Quiet Friday Night

The following story has themes of non-consent sex, humiliation and other dark themes. If such content offends you, please do not read. This is an erotic FICTION story not meant as any sort of gender, sexual orientation, political or societal protest. This is purely for entertainment and never meant to happen in reality. If you have issues with such kinks, please do not read.

"A lover's eyes will gaze an eagle blind. A lover's ear will hear the lowest sound when the suspicious head of theft is stopped," the charming man named Jeremy toasts while holding up the shot glass. Unable to help myself, I stare at his lips as he is one of the most gorgeous men I have ever seen. Not to mention built as his arm looks like it could lift double my body weight.

"Here, here," I say a moment later, having been transfixed by those lips of his. When I say this, my feminine voice sounds so different than the bass in his voice. I like the way they clash through.

I then lift my own shot glass, so glad I got my nails done earlier today. The gorgeous man shoots his shot easily while I nearly choke on mine. I'm not used to shooting hard liquor as I'm more of a margarita girl. I like to sip and relax with my drinks, not have to taste the harshness when they are raw.

I manage to drink my shot, laughing as some of it rolls down my chin. I have to wipe it off with my hand, knowing I must look like a little kid even if I'm in my twenties.

"You ok, Sarah?" Jeremy asks, laughing along with me at how badly I take my shot.

"Oh yes, yes. I just have a...drinking...problem," I tell him, using that tired joke to combat how dorky I must look at the moment. And to try and hide from harsh and odd this drink tastes.

I went to this restaurant, excuse me, bar and grill for some dinner and to have a drink or two to celebrate the end of the work week. Nothing too big or celebratory, just a meal, alone, along with a margarita or two.

Normally when I do this, several men come up to me. After all, I'm a fairly attractive single woman who takes care of herself, so I know that must look very appealing, especially to subpar men wanting to hook up. You know the type I mean. The ones that hang out only during happy hour as that's when their cheap beer is even cheaper.

Most of the men that try to talk to me are the exact type you would picture if asked what a loser looked like. Old men with no money wanting to relive some pretend youth. Loser criminals trying to find some dumb woman to leech financially off of. And of course, horny idiots guided by their downstairs head instead of their upstairs one.

Jeremy approach wasn't exactly new, but it was unique. You see, when I am here, I like to read. I know it might be weird, but I rather read than look at some sport game that's on the TV or spy on other people's conversation.

Now many guys think that seeing a woman reading a book is an awesome way to get "in," as they figure they can just ask, "what are you reading, beautiful?" to which I'll open up. What really happens is when I get asked this, I know that the guy isn't a reader at all as a real reader knows not to disturb someone when they are reading, especially when they are alone and trying to eat. Sometimes I don't even bother responding to the guy while other times I politely say, "Not interested, thank you."

Jeremy came up and instead of asking what I'm reading he said, "The book is far better than the movie, but sadly I didn't find it anywhere as good as The Shining." Seems he read the title of my book (which is Doctor Sleep) before he decided to approach me. Him saying that let me know that he indeed read it because I completely agree with him.

From there we started a conversation about the book, to which he wanted to see what part I was on so he didn't give me any spoilers. Sure, I've seen the movie, but the book is far more detailed and going in a different direction. It's like night and day to me.

And well, an hour and a half has passed having our conversation. Just us sitting here and talking about nothing and everything. He is clearly more interested in conversation than a hook up as there's no pretend questions. You know those questions, the type to try and pretend you are interesting and they want to know you.

Nor has he boasted about himself. Hasn't said anything about how great he is, or how wonderful. Only thing close is when he mentioned he was an engineer and loved to make homemade gadgets when possible.

Instead we've been talking about various books, poetry and other artsy topics. Nothing too serious or dark. Just nice, friendly conversation.

"I know this is going to be a bummer, but that's going to have to be my last drink," I tell Jeremy honestly. Already I've had three drinks to which I have a strong buzz. Add to that the shot we just took. Any more and I'll be headed into drunk territory, which is not what I want.

"But thank you for the shot. It was...interesting," I am quick to say as he purchased the shots we just took. He was rather comical walking them back here as he walked terribly slow to make sure he didn't spill any.

