Chapter 30 #2
Then I feel the seat dip slightly and catch the smell of alcohol and cologne mixed together. I turn my head, and he’s already there, sitting closer than I expected.
"Hey, Iris, right?" He says, smiling like we already know each other well. "Al’s told me a lot about you. You look like you could use some company tonight."
Something in his tone makes my shoulders tense immediately. I shift a little farther along the seat, creating space between us without making it obvious. "I’m fine, thanks." I say politely. "I’m just here with friends."
He doesn’t move back. If anything, he leans closer, his arm resting along the back of the booth behind me like he’s claiming the space. I can smell the alcohol on his breath when he talks.
"You seem tense." He says, lowering his voice as if he’s saying something personal. "Let me help you relax. Want another drink? Or maybe something stronger? We can dance? I’ll be gentle."
I shake my head, keeping my voice calm but firmer. "No, I’m okay. Really. I don’t feel like dancing right now."
He smiles wider, like he thinks I’m being shy instead of serious. His fingers brush lightly against my arm, like it’s accidental, but they linger a second too long to really be an accident.
"Come on." He says softly, leaning closer again. "You’re too pretty to sit here alone. Dance with me. I promise I’ll be gentle."
My chest tightens. I pull my arm back and stand up before he can touch me again, my heart beating faster now.
"I think I’ll go find Al." I say quickly, not waiting for his response.
I step away from the booth and move into the crowd. The music hits me harder out here, louder and heavier, the bass vibrating through my body as people move around me in flashing lights and shifting shadows.
I push through the crowd until I reach Al. He’s moving easily to the music, laughing with two of his friends, completely relaxed like he belongs here in a way I never will. I touch his arm lightly.
"Al."
He turns toward me right away. "Hey. You good?"
"We should leave soon." I say, leaning closer so he can hear me. "I’m getting tired. And it’s… a lot in here."
His brows pull together. "Already?"
I nod. "Yeah. It’s just really crowded."
He studies my face for a second, like he’s trying to figure out if something else is wrong. "Did something happen?"
"No." I say quickly. "I’m just tired."
He tilts his head slightly. "Ree… you just got here."
"I know. I just…" I stop, not sure how to explain the feeling sitting in my chest. "It’s loud. And I’m not used to places like this."
He exhales softly, then shifts a little closer so I can hear him better. "Hey. Relax. You’re safe, okay?"
I swallow and nod faintly.
"A lot’s been going on with you lately." He continues, voice gentler now. "You needed a break. That’s why I brought you here. Not to stress you out more."
"I know." I say quietly.
He watches me for another second, then reaches for my hand. His grip is warm but light, like he’s giving me the choice to pull away if I want to.
"Come on." He says. "Just one song. Dance with me. If you still want to leave after that, we’ll go. Promise."
I hesitate.
"One song." He repeats, smiling a little. "That’s it."
"…Okay." I say finally.
His smile widens just a bit. "There we go."
He doesn’t drag me or spin me or do anything dramatic. He just starts moving to the beat and gently guides me with him, letting me find the rhythm instead of forcing it.
At first my body feels stiff, my steps unsure, but he doesn’t rush me. He keeps it slow, easy, matching my pace.
"See?" He says. "Not so bad."
I let out a small breath. "Maybe."
"That’s progress."
I almost smile. Slowly, without meaning to, I start moving more naturally. My shoulders loosen. My hands stop hovering awkwardly at my sides. I stop thinking so much about how I look.
Al notices immediately. "There it is."
"What?"
"That’s the you I was waiting for."
I roll my eyes lightly. "Don’t get used to it."
"Too late." He says.
Despite myself, I feel a tiny bit lighter. I almost feel normal. Then suddenly… A hand grabs my ass from behind. Firm. Unwanted.
I spin around so fast the lights blur. Justin is standing there, right behind me, smirking like he thinks it’s funny. Before I can react, his hand starts moving again, reaching toward my waist like he has every right to touch me.
"Get your hands off me." I say sharply, shoving his hand away. My voice shakes despite how hard I try to keep it steady.
