She gets off at the wrong stop

Indeed, she was the first one off the train. Everyone seemed to leap out of her way, giving her a wide berth as she ran. One arm tightly clutched her chest, desperately trying to cover both her nipples, the other hand was clamped on her genitals. She looked up, expecting to see her hotel.

Instead, she was in an extremely busy crosswalk. People gawked, people shouted at her. She didn't recognize any of these buildings, she couldn't figure out the name of the station, she didn't know any of these landmarks - fuck, fuck, fuck. Where was she?

She spun around, but the train was long gone. "No," she breathed.

Her chest heaved as she started hyperventilating. Completely naked, she was completely naked in the middle of one of the biggest cities in the world, in some unknown neighborhood, with no identification and no real grasp on the language - she couldn't ask for help, couldn't explain herself - her head spun. This couldn't be happening to her.

She heard shouting behind her, and suddenly realized she hadn't been covering herself. Her arms snapped back to their correct positions, but not for long - whoever was behind her grabbed her wrists, wrenching them to her back, and she was very aware at exactly how on display she was for her huge audience. She fought, trying to regain control of her arms, but it was no use. Whoever had her had her good.