"It's my pleasure. I normally don't get to have such a grown up conversation here," Jeremy says and laughs. It may be my buzz, but that comment makes me light up. It's a low key way of him telling me he thinks I'm smart, which means it's honest. Not the fake ways others say it, where they either don't really believe it or get scared of it.

"Hey baby, how about you drop the zero and get with this hero?" a plump forty year old man says. This man seems to appear on my right side from out of nowhere, forcing himself into my conversation with Jeremy, who is on my left side.

Jarred by such a strange interruption, I turn to look at the guy flabbergasted. I look at his untrimmed beard, which is still wet from whatever he was drinking as well as has bits of food in it, his uncombed hair and red drunken face, then turn to look at Jeremy. It's clear Jeremy is holding back a laugh, but he does a motion that seems to say, "by all means go with the hero there."

"No thank you, Vanilla Ice," I tell the plump asshole. I know that reference will most likely go over his head, but I was forced to watch that horrible movie last weekend and the terrible dialog is still stuck in my head.

"Fine, your loss baby," the plump man says after a very pregnant pause, where I think he has to replay what I said a few times in his head. It's now that I notice the smell of him, where I think he is what neckbeards turn into when they reach their next form. And this guy's next form would be as a homeless man.

"Sure is. I'll cry myself to sleep tonight," I tell the man as he still doesn't get the clue, making sure to say it as sarcastically as possible. The guy takes a breath like he's going to say something, but instead walks off. I have a feeling he knows it wouldn't end well for him, as I don't put up with little boys or their abuse. Plus I think he saw Jeremy up close and didn't want to get beat up tonight. He hasn't said anything about it, but it's clear Jeremy does go to the gym.

"Future husband material?" Jeremy jokingly asks as he motions to the guy as he storms off. I roll my eyes at his comment but laugh.

"I've enjoyed talking to you, Jeremy. Sadly, I'll need to be leaving. Got a lot to do tomorrow," I tell him, letting him know that this makes me a bit sad. Nothing would make me happier than spending the entire night chatting with him. Maybe going to a quieter location.

"Understandable. I enjoyed talking to you as well, Sarah," Jeremy says and I can tell he's being honest as well. What makes my heart leap is that there's no frantic push to make me stay. Nor is he trying to make up some reason to get me to go home with him, or to go to my house. He is an adult and is treating me as an adult.

"If you don't mind, could I walk you to your car? Or if you rather, I can get one of the staff here to do it," Jeremy says, surprising me. I was just about to ask for his number or a social media handle, so this does surprise me, not so much for what he wants, but because he has a worried look. Jeremy then sees that I noticed his look.

"That creep is standing in a corner hardcore staring at you. I don't think it's a good idea for you to walk out alone," Jeremy tells me after leaning in some, his tone and face very serious.

I sigh at this, not at his offer but because of yet another crazy stalker type. What is the big deal with men not talking "NO" as an answer? No one likes to hear no, but that's the way life is. Just move on. How many times do I have to go through with this?

"If you wouldn't mind, I would like that, thank you," I tell Jeremy, already standing up as I want to go.

"Oh, ok. Thought you were going to wait a few, but this is better. I think the creep is trying to think up a game plan. If you go now he probably won't be able to think what to do," Jeremy muses.

Putting my book in my purse, I sling it over my shoulder. I then finish the rest of my margarita which is unfrozen now. Now ready to leave, I look at Jeremy who has settled his bill at the bar.

"Milady," Jeremy says when he returns, motioning for me to go first. I laugh at this and the two of us walk out together. We move through the now crowded restaurant, which seems jumping with the soon to be nighttime partiers. I didn't expect to stay this long, so when I arrived it wasn't anywhere near this busy.

"Thanks for walking me out. That's very decent of you," I tell Jeremy as we step out of the front doors and into the parking lot.

"Nah, not decent. Sad that by doing the right thing you stand out. Should be normal behavior, you know?" Jeremy muses but says it more to himself. Like he doesn't understand the state of the world.

As we walk, I do notice how tired I am. I thought the conversation had woken me up, but I think the day was more taxing than I believed. This really is going to be a bed and bath sort of night as that's all I am going to do when I get home.

"Not trying to alarm you, but the creep is following us," Jeremy reveals, making me sigh again.

"I doubt he's going to do anything but give you mean glances," Jeremy is quick to say trying to comfort me as I start to feel uneasy. I know Jeremy is with me, but I still reach into my purse for the mace/hot spray that I keep for defense.

