The Men’s Bathroom, Occupied

Finally feeling safe, you take a passing glance around and see that the room was empty. You immediately walk over to the mirror above the sinks and examine yourself.

You look like an absolute mess. You hijab has completely come off your head and is lying on your shoulders. Your liking black hair is frizzy and messy, not to mention your hairband and is also gone. You breathe into the palm of your hand to seat your breath, and it is heavily laden with the unmistakable smell of semen. The neckline of your sweater is soaked with spit from your deepthoating. And the entirety of the underside of your forearm sleeves are wet from your arousal puddle. Your skirt was a wrinkled mess. The entire hemline was similarly soaked along with the entire front of the skirt, causing it to stick to your legs. If it weren’t from the sell of arousal, people would probably think you had wet yourself.

Looking at yourself, you become overwhelmed with humiliation. Why did this have to happen to you? What did you do to deserve this? The barriers you bolt to get yourself off the train final broke down and you cried. And not even a minute later, you were completely bent over the sink, sobbing uncontrollably. You’re so overwhelmed, you completely miss the flush of a toilet from the stall behind you.