Walk of Shame

Walk of Shame 

By: Antwan Crump


He said that he loved her—that he’d wanted “nothing more in this world” than to have her to himself. To hold her. To feel her. To enjoy her. Though Marie was flattered by his flirtation and moved by his poignant poise—she rebuffed him. It was a swipe-meet after all, and she already known the score. Impressive or not, only whores gave it up to a guy on the first date. A whore, she was certainly not. At least, she hadn’t meant to be.

She’d gotten done-up for the occasion—frilled hair, tight dress, an hour of makeup, the works. She wanted to make a good first impression. Marie had always shied away from internet dating. For years she’d called it “classless” and “disconnected”. For all those years, she’d been virtually alone.

There were some relationships, most were either brief or barely memorable. Her latest, then defunct, was her last-ditch effort to find the one. After four years, he left her for someone that he’d dated in high school—she found out about it from an accidentally posted picture. They’d reconnected on the same site. She was twenty-seven, and not getting any younger. Weeks of “why nots” swirling around in her mind had finally led to this. She gave in. At first, she was happy about it.

“So, Marie, what do you do?” His name was Sky, one of the original, colorfully named, millennials who’d reached adulthood. He was good-looking enough. Muscular, but not overly so. Handsome, but none too concerned with it. He was her type, she’d selected him. “I can’t say that I’m not curious. A beautiful girl like you. Young, sexy, successful…I’ve got to know.”

“Okay. Nosey.” She joked, “I work with troubled youth in the city.”

“Really? That’s interesting. I would’ve pinned you as…”

“Don’t say a model. For the love of God, be original.” Marie said, half-serious, and sipped from her glass of wine.

“I was going to say a real-estate agent.”

“Really, Sky?” She was quick to lose interest. That was Sky’s warning to change the subject. She’d only give suitors one before she’d lost interest. He powered through, “A big city like this? An intelligent woman like yourself? Of course. Why not? It’d be a great move for you. Yale-educated, young, and ambitious. Detroit could use a woman like you, to help it bounce back into shape,” he said.

“Oh.” She couldn’t help but smile, “I did not think that you were going there with that.”

“Well, maybe you should think more of yourself.”

“Maybe I should.” She smirked and looked down to the table to hide her arousal, “I’m not gonna’ fuck you.” She continued to look away and shook her head no as if she’d been convincing herself. “I have a rule.”

Sky smiled back, and reached his hand across the table, “And, I respect that. You don’t have to worry about any games here. I’m having a good time. That alone was worth the trip.”

Marie forced herself to look into his hazel eyes—they seemed endless in their beauty and focused on delivering sincerity. “I’m having a good time too.”

“Hey. What do you say we hit the strip after this? Go for a nice walk around the city. Try to burn off this pasta.” He joked.
Marie giggled, “I’d like that.”


The alley was damp and barely lit at both ends by streetlights. Each one was about a quarter of a mile away. Marie laid crying in the center of two large brick walls. They looked like apartment complexes, but she didn’t really care about what they were, so much as where. Her mind was fogged. She was in pain.

Her dress was split open from its bottom to her waistline, forming an upside-down V-shape. The lacy underwear that she’d worn was gone. Her knees were badly bruised. One of her heels were missing.

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