A video of a costume party.

You remember the night as a blur, yet everything that happened is crystal clear in your mind. When you think of it you see it from outside of your body, from the perspective of the camera.

Maybe it was the drinks - you've always been a lightweight, getting drunk on ridiculously small amounts of ****. Maybe someone slipped you something. It certainly couldn't be the fact that your boyfriend was passed out in the chair at the end of the bed.

"I've been watching you wiggle that ass on the dance floor all night," a voice says on the screen, and you watch with fascination and horror mixed as one. Throughout the both you feel the heavy beat of arousal that always strikes you as you view this scene.

"We've been wondering," another voice says, a college boy wearing an eye-patch and a pirate's hat. He's looming over your small body, which seems to be weaving just a little in the thigh-high boots you're wearing.

"Wondering what?" you ask, staring up at him with parted, brightly colored lips. The rest of your face is made up as well, caked with heavy layers.

"What're you supposed to be?" asks another boy dressed as a cowboy.

A giggle escapes your on-screen counterpart, echoed by a moan from you as your fingers subconsciously rub at your slit. With your eyes fixed on the screen and your mind firmly locked into that moment you fail to see the boys eyes flick between the screen version of you and the one masturbating for them in person.

But then, with the camera pointed at you they have no fear of missing the show even if they gave the screen their full attention.

"I'm a hooker, of course," you say, the words sounding unnaturally loud to your ears, but you fail to realize it's because you've said it aloud along with your on-screen self.

The boys stare at you, both in the video and in real life. On the screen your boyfriend lies comatose in his grim reaper costume, the hood putting his face in shadow. As always you wonder if he might have secretly been watching what happened next.