She stumbles, smiling but unsure why, her movements uncertain and awkward. She is sweating heavily from all the dancing; unfocused, trying to remember where she sat down her purse. She knows she came here with friends but she got distracted, drunk, and she can’t find them now. Did they leave her, thinking she herself had already left? If she could find her purse, she could call them. Instead, she stumbles, her hand sliding along the wall. Her hair is disheveled, her short skirt riding high; her left heel is broken from an earlier stumble. She leans against the wall as the room spins again.

He notices she doesn’t see him approach as she rests against the wall as the world twirls around her. He’s been watching her though. She’s drunk, of course, but probably a bit slow too. She clearly didn’t notice him drop anything into her drink. That’s when the waiting game had begun for him. She had been slutting it up, teasing men, himself included all night, thinking she could play her games. She would learn tonight that other people can play games as well. He steps close and lifts her chin, her eyes dull and glassy. She barely reacts when he leans in and kisses her, deeply, cupping her ass, pulling her against him. He feels her kiss him back, but she struggles too, like her brain is on autopilot, and can’t decide what she should do.

She melts against the stranger and she returns his insistent kiss. She thinks she maybe danced with him but she’s not sure. She half smiles wondering why she is doing this, pushing back at him lightly. At first he’s a wall, but then he relents and she tries to focus on his features. He smells of whiskey and cigars and he’s older but how old she can’t tell. His stubble burns her face as he kisses again. She pushes his chest but this time he doesn’t relent and she should fight but she’s so tired. She tastes him as his tongue is forced in her mouth and she doesn’t even notice him pulling up her skirt over her ass.

He smiles as he breaks the kiss, feeling her tiny thong, before pulling her skirt down again. As he pulls away, she’s clearly out of it, still kissing for a beat after he had stopped. Her eyes are dull, empty, just the way he likes them. Cunts like these have always frustrated him, treated him as a toy. But they weren’t anything special. Right now is the most true and honest self she’s ever been, whether she knew it or not. He holds her dull chin in his hand, before grabbing her wrist, then slipping his other hand between her halter top and the small of her sweaty back. He guides the dumb drunk thing along to the back and she just stumbles along, so very compliant. He loves this state, where they dance along the edge of reality, barely hanging on, before jumping off the cliffs into unconsciousness. He leads her into the bar’s men’s room, smiling to himself.

She walks along uncertain with the older man, rubbing her chin absentmindedly where his stubble has rubbed her, more than a little confused. He knew where he was going she knew, she tried to ask about her friends and he told her not to worry so she didn’t. His hand on her back felt strong as did his fingers holding her hand. She didn’t think of much at all, except making sure each step was successful, until they went through a door and the bright white almost blinded her. She blinked almost numbly, trying to process why they were in the bathroom. Not just the bathroom, but the mens room. She felt the pressure at her back again as she was pushed forward towards the closest open stall. A man walked out of another stall and smiled at her. She didn’t know why but she smiled back. And then they both were in the stall and she finally knew she had to turn, she had to get out of there. Sluggish alarm bells finally rung in her hazy head but he just gripped both her hands and slammed them and her body against the wall, next to a filthy piss covered toilet. She felt she should scream but his mouth was over hers and his hand was tearing at her top, pawing at her small braless chest. She moaned and cried both as the stranger groped her tits then tugged her nipples as he basically tongue fucked her mouth. She heard a ripping sound and her chest felt cold, noticing that a top like hers was sinking into the yellow water. Then she whimpered as he broke the kiss and spun her around, shoving her face hard into the graffiti laden wall and tore off her skirt. She felt him against her and screamed in her head and only cried instead in reality.

He tossed her ruined skirt on the floor, behind the toilet. The stupid bitch was barely up now, the drugs completely fucking up her awareness. That was ok, as all he cared about was defiling the young cunt. Tonight, he was pretty sure, her life was going to be ruined and that sent a special thrill up his spine. He mashed her head even harder against the wall and pulled out his cock. He rubbed her cunt, surprisingly wet, which means this dumb thing was probably already broken. The broken ones always were wet no matter what you did to them. He left her thong on her; somehow it felt dirtier to leave her with one piece of clothing. Then he shoved hard into her, slamming her body against the cheap bathroom stall. He didn’t care if he bruised her, or the rust and chipping paint scrapped her, he needed to empty his balls and that was what he was going to do. He was expecting her to scream, but she didn’t which only reinforced his belief that she was already broken, but she still had a spark he intended to snuff out tonight.