Free The Lesson by Virginia Welch Page B

It was slightly undercooked and her mother’s sauce was better. She glanced across the table to see that Rolando had stopped eating and was staring at her intently, or, more particularly, it appeared he was staring at her chest.
    Could she have misinterpreted? Don’t be ridiculou s. Even with the pink sweater she didn’t have enough on top to attract a guy’s attention.
    Suddenly she felt keenly uncomfortable and was sorry she had come. Something was wrong, no, everything was wrong, but she couldn’t figure out what was out of place. She wasn’t having fun like she thought she would, and conversation wasn’t flowing with Rolando in the smooth way it used to when Michael was there. Rolando seemed intent, not as casual and easy as she remembered him. She wanted to leave, but polite guests didn’t just eat and leave. She made up her mind that she would stay a respectable period after the meal and then get away as soon as possible.
    When they were finished eating, Rolando announced that he was happy to do the dishes later, and shouldn’t they move to the living room for a little TV? That sounded good to Gina. It would relieve her of the burden of conversation. She would stay, she decided, only for the duration of a half-hour sitcom and then make an early exit. Then he offered her another glass of wine. She declined. Already she was feeling the all-too-familiar and delightful sense of being dangerously relaxed. He urged her again to have another glass, and again she said no, she had had enough.
    They left their dishes on the kitchen table and moved to the living room where Rolando turned on the TV. As they took their places, Gina was dismayed to remember that the couch, which was as old as her parents and just as firm, offered all the support of a marshmallow. Anyone who dared to sit on it instantly rolled downward toward the sunken center and was left, drowning, to flail and clamber his or her way out because their bottoms were so low to the floor. At one time with a very special law student the sinking couch had been fun, but now she felt only embarrassment as she found herself uncomfortably rolling toward the center, Rolando practically on top of her. She scooted herself to the edge of the couch, gripped the arm rest, and pushed her feet solidly to the floor to keep from sliding to the center. Rigid and uncomfortable, she looked forward to the moment when she could thank Rolando for dinner and make an exit. She paid no attention to the TV.
    Her death grip on the armrest and leg-numbing pushing against the floor should have left her wakeful. Perhaps it was the wine, but sometime after she had determined to endure a thirty-minute sitcom, she fell asleep. She woke drowsily to find that she had slid to the center of the couch. Her first wakeful thought was that Rolando was very near.
    The proximity of his hips to hers was discomfiting to Gina, who was poised to discreetly scoot back to the safety of her bunker at the end of the couch. But the sensual moment that made her feel uncomfortable made Rolando come alive. Without warning he turned his body toward hers and was on top of her, pressing his mouth on hers, running his hands down her body toward her hips. She was in such shock that all she could do was react, pushing and shoving and trying to free herself. She was overwhelmed with the sensation of his bulk pressing down on her body.
    “Stop it!” she said, trying to break away. “Stop it I said!”
    He held her down briefly, his eyes fixed on hers. From what she saw Gina knew, in one terrorizing moment, that he got some twisted pleasure from dominating her. After a few seconds of intentional delay, he let her go, pushing her in disgust.
    “What is it you want?” he groused. “You call me to spend an evening with me!” He stood up and threw both hands in the air. “What do you want?”
    “I want to go home!”
    She bolted upright from the couch. She didn’t hesitate long enough to even look him in the eye. She