Chapter 39 —
“Where have you been?” The ugly man hollered from the car. Pauline walked quickly and got in. She lit a cigarette from her purse and inhaled deeply.
“I told you, Pascal. I was with some of the family.” She offered her opened package of smokes to the fuming man. He didn’t take the peace offering, but continued to glare.
Pauline took another cigarette and lit it for the black-haired fellow. He took it roughly and smiled as he took a drag from the filter.
Pascal was, in short terms, a slimy little creep.
But he was a popular, slimy little creep. He was the envy of all his friends. Every guy he knew wished they were him.
And the reason? It was not his good looks. He was five feet six inches tall with a thick build. His dark hair was slicked away from his pitted face with a large amount of Brylcream. He had sadistic gray eyes that centered in on his long beak of a nose. Pascal was not attractive. But he had one thing going for him: Pauline.
For some unfathomable reason, Pauline loved him. She not only loved Pascal, she adored him. And because she did, every male comrade he knew envied Pascal.
All of his friends would give their right arm to date the exquisite Pauline. She had the beauty of a goddess and the soul of an angel. She doted on Pascal without question or reason, in such a simplistic way that all the boys couldn’t help but compare their girlfriends with her, which in turn made Pauline less popular with the girls. They despised her. They couldn’t stand her splendor, her devotion, her seeming lack of awareness of how she affected people.
What everyone did know was how much Pauline worshipped Pascal. And because jealousy makes many people do crazy things, many silly girls spent the night in Pascal’s bed not because they found him attractive or particularly likable, but because he was Pauline’s boyfriend. And if they couldn’t be Pauline, they could take the one person who meant something from her.
So Pascal’s friends had many reasons to envy him. He had the most enchanting sweetheart on his arm and the pick of many women in his berth.
Pauline was totally unaware of it all.
Pascal put the car in gear and drove off at full speed, squealing the tires behind him. Pauline held onto the dashboard, her heart in her mouth. She hated the way Pascal drove but didn’t dare tell him how she felt. She was afraid to anger him, which was quite an easy thing to do. She hated when people were angry with her, especially when it was Pascal.
Pascal drove for some time before Pauline noticed the car pull off onto a road headed toward a cliff. This was a favored place couples were known make out.
She glanced nervously toward the persistent driver. Anxiously she chewed on her nails--something she did whenever she was fearful.
It was getting harder and harder to stall Pascal. He was increasingly demanding when it came to being intimate. Pauline didn’t know how she was going to delay him much longer.
Pascal pulled onto the cliff and turned off the engine. He had picked a secluded area away from any traffic that might happen to come by.
“Come here,” he demanded, pulling Pauline close to him. She shivered in Pascal’s arms. He leaned down on Pauline and started to kiss her roughly. She responded with little passion. His hand grabbed her right breast coarsely. As though hit by a bolt of lightening, she pulled sharply away.
“Pascal?” She lit up another cigarette, nervously. “When are we going to get married?” She avoided looking at the twenty-year-old man slouched hostilely beside her.
“Would you get off my back?” he sneered, pulling Pauline to him once again. She lifted her lit smoke up out of the way of his face and tried to pull back from him, unsuccessfully.
“I don’t want to do these things before we are married.” She yanked back, unable to break free of Pascal’s tight grip. “I want to be your wife and feel our baby inside me.” Pauline trembled.
“You damn well will!” Pascal laughed wickedly as he continued to caress Pauline’s breast again.
“But when? You said when I turned eighteen we would get married. I’m eighteen and we aren’t married yet,” she said pathetically. She took another drag of her cigarette, hoping it would fend Pascal off.
Pauline might have been the girl every guy wanted, but she was the last to know it. Totally unaware of herself, she was a very lonely young woman.
Never one to have many friends, Pauline spent most of her time with her sisters, Constance and Joanna. When Joanna had run off with Chad, only Constance was left. It hadn’t been long after Joanna left that Constance met and fell in love with George, leaving Pauline alone. Being the youngest daughter of four girls, Pauline was the last to get attention from anyone. And since she had never been an overly imaginative child or particularly intelligent, she fell short of consideration, an undemanding offspring lost in the shuffle of ever-requiring siblings.
But Pauline did have needs. She wanted and needed to feel love.
When Constance married George, Pauline was thrilled when George’s younger brother, Pascal, asked her to dance.
They spent the evening together talking and dancing. Pauline had been on cloud nine. Never had anyone paid so much attention to her and only her. Pascal seemed enthralled in her every word, just as she was with him. It didn’t take long for Pauline to fall madly in love. All it took was a little attention and Pauline was a girl who craved attention. It didn’t matter how Pascal looked, it only mattered that he had been the first to show interest in her.
In the beginning he had been charming. He couldn’t fathom how such a beautiful girl like Pauline would ever be interested in him. He’d never been popular with girls, so he too was captivated by the romance he shared with her.
Then outside attention started. The moment Pascal was linked to Pauline, his reputation grew. Suddenly he was the man to be seen with. Girls flocked to him like flies. He was The Man and he loved it. He was too blown up with self-importance to realize that his sudden fame was credited to Pauline and not to his unbecoming personality. But it didn’t matter. By that point Pascal’s true self had surfaced and Pauline was already too entangled in his web to do anything about it. She was too afraid of going against Pascal for fear of losing him and being alone again. At least with Pascal, there was someone in her life and that seemed to make putting up with the cruel behavior worth it.
“Don’t pressure me Pauline or else I will end it all together,” Pascal threatened while nuzzling on Pauline’s breast.
Fear gripped her for two reasons: for the fact that he handled her clothed body so obscenely and for the possibility of losing him.
Pascal noticed Pauline’s frightened expression. Threatening their relationship always worked to shut her up. He leered at Pauline’s frightened face. “Hey, I would never leave you.” He had a wicked look in his icy gray eyes.