"Guys like him are cowards. The parking lot is pretty bright and idiots like him wouldn't dare do anything were people could see. Not to mention all the cameras everywhere," Jeremy tells me, on purpose pointing up to the side.

I try to play it cool, especially as Jeremy does his little pointing gesture not for me, but the stalker. The stalker will no doubt look to see the cameras, where maybe he'll turn around. Yet I still tense up and feel even more uneasy. I do feel tons better that Jeremy is walking me to my car, but the fear is still trying to creep in. That cold, dark fear with the possibility of being hurt. That feeling you get with a weirdo.

"Hey, you ok?" Jeremy asks genuinely concerned as I miss a step and nearly stumble.

"That's weird," I say, pausing for a moment. My head went really dizzy for a moment, like someone grabbed me and spun me around.

"You ok?" Jeremy asks again, even more concerned.

"Y-Yeah, I think. Just got dizzy," I tell him. I thought I was just feeling uneasy due to the weirdo, but I think it's more than that.

"Look Sarah, how about we go back inside? You're looking pale. Maybe we can get you're an Uber," Jeremy suggests, his voice trying to be calm but I can tell he is worried.

Suddenly the tiredness I feel doubles, if not triples. It's like a weighted blanket comes down on me, making me very sluggish and tired. In a weird feeling, my body starts to weigh a million pounds, making it hard to even stay upright. It makes me understand the tiredness I was feeling wasn't because of an exhausting day, but something else.

"Damn it, I think the asshole drugged you," Jeremy says, his voice sounding almost panicked.

"W-W-What?" I ask, shocked. Hearing this makes my heart start to pound so hard it makes my head hurt. Like, it literally starts to pound.

Drugged me? Like, what they teach college girls to watch out for? I've been drugged? I would say it's impossible, but the way I'm feeling, I know it's not. I just can't believe it.

"Yeah, he must have roofied you," Jeremy tells me as I nearly fall over. He manages to reach over and grab me, holding me at his side with his arm. That strong arm of his pins me to his side as if I'm trying to cozying up to him on a chilly night.

"Come on, let's go back inside where we can call the police and maybe an ambulance," Jeremy tells me in a take-charge tone. I feel his strong arm wrap around and grab hold so he can help me along. Despite how hard it is starting to get to think, I know he's trying to make it that everything is normal so the weirdo doesn't think he has an opening to try something.

"Crap," Jeremy curses under his breath and I feel him start to pick up the pace.

"W-What's w-w-wrong?" I try and ask, my words very slurred now. The tiredness takes hold firmly now, where my thoughts seem to take longer to form. Even speaking feels like it is in slow motion for me. Not to mention how my eyes don't want to stay open all the way. They keep drooping, making it hard to see.

"N-Nothing. It's just the creeper is getting closer. Trying to close the gap between us," Jeremy tells me, downright carrying me now. Lifting me in a standing position at his side and walking with me.

"I think the asshole is about to try something. He's coming up fast," Jeremy reveals, his voice dripping with concern and worry.

"Look, we are almost to the restaurant door. I'm going to stand you up so I can deal with him. Please, I know you are drugged, but try to stay standing," Jeremy says, practically begging me. He sounds overly concerned but also confident. Like he isn't liking what is happening, but he's going to make sure nothing bad happens.

I feel Jeremy put my back against something solid. When he does I open my eyes as much as I can. I try to look forward but my vision goes from blurred to clear several times. It's as if someone is messing with the focus button on my eyes.

"W-Wait," I slur out, confused by what I see. With my head feeling like toxic waste, it takes me a moment to collect my thoughts. I'm not leaning against the restaurant at all. It's far in front of me. Actually, I think I'm at the back of the parking lot. Instead of heading towards the restaurant, we've been walking away from it.

Turning my head to look around, which takes a hell of lot of strength to do, I don't see the weirdo at all. In fact, I don't see anyone. There are rows of cars here, all of which are empty and parked with the owners having fun inside.

"W-W-What's going on?" I try to ask, my drugged mind not able to comprehend what this means. All I know is I'm still leaning against whatever this is while Jeremy is next to me doing something.

