It had been a long, dreary and dismal day at the office and an even longer commute home, or so it seemed. All the others on the train looked equally drained, and this didn't make her feel any better.
When Joyce finally reached her doorstep, she was dead tired. She wasn't even the least bit hungry, and all she could think about was relaxing in a hot bath. How she dreaded these first few days of her period. She ached in a way that men would never understand. Men and their disgusting appendages. Men and their one track minds. She was glad that she was born a woman, even on days such as this.
She removed her pumps and settled into her couch as she rubbed her swollen ankles. Thoughts of the day rolled through her mind...the reports, the appointments, the demands from her boss and the leering looks from those dreadful guys in the mailroom. Another day, another run in her stockings...what did it matter. She would never see the raise that she deserved. That bastard would never approve it, he was a man, and men were so evil. Just the thought of this made her stomach turn. She hated him, as she hated all men.
She forced herself up from the couch, walked to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of merlot. After her first sip, she climbed the stairs and headed towards the sanctuary of her bedroom and attached bath. Reaching her bed, she stripped off her blouse, skirt and hose, threw them in the overstuffed chair and walked to the bathroom, where she turned the tub on. The steam rising from the vessel soothed her with it's tendrils of heat and moisture.
Removing her bra and panties, Joyce sat on the toilet and sighed as she relaxed her muscles, allowing her afternoon build-up of urine to spray from her body. When her bladder was empty, she reached down and pulled the tampon from its confines. Quickly studying it, she wrapped it in tissue and threw it in the waste bin. She relaxed her muscles once again, and allowed her bowels to empty into the toilet. Almost too tired to wipe herself, she stood and walked the few steps to the tub. The water was at the perfect level so she turned the faucet off and stepped into the heat, slowly lowering herself into the relaxing fluid. Leaning back, she drifted into an almost trancelike state, as the heat and moisture soothed away the day. It wasn't long before she drifted off to sleep.
********
She woke with a start, and realized that she now lay in a cool tub. All the heat had dispersed during her snooze. She raised herself up and stepped out onto the rug. It had turned dark, and she had no lights on in the bathroom or her bedroom. Only the small nightlight illuminated her movements.
Turning around to reach her towel, she froze in mid turn. He was sitting in the chair, staring at her. In his hand was a large gun, and it was pointed at her. Shadows hid his features, but she knew that his eyes were roving across her naked skin. Screaming was useless, as she lived deep in the woods, and no one would hear. She remembered that she had not locked the door when she came home. She was in trouble, and she knew it. Her breath caught in her throat as she tried to swallow.
"Drop the towel." His deep voice was gentle, yet the underlying demand was real, and dangerous. She thought she recognized the voice, but could not place it.
"Drop the towel." he repeated, and she saw the gun flick to the left with an almost imperceptible gesture. She did what he asked and stood there shivering as the night air tried to absorb the droplets of water that covered her body.
"Turn away from me."
This man, this evil being sitting in HER chair, forced her to move with only his voice. She wanted to refuse, to deny his commands. She wanted to spit in his face.
"Turn."
