The Bathroom
Eve Rogers

There is a loud BOOM as the door swings open and hits the wall, and she pulls him in under a sign that reads "Ladies." John pulls his weight back and begins to drag his feet trying to show some resistance against her, but she just pulls harder guiding him behind the last door of the three stalls.

The concrete wall is cold against his back, and his face flushes with red. He doesn't know if he should scream for help, start laughing, or be totally turned on by this girl. Right now he's totally turned on.

"This is crazy!" he yells trying to translate his fluster of emotions into words. "Shh, be quiet or we"ll get caught." She says while sliding her hand under his blue t-shirt. "It'll be fun, and no one will even know we're here." She whispers in his ear as she begins to kiss his neck.

The breath from her mouth tickles his ear, and chills run through his body. His body tightens, and a flash of apprehension runs down his back, through his stomach, and jumps down into his pants.

This girl's totally wild, he thinks, as she begins kissing him overpoweringly. She's a bit--too scary, or sluty or something, but that something is definitely turning him on.

He tastes the cigarettes on her breath. It's a bitter and foul taste. He can look over that though for sex in the bathroom. Damn, this shit never happens to me!

Leaning against the concrete wall, he looks up at the ceiling. There's a huge brown stain that looks like a giant chocolate donut. He feels dirty, but damn feeling dirty feel's pretty fucking good at the moment.

The door slams against the wall and there's a loud familiar boom. He freezes. All of the blood that's rushing through his veins turns cold and stops. He can hear two women's voices growing loader and closer. Oh no, he thinks listening to the two women talking, I know those voices!

Quickly he jumps up onto the toilet seat trying to keep out of view from the familiar, intruding voices. The toilet seat is wet and slick, so he grabs on to the girl to keep his balance. Instead of trying to help him keep steady on the white plastic seat, she begins to unbutton his pants.

This bitch is a freak, he thinks as he tries to push her hand away and maintain his balance. But she's still at him. She unzips his pants, and slips her hand in.

"Stop," he silently mouths to her as he tries to turn away, but can't because he's off balance. The girl reminds him of the Tasmanian devil going after a steak, but only this time he is the steak.

John's feet begin to slowly slide towards the edge of the plastic seat, inching closer to the foggy water at the bottom of the bowl. Jesus Christ leave me alone, he shouts on the inside. Please get your fuckin' hand outta' my pants! His words echo through every nerve in his body, and escapes through his eyes.

"Sara, it that you?" A voice shouts from behind the stall door. "Sara? Are you ok?"

John's right foot begins to lose what little traction it's holding onto, and he has to choose. Foot in toilet or get busted fooling around in the ladies bathroom?

The stall door busts open, and John quickly walks out. "Hi ladies. How's it going?" he says. He can feel his face tingling with blood, and his eyes feel like they're pried open with toothpicks. His hands cover his undone pants. Not waiting for a answer he says, "Ok then." And turns and walks out.

First published: August, 2003