What Happened To Jill

She pressed her nose and forehead against the mirror, her hands clasping the cold sink. The mirrored surface had felt cold at the first touch, but that hadn't lasted beyond the moment her skin first made contact.

She tried to look at herself, but her eyes were so cross-eyed that she gave up.

A short sigh formed a circle of condensation on the mirror and she closed her eyes.

You can be there.

Her lips formed the words, but no sound came. As if she was ashamed to say the words out loud.

She lifted her forehead from the mirror and looked at herself. The words went through her head again and a mocking smile appeared on her face.

It had been a recommendation from the year teacher when she was still in seventh grade.

Say those words to yourself every day. It will boost your self-confidence.

Jill had never actually said the words, and she didn't actually do so now.

Her reflection looked back at her with a mixture of uncertainty, shame, bravado, and uncertainty about that bravura. Her auburn hair in a long, wide braid, her narrow shoulders bare, and a black, silk, transparent tube top underneath. Her hard, spherical breasts the size of ripe oranges pulled the fabric taut and pushed her pink nipples against the silk.

What she saw in the mirror was not what she was insecure about. That wasn't what made her known as a shy girl. It was because of the girl in pictures.

Somehow, according to Jill, there was a huge difference between how she knew herself in the mirror and how she saw herself in photographs. She could live with the mirror image. How she saw herself in pictures made her insecure. And the fact that there was such a big difference between the two not only made it incomprehensible - it also undermined her self-confidence.

She turned her head to the left and brushed the mascara down her long eyelashes. She blinked, passed the brush again, and blinked again.

There was something magical about this time she put her makeup on. The dark mascara, the rosy not too red lipstick. The care with which she did it. It was a preparation for the unknown. To something that could happen, but she wasn't sure. Something new and exciting. Something that almost made her slender knees buckle, but that tension made it alluring. She put on make-up, but had no idea why exactly, or for whom. Like an explorer in the fifteenth century who prepares his ship for the journey, not knowing where he will end up or who he will meet there.

She squeezed into a stretchy black dress with fine glitter and no shoulder straps. When she pulled it down to reveal the top of her small breasts, the dress didn't even reach halfway up her white thighs.

She was satisfied with the girl in the mirror. She might even have been cautiously proud for the first time. But the fact that she didn't know whether to rely on the mirror or the photos gnawed at her. She tried to ignore it. Tried to hold on to the image she saw now. She tried to care for herself, to love herself. But it was hard for her. So terribly heavy.

Tonight was her shot. Her adrenaline rush.

She would do something that was not for her. Something she may not even have been ready for. She had no idea. But she would take the plunge. Not knowing if she was doing it to fuel confidence, or because she was being eaten from the inside out by her low self-esteem.

Where are you going?

Her mother had been sitting on the couch. Knees drawn up, e-reader on her thighs.

Jill had staggered across the living room in her brand new and much too high stiletto heels. She ignored her mother.Jill?

she heard her say. The girl almost lost her balance and clung to the door handle. She paused.

Jill, don't go to town like that, will you?

The girl shrugged her slender shoulders and sighed softly.

Uhuh.

She opened the door to the hallway.

Twelve hours at home, huh?

She closed the front door behind her.

It was warm downtown. It sounded like a sultry summer night, with voices echoing against the facades of the historic buildings to her left and right.

During the day it had been well over thirty degrees and she had to walk slowly so as not to get hot again. It didn't matter. She couldn't go faster in these heels anyway.

She left a trail of sweet girl perfume. But one that had cost her a month's clothing allowance. She wanted to be the most attractive version of herself tonight. She didn't want to skimp.

Tipsy boys on bicycles, screaming girls across the back. Couples who quickly tried to get out of their feet before the nightlife violence would erupt.

It was busy in the city. How could it be otherwise with this weather?

Her thoughts went in all directions. From doubts about what she had attracted to doubts about herself, to the scenario in which she would run into acquaintances.

What would she do then? What would she say? She would go through the ground. Shame on you. Jill in such clothes? Act normal.

She turned left, avoiding the pubs she had visited with friends. The number of times they had been allowed to go out could be counted on one hand. But if they had gone, it was always there.

She wouldn't go there. She had to look for something she didn't know.

There was a line in front of the white monumental building that was long enough not to make her feel uncomfortable, but not so short that you would expect no one to be inside.

She joined.

