Pebbles rattled against the undercarriage of her car, as though the road itself was trying to speak to her in the darkness. The gravel path wound its way through the dense wilderness, a pale, narrow ribbon disappearing into the shadows between the towering trees. The trunks rose on either side, black and rough, ancient sentinels cloaked in gloom. The headlights skimmed over the terrain, casting the branches into long, claw-like fingers stretched across the ground. This place felt almost unreal—it abided by its own rules and rituals.

Then it appeared. His truck. A massive figure emerging from the darkness at the roadside, like a predator lying in wait for its prey. The paint had once been a bold red, but now it was dull and scarred, a battle-worn warrior bearing the burden of countless miles traveled. Scratches and small dents became visible as her headlights swept over it, and the faded logo on the side was half-buried in rust. It looked as though it belonged here, part of the landscape—worn, unyielding, and relentless.

She passed it slowly, almost unconsciously swerving, as though her little car instinctively sought to avoid the hulking presence. In the cab, she caught a glimpse of his silhouette, blurred and indistinct. Just a moment, but enough to send a jolt through her chest. She tried to breathe, but the air felt sharp and cold, as though the forest itself wanted her gone.

When she parked the car farther ahead, the world once again filled with silence—a heavy, oppressive quiet broken only by the pounding of her own heart. She glanced at the trees growing thick outside the window, their interwoven branches veiling the stars in a gray lattice. There was nothing remarkable about this place—just a forgotten spot the world had left untouched. And yet, to her, it felt as though every tree, every stone, knew what was about to happen here.

Her hands were cold as they gripped the steering wheel, and she noticed how they trembled. She clenched them tightly, trying to keep them still, but fear washed over her nonetheless. An icy, unrelenting wave that begged her to turn back. She could still leave; she knew that. But the idea felt as unreal as everything else right now. For even though fear had made its home in her, she couldn’t deny the pull of a desire far stronger. A longing to teeter on the edge of something she could not control. A deep, erotic allure that overpowered the unease twisting in her stomach.

The truck loomed in the darkness behind her, heavy and silent, a reminder of everything she was never supposed to do. She didn’t even know who he was, didn’t know if she should fear him. She drew in a shaky breath and released her grip on the wheel. Then, she opened the car door.

The cold greeted her instantly, raw and biting, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and pine needles. She shut the door behind her with a soft thud that echoed between the trees. Then, she opened the backseat door, just as they had agreed. The overhead light flickered on, casting a warm glow, a lone flame pushing back against the surrounding darkness.

She unbuttoned her worn jeans, her fingers working quickly as her mind raced in all directions. Everything could go wrong, she was well aware of that. Fear shot through her, but she held back the nausea and pulled the jeans down in one motion so the panties followed. The pants bunched up in a tangled pile around her ankles.

She leaned into the car, bracing her elbows against the soft seat. The cold, damp air pinched at the bare skin of her hips and thighs, sending sharp chills racing across her body. The chill from the world outside crept into the car, pressing close against her skin. Suddenly, she became acutely aware of how much she was trembling—not just her hands, but her entire body.

She remained there, standing on shivering legs, her upper body bent into the car. The silence was almost suffocating, broken only by the sound of her breath—short and uneven. The minutes stretched endlessly, becoming an eternity in her mind. The darkness outside the car seemed impenetrable, and she could feel it seeping into her, a black shadow drowning out every rational thought.

Finally, she heard it—the creak of his door opening. The sound felt surreal, like something out of a dream. Heavy footsteps crunched against the gravel, rhythmic, each one sending a faint vibration through her. She didn’t move. Her gaze remained fixed on the empty space in front of her, but she listened—listened to him approaching, to how the sounds shifted as he came closer.

She couldn’t see him, but she felt his presence. The scent of his jacket washed over her, a mix of leather and cigarette smoke. And by the time it reached her, he was already behind her. A rough hand caressed her bare behind, a warm touch against her cold skin. Suddenly it was as if the night closed more tightly around them, as if it was holding its breath.

