Suzanne never really considered herself to be a clock-watcher, but this day was dragging like none other. 4:50PM. It had been the sort of day filled with mindless repetitive tasks, and there was no helping it. She had almost prayed that someone, somewhere, would have any kind of corporate emergency just to give the lagging time a little kick in the behind. But it never happened. 4:52. 4:53. Absently, she checked her email again. Nope. Nothing new in the last five minutes. She kept the program up and absently clicked the refresh button over and over again. Nothing. 4:54. click. click. oooh! A new message! Nope. HR just sending out another reminder about medical claim reimbursement forms being due before the holiday weekend. 4:55. She looked up from her computer and listened to her boss in the next room. She was on a telephone call, and it sounded like it would be a long one. Suzanna couldn't stand it any longer and decided to take the opportunity to slip out just a few minutes early.
She turned off her computer, and forwarded her phone. She opened her purse and checked the contents. Wallet? Check. Car Keys? Check. Compact? Check. She would have to stop by the supermarket later as there was no more milk in the house. She opened the compact and pulled out the powder brush, sweeping it over her nose and cheeks, and then reapplying her lipstick. Assured that she no longer looked like she had been through a harrowing day, she packed everything back in to her bag, slung it crosswise over her body, and walked out to the elevators. She pressed for the 3rd floor. It had been raining earlier that morning. Driving to work seemed like a good idea at the time.
With a satisfying ding, the elevator stopped its motion with a little dip and opened its doors on the third floor. A few minutes before the end of the workday, the car park was surprisingly devoid of people. Good. No one to say they saw her leave early. Even if it was 4:58 now. The car was parked in that odd place between floors, so she had a small ways to walk, but not too far. She'd soon be on her way home. She made her way and turned the corner, her small car in sight. She started to rummage for her keys.
Suddenly a hand clamped over her mouth. Suzanne's eyes became wide and she let out a harrowing scream, grabbing at the hand and trying to turn to see her attacker. A second set of arms grabbed her, pinning her arms behind her back, and she struggled.... kicking out, letting her knees buckle to try and get under those oppressive arms, moving her head wildly, and all the while trying to make any kind of noise from behind the hand. Her hair was caught and pulled back, forcing her head still and she watched with horror as darkness descended over her eyes. Suzanne whimpered and struggled all the harder, trying to rub the damn blindfold off on her attackers shoulders.... if she could only get a look! But with the darkness came disorientation, and her struggles became more erratic and less planned, and while it had been only a minute, she feared she was getting tired. Her arms were pulled back a little further and she felt something cold and hard against them... then she heard the tell tale click of handcuffs being fastened.
It was over. She was going to die.
And she had spent the last few minutes of her life refreshing her email inbox. But it was almost 5 o'clock...if she could just detain them a little longer, someone would come down the elevator and...
Just as the thought occurred to her, a hand was one her head, pushing it down. She heard a deep voice say, "Watch your step," and she was unceremoniously pushed into what she determined had to be a car. Her face fell onto the leather seats, but the hand holding her mouth was gone. She let out a scream. The door shut and her scream reverberated off the inside of the car. Too well. "@#%$," She thought. The car was sound proofed. Or as good as. No way the noise would be heard near the elevators. The vehicle was turned on, and then it began to move forward.... she could feel it make the spiral turns of the inside of the garage. Try as she might, she had no idea what direction they were heading any longer. She struggled to sit up. Surprisingly, she felt two strong hands clasp her shoulders and pull her into a sitting position. He must be sitting across from her, she determined.
He moved in very close. It had to be a "he." His hands were large, and strong, but did not handle her roughly. She felt him move close to her, lean over her, reach behind her. He smelled of expensive soap, and lightly of a clean cologne that she vaguely recognized. His warmth was apparent as he got quite close. He took the chain of the cuffs ("maybe he will let my hands go free?") and attached them to something on the back of the seat near the small of her back. Suzanne felt a new wave of despair. She was attached to the car. She wouldn't fall over, but she couldn't move from that spot if her life depended on it. The man moved away, apparently to sit back down across from her and said nothing.
Suzanne started to tremble. And still he said nothing. The longer he waited, the longer her imagination had to come up with all the sordid details of her impending doom. How long before someone knew she was missing? No one would know until work tomorrow, that was for sure. Her cat would notice, fat good that would do her. What did he want? How could she get out of this? She could try kicking him, but she would have no way to escape the car... What if she tried to talk with him? Could she reach him with words? Convince him that she was no threat, and then manage to escape the car when his guard was down? Suzanne licked her lips nervously.
"I..." She started.
A low "Shhh" interrupted her.
"No," she responded. "What do you want? I have to know... you have to tell me, please...someone will..." Suzanne felt a finger press up against her lips and pulled her head back startled. The finger did not leave her lips. Then she heard him speak softly into her ear.
