As the night wore on, Claire found herself increasingly drunk and lost in the noisy crowd. She was dancing with a stranger, feeling his hands on her hips, the sweat on his face, and his breath on her neck. As they danced, he leaned in and whispered, "Hey, I know a place we can go to that's quiet."
Claire knew she shouldn't go with him, but she was too drunk to care, and the thought of a more private encounter was alluring. They slipped out of the bar and walked a few blocks to a small alley where he pushed her against the wall. The smell of trash filled her nose as he pushed up her skirt and lifted her onto a dumpster.
She protested weakly, "I don't think this is a good idea."
"Shut up," he said, tugging at her panties.
"But it's so dirty," she protested.