He grasped me firmly but gently just above my elbow and guided me into a room, his room.
Then he quietly shut the door and we were alone.

He approached me soundlessly, from behind, and spoke in a low, reassuring voice close to my ear.

“Just relax.” Without warning, he reached down and I felt his strong, calloused hands
start at my ankles, gently probing, and moving upward along my calves slowly but steadily.

My breath caught in my throat. I knew I
should be afraid, but somehow I didn’t care. His touch was so experienced, so sure. When his hands moved up onto my thighs, I gave
a slight shudder, and partly closed my eyes. My pulse was pounding. I felt his knowing fingers caress my abdomen, my ribcage. And then,
as he cupped my firm, full breasts in his hands, I inhaled sharply. Probing, searching, knowing what he wanted, he brought his hands to
my shoulders, slid them down my tingling spine. Although I knew nothing about this man, I felt oddly trusting and
expectant. This is a man, I thought. A man used to taking charge. A man not used to taking `no’ for an answer. A man who would tell me
what he wanted. A man who would look into my soul and say … “Okay, ma’am,” said a voice. “All done.”

My eyes snapped open and he was
standing in front of me, smiling, holding out my purse.

“You can board your flight now.”

the paradox of teenage girls- new post- click here