With all my fleeting strength I take a step and look back at where we are. I see now that he propped me up against the back of a van. A van that doesn't appear to have any windows, at least not at the back doors.

Jeremy has opened the left back door of this van. He leaves the door wide open, where he grabs me. Only this time he doesn't grab me around the shoulders like before. This time he grabs my hair and yanks me towards him with painful force.

I cry out as it feels like my hair is yanked out and my neck elongated. The force of it makes me crash into him, where he reaches down and grabs me by my hips. Showing incredibly strength, he lifts me like this, literally throwing me into the back of his van.

I try to scream as I'm thrown into the van as I know this is bad, but nothing comes out. It feels like I've been gagged, but from my brain instead of a physical item in my mouth. So I only make a grunt as I'm tossed in the van, expecting to land on the hard floor.

It takes my drugged self a moment to see that I didn't land on the floor. Instead, I seem to be bent over something at the hips. My feet are still on the floor, yet I'm bent over at my hips, my tired upper body leaning over a small counter or something.

"What..." I say as I attempt to stand but a hand on my back forces me back down. It slams me down hard, where I find that the counter I'm bent over has a pillow or cushions.

"Shut up," Jeremy states, his friendly and sexy tone gone. It's his same voice, but now it's cold and serious. Right after he growls this to me, I hear the van door shut, locking us into darkness.

Lights then turn on, showing the inside of the van. I still can barely keep my eyes open as I'm bent over the counter-thing, but I do try to look around.

The first thing I see in front of me are seats. They are the front seats of the van. They look normal with one being the driver's seat and the other the passenger's. Only I spot the windshield and side windows are tinted, which explains why I didn't see any light coming in.

Now looking at what I'm bent over, I see it's some sort of homemade counter. It's bolted to the floor of the van, made of thick pieces of lumber and metal. The counter is long enough that it goes from my hips to mid stomach, leaving my upper body to hang over.

"What...are you...doing?" I manage to ask, feeling more of whatever drug this is kick in to make drool start to come out of my mouth.

Never have I felt so tired, yet wired. It feels like someone has turned down my IQ, but pumped me full of coffee. Where I've been paralyzed but made to be aware of what's happening around me.

Fear does start to move over me as I know I'm in trouble. But the fear doesn't seem to take hold like I know it normally would. Other times when I knew my life was in danger, I was hit with this cold fear feeling. But now...it's like I know I should feel that I'm in trouble, but can't work up to feeling it. Like my emotions are being muted.

"You really need to learn to watch your drink, ya dumb bitch," Jeremy says, his voice now filled with malice. He says it the way a racist would speak to someone he thinks is below him.

I feel him grab the waistband of my black slacks...and pull them down. He pulls my slacks all the way to my ankles, exposing my red panties and smooth, bare legs. He does this angrily, as if mad I was daring to wear clothes. I think he may have even ripped them.

"The...shot," I slur, seeing my mistake. The shot he gave me. I didn't even think to question that the drink could have been drugged. Must have been easy for him to slip something into mine without me seeing.

"That's right," Jeremy confirms, and I feel my panties yanked down, exposing my bare ass. Not just my bare ass, but my tender womanhood, which is now very helpless as he can see it from behind.

My hands aren't tied at all, but I can't seem to find the strength to lift them from how they hang. It feels like each arm weighs five hundred pounds each, forcing them to stay as they are as Jeremy strips me.

"Stop," I beg, the word barely understandable as I slur. I beg him over and over as I feel him first remove my shoes, then my slacks and panties from around my ankles. Removing them so I am completely bottomless.

It doesn't take long for my brain to understand what is about to happen. I may not be able to think of a way to escape or fight back, but I am able to comprehend what he's about to do. Jeremy is about to rape me. He's drugged me and now he's going to fuck me in the back of his...rape-van. And there's nothing I can do to stop it.

What is beyond maddening about it is that I feel so...okay. There's no crippling fear, no terror making me panic, not even sadness at being tricked. Instead I feel, I dunno, good. Happy almost. Tingling.

"Give the drugs time to kick in, ya dumb whore. It's my own special blend. Roofies, kem, a bit of X and some Molly. Going to make you nice and docile, not to mention so wet ya pussy will be leaking down your legs," Jeremy tells me and laughs. The asshole then slaps my ass, which I clearly feel. I feel his entire handprint as it lands.