He seemed so normal.
Short black hair, a nice shirt, a crooked smile. He smiled when he finished sentences and it didn't feel insidious. But one drink later and I was half-asleep on his shoulder, my words slurring like I had eight. I'd taken plenty of stuff in college, things that I should not have, but not really anything that felt like this. Before the room stops spinning I'm already outside, and by the time I come to again I'm in an elevator and he's stuffing his tongue down my throat.
Thankfully, this doesn't last long; he takes me by my hips and whips me around to face the wall. I'm more awake now, the fear doing wonders to cut through the fog. The buttons told me there were 15 floors, and the lit one for floor 15 told me I had a long elevator ride to go.
He moves me so quickly I stumble, almost twisting an ankle. As he rough-hands me, he forces me forward ninety degrees, giving me the opportunity to unclasp and tug off my heels. He doesn't stop me, using the time to rip my underwear from my thighs and align himself with me. I feel something soft touch me, my thighs already sticky with the wetness that the drugs had brought on. At least, I hope it was the drugs. I can't genuinely get off on this. I can't.
He groans as he presses his length into me, easily, and I let out a soft noise of protest. How had I let myself get into this situation? The rhythm of his hips bounces me forward, my breasts peeking out the low cut neckline of my tight dress.
As his hips ram into mine from behind, I hold tight to the handrail and close my eyes tight; I pray to any god that may be above that I wouldn't hear the ding of the door to my left. A single tear streams down my cheek, feeling the shame burn across the bridge of my nose at the thought of someone seeing me like this.
Gratefully, or maybe not so, nobody interrupts his nonstop thrusts, each one rougher than the last. I'm almost completely sober by now, the rush of adrenaline taking the last bit of drunkenness right out of me, although the remnants of whatever it was spiked with lingers. It makes me just the right amount of numb not to wince as he buries his cock to the hilt, growing slightly before releasing a broken spray of liquid right against my cervix. I try to panic, to remind myself that a stranger just came inside of me, but I just can't. All I can feel is heat.
He pulls back and releases my hips, leaving me falling to my knees and scrambling to catch myself on the handrail. I feel him leaking down my inner thigh, my dress still pushed up over my hips, and I cringe. The ring of the elevator makes me close my eyes tight, praying there wouldn't be someone on the other side of it. Letting myself get into this situation was one thing, but letting someone else see me like this? That would break me.
He scoops me up by my elbow, my knees wobbling as I walk barefoot out of the elevator. I'll miss those shoes. We get halfway to the end of the hall before he suddenly releases me and I fall, hearing the doors of the elevator close behind me. He keeps walking and knocks on a door as he passes before disappearing behind room 151.
Somehow, I manage to sit upright, making a poor attempt to tug my dress down to hide myself. A door opens, and for a moment I feel like I may be saved. I open my eyes, looking up to see another man, this one with longer, blonde hair. He's wearing a button up shirt with a loosened tie. He's not here to save me.
