Things turned ugly

"Jeez," she thought. "This guy is hung like a camel."

She looked back up at his face. His eyeballs ogled her exposed pussy. His bottom lip – the only anchor for an indecisive droplet of spittle -- drooped stupidly.

“Looks like a camel too,” she thought as she tried to squeeze past his sweaty body.

Without warning, he spun her around violently and barked something unintelligible.

A cascade of impossible flight scenarios filled her brain as she visually swept the bathroom for a blunt object. But the intruder stood between her and the only thing not bolted to the wall or floor – the mop and bucket. This was nothing like the libidinous power struggle she’d enjoyed with the handsome stranger on the bus. Nothing canny or playful about this guy at all -- he meant to commit a crime.

Her eyes on the mop handle, she tried to fake left but slipped on a puddle of mystery liquid. Losing her footing, she fell backwards, her legs splaying over her head for easy forced access.

The massive shadow of the janitor’s body descended over her like storm clouds as he lowered himself onto her. She tried to claw at his greasy face but -- as if knowing what to expect -- he grabbed her wrists, jerking them over her head and pinning them to the floor.

She felt his hard cock stabbing at the soft flesh around her opening and tilted her pelvis as far away from his body as she could. He grunted and cursed, squeezing her wrists tighter until he nearly crushed them. Realizing it was just a matter of nano-seconds before his cock found its target, she turned her head to the side as if to block the sight of the felony in progress,

Then she saw a familiar silhouette towering above her rapist. Defined by a nimbus of flickering fluorescent light, her former playmate stood motionless just long enough for her to wonder if he’d returned to help her or the janitor. But just as the cock zeroed in on its mark, her rescuer reached his arm around her rapist’s neck, tearing him off her with an unnatural roar.

She tried to scramble to her feet but the brawling bodies fell on top of her and she lay helplessly pinned to the floor until they tumbled off of her. She could hear the dull thud of bone hitting cartilage as she crawled naked across the floor to the other side of the room, abstractly calculating the muscle/fat equivalents of the two men. Both had overpowered her with no effort and she found she could not predict a winner. Turning around, she slumped against the wall and, her eyes wide with fear, watched the battle. Her lover, who was now stradling the prostrate janitor, delivered one last decisive punch to the janitor's face. Then he staggered to his feet, gripped the sides of the sink and lowered his head. Eventually, his head still hung low, he turned his eyes towards the janitor.

Bloodied and panting, they stared at each other.