Cheryls Date

Cheryl was beginning to regret ever downloading that dating app on her phone. Across the table her date droned on about something to do with his job. She'd made the mistake of asking about what he did for a living. He was quite possibly the dullest person she'd ever met. As she crunched the lettuce from her salad, she wished it was loud enough to drown out the sound of his voice. If she had realized the date would be this boring, she would have ordered something more appetizing. What was the point of depriving yourself of fat and calories when it was the only joy she would get that evening. She should have ordered a steak.

In fact, one of the few times the guy, Steve or Steven (she couldn't remember what he went by) had shown interest in her own activities had been the hint of a smile when she ordered the damn salad. However, his boring ass was over there enjoying a steak and potato for himself.

When she matched with him on the dating app, she thought he wasn't bad looking, and he wasn't. They had both graduated college the previous year and were about the same age. He was shorter than she usually dated, but she tried not to judge based on that. Ideally, she liked tall muscley types, but she didn't mind being hotter than her date. Steve/Steven had a light build and glasses, which he occasionally pushed back up the bridge of his nose as he yammered. He had sort of messy brown hair which she actually found kind of cute. He dressed like an accountant, which wasn't far off from whatever it was he said he did. Boring.

He barely looked at her, which made her feel stupid for all the time and effort she had put into finding the perfect top and bra to show off her D-cups. Cheryl didn't' think of herself as a prize. But guys usually appreciated her curves. As she shifted in her seat, the skirt crept up her thigh, and she tugged it down for the 100th time. What was even the point of this uncomfortable outfit? All she could think about was how soon they could leave, and he could drop her back off at home. She had lost all interest in this date and just wanted to slip into some pajamas and watch some Netflix at this point.

Finally, when the meal was over, they stood up and he led her to his car without looking back at her once. He climbed into the 10- or 15-year-old sedan and waited for her to enter on her side. When he finally glanced at her to smile, he saw the look of annoyance on her face.

"Oh sorry. Maybe I should have opened the door for you," he said, looking a little chagrined.

"It's fine," Cheryl answered, tugging her skirt down one more time as she settled in.

"Do you want to go anywhere else?" he asked.

"Just home please. I'm tired."

He didn't argue, just put the car into drive and pulled out of the parking spot and they rode in silence.

As he turned onto a less traveled road about halfway to her apartment, his car started to act up.

"Dammit," he said and groaned. "The gas gauge on this car broke last week, and I forgot I can't trust it anymore."

He slowly rolled the car onto the shoulder of the road, swearing under his breath. He pulled his phone out to call AAA but swore again when he found that his phone had no signal on this mountain road.

"I'm so sorry," he said. "Does your phone have any signal?"

Cheryl checked her phone to find she had the same problem.

"I think I could walk to the gas station," he said. "It's only a couple of miles on the other side of this hill, I'm pretty sure. You can wait here since you aren't really dressed for that kind of walk."

She looked around at the dark woods on one side and the drop-off that disappeared in shadow on the other. "I'm not staying here alone," she said and climbed out of the car to join him. She had gone from annoyed at this date to pissed off. Maybe he couldn't help that he was boring, but he could certainly have taken better care of his car when he knew he had a date.

She walked beside him quietly fuming. He would occasionally steal a glance at her, but he didn't say much other than try and make small talk. She wished he'd been this quiet at the restaurant.

Finally, he stopped walking and looked at her with a expression filled with remorse on his face.

"I'm so sorry this date has gone so wrong. I haven't been out with anyone since a rough break up almost a year ago. I think maybe I still wasn't ready to start dating again." His face was flushed and in the fading light he looked sweet. Her mood softened a little.

Cheryl nodded and started to reply as a pick-up truck pulled over behind them, crunching gravel beneath its wheels.

A burly man stepped out and eyed her up and down, taking in her tight top and skirt. He looked like it was his birthday and he had just found out what his present was going to be. She became painfully aware that her cleavage was more exposed whenever she reached down to tug at her skirt.

"You two look like you could use some help," he said, barely taking his eyes off her tits to look at Steve.