Before her and behind her couples, boys, girls. No not boys and girls. Men. And women. She looked around and concluded that everyone was older than her. From a little to a whole lot. Her gaze moved forward. Three more people and she was at the door.

If she came in here, it must mean something good. But if she wasn't let through, it was a failure that would ruin the evening early on. She felt a warm tension in her abdomen. She wiggled awkwardly in her stiletto heels. Her nails in her palms.

Two minutes, at most. Then she faced a door almost twice as high and more than three times as wide as she was. No more than two words.

Five euro.She was shocked by what he said and the implications of what he had said.

Five euro? She only had her phone and ID with her. She paid with her device and she certainly never had cash with her. But the fact that he mentioned a price implied that he would let her in if she paid.

She hesitated and clumsily pretended to look for cash she knew she didn't have on her.

The porter didn't seem to have much patience and she was beginning to fear he might push her aside when suddenly an arm came over her shoulder with a five euro note.

The big man at the door nodded and stepped aside.

Jill looked back to see where the arm had come from, but it was so busy behind her that she couldn't say for sure.

She smiled with uncertain gratitude to those behind her and almost stumbled into the club.

She had ordered a beer. It was the first time she tasted alcohol.

The few times she'd been out with friends, they hadn't ventured. But now that she'd come in here, now that she'd won that victory, it was part of doing something that grown people do.

It hadn't been good anyway. She liked that it was ice cold, but she had found the foam downright gross and the beer itself bitter.

She didn't want to show herself and drained the glass faster than was good for her.

It stung her throat. And she didn't know if that was alcohol or carbon dioxide. She knew it gave her a pleasant feeling in her forehead. As if someone was massaging the front of her brain with silky smooth fingers. It was a strange sensation and she couldn't suppress a smile.

The booming bass music made her chest quiver and the colored lights blinded her more than once. This was serious. This wasn't like the pubs she'd once glanced into. She wanted more of this. She wanted to experience more. And balancing on her heels, she went step by step to the bar. A sneaky synthesizer interspersed the throbbing bass as she rested her hands on the wet bar.

A girl ten years older than her leaned over and Jill pointed to a bunch of colorful bottles behind the bar. She didn't know what she wanted, nor did she know what she was pointing to. But the barmaid didn't hesitate for a second, grabbed one of the bottles by the neck and poured a dark pink liquid into a glass through a spout. She stopped pouring, looked at Jill, smiled, and poured more.

It had been as sweet as it was delicious. She had drunk it through a bamboo straw and it had gone straight to her head. She had stood in a corner and finished the first glass, then started on the second.

She felt like the tempo of the music was speeding up and people were dancing everywhere. A stage shrouded in smoke, heads bobbing in the light of colored disco lights.

She stood in a corner and found herself moving involuntarily in time with the music. She was an excellent dancer, but somehow she didn't dare show it here. As if the fact that she could dance well would earn her extra critical looks. It was fine.

It was so good, in fact, that she began to believe that the evening would be successful if she went home after this drink. She was one experience richer. She felt proud of this fact and pleasantly floaty from the alcohol.

And just when she was almost reconciled with the plan to go home after this drink, she felt a hand on her lower back.

Jill?

she heard someone yell in her ear.

The voice was just loud enough to rise above the music, but not so loud as to startle her.

Suddenly she was completely focused again. She looked to the right, not really daring to look.

Jill?

the voice asked again.

From havo 4?

She looked at the voice. A face in the dark, momentarily illuminated by a blue disco light. An old man. Forty. No, fifty. She knew a lot. To her, anyone over thirty was old.

He had a short shaved beard and deep grooves that ran from his nose to the corners of his mouth. His hair seemed gray to her.

Jill from havo 4 right?

She nodded and smiled sheepishly, not knowing who the man was. His hand slid off her lower back.

I give bio on the Rembrandt!

cried the man.

Not to you of course, you would have known that, but I thought I recognized you.

Jill sipped her drink and nodded nervously. She smiled, barely daring to look at the man. What was she supposed to tell him? What was she supposed to tell a man his age? What do you say in a club when you talk to each other?

The music boomed on. She saw the sound waves cause vibrations in her glass. The teacher's hand on her lower back again. He leaned toward her. She felt the stubble of his shaved beard brush against her neck.

You know it's twenty-one plus here?

Jill smiled and felt proud that she had managed to get in. She shook her head and looked briefly at the man, but immediately lowered her eyelids.

The hand on her lower back pulled her toward the man for a moment, then slid away from her.

