Kate flinched as her captor reached for her arms and began to examine her wrists. "Why are you doing this?" Kate whimpered as soon as she could talk. Her voice sounded tiny and uncertain...exactly how she felt.
"I thought the duct tape might be uncomfortable," he replied pleasantly, deliberately misunderstanding the question.
He asked if she'd like him to untie her. Of course, Kate eagerly said yes. It worried her that he didn't seem the least bit concerned at the thought of her being unrestrained. It was as though he was so confident in his ability to overpower and dominate her that her escaping wasn't even a possibility in his mind. That dashed her hopes somewhat, and she grew even more anxious.
Once untied, he told her to sit down. Panic washed over her again as she was forced to confront that awful metal table, thinking that it, whatever "it" was, had begun. Then she realized that he was gesturing toward a small sofa that she had failed to notice before. Kate crossed the room and perched tensely on the edge of it, watching as he rummaged through a drawer, then pulled something out.
She shied away from him as he approached her, but if he noticed, he didn't let on. Without a word he reached down and picked her hand up from her lap. She involuntarily closed her eyes in apprehension, then felt cool liquid on her wrist and saw that it was a bottle of lotion that he held in his hand. He squeezed a fair amount onto her duct-tape-chafed wrist and began to rub it into her skin with capable fingers, soothing the flaming flesh. Once he was satisfied that he'd tended to her wrist sufficiently, he let go of it, reached for her other hand, and repeated the process.
Sitting there watching him work, Kate studied him, noticing his well-kept fingernails and expensive-looking watch. He was clean-shaven, had dark hair, and was rather attractive. She figured he was in his mid-twenties or maybe early thirties. He seemed to be completely at ease as he concentrated on soothing her tender wrists, but for Kate, the tension that the silence evoked was unbearable. To pierce the silence - and also to quell her own curiosity - Kate meekly inquired, "What's your name?"
"Jake," he replied, still distracted by the task at hand. He didn't even look up as he said this, but Kate was still encouraged. Maybe she could befriend him and persuade him to let her go. It was worth a shot, anyway.
"My name is Kate."
"I know." Her wrists tended to - or maybe forgotten, she wasn't sure which, she saw that she now had his complete attention. "I know."
Kate furrowed her forehead in confusion. "But how?"
"I know more about you than you think," he replied cryptically, offering no further explanation.
Kate thought for a moment, then it dawned on her: her dad was a successful businessman who had some rather notorious clients. "Are you holding me for ransom?" she demanded.
Jake smirked. "I'm not holding you ransom. I don't need your father's money. I'm not interested in money." That said, Jake appeared to lose interest in talking and sat down on the floor facing Kate, his eyes never leaving her. He seemed content, but Kate was growing more and more uncomfortable by the minute, watching as his stonily calm, intelligent eyes drank her in.
"What do you want, then?" She had begun to bite her fingernails without even noticing.
He grinned. "It'd be too cliche to say ‘you' so how about . . ." He thought for a moment. "I want to see your panties."
Kate froze. Part of her had been expecting this, but even so, she was appalled by the thought. She sat unmoving and merely gawked at Jake.
"Now."
Kate didn't respond.
Jake sighed. "Sweetheart, do you remember what I said to you outside? About how if you don't cooperate, I'll make sure this whole ordeal will be as traumatic as possible for you?"