Steve looked a little nervous as he stepped closer to Cheryl.

"No, we're fine," he said. "Just out enjoying the night air."

The big man frowned.

"You shouldn't be out walking in the dark on these mountain roads. Someone is going to come around one of them curves and you and your pretty girl are gonna be roadkill."

"It's okay. We don't have far to go," Steve said, and Cheryl hoped he was right.

As the man spoke, he continued to approach them. He wore a threadbare t-shirt which was tight on his large biceps. A bit of a gut spilled over the top of his blue jeans, but he didn't look out of shape. He looked strong and imposing. He was at least half a head taller than Steve. He stopped and scratched his beard only two feet from where the couple stood.

"I'm not messing around," he said and then without warning, lunged at Cheryl.

Suddenly Cheryl found that she was no longer frozen to her spot, and she darted toward the woods across the road. Steve barely hesitated before following her. This guy towered over the smaller man and probably weighed twice as much. Staying to fight would have been suicide.

As Cheryl ran into the woods, she felt the weeds brush against her thighs and a bramble caught in her skirt, but she kept going. When Steve caught up to her, he grabbed her hand and steadied her just as a rock rolled under her foot and nearly took her down.

She looked over her shoulder hoping the man wouldn't give chase, but he was already on their heels. With Steve's help, she ran faster than she thought possible, though she'd had to kick off her heels. She could feel the rocks scraping her feet, but she ignored it.

Unfortunately, running in the tight skirt made her clumsy and the next time she lost her balance, Steve wasn't able to keep her up. She went down so hard she was disoriented. That moment of confusion was all it took. She felt something hit the back of her head and everything went black.

When she opened her eyes again, she was in a clean, unfamiliar room. For a moment she couldn't remember what she was last doing, then the memory of being chased in the woods came back to her.

She looked around for the big man, but only saw Steve laying on the floor next to her. His hands and feet were bound with rope. A small patch of blood was dried near his hairline. Otherwise, he looked ok. His chest rose and fell in even breaths.

She was relieved to find that her own hands and feet were unbound, and all her clothes were still on. With the way that creep had been looking at her, she had expected worse.

But then the reality of her situation hit her. The room was well lit and what looked like small cameras pointed down from each of the four corners. Someone had a full view of this room. Besides that, there wasn't much remarkable in the room. A small table and two chairs were bolted to the floor, which she was surprised to find was carpeted. Weren't murder-rooms usually fabric free for easy clean-up? She shook her head trying to dismiss the dark thought. If he wanted to kill them, he could have already done so. Maybe he wanted to watch them slowly starve to death or kill each other. There was no other furniture in the room and no other objects besides two bottles of water on the table.

Cheryl crawled on her hands and knees over to Steve and began to lightly shake him. She was trying to keep her cool. He groaned and slowly opened his eyes blinking up at her. He gave her a goofy smile before realizing their situation.

Before he even asked, she began tugging at the rope around his wrists. It was easier than she expected to free him. He undid the rope on his ankles himself.

He began asking her questions, but she didn't have any answers. "Maybe it's an escape room," he offered weakly.

There were no windows, but there was a heavy-looking door, which she was sure would be locked. But the two of them ran over to it and began tugging at the knob and banging at the door. Eventually they tired themselves out and sat side by side against the bare wall. Neither one of them seemed interested in the table or water yet. Though Cheryl knew it wouldn't be long before she'd have to drink something.

"Son of a bitch," Steve exclaimed after they had sat in silence for maybe 20 minutes.

"What is it?" she asked, feeling her heart start to race. He held out something tiny and black and crushed it between his fingernails.

"Tick" he said.

He began pulling off his shirt and Cheryl didn't understand at first.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"There are probably more. We ran through a lot of weeds and things out there." He pulled his shirt and undershirt off and began inspecting his bare chest and arms. He raised his arms and ran his fingers through the wiry hair of his armpit. "Can you check my back?" He asked after trying and failing to do so himself.

She felt weird now that he was half naked. Only a couple of hours ago they were complete strangers. But she obliged and looked over his back. She found a second tick crawling at the waistband of his pants. It was so tiny, she almost missed it.