Do you know who paid for you?

cried the man.

At the entrance?

Jill, her straw between her lips, looked up at him and shook her head.

The man raised his index finger and then pointed to his chest. He nodded proudly.

Jill slipped the straw out of her mouth. She smiled broadly at the man.

Real?

It sounded more frivolous than she intended.

The silky soft fingers now massaged her brain a little more firmly than before. She felt her arms get warm and she thought her neck was blushing.

The man nodded again.

What do you drink?

he asked.

Not knowing what she had ordered, Jill was forced to tilt the glass towards the teacher and let him smell it.

He sniffed, looked at her and smiled.

She felt him grab her wrist.

come along,

he cried in her ear, wanting to lead her through the moving crowd.

She hesitated. Didn't quite know what to do. If she left now, she would be home by the agreed twelve o'clock. It had been a nice evening. But the teacher had paid for her and he pulled her by the wrist.

And he didn't let her go until they reached the bar.

He leaned over it. Raised two fingers to the barmaid Jill had previously ordered from herself. The girl behind the bar looked doubtfully at her, and at the man who had taken her away. Then she grabbed a bottle by the neck and filled two shot glasses.

-

Even in her exaggerated stiletto heels, Jill didn't rise above his nipple line.

She had dressed like a woman, but her body betrayed that she was still a girl. Her slender shoulders and arms were bare, as were most of her thin legs. And her tight, stretchy dress left no room for doubt about the shape and size of her breasts.

He'd dragged her to the bar on the bluff and shoved her a high-alcohol anise liqueur.In one go!

he had shouted in her ear and raised his glass. She had imitated him, both in toasting and in throwing back the drink in one gulp.

She had made a horribly dirty face and her slender body had shaken. She had looked at him with pathetic puppy eyes that seemed to ask why he had done this. But when he held up another two fingers to the barmaid, the teen didn't protest.

It had been terribly exciting. And terribly wrong.

She must have been about sixteen years old. And also a student of his school. How inappropriate was it to feed her shots?

He looked at her dark eyes and beautiful face. Her full, well-made lips and the way-too-shy little smile that occasionally showed around her mouth when he made a bad joke. Her fine young body. The body of a high school teenager. That of a girl he taught. Could give. Too young to indulge. Especially considering his work.

But another shot went in as well. And they also threw number four backwards.

He saw a trickle of the thick liquid run from the corner of her mouth to her neck and leaned forward and placed his lips over the drop that curled down her neck.

She hadn't moved.

How drunk was she already?

He leaned back and looked the girl up and down. The alcohol had hit her hard, but she hadn't lost any of her beauty.

But how far gone was she?

He nudged her fragile shoulder. She almost lost her balance and was able to hold herself by grabbing the bar.

And then she stood there for a second or two. Staring. Without response. She said nothing about the fact that he had just pushed her for nothing. She made no comment at all.

And suddenly she was alive again, like a wind-up bunny that had stopped, but was now excited again.

Hey!

she squeaked with mock indignation. She smiled shyly at the dark floor and still didn't look at him. Her beautiful cheeks turned red.

Do not!

Involuntarily and clumsily she put one hand on his upper arm and one arm on his shoulder. It seemed to be somewhere between seeking balance and making contact. And she scared herself. She immediately withdrew.

He ran his fingers down her thin forearm and grabbed the half-full liqueur glass from the bar girl. He nodded his head toward the corner where she had stood before.

can you dance?

he had called into her ear.

She had smiled. A little less shy than before. Now there was some courage. He smiled back.

You can dance huh?

he nodded questioningly.

She looked up at him and nodded, biting her lower lip.

Look at this, he thought to himself, but he said something else.

Let's see something then!

The slender schoolgirl rolled her eyes in laughter. As if the question made her feel embarrassed but flattered at the same time. And immediately her shyness seemed to break through the alcohol again. She shook her pretty face.

Come on!

he insisted.

You sure can do great.

She shook again. A little more decided now.

He grabbed her forearm.

Shall I help you?

he asked. And the girl looked at him heavily tipsy. A goofy smile on her face.

Without waiting for her reaction, he pulled her to him, spun her around and locked her in his arms. He pulled the girl tightly against him. He felt her lower back level with his crotch, her shoulder blades against the base of his costal arch, the back of her head against his chest. His head rested gently on hers. The sweet smell of girl's perfume and shampoo rose to his head.