Grace Gets in Deep - A Dark Tale

Note to readers: This story is only partially true. My darker side convinced me to 'enhance' it somewhat while writing it out. Don't worry; I was over eighteen at the time, and things didn't get quite as violent as I've written them -- though a part of me may have wished they did. If sexual violence, or emotional turmoil about it, offends you, move on. There are plenty of 'safe' erotic works to read elsewhere.

Grace sucked in one cheek and bit her lip as she studied herself, using a hand mirror and a sleepy friend's full-length mirror in tandem, to view her backside.

Fuck! That bruising on the back of my thighs is gonna take a while to go away, she admitted to herself. Angling the mirror up slightly, she took in the welts on her ass.

Not much she could do about those. They'd been fun. For a while at least, until things got a little too intense.

Grace sighed.

Continuing on up, there was a noticeable scratch mark on her waist, near her spine, that had drawn blood.

Probably from a fingernail, she decided.

He'd had dirty fingernails. She thought he must be a mechanic or a trade worker of some kind. Not that it mattered. She'd never see him again. But she hoped she didn't get some sort of infection from him. Dirty nails like that could be problems.

"Grace? You okay in there?"

The boy, Gary, had been visibly upset by her appearance when she showed up at his door at half past five in the morning, but she couldn't go home. She was a mess. Her lip had been bleeding, and her hair looked like she'd brushed it with a still-running chainsaw.

"Well, close," she muttered.

Aloud, she told Gary, "I was on a motorcycle. It fucked with my hair. I shoulda had a scrunchee or something with me. My bad."

But it wasn't her bad; not entirely. He'd looped her mid-back-length hair around her neck at one point, and actually used it to choke her. He'd thought that was funny. Or ironic. Or maybe, just kinky enough to knock her out?

Grace laid the mirror down and palmed her breasts, biting the side of her mouth as she gasped, as quietly as she could. Her nipples complained loudly. Both were red and swollen, atop the small mounds that were her breasts. Both were also covered in bite marks and hickeys, turning various shades of scarlet and purple.

"I-I'm fine," she repeated in a too-loud voice, that hardly sounded like her own.

"Fuckin' vampire," she said, much more softly.

Her physical assessment over, Grace turned the water in the shower on, setting it as hot as she thought she could take. When she stepped under the spray, she gasped -- not from the heat of the water, but from the force of the tiny, concentrated streams on her tender skin. It felt like miniature knives all over her 'ouchies', and though it took a few minutes for her breathing to become more normal, she knew the warm water would help in the long run.

Not my first rodeo, she thought ruefully, and wondered once again why she did these things.

And how long it'll be before I do it again.

In her mind, the whole sordid scene, from when she chose the tiny thong she wore under that short little skirt, while getting ready for her evening, replayed, setting off new tingles of erotic excitement and making her nipples ache even worse. She thought back to their conversation, and how they'd both been steering it towards the same end, almost from the first.

* * * * *

It hadn't taken the man long to notice her. Before she'd finished glancing around at the scattered clientele from just inside the door of the grim little bar, he'd moved from his stool at the bar to approach her. She noted a couple of broken teeth, evidence that someone probably hadn't cared for the way he'd spoken to a woman in their presence. Men like him invited fights -- and drew submissive, needy girls into his debauched orbit with relative ease. His face needed a shave, but the ruggedness only filled her with more longing.

Grace had seen him coming, noticed his stocky build and gruff exterior, and made her decision before he even spoke. She'd smiled shyly at him, barely meeting his gaze.

The conversation had begun like most others did.

"Hey, sweetie," he'd growled, "what's a cute little thing like you doing in a dump like this on a hot afternoon?"

His breath had reeked of cigarettes, something Grace hated, but she hadn't been looking to help some poor man change his lifestyle for the better. No, she was his to corrupt; not the other way around.

"That's exactly it," she'd offered in a soft voice. "It's stifling out there. I thought this might be a good place for a cool drink."

He'd reached out and taken her wrist, then chuckled silently when she'd startled at his touch. She hadn't pulled away, though, and she allowed him to cradle her wrist in both his large, rough hands.

"You thought right, honey. The beer's frosty, and the place doesn't keep tabs on what we talk about. Let me show you to a table," he'd said, already pulling her into the dark interior of the shady-looking place.