I step back quickly, my heart racing now, panic rising fast under my skin. My heel catches on the floor and I lose my balance, my body tilting backward.
Suddenly strong arms catch me. They wrap around me just long enough to steady me before I fall. The touch is different. Not grabbing. Not claiming. Holding.
For a single second, my body reacts before my mind does. The tension drains from my shoulders. The panic eases. There is something familiar about the way those arms feel around me, controlled, steady, protective. Like whoever it is would never hurt me.
Then the arms release me immediately. As soon as I’m steady. I turn around quickly, expecting to see who it was. Expecting it might be Al. But there’s no one there.
Just strangers. Dancing. Laughing. Moving like they’re lost in their own worlds. No one is looking at me. No one is close enough to have caught me.
My pulse jumps harder. I scan the crowd quickly, my breathing uneven. Justin is still a few steps away, watching me. Fear spikes through my chest again, sharp and cold.
I don’t wait. I turn and hurry away, pushing through the crowd, past flashing lights and moving bodies, my heart pounding louder than the music as I make my way toward the washroom, needing space, needing air, needing distance from him before my panic shows on my face.
Inside the washroom, I splash cold water on my face again and again, trying to calm my racing heart. The water feels icy against my hot skin, but it does nothing to wash away the fear and confusion that still swirl inside me.
I look up at myself in the mirror. My cheeks are bright red and flushed, my eyes are wide open with leftover fear, and my hair is a little messy from dancing. I look like a girl who is lost and scared.
Suddenly, through the mirror, I see the masked man step quietly into the bathroom behind me.
He moves without making a sound at first and closes the stall door behind him with a soft click.
That small sound feels too loud in the washroom, like it echoes in my ears and makes everything feel even more dangerous.
I straighten up fast, my body going stiff with shock. My heart starts hammering hard against my ribs, so loud I can hear it in my own ears. I try to turn around to face him, but his voice stops me cold before I can move.
"Don’t turn around." He says, low and commanding, right behind me. His voice is deep and steady, the kind that leaves no room for arguing.
I stop immediately, frozen in place like my feet are stuck to the floor. He is right behind me now, so close that there is almost no room for air between our bodies.
I can feel the heat of his chest pressing gently against my back, his presence so big and strong that it makes the small space feel even smaller.
He takes a slow, deep sniff of my hair, breathing me in like I belong to him. In the mirror I can see his eyes glinting with something dark and hungry, something predatory that sends a fresh shiver through me.
From the next stall, soft moans start drifting through the thin wall. The couple in there is clearly enjoying themselves, their sounds intimate and raw. Little gasps, low groans, and the wet slap of skin against skin.
I blush hard, my face burning even hotter with embarrassment as I hear every single sound. It makes the moment feel even more wrong and dirty.
He reaches up and holds my hair gently but firmly in his hand. He pulls my head back slowly, forcing me to look straight at us in the mirror. Our eyes meet in the reflection.
"Your lips part like that when you’re scared." He says, his voice dark and filthy, sending another shiver down my spine.
"It makes me wonder how they would feel wrapped around my cock, taking me deep while you look at me with those wide, terrified eyes."
Heat rushes through my whole body like fire. Fear and unwanted arousal mix together so strong that it confuses me deeply. I feel scared, my mind screaming that this is wrong and dangerous, but my body feels strangely alive, warm and tingling in places I do not want to admit.
He asks quietly, his hot breath brushing against my ear and making my skin prickle. "Spread your legs for me."
I hesitate, my breath coming out shaky and fast. My heart is racing so hard it feels like it might burst.
He waits, patient but firm, his body still pressed tight against mine, not moving away even an inch. The silence stretches between us until I cannot take it anymore. "Spread them. Now."
I obey slowly, my legs parting little by little. Shame and excitement battle inside me, making my thighs tremble with the effort. I feel so exposed even though I am still fully dressed.
He runs his finger from my thigh up under my skirt to my pussy, slow and deliberate. He traces the edge of my panties. "Look at you." He says softly. "Pathetic little slut. Already so wet for me and I have barely touched you."
