Rapebait - Sex Stories

Rapebait

The need, the physical yearning for anonymity struck hard. It sent her on two trains to a suburb she’d never been before, and then it sent her to a bar. She sat there on her own, drinking cider on an empty stomach, it didn’t take long for her to start unraveling. She looks out of place, a girl in a skirt and a too big sweater on her own and she can feel eyes crawling over her but for once she doesn’t care. There’s kareoke and she sings, clumsy drunk tongue stumbling over the words and she laughs and laughs. Savage freedom. Dimly acknowledging the time, the last train leaving, she pays and leaves, the cold outside turning her mouth into a surprised ‘O’. She has time to realise how extraordinarily drunk she is and then everything fades out a little, trying to walk faster up the overpass, the sense of time running out, the blur of bright train headlights leaving her stranded she’s in a police car, they’re asking her what she’s doing out so late and she tells them about kareoke and she missed her train and thank you guys so much for picking me up. In the statement that arrives a week later, the officers will write that they’d found her lying on the medium strip, passed out or close enough for there to be no difference, but she doesn’t know that now. They exchange weary looks, talk about calling her a taxi, and she hunches down, ashamed a shudder of time and she was out on the streets again, she registers that it had gotten colder and that she didn’t know how she’d gotten out of ...

... the station (it was only later, when she woke up the next morning with shattered memories threatening to split her mind in two, that she would realise with helpless agony that none of this would have happened if the police had just taken her home), but that the relief of escaping the atmosphere of accusation and cruel fluorescents was almost worth the discomfort. She trudged along, occasionally stumbling, drunk and scared and chilled to the bone. Her arms wrapped around tight, trying to lose herself in her sweater. She walked as if she was in a tunnel and the car approaching behind her, slowing and stopping beside her, didn’t exist until she heard the driver call out, hey, aren’t you cold? Do you want a lift? Blinking and confused, still walking, she replies I’m ok thankyou and hears herself slur the words. Are you sure? She nods her head twice before the shakes hit again and she buries her head into her shoulder against the wind, keeps walking, one foot in front of the other. Goosebumps painful on her bare legs. The car keeps pace. His voice continues, low and reassuring and implacable. It was cold outside, she wasn’t safe on the streets on her own. Slowly her pace dropped and she swung her head right, looking at him, just a guy in a car. He was smoking a cigarette. She stopped. That’s better. Why don’t you get in the car and I’ll drive you home? Misgiving, gnawing at her brain. She wrenched its teeth free and walked toward the car, half sitting, half falling in the passenger ...