"What the fuck are you doing, Olivia? What are you wearing?" I whipped my head around and saw Tiger leaning out the window of his rusty old sedan. I didn't know what to say. If anyone was going to catch me in the act of asking for a raping, at least it was only Tiger. Somebody who understood.

"Nothing," I replied pathetically. "Just walking home."

"Get in the car," he said with a sigh. I wished that he had said it in a creepier way, but instead he had said it like he was simply offering me a ride home.

"I'm fine," I told him. "Home is just around the corner."

"Come on, Olivia, let me drive you home. You're being stupid."

I gave up and went around to the passenger's side, mostly only so that I could argue with him about calling me stupid.

"You can't exactly talk, mister," I told him as he pulled away from the curb. "In your prime you would have loved to come across a girl walking home late at night wearing these shorts."

"It's not like that," he said, and I couldn't believe that I'd actually offended him. "I don't want you to get killed. There are heaps of creeps around here. I should know, I am one. Or I was one."

He was totally contradicting himself. I was about to pin him as a hypocrite, but then realized I wasn't that much better. I sympathize for the girls in the news stories I read, wishing that those poor women didn't have to go through such a terrible thing. And yet, all the while I'm wishing that it had happened to me instead. If rape is such a terrible, unforgivable act, then why do I want it so badly?

"We might as well fuck and get it over with," said Tiger randomly. He had a way of saying whatever he felt like whenever he felt like, which made me wonder how he managed to keep so quiet around everyone at work during the day. "I know it won't be how you want it, but you know, I figure we are just destined to get it on at some point."

He was right. If two people were made to fuck each other, then it was us. But at the same time, it was the exact opposite as well. He wanted to rape, and I wanted to be raped - those two things don't actually go together at all. It makes it impossible. He needed to force himself upon someone who could scream no and actually mean it.

I didn't have to try very hard to explain this to Tiger - he understood it. I got out of the car outside of my house, pouting.

"We'll probably screw eventually," I told him, and he nodded vaguely. "But at this point, I'll only end up left disappointed, and it's not your fault."

"It's all good. I'm breaking my parole by being here right now, anyway. You should come by my place sometime."

I agreed and said goodbye. As soon as I stepped inside my house, I kind of regretted not going through with it. I could have gone back to his place and at least had sex with a cock that I didn't have to move with my own hand, as I did with my vibrator.