"I'm um, going to take my pants off," he warned her, and she turned around. This room felt even smaller now. After a few minutes he said he was done. She was relieved when he hadn't also asked her to inspect his ass, but he was probably too shy for that.

"You might want to check yourself too," he said.

She knew he was right, but she looked up, thinking about those cameras. She decided to see how much she could do without taking anything off.

Cheryl ran her hands over her arm and raised them to examine her armpits which were exposed thanks to her sleeveless top. She pulled the fabric away from her breasts self-consciously, as Steve averted his eyes. She reached inside her bra and slid her fingers across each of her breasts, then pulled the bottom up to inspect her belly and bellybutton. She pulled the bra away from the bottom of her breasts and felt there as well. Then she realized she had no way to check her own back either.

She bit her lip as she avoided eye-contact as she asked Steve if he could help with her back too.

"Only fair," he said with a faint smile, and she turned around.

She felt his warm fingers push up the bottom of her shirt, but it didn't rise very high.

"Umm," he said. "The shirt's too tight. Can you take it off for just a minute? I'll be quick. It'll just be easier that way."

She sighed but pulled the top off over her head. She felt very exposed in just her bra. She pulled her hands across her chest, though it was hard to cover her entire bosom. She tried not to think about the cameras and the show they were getting.

Steve pushed her long blond hair over her shoulder so he could examine the back of her neck. She shivered when he moved his hand down to her bra strap and pushed it up. His fingers moved along the exposed skin drawing out goosebumps on her flesh. He slid his fingers under the strap almost all the way to under her arm but stopped before reaching forbidden territory. She let out a breath as he pushed the bra strap back down and stepped back. She quickly pulled her top back on without looking at Steve. He turned around to give her privacy as she pushed her short skirt up as high as it would go, barely exposing the front of her pink panties.

She felt a heightened awareness of everything around her as she ran her fingers under the front of her panties and across the crease at the top of her leg. She pulled her hand out quickly, thinking about how dirty that would look.

She checked both legs before trying to feel behind herself. The skirt was too tight to push up or reach beneath her round bottom, so she had to unzip it. She started to expose the top of her thong, then changed her mind. 'Fuck it,' she thought. If there was a tick on her ass, then it would just have to make itself at home, because she wasn't pulling off any more clothes.

As she started to zip the skirt back up, a breathy voice that came from a speaker she couldn't see, said "Stop." She froze. "Pull your skirt down and let your friend finish checking you over."

"Fuck no, you pervert!" She shouted as she reached for her zipper again.

"Do it!" The voice shouted this time. "Unless you want me to come down and do it for you."

Cheryl's eyes widened and heart raced. She looked over her shoulder at Steve who shrugged while averting his eyes. "It's okay," he said. "I can be fast."

She nodded and with shaking hands slid the skirt down over her well-defined ass.

Until now, she'd always been glad of this feature of her body, which is why she liked to wear skirts like this. But now she regretted with every fiber of her being that choice.

When Steve approached her from behind, the voice said again. "Get on your knees. You can't examine anything from that angle." Without arguing, Steve dropped to his knees so that his face was only inches from her ass. She could feel his warm shaky breath on her skin and tried not to shudder.

"I don't see anything," he said. His voice cracked a little.

"Use your hands, you idiot," the voice grumbled.

Steve ran his fingers along her thong the same way he had her bra strap. Cheryl flinched when his finger touched the crack of her ass.

"That's enough," she said before his finger could move further down. She stumbled forward and began pulling up her skirt. "Are you happy now?" she asked the disembodied voice. Immediately she regretted being aggressive. What would happen if she pissed him off?

"Yes." Said the man, simply. Then the room was silent again. She turned as Steve got back on his feet.

A bulge had appeared in his pants. She gulped and took a step back from him.

"Sorry," he mumbled before turning away. He walked back over to the wall and slid down to sit with his knees up, blocking her view of his arousal, to her relief.

