My judgment betrays me.

My judgment was completely clouded by excitement. The rhythmic sound of flesh slapping against flesh and the girl's muffled groans echoed off the tiled walls like an auditory drug dictating my pace. I felt that the fabric of my pink thong, though soft, had become an unbearable and irritating barrier; my skin was so hypersensitive that I needed to feel the emptiness, to rub myself directly and without restrictions.

With hands trembling with urgency and broken breath, I pulled the lucky garment down to my ankles, leaving it there, crumpled like a small pink puddle on the wet floor. Now I was completely unprotected, naked and curled up in the darkest corner of the shower. I brought my fingers directly to my swollen clitoris; the skin-to-skin contact was an electric shock that made my spine arch. I closed my eyes tightly, sinfully imagining that the sexual energy filling the locker room was floating in the steam and penetrating me.

The couple's rhythm accelerated outside, becoming frantic and uncontrolled. The thuds against the lockers grew faster, more violent. "Yes, yes, like that! Make me yours!" the girl screamed on the other side of the dividing wall.

Suddenly, a sharp, piercing gasp flooded the space. The stranger tensed on the other side of the wall, and a prolonged cry, betraying a seismic and overwhelming orgasm, bounced loudly off the tiles. I heard the trembling of her body, her spasmodic breaths, and how she desperately clung to her partner as her climax shook her completely.

Swept away by the tide of that shared intensity, completely overwhelmed by the sound of her orgasm, and erroneously believing that the echoes of her climax would cover any slip of my own, I pressed my heels against the floor and let my fingers move desperately within my own intimacy. The pressure in my belly grew suddenly, concentrating on a point of no return that threatened to make me burst. "Ahhh...!" a sharp, involuntary groan loaded with a lethal mixture of pleasure and fear escaped my throat.

But fate was perversely cruel to me. Just at the millisecond the sound erupted from my lips, the couple stopped dead in their tracks. My voice, trapped in the perfect acoustics of the place, echoed lonely, clean, and clear in the sudden silence of the locker room.

Time seemed to freeze. I slapped both hands over my mouth, my eyes wide open behind the lenses of my glasses, as an arctic cold instantly replaced the warmth of pleasure. My heart was beating so violently that I felt physical pain in my ribs. I didn't even dare to breathe. "What... what was that?" the male voice whispered, now tense, alert, and suspicious. "Shh... shut up," the girl replied. "I think it came from the shower area."

I mentally begged any force in the universe for them to get scared and run away, but luck had already abandoned me. Instead, the echo returned the most terrifying sound of my life: the soft, rhythmic splashing of bare feet on the damp floor.

Plop. Plop. Plop. They were getting closer.

I heard them stop in front of the first stall. Then, the second. I was in the fourth, the last one in the row—the dead end. Each of their steps was a death sentence for my dignity. I had nowhere to go, nothing to cover myself with, and my pink thong was tangled around my ankles like irrefutable and shameful proof of what I was doing.

"There's no one here," the girl whispered, her voice sounding so close it made my skin crawl. "Maybe it was the wind or an old pipe."

"That didn't sound like a damn pipe," the boy retorted, standing right next to my cubicle.

I closed my eyes tightly as the first tears of absolute humiliation began to well up, rolling down my cheeks. The blurry shadow of two figures was projected onto the floor of my stall, silhouetted against the flickering light. The boy took the final step and peeked his head around the entrance threshold, followed closely by the girl, who clung to his arm with her blouse half-buttoned and her breasts almost exposed.

The image presented before them left them completely paralyzed for a second.

There I was. Lola, the perfect student, the invisible and timid girl with violet hair, curled up on the damp floor, totally naked, with my legs spread wide open and one of my hands still dangerously close to my soaked, flushed sex.

The boy blinked, incredulous, taking in the scene, and immediately a slow, dirty, and malicious smirk crossed his sweaty face. The girl, recognizing me and noticing the pink lingerie with the ribbon stuck at my feet, let out a chuckle of pure superiority and disbelief.

"Well, well... look what we have found here," he said, drawing out his words in a voice loaded with predatory mockery. "It looks like the good girl from class wanted to join the party."