The men continue to drink, becoming rowdier and more obnoxious as the alcohol gets to them. An hour later, the group slouch around their table, bragging to each other about their impressive and many sexual conquests. They seem to have forgotten that you are a human being all together - The smartly dressed man with oily hair and sunglasses balls you up and twists you between his fingers unthinkingly as he leans in toward his muscular friend, in deep conversation. "..So she's on her knees in front of me begging for the dick, while her sister's hot little tongue's sliding in and out of my ear, right.." His huge, heavy fingers manipulate your naked body into desperately awkward positions, your limbs flailing and back twisting painfully as he fiddles with the insignificant object in his hand. When he lifts his hand to a sloppy hi-five and you slip through his fingers, thudding onto the wooden table, you could almost cry out to God in thanks. But there's no time.. You react quickly, scampering to the edge of the table and taking a leap of faith down into the muscle-bound friend's lap. Ok, so maybe you will get caught and punished, but you have to try. You're not going to end up like that poor, brainwashed Danny, begging to be used as the evil Drake's butt plug and eagerly satisfying his every beck and call. You land on the warm denim heavily and look up: The rowdy men are oblivious to your flight. You cling to the jeans, and climb all the way down the man's leg, sliding awkwardly down his smooth brown leather boot at the end. Without looking back, you bolt, adrenalin coursing through your veins. Safety! Home! Your pride! All these things are in such close reach! You keep running, turn your head to make sure no-one's chasing you, turn forward again and 'SMACK'. You've run face first into a tall, hard, wall-like, denim-clad man's ankle. You land on your side, staring across at a huge, dirty Converse Chuck Taylor. Regaining your vision, you recognise the tall celebrity looking right down at you, smiling slightly. It's...