"You're okay, Suzanne." He brushed her tousled hair back with his hand and tucked it behind her ear. The movement was curiously soothing, and confusing coming from her captor. Her breaths still came is shallow gasps. "You're okay. No one is going to hurt you, unless you force them to. If you sit quietly, and do as you're told, you will be fine, and back home in your own bed later on this evening."
Confused as ever, she argued "But what do you want."
"I want you to sit quietly and do as your told. Don't make me tell you again, Suzanne."
She had not realized that she was crying, but she felt him wipe a tear off her cheek tenderly. It was all too much. She was alone, and frightened and this man was the only thing between her and what she was sure was a certain and gruesome death. She tried to sit still while he soothed away her tears.
"You're lovely." He intoned. His voice was baritone and resonant. "I have wanted you like this a long time, Suzanne." He knew her name. It just registered. Suzanne immediately started trying to match up the voice to any she knew.... but she was certain she had never heard it before. She did not stop trying. Then she felt his hand on her coat jacket. It unbuttoned the 5 front buttons slowly, but with deliberate intent.
"Oh God," she muttered. "Please don't rape me." She heard a low amused laughter
"I wont. But if you don't wait to speak until spoken to, I will have to gag you." Suzanne immediately clammed up. A gag would make it harder to escape. She had to bide her time.
The coat was unbuttoned. He didn't try to slide it off her shoulders, but he opened it wide, and tucked it between her breasts and her arms. Then he started on her blouse. She trembled, he cupped her neck with his hand and his thumb caressed her jaw. Firm. Reassuring. After a moment, when she was no longer shaking so noticeably, he undid the button at her neck. Then he moved on the next and exposed the top swell of her breasts. And then another. And another. And another. Then finally the last. Suzanne felt the cool air on her breasts as he pushed the shirt aside; his only touch was his hand, and the soothing motion of his thumb. Much to her dismay, Suzanne felt her nipples tighten in the suddenly cooler air and knew he could see them beneath the thin silk of her bra. And somehow, she knew he was looking. His hand gently stole up her side and cupped the underside of her breast. "Very nice," she heard him whisper, and felt the brief touch of his fingers on her nipple, and then he disappeared.
"Sit very still for me Suzanne. I have to say I enjoy your choice of undergarments, but they're in my way." She suddenly sat up very straight as she felt the flat edge of what had to be a knife drawn up her stomach. It drew up between her breasts, and with a quick motion, the pressure on her breasts let up. She felt a hand brush away the now useless cup and expose her to his gaze. She wanted to desperately to cry out, but remembering his threat to gag her, wrestled with these sounds. She felt his hands move down to her legs and move slowly up her skirt. He paused for a moment mid-thigh. "Thigh highs, Suzanne? Who were you trying to impress?" Suzanne said nothing. "I asked you a question," he prodded firmly.
"N, no one. They were all I had ...today..."
"Liar." He said. "You wore them because you like to wear them. Under all this conservative clothing, you have to keep some sort of secret, don't you? I wonder if you ever bother to wear underwear." She moved her face to the side as if she had been slapped. She did indeed wear her thigh highs for her. And she wore them everyday. When you lived by yourself for so long, sometimes you had to remind yourself that you were pretty, desirable. Even if no one else ever bothered to let you know.
His hand stroked the part of her exposed thigh right above the edge of her stockings. As it brushed softly, repeatedly, the skin there began to warm and tingle, and get incredibly sensitive to the rough texture of his fingers. Then they started moving up again. His hand reached her hip and encountered the strap of her silk underwear. She felt a small surge of triumph. He had been wrong about that. She was no slut. But she felt little relief. He was dangerously close to her. Then she felt that small knife sliding under her skirt as well. She closed her legs together tightly and prayed.
She felt his hands come to one strap, and then the other. Slowly, she felt the remains of her panties pulled from her leaving her exposed beneath her skirt.
His hand moved to cup her face. "I can't tell you how beautiful you are like this. I want to remember you like this always." He moved towards her lips and bushed them gently with his own. His breath was sweet, and he had slight stubble on his chin. 5 o'clock shadow. What time was it now? She felt his thumb brush her lower lip. "Open for me." He commanded. She found herself unclenching her jaw, despite her better judgment. But her better judgment wasn't working when he was this close. She was frightened, and he was offering comfort of a sort. His lips brushed hers again, his tongue running lightly along the inside of her lip, and then he took her bottom lip between her own and suckled gently. His kiss continued, his lips playing with hers until she forgot her semi-nakedness and thought only of his lips. His kiss became more demanding, and his tongue began to play with hers... stroking it, taunting it into sparing with his. She wanted to put her arms around him, but then realized she couldn't. And recalled why she couldn't.
It jarred her back into reality, but he didn't let her stay there for long. His mouth moved to the side of her neck and he caught the lobe of her ear between his teeth. He traced his tongue along the curve of her ear, his hot breath teasing her. His mouth descended down along her neck, and he whirled his tongue across a particularly sensitive spot near her shoulder over, and over again. Then he tested it with his teeth, making her gasp.