Pauline seemed to shrivel up inside. Why did he make her feel so small? Was this the way she was supposed to feel with the man she loved?
“Do you mean it?” she barely squeaked out, her back pressed firmly against the door of the car. Pascal began to kiss her neck hungrily.
“Of course, baby,” he said, sucking in her essence. He had to admit he did desire Pauline, even if he found her a bit tiresome. It would be so much easier to dump her off at home and drop by one of his many stand-by girls. They always seemed ready to romp turbulently into his grasp.
But they were easy to sack. Pauline was a challenge and a virgin. There was a strong appeal to being a girl’s first. The first to break ground, so to speak.
Yes, that was enough of a reason to stay plastered to Pauline’s stiff body. He did plan on marrying her, eventually. He would be crazy not to. Every guy he knew wanted Pauline and that was power too. He would be the first and only man to possess her.
“Oh, Pascal!” Pauline cried, relieved, hugging him to her.
“Unless--” he interrupted, digging his fingers into her arms painfully, “you don’t give me what I want.”
She pulled away, know
ing all to well what he wanted.
“I told you I don’t want to do that until our honeymoon,” Pauline sobbed. Did she really even want to do it then? She snubbed out her cigarette that had burned down to the butt in the car ashtray.
“You know what happened to Mara-Joy and Joanna. I don’t want that! I want it to happen like it did with Constance--like it’s supposed to happen.”
She pulled away from Pascal and began to chew on her ruined nails, gazing out the front window.
“Christ, Pauline!” Pascal flopped back in his seat, slamming his hands on the steering wheel. Pauline began to turn white as a ghost, terrorized. “Constance was no damn virgin when she married George. Do you honestly think my brother would buy the cow without tasting the milk first? Damn it, Pauline, you are more stupid than I thought.”
Pauline winced as his words stung her. He always seemed disappointed in her. She never pleased anyone.
“Listen, if you really loved me, you would want to share yourself with me. Show me that you love me,” Pascal’s voice softened, but his gray eyes remained cold.
Something inside Pauline tightened with fear. Who was this man claiming his love for her? She turned away and glanced out the window. A tear fell down her cheek and she quickly brushed it away with her fingertips. She didn’t want Pascal to see her cry. He would just ridicule her more.
“Hey,” Pascal confided. A warm hand was placed on Pauline’s tense shoulder.
She involuntarily shivered hoping that there was something of the old Pascal she had first met in that touch. She turned and looked into his gleaming face. He looked calmer.
“We’ll be married by Christmas if you let me make love to you,” he cooed, slowly caressing her shoulders. Pauline began to weaken to his touch, melting like snow under his warm hands.
“You promise? By Christmas I will be your wife?” She closed her eyes. Everything would be all right after they were married. He would be the same Pascal she had first met, sweet and caring. Things would be different when she was his wife. She knew it. It had to be so.
Pascal kissed Pauline’s neck as he began to unbutton her blouse. She lay stiff and unmoving and began to sob, unable to control herself. She didn’t know how to stop him. She wanted to wait until they were married, but she didn’t want to lose him by refusing his persistent urges.
He released a shuddering breast and gasped. This was the farthest he had ever gotten with Pauline before. Flustered, Pauline continued to cry louder in utter trauma. She didn’t want to do this. Her embarrassment screamed red in her face and she closed her eyes tight against her humiliation.
“That’s my girl.” Pascal cupped her breasts aggressively between his palms, admiring the silky feel of them between his fingers. He bent down and inhaled their milky scent. “By Christmas, darling, we will be married.”
Pauline didn’t feel better for his promise. She just felt more scandalized and continued to clamor louder.
“Stop your crying! For the love of Jude, Pauline, you sure know how to ruin a mood.” Pascal sat up. His face was flushed with excitement. He jumped into the back seat and pulled Pauline roughly back with him.
“You are hurting me!” Pauline whined, trying to sit up and cover her naked front. Pascal’s hands were all over her, quickly undoing her skirt and the rest of her blouse.
He grabbed Pauline’s wrists and swung her onto her back, pressing her firmly onto the back seat. Savagely he began to kiss her face, her shoulders and her bare chest. His one hand held her wrists pinned above her head, while his other hand worked on removing his own clothing.
Unclothed from the waist down he began to remove Pauline’s panties.
“Pascal, please no!” Pauline cried out as he pressed firmly on top of her. She could feel his ridged excitement steadily approaching and couldn’t stand it.
“Listen, Pauline!” Pascal forced himself to speak through clenched teeth as he grabbed her by the bare shoulders, lifting her up to face him. Her head sagged back, weakly, as she cried out louder. “If you love me, you will do this.”
He dropped her abruptly and without feeling. She landed with a thump, banging the back of her head violently on the door handle.
Pascal chuckled, unable to compose himself. The sight of Pauline breasts jiggling as she landed on the car door was too much for his thrilled mind to contend with. He had to have her and he had to have her now.
“You say you love me, but how do I know it is true?” he breathed lustfully into Pauline’s blanched face. “You want me to marry you but you give me nothing in return. Do you love me, Pauline? Do you? Because I feel you need to show me to make me believe it’s true.”
“Please don’t make me do this, Pascal,” she cried unable to move, she was so frightened. She felt bruised and defeated, both mentally and physically.
“Do you love me?” He demanded again, forcefully, pressing his aroused weight on her.
“Yesss!” she wailed, body shaking with emotion. “I do love you.”
“Good, then you will do this,” Pascal said directly, leaning down onto Pauline’s exposed body, crushing her with all his mass. She bit firmly on her lip and closed her eyes tight, praying for it to be over, quickly.
At least they would be married by Christmas.
Chapter 40 —