His eyes had gleamed in the low light coming from behind the bar. There were no windows, and only low-wattage lights above each of the tiny tables, giving the place the anonymity its patrons probably preferred, and providing dark corners for quiet conversations or lingering kisses.

He'd seen her type before, though maybe not as cute -- and certainly not alone. Those adorable, barely-legal college girls who sometimes wandered inside in pairs and in threes, curious and frightened by the seediness of the place, and secretly aroused. They'd order some complicated drink at the bar, giggle when Leon told them he only served beer and shots, then they'd quickly down one of them and hurry off to brag to their peers about their 'experience' at "this fuckin' DUMP we found!"

This girl had seemed different, though. Alone, she hadn't appeared shocked, hadn't seemed overly intimidated by his presence. As they'd chatted quietly over frosted bottles of some brand of beer she'd never heard of, she'd left little doubt about what she was doing there.

She was taking a walk on the wild side. A genuine thrill-seeker.

And a damned intriguing one, he'd thought.

Grace was drawn to this world, for reasons she couldn't explain. A world diametrically opposed to the one she'd been raised in -- the neat, suburban neighborhood, with parents who didn't doubt her when she told them she'd been invited to a sleepover with girlfriends, when in reality there were boys, with their naughty needs. Those nights, when sex was the mission, no matter the numbers of partners, had poured fuel on the fire of her innate need for objectification. Humiliation made the sex more... memorable.

These days, at barely twenty years old and on her own, she haunted the kinds of places where men drank alone, and bartenders didn't look at a poorly faked ID too closely -- or even at all. The law said she had to be twenty-one to drink, but when the money was out, she'd discovered, even with her cute, youthful face, discretion was always available.

At five feet two, with a body that barely weighed a hundred pounds and only managed a hint of cleavage, Grace wasn't 'the usual' middle-aged drunk who had no place better to be. She was -- and she understood this -- choice meat. She'd gone home with bartenders before, as well as drunken lesbians. Today, dressed in a threadbare concert tee, a skirt that revealed the bottoms of her butt cheeks, and platform heels, Grace had been the very picture of a rebellious young slut. The pierced cheek and nose ring only reinforced that image.

She'd been talking too much. She was nervous.

"I... I guess I wouldn't care if it hurt a little..."

Grace had brushed the hair out of her eyes and looked meekly up at the man looming above her. His very presence seemed to spell trouble, and when he hinted at rough sex it had excited her into blurting out such a rash statement.

Jesus, what the fuck is wrong with me? she'd asked herself immediately after. Something she did often.

"Oh, you're one of them girls," he'd chuckled. "You gonna give me a reason to smack you around?" he'd asked her then, in a teasing, growly voice.

The conversation had progressed quickly to this point. She'd let him know that she had a boyfriend who'd be waiting to take her out, but she said didn't feel like going on a 'normal' date. She didn't like to be tied to one person, she'd told him, in a quavering, almost apologetic voice that fairly dripped with expectation.

She was practically begging him to push the subject, he'd noticed. The dark lust she carried had been undeniable.

Her reply to his question about being smacked around had been a simple lowering of her gaze and a quick intake of breath before she answered. Almost predictably, she'd bitten her lower lip.

"No, of course not," she'd whispered.

He'd listened for the unspoken "but..." And he'd heard it, in the way she was then taking shorter, more intense breaths. In her body language. Her desire had been evident. She hadn't even attempted to hide it.

"Sometimes it happens, though, I guess," she'd added, almost as an afterthought. "I... I can be bratty... "

"I bet you can," he'd said, chuckling. "A girl that looks like you -- with everything on her plate and yet, this craving for attention -- well, that can be a potent combination."

He'd lifted her chin with two fingers.

"I mean... all I'm saying is, I have a fairly high pain tolerance?"

She'd framed it as a question, but she'd known how he'd take it. He had the brutish look of a predator -- someone who probably enjoyed inflicting his dominance on a tiny girl like her. That type was her partner of choice lately. The thought had made her immediately damp between her thighs. It was a character flaw of hers, one that she had no intention of repairing.

"As long as they... like, don't leave marks, right? I mean, I do have people that are close to me, that might wonder about that."

"Like a little keg of dynamite," he'd mused, "and the fuse has already been lit. What..."

He'd paused, sliding his fingers around to cup her jaw, then dropping them to her throat, where he'd pressed them into the smooth skin on either side of her esophagus. Her eyes had lost their focus for a moment, rolling skyward as she whimpered loudly.

