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even complete a casual dinner. It would take some
time to put it behind him but eventually he would. After all, it
wasn't the worst thing that had been done to him by the fairer of
the sexes. The memory of Jenna Bishop on the other hand; that was
one that still lingered and probably would for the remainder of his
days.
    Jenna Bishop. The very thought of the name
made Jason want to run and hide in shame. Even though no one in
Boston, besides his longtime friend and now roommate Derek, knew
about the incident, he couldn't help but think that, at times,
people were still whispering the embarrassing little details to one
another whenever they saw him. Looking back on the incident he
couldn't believe how gullible he'd been, but it had been Senior
year of high school and Jenna had been the aggressor, approaching
him for a date, so for that reason alone he understood his puberty
driven mistake.
    The entire school had been in shock to find
out that he and Jenna, a cheerleader, were going out. He'd
overheard people ask her what she was thinking going out with
someone like him, as if he carried the plague or something, but he
didn't care. Jenna was beautiful and for some reason she wanted to
be with him or at least that's what he'd been led to believe.
    Only a week into the budding romance, they'd
gone to a movie, they'd had dinner at her house with her parents
and obnoxious little brother, who also seemed to question what in
the hell their daughter and sister were doing with the frail, nerdy
kid from school.
    By the end of the weeklong relationship he'd
felt on top of the world. Everything was going to change for him.
He'd expected high school to be an unpleasant necessity in life. A
sentence of abuse at the hands of kids more popular than he but
now, having catapulted his way into the social elite with his
romantic connection, everything was looking up, which was probably
why he hadn't found it odd when Tyler Bidwell had invited him to a
party that weekend.
    The night had started great. His arrival had
been marked by dozens of excited peers welcoming him to the party
and offering him drinks, which he'd politely declined. He’d enjoyed
the flirtatious advancements of numerous girls, which oddly Jenna
hadn't taken offense to and by nine o' clock, he'd found himself in
an upstairs bedroom with Jenna straddling his chest and his hands
bound to the bedposts. The very thought of what was occurring
should have been more than enough for him to finish right then and
there given his lack of experience but amazingly he'd managed to
contain his hormonal excitement.
    Everything after that was a bit fuzzy.
Likely, it was his brain’s way of trying to protect him from the
devastatingly embarrassing spectacle that had followed. All he
could remember clearly was Jenna excusing herself for a moment and
then, the next thing he knew, the room was full of people pointing
and laughing at the half naked kid tied to the bed. There were
jokes and names coming from all directions as he’d struggled to
free himself from the silk scarves holding him prisoner. The flash
of what seemed like dozens of cameras had been blinding, making it
that much harder to undo the well tied knots. To make matters
worse, there was a giant purple dildo laying on his chest. It had
probably been a normal sized dildo, but no dildo is normal sized
when you’re tied to a bed with your pants around your ankles in a
room full of your peers.
    Thankfully, he’d managed to free himself,
return his pants to his waist and with his head down, scurry to
freedom. Needless to say, he hadn't even bothered talking to
another girl until sophomore year of college when Derek had finally
convinced him to go out on a date with Samantha Fishorn, a girl
from his physics class. Samantha had been nice, but nothing had
come of the brief romance so his solo existence had continued,
occasionally interrupted by a date or two over the last three
years.
     
    IX
     
    The crooked Roman numerals on the cold