a right. Vicky is a minor, and she isn't Kate."

Dennis was quiet all the while, pondering on the whole story. He was moved. He glanced at his wrist watch. It was 3:30pm, and was already beginning to drizzle outside.

"Guys, my class is for 4pm," he said as he slowly stood up. "And this rain shouldn't meet me here. Catch you later."

And he stepped out.

*********************

All rights reserved.

nice one bruh is there another part

khalz:
nice one bruh
is there another part

Thanks. There is a last part

GreyLaw:

Thanks. There is a last part

pls post it