"... am I gonna do with you?" he asked. "So, are you just a poser, or do you wanna get serious with this, little girl?"

Grace had told him in a tight voice, her throat constricted by his fingers, "I'm not a little girl."

Her false bravado was the ruse she'd provided herself, unwilling to admit how badly she'd needed this. And she'd known he could see through it. Still, it was part of the 'dance' -- this early refusal to admit to her weaknesses, allowing him to show her who the dominant one really was.

"In that case, we should get out of here," he'd told her. "This place isn't safe, even for a tough little nut like yourself."

As if his seedy hotel room was.

Still, that was where they ended up. It was a short but thrilling ride on the back of his Harley -- about three miles, and then up two flights of creaking, unstable stairs. By the time he'd unlocked the door, she knew she'd found what she was looking for. He'd not let go of her arm since they got off the bike, as if he was afraid she might bolt. Grace had loved the feeling of entrapment; of being man-handled like a prisoner up the stairs. She liked that.

As was her habit, she began to protest as soon as the man shoved her inside his room. It was token resistance, but it added to the thrill, for her. As if she'd suddenly decided she was a good girl, after all. Just out of her depth, perhaps.

"Hey, I just thought," she began. "This whole thing, I was just kinda teasing, you know? I'm not sure about th..."

The slap had come out of nowhere. Though she'd expected him to argue once he had her in his own space, the blow that rocked her head and made her eyes water had been truly unexpected. Grace had tasted blood, as her upper lip had exploded against her teeth. She'd stumbled to one knee.

Now, suddenly, things were getting real.

* * * * *

"You stupid bitch," he snarled. "You wanted to do this. Now we're gonna have some fun."

His hands were on her before her vision cleared, lifting her by her throat so that their eyes met.

"What did you think, huh? That we were coming here to play board games? You sluts are all the same -- you talk a good game, but when it comes down to it..."

He snatched at her shirt, tearing the threadbare material off one shoulder, so that her meager breasts were exposed to his leering eyes. The sight energized him even more, but the sudden violence had much the same effect on her.

"Hey," she protested, "it's cool. I told you, don't leave marks, man! I don't..."

He raised his hand again and Grace put both hands up in front of her to ward off another slap.

"I'll do anything you want," she pleaded in a sudden, quavering voice. "Anything. Wh-what's your name?"

The fact that she hadn't asked before, but had volunteered her own back at the bar, brought a sadistic grin to his face.

"Does it matter?" he asked, suddenly leaning in to lick at the tiny line of blood that was trailing towards her chin from her split lip.

To his surprise, she moaned a soft, "No. I... I guess not."

"I didn't remember yours," he told her.

"It's Grace," she said quickly.

He laughed; a short, barking exhale that sounded like he was clearing his throat.

"No. I mean, I forgot yours. On purpose. We're not getting married here, you know."

Grace brought her mouth swiftly to his, letting her tongue swipe against his teeth, and soon their mouths were connected in a deep, searing kiss. Her hands were still up as his arms enclosed her, trapping her in the cocoon of his rough desire.

He felt her relax against him.

He dropped his hands to her slim ass, cupping the muscular cheeks he found there, and pulled her into him as her arms snaked up around his neck.

When their kiss broke, she looked hungrily into his eyes.

"That was fuckin' hot," she whispered.

He kneaded her ass cheeks roughly, causing her to gasp again.

She could feel his cock hardening against her, whether from their passionate kiss, or her acceptance of his violence -- she wasn't sure, but she loved the affirmation.

He's gonna fuck me so hard, she told herself.

There had been little doubt about that, but occasionally her overexuberance put someone off, she knew. As he mauled her ass with his hands, she raised one leg and hooked her heel around the back of his, grinding her hungry cunt against the lump in his jeans.

"Fuck!" she moaned, "I need that dick!"

She dropped one hand between them, grasping the massive knot of blood and flesh through his jeans. She thrilled at its bulk, massaging it into an even harder mass -- letting her mind already imagine it inside her.

To her ultimate thrill, he picked her up by her ass and walked her to the single bed opposite them, then tumbled forward with her sprawling beneath him, the wind temporarily knocked from her lungs.

"It's Lee," he groaned, even as his hands were at her waist, enthusiastically popping buttons as he yanked her tiny skirt down over her hips.

