Unspoken Pleasure by Erotica

Just One Drink; 3

After the blissful afterglow faded though, she was left with only shame and the dull ache from her torments. What was she supposed to do after something like this happened to her? Should she call someone? The police? Would they believe her? She'd probably just washed away what little evidence there was, and it's not like she could remember enough about any of the perpetrators for a conviction, or even an arrest probably. She thought about some of the rape cases she'd followed, and how traumatic it appeared to be for the victims. The reporters eventually found out their identity and then they hounded them for all the salacious details. Imagining that now it seemed like a whole second rape; there was no way she could go through such a thing. Better to pretend it never happened. Better to let the scant details drift away until she could convince herself it was just a party that got out of hand.

"Or I could just kill myself," she added in a barely audible whisper while she continued to sit on the cold wet floor. It was a last resort for sure, but people had done it for less hadn't they? No, she decided after a moment of silence, slowly rising to her feet. She wasn't going to do that. They weren't worth it. If there was anything she was good at it was baring the slings and arrows of a life which had never been kind to her. Not since well before she'd been institutionalized in high school.

She could do this.

Tomorrow.

do

she just wanted to go back to bed and forget all the terrible things that had happened. Tomorrow she could go to school and pretend that nothing had happened. She could throw herself into her academics until she either had top marks or a nervous breakdown, whichever came first. Today she could crawl into bed, tune out the world, and pretend that today never happened. And that worked for a while, but sometime towards the evening, when the sunset was streaming through her curtains in reds and oranges there was a knock at her door that woke her up out of her temporary coma. Violet looked at the door but did not make any move to get up. It was probably one of her friends from the party last night, and she knew if she

antipathy and annoyance. At least until he followed up with "We need to talk about last night," after that she sat up in bed immediately. How could someone know about last night? Unless he was a part of it? She was filled with fear then, but also anger. What was the right thing to do here? Should she ignore him? Should she talk to him? Should she call the police? After a moment of deliberation, she got out of bed wearing only her panties and her long shirt and padded quietly to the door to look in the peephole. The man on the other side of the door was a little taller than her, and a little older, but she didn't recognize anything about him. Not in her hazy recollections of the party or in the terrible snatches of memory from later that night she was already trying to forget. He was in fact carrying a

he said, quietly this time. "I've got something you're definitely going to

don't want anything, and if you know

what happened last night, do you?" he said. This conversation itself was starting to make her nervous. What if one of the people that lived next store was listening? What if they figured out what they were talking about? "If you don't join me for dinner then you'll never have the evidence

was mortified that anyone might find out, because once

her knees. "Say what you need to say and then get out." The stranger opened his mouth to speak but she quickly