She was completely left out in her vulnerability and his presence was like electricity in the air. His hand left her body and she heard him unbutton his pants. The sound of the zipper cut through the silence and the lump in her stomach knotted inside her so it almost hurt. She understood from his movements and sounds that he was masturbating, she could almost feel the stranger's gaze resting on bare skin.

His hand returned again to touch her, more greedily this time. The fingers pinched her buttocks, worked their way up under her shirt, found their way under her bra, played and pinched her breasts until the nipples hardened. The shame was a heavy burning stone in her stomach as he touched her. It burned relentlessly and the heat spread like poison through her body. It tasted bitter on the tongue.

And it made her wet.

The stranger found her wetness between her legs, sliding back and forth in her moist.

Her hands were cold but clammy, as if her body couldn’t decide whether she was freezing or burning. Her gaze darted around, searching for something to latch onto, but everything around her felt distant and unreal.

Two intruding fingers gently penetrated her and she gasped. It sounded wet as he sank into her, exploring her arousal with smooth light movements.

Thoughts whipped around in her mind; This is your choice. No one else’s. You’re the one who did this. In her chest, her heart pounded wildly, so hard that she wondered if he could hear it.

When he pulled his fingers out of her, they were coated in her glistening juices.

She suddenly caught sight of her own reflection in the side window, a face she barely recognized. The woman staring back at her had her eyes, her mouth, but there was something different about her. Shame colored her cheeks, and she wanted to despise herself, but it wasn’t the only thing she felt. In her gaze, there was a glimmer of longing.

Behind her, she heard the rustling sound as he took the condom out of the package.

She looked deeply into her own eyes in the reflection, and it felt like looking at both a stranger and someone familiar at the same time. The woman she glimpsed was both her and someone else, a version of herself she had never imagined, yet here she was, as real as her own breath. For a moment, they stared at each other, and it was as if they both understood—this is who you are now. There’s no turning back.

His lust, thick and swollen, entered her slowly. She could see an expression of pleasure appear on her own face as he filled her. His body felt warm against her skin as he rested, stiff in her depths. Two strong hands gripped her hips firmly as he began finding his rhythm. The force of his weight carried her forward again and again, ebbing and returning. She softly followed his movements, like a shadow, as he took her.

The sound of his rising arousal washed over her and flowed into her fantasies. His deep, hoarse moan brought his form to life in her thoughts and before her inner gaze images of him fluttered past. Every movement, every new sound altered his features, like ripples on water breaking the reflection on its surface. One moment, she saw a strong, angular jaw, sun-kissed skin marked by long days under the sky. The next, his features softened, his eyes dark and deep. Her imagination painted him in fragments, borrowed from people she had met, images she had seen, dreams she could barely remember.

The loud bangs of their bodies, flesh hitting flesh, were drowned out only by their own moaning. His grip hardening, his thrusts becoming more violent, until his hips buried all of himself in her with a long drawn out roar that vibrated throughout her body.

She knew he had only come there to find his satisfaction in her, but she was also using him, to see another version of herself. The woman in the window smiled mockingly at her as the stranger pulled out. She stood there, humiliated and used, hearing him button his pants. He tossed the filled condom on the ground at her feet, as a farewell, before returning to the truck.

Then she crawled out of the back seat and pulled on her jeans with unsteady legs. The engine started with a deep, rumbling sound. The headlights blinded her, and she knew he was watching her. She hurried, disoriented, into her car. The truck shook as he shifted gears, and she heard the gravel crunching under the massive tires. The sound was amplified in the thick darkness.

She didn’t see him drive away. Instead, she hid her face in her hands and focused on the sounds—the low growl of the engine, the slow creak of the worn-out brakes, how the sound gradually faded until all that was left was silence. A heavy, cold silence that settled over her like a thick, wet fabric.

She looked up again when she was sure he was gone. There was nothing to see anymore, just the darkness that surrounded her. The emotions inside her tore at each other relentlessly, and with her eyes closed, she returned to their meeting in her mind; every detail rushed through her head like a fireworks display of repeats—his warmth against her body, how he filled her, the rising desire in his breath.

In her loneliness, she rode the wave of her shame and sought the bittersweet comfort with the help of her hand inside the panties.