The taxi dropped you off about midnight. The driver had watched you through his rear view mirror more than he'd watched the road. Not that you minded. You wouldn't have worn that dress if being stared at bothered you.
It didn't bother you in the bar when Steve had ogled you all evening before going home to his wife. It didn't bother you when Lisa had said she wished she could still get away with wearing no underwear in fitted dresses so it certainly wasn't going to bother you when some random couldnt take his eyes off you.
You walked to the entrance of your apartment and heard the taxi drive slowly away. Once inside you went in your bedroom and out onto the small balcony. One last cigarette before bed. You looked out over your quiet street. The taxi that dropped you off was parked with its lights on just before the bend that took you out onto the main road. Probably awaiting his next job as it was a peaceful spot to park in. Unless he was having a wank the dirty bugger. You smiled at the thought and put the cigarette out before returning inside and closing the balcony doors.
You slipped out of your dress and put on a little vest top and some shorts. It was getting warmer of a night time but still maybe a month away from sleeping naked. Once in bed you had a quick scroll through your phone and after a quick check on the usual social sights turned the light out and began to doze off.
The noise could have been anything but it's not a noise that immediately seemed familiar. It didn't strike you as the usual post midnight sounds that you sometimes hear. Car door, door banging in the wind, coat falling from the hook. Strangely this was almost a sound made by someone deliberately trying to remain silent.
But of course that's the least likely scenario. Isn't it? Is it the natural reaction of a single 30 something female to imagine the worst as a defence mechanism? Or is there genuinely something to fear? You're such a glass half full type of woman that it strikes you as odd that you now believe something is wrong. Stop being such a fool. You're fine.
But shit no there it is again. A footstep on the landing? A sleeve brushing against a wall? Now you're scared. Your heart is beating so loud that you think it may mask the sound of anything else. But now you have a decision to make. What do you do girl. You can lie there paralysed by fear and just allow events to unfold. But you've never been a victim, fuck that. You could scream for help but who reacts to screams like that anyway? Your neighbours would just assume it was the usual local commotion. You could try to teach your phone and call the police but what would you say? Hello operator I've heard a noise in my flat that I don't recognise can you send someone round?
Nope that's not the answer. The answer is you need to get up and put your mind at rest. Be a kick ass bitch and go see what the noise was. If indeed it was anything. You pull the covers back from the bed and throw your feet out onto the floor. The soft carpet should provide a silent passage out to the landing. The air is cool in your room. If you looked down you would see your nipples pushing against your flimsy vest top. But you don't. You're far too scared to worry about that. For now anyway.
You pull the door of your bedroom slowly open being careful not to make a sound. Should you grab something? A lamp? A heavy book? You decide against it. You'd rather have your hands free to run if need be. You step out into the passage now your eyes have adjusted to the dark and although there is no light you can make out the doorways and the corner table you have.
All doors are shut just as you expect and the table seems untouched. You give a big sigh of relief and half laugh to yourself. Jesus Christ girl of course no one is in your flat. Get back to bed and get some sleep you tell yourself.
Relieved you turn around to return to your room when a hand is clamped over your mouth and another around your throat. You try to scream but you can't. The strength of your assailant is overwhelming. You're powerless to stop him as he pushes you against the wall, his hands still firmly in place. He stands there silently staring intensely at you. Only his eyes and mouth visible through the ski mask he's wearing.
Even in the unlit passageway you can tell how dark his eyes are, they both terrify and captivate you as you stare back. He leans in towards you, the grip of both hands still too powerful to fight off. He puts his mouth close to your ear, his breath is warm but strangely not unpleasant on your skin as he speaks.
"If when I remove my hand from your mouth you decide to scream then I will squeeze on your throat and the last thing you will see before you die is satisfaction in my eyes. Do you understand?"
Your heart is pounding in your chest but you manage to summon up enough courage to nod. He moves his hand away from your mouth, his palm pressing down on your skin as it moves down over your chin, past his hand around your throat and down onto your chest.
"Who the fuck are you? Get your fucking hands off me."
But he doesn't stop. He continues to press his hand into you as it moves down in between your breasts and onto your flat stomach.
He pauses just as he reaches the waistband on your pyjama shorts. Your eyes have followed his hand down but now you look back at him, his gaze fixed firmly on your face. After what feels like an age he releases his other hand from around your throat and you catch your breath. Ever so slowly he begins to lift up your vest, the hem traces over your stomach and pushes your breasts up until it slides over them and over your nipples.
It stops him in his tracks. For the first time his eyes leave yours and he looks down. You hear him exhaling lustfully at the sight of your tits. You've never felt so wanted by a man and for all it's a terrifying situation it intrigues you.
