Out After Midnight {WATTYS 2017}

Out After Midnight /3/

It felt like I had waited hours for the man to come back down, and when he did he was wearing a new outfit and his hair was slicked back with hair gel most likely.

His boots clicked when they hit the concrete surface as he walked closer to me. I pulled my knees up tight to my chest and looked at the floor beside me. He knelt in front of me and grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him. In any other circumstances, he wouldn't have looked to bad, but since  my life was in my hands, making eye contact with him scared the living hell out of me.

"What's your name?" he asked, his voice and expression showing nothing other than a sick amusement.

I opened my mouth like I was about to talk but then I shut it. I must've done this multiple times because the amusement was slowly leaving his face. "Rebecca," I feebly whispered.

He smiled, but the intentions behind the smile were unidentifiable. He stood up, walked a feet few away from me, turned around, and just stopped. He had his hands on his hips and his posture was perfect. His head didn't move and it seemed like he was just staring forward. I couldn't tell because he was facing away from me.

"Well... Rebecca," he drew out his words and slowly turned around to face me again, "If there's one thing... you'll learn down here, it's that...backtalk...is not tolerated. You understand?"

I nodded my head slowly. I returned to staring at the floor.

"Oh, and there's something else you should know," he was talking at normal speed now, "Whenever you speak to me, you will call me sir. Yes, sir. Okay, sir. Will do, sir. I doubt you will be telling me 'no', and I wouldn't recommend it either."

I nodded. What would he want me to do that I would be compelled to refuse? Shivers ran down my back at the thought of him touching me, or worse.

"I'll be right back," he said as he turned around and left, locking all five locks on his way out.

He was back in a minute or less. In his hands he held a pair of ladies underwear, a bra, a pair of distressed jeans, and a black long sleeve shirt.

"Put them on," he said as he threw them on the ground next to me. I flinched as the pile landed and slowly stood up.

He didn't allow me any privacy he just stood there stone-faced with his arms crossed, looking in my direction. I slipped on the clothes and was surprised that the pants fit perfect. The shirt had five buttons going halfway down the front. I button two of them and then as I went for the third the man told me to stop.

I looked up at him, confused.

He noticed my confusion and explained, " If you were comfortable showing so much cleavage to everyone in that little dress you were wearing last night then you can be  comfortable showing a bit to me."

I bit my lip and quietly said, "Can I ask you a question, sir?"

"I suppose you can, nobody's stopping you, but me telling you that you are capable of asking me a question doesn't mean that I grant you permission to ask me," he droned, pretending to be occupied by his hands.

I held back an annoyed sigh, and asked, "May I ask you a question, sir?"

"Yes, you may," he raised his head, making eye contact with me.

I resisted the urge to break eye contact and questioned, "What do you want from me?"

He made a sarcastic contemplative face, stroking the stubble on his chin, "I don't know yet. I'll have to get back to you on that one."

I knew he wasn't telling me the truth, more like trying avoid it, but I just said, "Okay, sir."

Honestly, the only reason I was being respectful was because if I wasn't it would be the end of me, I guess.

"Well, you rest up because tomorrow is going to be a long day," he winked and left, turning off the light.

My stomach churned. I guess I would have to try and sleep. I had absolutely no idea what he had in store for me, but I'm probably not gonna like it.