Chasel carried me all the way back, straight into my bedroom.
"I want to check your ankle," he insisted once we were alone.
"Let me shower and put on some clothes," I told him. "You probably want your jacket back, right?" I had to make light of the situation; otherwise, I would break down. He smiled at that comment, but I nearly had to push him out to make him leave. He was quite concerned.
As the water pelted my tender skin, I hoped to mentally and physically cleanse myself of the slime from that customer. After a half hour, I realized there wasn't enough soap in the world to scrub the feeling of that pervert's hands off me. The only thing that could counteract my shivers of shame was what Chasel did to help me.