I feel my face burn even hotter. Embarrassment floods through me. "I’m not… I don’t want this. Please stop."
He pinches my clit lightly through the fabric, making me gasp sharply. "Why are you so wet then? Does being scared turn you on? Does knowing I could do anything to you right here make your pussy drip like this?"
I do not answer at first. I feel too embarrassed and overwhelmed by the conflicting feelings. I shake my head a little. "No… please, I really don’t want this."
He pinches again, firmer this time, and rolls my clit between his fingers. "Answer me."
"Yes." I whisper, my voice breaking with shame. "But I don’t want to feel this. Please, just let me go."
He notices I am looking at his hand in the mirror. No gloves tonight. Or maybe he removed them before entering the stall. "Good girl. I want you to feel every single touch. I want you to know exactly who is making you feel this way."
He slides my panties to the side and runs his bare fingers along my folds, spreading my wetness. "You don’t like this but your pussy is begging for me."
He starts rubbing my clit in slow, firm circles. His fingers quickly become soaked. The pleasure builds fast, mixing with the fear in a way that makes my head spin and my knees feel weak. I bite my lip hard to stay quiet.
Suddenly he slides one finger inside my pussy, pushing in deep and curling it. I let out a soft moan before I can stop it. My walls clench around him tight.
He shushes me immediately, his voice right by my ear, low and dangerous. "Shh. You would not want others to know you are getting finger fucked in a bathroom stall by a stranger, would you?"
I shake my head.
"Then keep quiet or I will make you scream loud enough for everyone to hear."
I hold onto his arm to brace myself. My legs shake badly. I whisper, "Please… stop. I can’t do this." But he doesn’t.
He inserts a second finger, stretching me slowly. He thrusts them in and out while his thumb keeps circling my clit. "That is it. Take my fingers like a good little slut. Does it feel good when I fuck you like this?"
I moan softly, unable to lie. "Yes… But please, I shouldn’t…"
He speeds up a little, curling his fingers to hit that spot inside me that makes pleasure shoot through my entire body. "Louder. Tell me you like being my little slut in this dirty stall. Tell me you are scared but you still want my fingers inside you."
I’m scared, but the pleasure is too strong to deny now. Tears prick my eyes. "I… Please don’t make me say it."
"Say it."
"I like it. I’m scared but I want it. "
He curls his fingers again, rubbing that spot harder and faster.
"Good girl. You’re dripping down my hand.
" He pauses, then says "Look at yourself in the mirror.
Watch how you fall apart for me. Needy Little Prey.
You hate me but your pussy is clenching around my fingers like it never wants me to stop. "
I watch in the mirror. My face is flushed dark red. My lips are parted. My eyes look glassy with lust and fear. The sight makes me even more embarrassed, but it also pushes me closer to the edge. I feel so ashamed of my own body.
He leans in, his masked face beside my ear. "Cum for me. Show me how much you need this even when you are terrified of me. Cum on my fingers like the scared little slut you are."
His fingers move faster and deeper. His thumb presses hard on my clit. I cannot hold back anymore. The orgasm crashes over me hard. My body shakes violently.
I moan softly as my walls pulse and squeeze around his fingers again and again. Waves of pleasure roll through me, leaving me weak, confused, and deeply ashamed.
He slowly removes his fingers from inside me and wipes them on my thigh. I hear him open the stall door and leave without another word.
I stay there, leaning against the sink. My mind spins wildly. I was so scared the whole time, but it felt so good. How can I feel pleasure from the same man who terrifies me?
The confusion and shame wash over me in big waves. I feel dirty and guilty, like I let it happen even though I said no. But my body is still humming with the aftershocks. I do not understand myself at all.
How can fear and desire mix like this inside me? Why does my body betray me every time he touches me, even when I tell him to stop?
I splash cold water on my face, trying to pull myself together before I go back out. He is gone, but the feeling he left behind stays with me, strong and heavy.
I look at myself in the mirror one last time. My cheeks are still flushed. I feel a deep sense of shame and confusion that I know will follow me home tonight.