"Not bad," he said.

She sat there in fear as he ate the sandwiches and stared at her.

"if… if you leave I won't tell anyone," she said.

"Yeah, sure. You must think I'm a fuckin' imbecile."

"No. No, really."

"Shut the fuck up, cunt." She shut up. He ate the sandwiches. "Hey, cunt. Stand up and turn around." She stood uncertainly, then turned, her face reddening.

"Like I said, you got a nice ass, but those pants are too fuckin' loose. Go upstairs and get a really tight pair and come back down an' show me."

She stared at him until he slammed his fist down on the table, then she scurried past him to the stairs and ran up. She went to her room and closed the door, locking it. She grabbed the phone, but there was no dial tone here either. She could have cried.

She went to the widow and looked down, wondering if she could jump down and get away without him seeing her. Surely he'd be watching for that. He was probably downstairs at the window right now. She sat on the bed, racking her brain, trying to figure out what she was going to do.

That loathsome, disgusting creature had rubbed himself to climax against her behind. She knew he was going to rape her, after he was done toying with her. If only there were a gun in the house, but there wasn't. Her parents hated guns and so did she.

"Hurry up, cunt, or I'll come up there and take those pants off for you," he called up from downstairs.

She started in shock, then jumped up, going to the window. No, even if she didn't break her leg, she was sure he was watching. What would she do? For now, she would do as he ordered. He had the gun, after all. She went to her closet and pulled a pair of jeans off the hanger, then slipped off her white pants and pulled them on.

She went back downstairs and he ordered her to turn around again.