Dad called it 'the equalizer,' and Mom couldn't stand the sight of it. She made him lock it up; but he slipped it to me before I left for college. "You might need it," he'd whispered. "Some of those athletes don't know what 'stop' means." I'd ruffled what was left of his hair and told him I could take care of myself.

I wasn't so sure when the creep stepped out in front of me. I mentally kicked myself about a hundred times. Personally I don't think I'm all that hot look- ing, but I had a friend who used to go on about breast to height ratios and buttock roundness and symmetry and how it related to making guys hot. She claimed my ratios were just over the 'hot' line, and that most guys would rather do me than a skinny moviestar. Anyway I'm 5'2, brunette, and young, and I date whenever I want.

I'm rape bait, and I had dangled myself without a damn thought. Suddenly there were dark empty class- room buildings between me and the lighted road, and my short cut had gone sour. He held up his switchblade; the same narrow blond clean-shaven face the other girls had described grinned nastily at me.

"Not a word, sister. One scream and you're wear- in' scars." He'd cut the first girl across the face when she screamed; the others had been quiet. I didn't like his looks, but I had to try.

"You don't want to do this," I told him softly. "It's not too late for you to stop."

He snickered. "Step back here in the shadows," he ordered, gesturing with the knife. I sighed and obeyed, mentally saying goodbye to the cold beers and warm friends waiting half a mile away. "Get the shirt off, bitch." He put the knife up to my throat.

I backed away and began slowly teasing up the edges of my shirt. He stayed back, grinning that nasty grin. He wasn't a nice man. "You'll regret this, man," I whispered fiercely. "My dad will hunt you down. Probably skin you out for a trophy." The shirt came up over my braless tits; the night air felt good and cool. Probably I should strip in public more often, I thought wildly.

His free hand came out and grabbed my right tit, squeezing roughly, then pinching the nipple. "You've got lousy technique," I hissed. "Don't pinch it off, appreciate it. Don't you ever date normally? You're not ugly, what's your problem?" He slapped me, then grabbed my other tit. A real tit man.

"You've got the problem, not me, bitch. You all think you're so damn hot, turning up your nose at us all -"

"Excuse me, have you ever asked me for a date and been turned down? I'll go out to lunch with anyone. Hell, I went to the show with my German teacher, well, after I passed his class, ya know." I glared at him, hands on hips and freshly pinched nipples sticking out. Probably looked pretty hot, as I look back. He actually looked shocked; I could see him wince. But I was too naked and he couldn't stop. His knife poked at me again.

"Get the skirt off too, and the panties. You're the hottest girl on this campus." He grinned tightly. We could see each other faintly in the streetlights glow; to a passer-by we were in deep shadow. I stripped slowly, realizing I was enjoying watching his face change. He looked for a moment the way any man does when a woman strips for him. I felt sorry for him, for a moment, the way he'd felt sorry for me. I could smell dirt, like an open grave.

"Look," I said, "you've had your feel and your strip-show, now let me go. You're some woman's son, somebody's brother or cousin. You've only scratched and raped, not killed. Stop while you can. Have pity on me, man, I haven't done anything to you. I promise you, you'll regret doing this for the rest of your life." He glared at me, then stepped up and pushed me to my knees. He unzipped and yanked out his cock. Pretty small, for a man his size, but big for little me. He waved the knife; uncertainly I knelt and opened my mouth. He jammed his cock in and moaned, then pulled it back out, grazing my sharp little teeth. He pumped a few times, then pulled out and slapped my face. "Use your lips, bitch, you're bitin' me!" He pushed it back in and I gaped, lips back over my teeth and eyes open wide. He still grazed against my teeth, and he pulled my head back and began to slap me.

I ducked and cried and struggled. "I can't open any wider! I'm just a little girl, and I've never done that. You're too big, mister!" I thought of the huge knob on the end of my friend Jesse's eight-inch cock, and how easily that fit in my mouth. You're just not big enough, mister.

He stopped with his hand poised to slap, then stepped back and dropped his pants around his ankles. He sneered at me as he shoved me back, pinning my legs apart as he pointed the knife. "Don't do it, mister. I'm warning you!" I cried as he began rubbing his cock on my pussy. I was wet already from stripping, and he had the head of his cock inside me in short order. With a grunt he drove it in deep.

As he froze in horror I slapped the knife from his paralyzed hand. His face went white; he made a tiny wail as he pulled his ruined cock out of me. It was sliced down the middle into four sections and spouting blood. He stared in horror, making an awful a-a-a-a noise.

"Squeeze it VERY tight," I advised. "Otherwise it'll retract and you'll, oops. Well, guess you'll bleed to death. Told you you'd regret it, the rest of your life." I was gathering my clothes and purse in horrible haste; he was on his knees clutching his groin in a pool of blood. His screams were getting louder; I dressed on the run. I had my skirt on and was strug- gling with the shirt when he stood up in the bushes and screamed.

"You've ruined me, bitch!" He came around the bushes, bareassed and barehanded, and with blood spray- ing. I ran, topless and jiggling, with him behind me for a few steps. I heard him fall and ran on a little ways, looking back to see him kicking on the ground.

"Twas beauty killed the beast," I called back to him as I got the shirt on and ran out into the well- lighted roadway. I crossed at the light and ran to the bar on the corner.

Jesse and Fran and Bill were sitting at a table in the back. I waved and went straight in the bathroom. I went in a stall and vomited, hard. Green bile came up and I saw stars. Tasted better than the creep's cock had. I sat on the stool and pulled one leg up, reaching in deep between my legs to bring out Dad's war souvenir. I washed it in the sink, several times, very carefully, and put it in my purse. I washed the blood from my thighs and tried to make my face normal. Didn't work, because when I sat next to Jesse, he squinted at me and asked quickly, "What's wrong?"

I took his drink from his hand and drained it. "I just met the campus rapist . . . and I think I killed him. Be very cool and don't start yelling. You too, Bill." Fran grabbed my arm and asked if I was, you know, all right. I drained her drink, too.

"Killed him?" breathed Jesse. "How? Kung Fu?"

So I brought out Dad's war souvenir and quietly showed it to my friends, passing it under the table there in the bar. It's a homemade, well-crafted piece, like a big hollow dildo two inches long made of polished and lacquered bamboo. Inside are two razor blades, crossing each other. "It's a whore's trick. If you don't pay once, next time watch out." The rapist's penis had entered the hollow of the device as it rode inside my vaginal canal and encountered the crossed razors. I put it away and we drank several rounds of Bloody Marys in his memory.

When we left the bar an hour later there were flashlights around the bushes across the street, and a police cruiser came whizzing up with its blue lights on. We mingled with the curious crowds, staggered away and went on with our lives.

The End