Head that way.

Meeting? There was no meeting. She just said that to get his goat. The angrier she made him, the more likely he'd play her game. It wasn't easy for him to try some of the freaky shit she got into, and this time it was going to be an even harder task.

So she killed some time at her bar, drinking a couple of beers before deciding she'd go attempt to find the place they had arranged to eat. "M'not even hungry anymore." she mutters to herself, a horrible habit of hers. With a brush of her hand to make sure her skirt was halfway decent over her ass, the girl heads on out and into the humid night.

Black. Unusually dark outside. Must be the thick layer of moisture clinging to everything. Something causes her to pause just on the outskirts of the nearby lamplight, giving a glance around her. It might have been a can, maybe. Rat? More then likely. Shrugging it off, she turns to start down the sidewalk with her boots clicking against the roughened cement.

Occasionally she's drenched in darkness as she strolls along, form lost in the night only to reappear further down into the next light. Having just gotten to the alley entrance, she stops once more. This time she knows she heard something, her hearing one of her more honed senses. Slowly she turns around, trying to squint and peer into the night. "I ain't got no money." she calls out to whoever might be following her, likely figuring it's a homeless person scavaging for funds.

Without warning, a pair of strong arms snake around her from behind and clench while words her ear. "Good thing I'm not looking for your money." That voice, so familiar. The deep tone of her lover husking his dark promises without having to put life to the actual words. As if to punish the ear, the man bites it there after and causes her to gasp in pain, momentarily taking her senses while he starts to drag her further into the darkness amongst the trash and the soggy boxes. She stumbles as she tries to keep up with him, heart racing as he roughly shoves her up against the wall.

“If you scream I’ll slit your throat” vows the haggard voice near her wounded ear while he keeps her pinned between him and the wall. She feels him on her, cock pressed hard against her ass through the denim of his jeans. He grinds it there while he continues to humiliate her verbally, “Only whores and sluts walk down the streets at night.” One of his hands needily tugs at her skirt, pushing it up and over her hips, the pleats causing it to fall somewhat to the front. Leading with his middle finger, his hand slides along the lace and soft material of her panties, roaming down until he seems to have found a damp spot, a spot as humid as the alley on the summer’s night. “So which are you?”

She’s unable to think, mind racing in time with the pounding of heart and then lost somewhere between his cruel words and the sense of him petting her. The stroking fingers rub against the soggy panties, giving them a little push up that makes the girl moan. “Slut or a whore?” he insists, instigating an answer with a sharp pinch to a cunt lip through the material.