"Whatever," she said dismissively, trying to match his feigned nonchalance, even as she arched her back upward, presenting him with her bare belly and its silver navel piercing, the tiny chain dangling almost between her thighs.

Lee was more interested in the tiny thong Grace wore. The triangle of cloth was barely wide enough to encase her puffy little mound, and was completely soaked through with her juices. With one swipe, he tore it from her hips.

"Hey!"

It was too late, and it didn't really matter to her. She had a drawer full of sexy underwear. She'd been collecting them since she was fifteen, and a male cousin convinced her that 'women who know' wear sexy underclothes. She hadn't 'known' for a few more years, but she liked the way they rode in her ass-crack and stimulated her sensitive pussy every time she took a step.

With those gone, Grace spread her legs widely, and raised the remainder of her shirt over her head. When she looked up at Lee, he had already pulled his belt loose from his jeans and was coiling it around his fist.

"Wh-what are you g-gonna do with th-that?"

His quiet chuckle seemed more malevolent than teasing. His eyes had gone hard and cold as he grasped one leg with his free hand and pulled her over, onto her tummy.

Okay, you walked into this one, she told herself. She could feel herself tingling, centered in her pubic mound.

Grace had had her ass belted a few times. She'd been spanked and paddled, and even had a guy want to brand her on one cheek, but she'd managed to fight that off -- she'd convinced the guy that she was nobody's property, but if he wanted her pussy, all he had to do was ask nicely.

Lee was rougher than most. She wasn't sure if...

SWAT!!!

"Oweeeeeee!" she wailed. "Fuck, man, that hurt!"

Another swing, another SWAT!!! as the belt contacted bare skin again. It was a skinny belt -- more like a whip lash than a broader paddle, so the pain was localized and immediate.

SWAT!!!

"Come on, man," Grace begged, "I'm already yours. Fuckin' do me..."

SWAT!!!

Oh, Jesus! That fuckin' burns, she thought, just as another landed across the same plane the previous one had. She knew she was going to show welts.

SWAT!!!

Grace began to cry. The sobs came hard and fast, wracking her lithe body as he continued. She pulled her hands up to her face, as if to hide from the torture, and kept her legs tightly together to protect her most sensitive areas.

SWAT!!!

Grace waited, her entire body stiff in resistance to the terrible pain he'd inflicted on her backside. Then there was a softer sound, as he dropped the belt onto the mattress, and she heard him quickly undressing. His clothing made soft swishing sounds as he dropped first his shirt, then his jeans.

When he slid in over the top of her, the feel of his cool skin against hers felt so good, she almost forgot the pain below. Then his hard cock brushed against her ass, and she gasped again.

"Got you tenderized," he whispered hoarsely, "now let's see what that sweet little meat feels like, when I stick my dick down in the middle of it."

Grace tensed when he said that, thinking he meant her ass, but when his cock slid smoothly between her outer labia and into her sopping young pussy, she moaned loudly.

"Oh, fuck yeah," she breathed.

Lee pushed in all the way to his hairy pubic mound, his hard hips mashing against Grace's tight, twenty-year old ass cheeks. The pain flared again, but his skin was cool against her overheated skin, and the effect was magical for both of them.

He began to thrust almost immediately, pulling his hips back, then slowly moving them forward -- enjoying the tightness that gripped him as Grace took him eagerly. She flexed her vaginal muscles, as if doing Kegels -- feeling the uneven ridges of his flesh as it traversed in and out of her.

God, he feels good!

As Lee began to thrust quicker, Grace reached back with both hands to cushion his thrusts. He quickly seized her wrists. Leaning back, he grabbed the belt and used it to cinch her wrists together, pulling it tight and tucking the end under the loops he'd made, like a professional calf roper.

She grunted.

"Uh-oh! Looks like our little slut is caught between a cock and a hard place," he teased. His words had an edge, though, that caused Grace to, once again, re-think some of her life choices.

"I... L-let me up," she whined. "I'll be good, I promise."

Lee laughed loudly.

"Oh, but I don't want you to be good," he growled. "I want you to be just what you are -- a nasty little cum-hungry slut. I'm gonna fill your cunt with my seed, then your asshole after that. Of course, I'll need that slutty mouth to get me hard again for that! But you won't mind, will you?"

Grace whimpered. The idea of having this man's cock in her most private place made her tremble. She kicked her legs behind him, even as he continued to thrust into her, but with little effect.

