Getting separated from your friends at the club is arguably one of the scariest things that can happen to a girl on a night out. And unfortunately for you, you’re currently wandering around after getting lost, searching for your friends.

You find a set of stairs, which you assume will lead you to the main room of the club, but there’s an obstacle in your way. There are a group of men all standing on the stairs and around the bottom. The way they stare at you as you approach makes you wish you hadn’t left the house at all.

A few wolf whistles are blown in your direction, and you can feel several eyes looking you up and down. A couple of them start speaking to you, asking you where your friends are, and if you’d like to go home with them instead.

You start to feel a little sick, until your saviour arrives. A tall, muscular man with messy blonde hair and a rugged look about him walks to the bottom of the stairs, arms folded over his chest intimidatingly. He’s in a leather jacket and smells strongly of smoke. He’s a biker.

“Oi,” He says in a rough, gravelly tone. “Let the lady past, dickheads. Think she’d rather die than get off with any of you twats.”