ภรรยาของเขาคือนางร้ายความจำเสื่อม

Late at night, on the bus, a hand slowly crept under my skirt as a man's warm breath brushed against my ear.

As I was pressed against the glass door, I couldn't see what the man looked like. That only made my other senses more sensitive. All I could feel was his knee pressing against my thigh.

"This is the first step of your addiction, Miss."

…

It was the height of summer. The air was suffocatingly humid, even at night, with the clammy feeling that typically comes right after rain.

I was completely drenched when I got onto the bus.

The smell of petrichor mixed with body odor filled the entire bus. I found a spot near the door and stood there.

Every so often, the cold rain splattered on my face.

I took in a sharp breath and looked down at my wet clothes. I couldn't help but pull on my collar as the fabric was stuck uncomfortably to my skin.

The bus was filled with employees from a well-known IT company nearby. They were just getting off work after a long day. I kept feeling something brushing against my thigh.

All of a sudden, a feeling of unease came over me. Startled, I looked behind me.

It was just a handbag.

I was too strung up, it seemed.

I breathed a sigh of relief as water kept dripping from my fringe.

As the bus moved, the people around me swayed and pressed against me. Clicking my tongue in annoyance, I moved aside to avoid them.

Just then, I stepped on a pair of leather shoes.

Without lifting my head, I apologized.

Suddenly, the brakes screeched.

I was pushed against the glass door. Just as I was about to push myself up, a warm hand pressed against my thigh.

Shocked, I turned my head to look behind me, but I couldn't see anyone acting strangely.

The only person standing behind me was a young man, who was texting on his phone.

The person was still caressing my thigh. His rough palm made me itch as it moved across my skin.

His movements were getting bolder. My heart pounded as I went through every possible scenario of what was happening in my head. Eventually, I settled on one: I was being harassed on the bus!

I wanted to move away, but the man pushed me firmly against the door.

His warm breath brushed against my ear. I tensed.

"If you let go of me right now, I won't scream. If not…" Before I could finish, his hand breached the thin fabric of my panties.

Panicked, I tried to open my mouth to scream, but the man covered my mouth with his hand.

He forced his fingers into my mouth and pressed down on my tongue.

I couldn't get any words out. All I could do was whimper weakly.

The fact that I couldn't see who was doing this made me even more scared. I looked around while trying to catch someone's attention and ask for help.

However, I jolted suddenly. My body went limp.

Tears of humiliation streamed down my face. Trembling, I tried to free myself, but at the same time, I wanted more.

I was conflicted.

As people moved past me, I could almost feel their gazes staring at me.

My legs were trembling. Humiliated, I wished the ground would open up and swallow me.

I really never imagined that this would happen to me.

Suddenly, I caught the eye of a man standing nearby.

I looked at him pleadingly, but all he did was whistle and look away.

Everyone else on the bus took a step back.

They were all staring at me as if they knew from the start what was happening.

I began shaking my head fervently. "Please. I'll give you anything you want."

Just as I finished speaking, the bus stopped.

The feeling of satisfaction disappeared, and I was left with emptiness.

I stood on the spot, dazed.

The other passengers behind me urged impatiently, "Hurry up and get off!"

My mind was empty. There was a buzzing in my ears. Before the man left, he had said in a low voice, "This is the first step of your addiction, Miss."

…

An unknown amount of time later, I was pushed off the bus and fell into a patch of mud.

I was covered in cold, muddy water. All the passers-by were giving me weird looks.

It took some time for me to get to my feet. I was still breathing heavily.

I couldn't believe that I had fantasized about that bastard doing something much worse to me.

Dazed, I went home. As soon as I walked in, I slumped onto the floor without even bothering to change out of my dirty clothes.

My body didn't lie; I was still aroused by what that asshole had done to me.

How could I be when I was in that situation?

I took several deep breaths. It felt as if I could still feel the lingering taste of the man's fingers in my mouth.