"WILL YOU?" he asked again; this time through gritted teeth.

"No," she whispered meekly.

With that, he put his hands on her shoulders, pushing her face down into the seedy mattress as his hips began to slam into her ass, much harder than before. His legs were outside hers, encasing his cock within the soft, sensitive pleasure center that was buried between her slim thighs.

The sensations were just too much. Within minutes he came, roaring his pleasure as his cock pulsed deep inside her. After two ropes of cum painted her insides, he pulled out and jacked himself off over her lower back, then nuzzled his cock up against her tight little butt-hole.

"Next stop," he groaned. "Right up the old poop-chute! But first, I need another beer. You want one, honey?" he asked, as he pulled himself away from her and stood up.

It was an innocuous request, as if they were simply enjoying a normal conversation, though Grace still had tears drying on her face from the belting, and was still bound with his belt. She was torn between wanting to get away from him, and being incredibly aroused.

I couldn't leave, even if he asked me to, she knew. This is my jam, for better or worse.

"Can... can I have a sip of yours?" she asked, her voice muffled by the sheets she lay tangled in. She tried to turn over, but it proved to be impossible with her hands bound behind her back, so she waited. Lee's cum began to drizzle out of her. She squeezed her legs together to better feel it.

"You look good like that," he observed, looking down at Grace's tiny form, trussed up on her belly with her long hair covering her face and shoulders.

He flipped her over easily, then poured some of his beer over her face, where her mouth was covered by her hair. She struggled to catch it, but most of it landed on her chin and flowed off her, so she lay in a small puddle of it, soaking into her ears and hair.

Lee slapped her left tit with one hand, just as she was struggling to swallow what she'd caught. She panted hard, biting her lip as he slapped the other, back-handing it with an evil grin.

"How old are you, anyway? Your ID said twenty-one, but you look more like fourteen with these little nubs for boobs."

"I'm twenty," she said, her voice cracking. "P-please don't hurt me."

"Aw, c'mon," he said softly, settling over her with one hand on her chest. "You look like a girl that likes a little pain with her pleasure. Little sluts like you, they've got something to prove, don't they? Well, how tough do you feel now, with that red ass and these red little titties? Feelin' grown-up yet?"

His laughter was loud in the tiny room, as Grace shook the drops of beer from her face. It was going to be a long, merciless night, she knew.

Lee slid off her, then wrapped a big hand around Grace's neck and pulled her upper body up, off the mattress. He began to abuse her breasts again with his free hand. Her tears spilled over her cheeks as he resumed, and soon she was sobbing. It didn't phase him. His hands beat a steady rhythm on her burning nipples. He seemed to enjoy watching her face. As she began to beg in earnest again, his dick grew with each gasping plea, until he decided it was hard enough to force into the place she most protected.

He threw her back onto the mattress, then grabbed one knee and flipped her over again, as if she was a rag doll to play with.

"No. Don't!" she pled, knowing what he had in mind, but it was no use. She kicked her legs, but he easily parted them and settled between her thighs.

"Nooooo..."

Her voice had grown very tiny.

The entry was painful, and jarring. She was dry, and save for the lubrication his cock had accrued from fucking her vagina, it was more a case of forced entry, less of Grace relaxing her rectum and allowing him in -- though she tried.

"Gaaaah!!! Fuck! Please, Lee!"

She'd found her voice again. It went from pleading words to a strangled, keening wail of pain, as he forced himself deeper and deeper into her body.

"Aaaaiiiiiiiihhhh!"

When he began to thrust, Grace's screams died in her throat. She'd allowed anal before, to some of the boys in her school and to a few men, but Lee's sheer size was something she'd never experienced. And someone always seemed to have lube of some sort, even if it was only saliva.

Soon she was only grunting, like the animal he was treating her as. Above, a primal sound -- a gargled groan -- escaped his lips as he hunkered over her, his lower body pivoting as if on a fulcrum in his waist, both hands wrapped in Grace's long dark hair. He quickly wound it around her neck, then yanked, and she gave a strangled cry. He didn't stop as she raised her head, trying desperately to relieve the pressure of the silky noose.

"You been ass-fucked before," he croaked. "I felt you relax after I breached that first ring." He leaned down over her, his smokey voice intimate in her ear as he continued to thrust into her colon.

