Co-incidentally, one of the boys from the theatre is one the bus and stops you

As your hand is about to signal the driver to stop a large body bumps into yours, a hand curving firmly upon one small taut cheek.

"Damn, sorry about that!" the voice says, not sounding at all sorry. You freeze, allowing the man to think his advance is welcome. His hand roams your buttock as your mind tries to sort fantasy from reality, because you could swear that...

"Whoa, Jenny? Jenny Rainwood?" the man exclaims, and you turn around to face the familiar voice, your hands slipping behind you to wrap around the pole at waist-height. You realize as you spot him that, "We met last night at the theatre. Remember?"

Nodding dumbly you stare in disbelief at one of the men who nearly ravished you at the theatre. One of the men you'd just been thinking about while masturbating. One of the men you'd just fantasized about meeting again if you were to get off the bus and enter the theatre.

"You're..." you start, intending to say 'real' or 'here', or his name, but then you remember that you didn't know the name of any of the five boys you'd met last night.

"One of the guys from last night. Like I said." You can tell by his voice that he thinks you're dumb, but you can't think of how to correct the impression. "Man, the guys were real excited about meeting you. Shame things were interrupted, eh?"

"Uh, right," you mutter, distracted by the memories, both the excitement and - how could you forget - your 'special' drink. You shudder as you think about it, just as his other hand land on your boob.

"...kinky bitch that likes that," the guy is saying, but you somehow miss most of his words and the chance to object, just as you've spaced out just as the hand not massaging your butt has started to pull down the zipper of the hoodie.

"W-wait!" you object, and start to raise your hands to stop him.

Unfortunately...