Instead of responding to his feeble apology, she walked over to the table. The heat from the humiliation flooded through her body and she wanted a drink. She sat at the table and opened one of the sealed bottles of water and began to drink it. Once she started, she realized how thirsty she was. She chugged half the bottle and tried not to think about everything that had just happened. After screwing the top back on the bottle with a thought to conserve the water, she folded her arms on the table and rested her head. The cool metal of the table pressed against her cleavage, but she barely noticed. It meant at least part of her body was hidden from prying eyes now.

It could be worse, she tried to reassure herself. No one had really forced themselves on her. It seemed the pervert maybe just wanted a little show. Her body shuddered as she thought of the strange man sitting in a room somewhere watching her every move. Probably stroking his dick while she had her top off and while Steve touched her body. A sudden wretch made her feel like she might lose the water she just drank. She took some calming breaths. 'So what?' she tried to tell herself. Let him touch himself all he wants. Maybe he would get bored soon and let them go.

After an hour passed and she had her emotions under control, Steve approached and sat in the other chair. It felt like a warped facsimile of the date they had been on earlier in the night. He opened his bottle and took a few sips before closing it again, before he leaned forward and whispered.

"I've been thinking about how we'll get out of here. There's no bathroom. No food here. If he doesn't just want to watch us starve to death, he's bound to come back in here at some point." Cheryl quaked at the thought. But also, her belly rumbled at the idea of some food. She thought bitterly back to that unsatisfying salad she had opted for at dinner. Steve heard her stomach growl and whispered, "Even if we can't overpower him, you need something to eat. But we're both on the small side. Maybe he won't see it coming if we both jump him." She had her doubts though. They had nothing at all that could work as a weapon, and the big man surely had something of his own if he had this set-up down here. He would be prepared.

Steve straightened his back and said out loud. "It's been hours. Can we have something to eat?" The request was met with silence. "Maybe if you ask?" He looked at Cheryl.

Cheryl shook her head. No matter how hungry she was, she did not want to see that man. But she didn't try to stop Steve when he called out again.

This time the speaker crackled to life. But what it said sent a chill down Cheryl's spine.

"You want something to eat? Show me how hungry you are."

Cheryl didn't like the sound of that, but she didn't ask for clarification. Steve's dumbass did though.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Suck her tit. Lick her pussy. Clean her asshole out with your tongue. Whatever you want. Just make it convincing. I know you want to put your mouth on one of those big titties. Show me how hungry you are," he repeated. But Steve just winced and shook his head.

"No," he mumbled. "Never mind."

Cheryl was relieved when she heard him say it. She had lost any possibility of an appetite.

"Suit yourself," the voice said, before the microphone when silent again.

After another several minutes, Cheryl acknowledged that she was feeling sore from sitting in the uncomfortable chair. She got up and moved across the room and leaned her back against the wall as she sat on the floor with her feet straight out in front of her. She crossed one ankle over the other, which was the most she could do for modesty in these circumstances. She wished she had worn more clothes. She was starting to feel incredibly tired.

She looked up when Steve approached and asked if he could sit next to her. He looked like he wanted to talk, so she nodded consent.

Before he could say anything, she asked, "What do you think he wants?" She immediately wanted to take the words back, because the man had just said what he wanted. "I mean, do you think he'll kill us?" she clarified.

"I don't know. Besides knocking us out, he hasn't hurt us. I don't think," he paused and scanned Cheryl's body briefly. "He hasn't hurt you, has he?" Steve asked.

Cheryl shook her head. Besides a small headache she felt ok, and untouched.

"Maybe he will let us go, then. Whenever ..." He didn't finish the sentence and Cheryl didn't want him to. She didn't want to think about what else the man might want from them.

"Don't worry about it. We'll figure it out," he said, closing the conversation with attempted optimism.

In time, Cheryl started to nod off. As her body slid sideways across the wall, she jerked awake and sat up straight again.

After the second time she did this, Steve said softly, "Here. Lay your head down on my lap. I won't touch you." Cheryl was reluctant, but she was so tired and so uncomfortable, so she gave in. She laid down in the fetal position with her back to the wall and her head on Steve's lap. She was so exhausted that she fell asleep in minutes.