"You like bein' a back-door whore, don'tcha? You little sluts are all alike."

He did a quick double-thrust that took what little breath Grace had away for a few seconds. Then he was planting himself deep and spurting, hot ropes of his seed finding a new home in her bowels.

"Ahhhhh, GOD!" he groaned. "Fuckin' A, feels good to cum in a girl's dirty hole like that," he exulted, thrusting two more times. Short, sharp thrusts designed to remind this little trollop what she was there for.

Grace was all too aware that she was just a receptacle, but in the process, she got some of what she craved, too. She hadn't climaxed -- he hadn't given her time to properly build -- but the humiliation of having her arms bound, of having to take his cock in her asshole like some life-sized flesh-light, somehow defined Grace. She hoped he wasn't finished with her, strangely enough. She was on a degradation high.

"Please... l-let me go," she mumbled into the sheets."I-I t-told you..."

Lee backed off the mattress, looking down at his handiwork. A cute little wanna-be party girl, trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey, still twitching with arousal, as a trail of cum ran down between those bright red, abused cunt-lips from her ass. No longer the wise-cracking, barely-legal hottie she saw herself as, coming on to him. No. This slut was broken, reduced to begging him for mercy. Or for more.

He quickly unwound his belt from her wrists and watched her as she brought her arms painfully around, working the cramping out of her shoulders.

"You told me," he repeated. "You told me you'd do anything I wanted. And you have, at least so far. Now..."

He settled onto the mattress beside her, reclining with his cum-covered cock laying limp across one thigh.

"... why don't you clean things up, like the good girl you said you'd be. Make your Momma proud of her slutty little home-wrecker."

He chuckled, but there was little humor in it. This was an order, she knew.

Grace felt as if she could barely move her head, but she willed herself to turn over, then lay across the belly of the man who'd treated her so roughly, and brought her hand and mouth to his cock. It was slimy, covered in his and her frothy excretions, but as she licked, it awakened the submissive in her.

She secretly thrilled to feel the life within it as she closed her lips around the head, using her tongue to wipe the residue of their sex into her mouth. Her left hand slid across his hip, caressing as it went, until she was holding on to his waist like a drowning girl. Her head began to bob in that familiar motion as she felt him stir within the confines of her young mouth.

Within half a minute, she was taking him as deeply as possible, even as he grew and throbbed in her greedy throat.

"Mmmmppphhh," she moaned, her lust re-awakened, from a grudging acceptance to a yearning roar. Her breathing was sporadic as she sacrificed air for the feel of his cock, once again swollen and ready to pleasure her as he abused her.

Her cunt hurt. He'd battered it repeatedly, as he had her sphincter, but it didn't matter to Grace. She could take more. It was just that resilience that caused her to encourage him. Pulling off the throbbing cock, she gasped.

"Do it," she urged, her face red and her cheeks swollen from his abuse of her face and mouth. "Take what you want. I wasn't lying. I can take anything you can dish ou..."

Her words were cut off when he jerked her upwards by her hair and rolled her face into the mattress again.

"Anything, huh? Get that ass up," he ordered. "Hands forward. There's plenty of life left in that little cunt! I'm gonna turn it into mush before I'm done."

Grace smiled grimly into the sheets as she assumed her position. Her night wasn't over yet, not by a long shot.

And when it was -- when he'd taken her roughly in each of her holes more than once, and peppered her with slaps and choked her airway -- he'd turned her out into the early morning silence with only scraps of clothing and any dignity she might have had left far behind.

She knew a boy -- Gary -- who lived nearby. He'd been enamored of her in school, but she'd never given him more than a quick kiss. It was early; way too early, but he'd be home, at least. And he lived alone. He'd hosted a keg party for graduation, hoping to be accepted. He was just the type of boy Grace toyed with, when she was calling the shots.

That seemed like a long time ago, though it wasn't.

I wonder what he'll think of me now, she mused, as she gingerly walked down dark, silent streets, like some homeless girl.

Her car was still at that bar -- if it hadn't been towed away. Whatever. It wasn't much, anyway. Her expectations had gone the way of her pride.

When the door opened and Gary's sleep-filled face appeared, she felt safe again. A momentary sense of relief, followed by that same, twisted feeling in her gut that her mind put into words.

I could have taken more. He wasn't THAT bad, after all!

She made a mental note to avoid that bar in the future. But there were many more guys, just like him...