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| Jennifer Lee, actress |
Spectator |
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It happens that fall shortly after my sixteenth birthday . . . during a homecoming reunion at Syracuse [where Jordan was a graduate student] . . .
I go back to the bedroom, and Jordan's sitting on one of the twin beds, watching me. "Are you going to wear your matching outfit to bed?"
"What?"
"Aren't you going to get undressed?"
"Yes, but can we please shut off the light?" He shakes his head and snickers as he turns off the lamp. He gets a great big kick out of my naiveté.
I take my clothes off by the light of the full moon shining through the window and slip into bed beneath the thin orange blanket. Smoothly, he takes his pants and underwear off and slides in beside me. He holds me for a while, then begins kissing me. Suddenly he's on top of me, forcing himself inside. It's too quick and too soon. I'm not ready. And it hurts. I want him to take longer, to caress me, to touch me tenderly the way he did before. I groan and gasp for air as he pushes deeper. Jordan's having a great time and I am the spectator. I'm rigid and can't turn off my mind. Is this the way it's supposed to be? I just want to stop. He pushes further inside me. With his palms on the bed, he props himself up and from the top of his mountain, miles away, I hear him say, "Jenny, I love you." Then he slaps me across the face. He continues to move inside of me. "I love you," he tells me again and slaps me even harder. I'm stunned and stung. "I'm going to come!" he shouts, which confuses me even more. Why this announcement? After it's all over, he pulls out of me, turns his back on me and begins to cry. I lie there and feel the warm trickle of blood roll down the insides of my thighs. If he loves me, why did he hit me? I ask myself over and over. Is he angry that he loves me? Why is he crying? (Syracuse, NY, 1968)
from Tarnished Angel: Surviving in the Dark Curve of Drugs, Violence, Sex and Fame by Jennifer Lee (Thunder's Mouth Press, © 1981)
© 2000 Nerve.com, Inc.
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