Walk of shame

Meg sat there for several long moments, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. The harsh fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting unflattering shadows across her flushed skin. She took a deep, shuddering breath, willing her racing heart to slow.

With trembling hands, she reached for her discarded skirt, wincing as her fingers brushed against the cold, damp tiles. She pulled it on clumsily, her usual grace abandoning her in the aftermath of their encounter. Her eyes darted around the small stall, searching for her panties, but they were nowhere to be found. A fresh wave of shame washed over her as she realized she'd have to leave without them.

Meg struggled to her feet, her legs still wobbly. She peered out of the stall, scanning the empty bathroom. Relief washed over her as she realized she was alone. Meg crept to the sink, splashing cold water on her flushed face. Her reflection stared back at her - hair disheveled, lips swollen, eyes wild. She attempted to smooth her appearance, but it was a futile effort.

Taking a deep breath, Meg steeled herself and slipped out of the bathroom. The pulsing bass of the bar's music assaulted her senses as she emerged. Her eyes darted nervously around the crowded bar as she tried to make her way to the exit unnoticed. Her legs still felt unsteady, and she clung to the wall for support, inching along as inconspicuously as possible.

She tugged self-consciously at her skirt, hyper-aware of her lack of underwear. Each step sent a visceral reminder of what had just transpired, Josh's essence slowly seeping down her inner thighs. Meg's cheeks burned with shame as she imagined everyone could somehow tell what she'd done.

Weaving through the throng of oblivious patrons, Meg kept her gaze fixed on the neon EXIT sign glowing in the distance. She was so focused on reaching her destination that she didn't notice the man backing

Meg inched closer to the exit, her heart pounding in her chest. The bar seemed impossibly crowded, bodies pressing in on all sides. She felt exposed, ****, certain that everyone could see the evidence of her indiscretion written across her flushed face.

She was mere steps from the door when a group of laughing women stumbled into her path. Meg froze, panic rising in her throat. She tried to sidestep them, but in her haste, she collided with a tall figure.

"Whoa there, sweetheart," a deep voice chuckled. Large hands steadied her, and Meg looked up into kind brown eyes. The stranger's brow furrowed with concern. "Are you alright?"

Meg's eyes widened as she recognized the man steadying her - it was one of the bartenders she'd noticed earlier in the evening. His white button-down shirt strained across broad shoulders, sleeves rolled up to reveal muscular forearms. A sheen of sweat glistened on his brow from the heat of the crowded bar.

"I... I'm fine," Meg stammered, acutely aware of his hands still gripping her arms. She tried to step back, but her legs felt like jelly.

The bartender eyes roamed over her disheveled appearance, lingering on her flushed cheeks and swollen lips. Understanding dawned in his gaze, followed by a flash of heat. "Looks like someone had quite the night," he said, voice low and husky.

Meg flushed even deeper, mortified that her state was so obvious. She tried to pull away, but Mark's grip tightened slightly. "Wait," he said, his eyes narrowing. "You're not trying to skip out on your tab, are you?"

Meg's stomach dropped. "My... my tab?" she stammered.

He nodded, a knowing smirk playing at his lips. "Yeah, sweetheart. The guy you were with earlier left about 20 minutes ago. Didn't settle up."

Meg felt the blood drain from her face. Josh had left her. He'd used her in that dirty bathroom stall and then abandoned her, sticking her with the bill. Humiliation and anger warred within her.

The bartender's eyes followed her movement, his expression softening slightly. "Look," he said, leaning in close. His warm breath tickled her ear as he whispered, "If you're short on cash, we could work something out. There's a storage room in back where we could... come to an arrangement."

His meaning was unmistakable. Meg's eyes widened in shock, a mix of indignation and something else - a forbidden thrill - coursing through her. For a brief, wild moment, she considered his offer. The night had already spiraled so far out of control - what was one more transgression?

Meg shook her head, pushing the scandalous thought from her mind. "No, I... I have money," she said quickly, fumbling in her purse. Her fingers trembled as she pulled out her wallet, acutely aware of his's intense gaze.

The bartender's eyes glinted in the dim light, a mixture of disappointment and intrigue crossing his rugged features. "Are you sure?" he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent an involuntary shiver down her spine. "My offer still stands. Could be... mutually beneficial."

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to focus on counting out bills. Meg's fingers shook as she counted out the crumpled bills, her mind racing. The bartender's eyes never left her face, watching her inner struggle with keen interest. She took a deep breath, steadying herself.

"Here," she said firmly. "This should cover it."

The bartender's gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before he nodded, sweeping up the cash. "Alright then. You have a good night, sweetheart."

Meg turned away quickly, her heels clicking on the sticky floor as she made her way to the exit. The cool night air hit her flushed skin as she stepped outside, bringing a moment of clarity. She inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with the crisp autumn scent of fallen leaves and distant woodsmoke.

Her apartment was only a few blocks away, but the walk felt endless.

Inside her tiny apartment, Meg kicked off her heels and collapsed onto her bed fully clothed. She stared up at the ceiling, watching the headlights of passing cars create shifting patterns of light and shadow.

Despite her exhaustion, Meg's body still thrummed with residual arousal. She closed her eyes, memories flooding back unbidden. Josh's strong hands gripping her hips. His hot breath on her neck. The delicious fullness as he entered her. The way he'd pinned her against the cold tile wall, driving into her with relentless intensity. Meg's fingers drifted down her body, skimming over sensitized skin. She let out a shaky breath as she recalled the way Josh had worked her body, building her pleasure higher and higher until she shattered spectacularly.

Her muscles still ached pleasantly from their passionate encounter. As she lay there in the darkness, Meg could almost feel the ghost of Josh's touch - his calloused hands roaming her curves, his lips trailing fire across her collarbone. The memory of her cries echoing off the bathroom walls made her flush with renewed desire.

Meg's hand tentatively slid under the fabric of her skirt, seeking solace. Pausing, she withdrew with a frustrated sigh. The sensation was different now. Nothing could rival the memory of Josh's forceful touch, his invasive actions that disregarded her boundaries entirely. Turning on her side, she clutched a pillow tightly to her chest, questioning her actions. This encounter was meant to be a one-off event - a **** act to mark the end of an exhausting week. She shouldn't be lying here torn, replaying every uncomfortable moment in her mind.

Meg's fingers clutched the pillow tighter as her mind wandered, imagining scenarios where she might cross paths with Josh again. Perhaps she'd run into him at the office, working late one evening. He'd corner her in the deserted break room, pressing her against the counter as his hands roamed freely. Or maybe she'd encounter him at the gym, their eyes meeting in the mirror as she stretched. He'd follow her into the locker room, shoving her into a shower stall and taking her under the hot spray.

Her breath quickened as she pictured Josh showing up at her door unannounced, barging in and pinning her to the wall. He'd hike up her skirt and have his way with her right there in the entryway. Meg squirmed, her thighs pressing together as arousal pooled low in her belly.

Lost in the fantasy, Meg's fingers drifted back beneath her skirt of their own accord. She pictured Josh's calloused hands gripping her hips bruisingly tight as he thrust into her from behind. The imaginary shelves rattled with each forceful movement. Her fingers moved in time with the phantom sensations, circling and stroking as she writhed against the sheets.