I felt a rush of excitement as her stare held mine. She was wearing a full turtleneck sweater the color of a soft red wine. Her hair was a silky blue-black, feathered and layered to frame her face perfectly. Here eyes were the color of sapphires, a deep blue that glinted with a kind of dangerous beauty. I seem to remember wandering over to her table, and somehow found myself sitting down with her. I'm not really sure what line I used, or if I even said anything to her at all. I think we made small talk, but I haven't the faintest idea what it could have been. I managed to catch her name at least, Lisa. We must have talked for quite a while though, because the shot glasses began piling up on our table. I think I caught a few envious glances from some of the guys nearby, and a few sneers from some of the women. By the time she suggested that we go back to her place, I would have followed her straight into hell itself. As I listened to the chime the elevator made each time. The floor was bare concrete, the ceiling was exposed, some framework for walls were in place but with no drywall covering it. There were extra coverings on the bare concrete walls in places, probably concealing window wells. There were only a few bare bulbs on the ceiling joists for light, but some work lights were in place around her to keep that area well lit. She was sitting on a bare twin-size mattress on the floor and was chained to a toilet. At least that was something not being denied her.He was there too, standing over her, without his mask now. He looked downright average, on the younger side and clean shaven, the quiet unassuming guy next door type, completely unthreatening. But she knew what he'd done, what he was capable of. Some of it, anyway. She was about to find out how much more there was. She looked up at him, fear in her blue eyes, and said, "Please, let me go. I want to go home."He slapped her hard enough to knock her down to the mattress. "This is your home now,.
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