Free The Sunset Strip Diaries by Amy Asbury Page B

I guess I directed him to the nearest one. I just remember him coming back with a bottle of Southern Comfort. I had never even heard of it. I had never tasted alcohol. He opened the bottle in the car as we drove and told me to have a sip.
     
    Southern Comfort was disgusting; it lasted like licorice and cough syrup. It was warm going down my throat and I felt buzzed after one sip. One sip . I suddenly felt wonderful, euphoric even. I loved the feeling; I felt bold and happy, rolling down the window and feeling cold wind on my face. I smiled into the night air. Hearing Poison on the radio, being with a guy with long black hair and a white Mustang…This is what I wanted. This is what I was waiting for. This was the Hollywood scene and I was ready. Let me at ‘em, I thought.
     
    After a few sips of Southern Comfort, I became drunk.  I tried to look at all of the street names on the way because I was sure I was going to end up stranded and need to call my dad. I remember seeing the street name Coldwater Canyon and thinking, Damn… I have never been this far from home without my parents! Jamie told me we were going to his buddy Teddy St. John’s house and not to embarrass him.
     
    I stumbled into Teddy’s place completely inebriated. I somehow noticed that there were bullet holes in the wall as I was told that two other girls were going to join us. The first one came over a few minutes later and we went to pick up the second one. Once everyone was in the car, Teddy got in the passenger seat with Jamie and I got in the back with the two other girls. We drove to Santa Monica beach. They laid down a woven blanket, and starting passing the bottle around in the darkness. Jamie sighed and said to me in a bored manner, “Let’s go take a walk and look at the lights of the pier.” He didn’t even sound like he was trying to be con vin cing. I was too much of an easy target.
     
    We walked toward the ocean and he said, “Let’s stop here.” He laid down my leather jacket in the sand and told me to lie down. I did. He started kissing me and the only thing I could think was that it was different from Jeff Hunter. He tasted like cigarettes and I could smell his leather pants- they must have been real leather, not pleather, because they were very fragrant. He kissed me for a few more seconds and then started pulling off my clothes. The phrase “Oh shit” slid through my rubbery mind. I didn’t know how to get out of it. My mind was slow; my body was limp and lifeless. I felt paralyzed. He pulled out a condom and started to put it on and lay on top of me. Think of something! I tried to tell myself as I heard the waves crashing near us.
     
    Then I got an idea. I would pretend to pass out. I let my head drop backwards and shut my eyes. He yelled “Shit!” and started calling my name in a loud tone. He kind of smacked my head a little to wake me up. I pretended not to wake up and hoped he would just leave me alone and get dressed.  Not a chance. He began to have sex with me, thinking I was passed out. It hurt so badly when he tore my hymen that I couldn’t pretend that I was passed out anymore. I grimaced with pain. I didn’t want him to do it and yet I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t say no. I couldn’t move my body, I just laid there in the sand. It didn’t even slightly cross my mind to push the person off of me and kick him the balls and yell No ! It didn’t cross my mind to push his hands away, or resist in any way at all. I truly thought it was all I was worth.
     
    After a few thrusts he stopped, pissed off. He told me to get up and get dressed. He must have either seen that it was hurting me, or thought I was too much of a dead fish, but either way he stopped. It was too late for me though, because I had lost my virginity. I had only had my first kiss a few months prior, and I was on my very first date and had just had my very first sip of alcohol.
     
    Later that night, as they were taking me home so they could