Agent 7. The Shadows: Part I

▪️◼️Chapter Fifteen◼️▪️

Moving slowly, I slip off my sweater and hang it on a hook before tugging off my tight pants and cotton panties, folding and placing them in a pile on the floor at my feet. I remind myself that the sooner I do as I'm told, the sooner the humiliation of getting practically naked for a complete stranger will all be over.

Gingerly, I reach for the white lingerie set.

The way my hand trembles midair and skirts the material, you'd think it's a live creature trying to bite me.

I don't want to do this.

But I know I have no other choice.

I sigh, taking hold of the lace and silk and pull it from the hanger to get dressed. I slip on the bra first, wrapping it around my narrow ribs and clasping it before slipping my arms through the straps. Then I pull on the panties. I slide the garter belt over my hips and toe into the thigh-high socks last.

I eye myself in the mirror. It's a stunning piece of lingerie. It hugs me in all the places it should, revealing boney curves and small but lush breasts.

I frown at my reflection. I wish I were as beautiful as the women who wear these sorts of things.

I rake my eyes up from my lanky body to my face. The aquamarine depths staring back at me are motley and vibrant against bloodshot veins and ash-white sclera. Bags weigh down the skin beneath my lower lashes and are ringed in purple and red. I look tired and my ribs are noticeably sticking out.

I've been too anxious to realize how hungry I am. My stomach is sunken in and is cramping with emptiness. Dinner last night was the only thing I ate the entire day yesterday and I hold little faith in eating today.

I'm running on fumes.

I use both hands to smooth down my thick ebony hair, tucking my long, stringy bangs behind my ears and brush my long waves behind my shoulders. I'm in serious need of a shower.

I take in an unenthusiastic breath before turning toward the curtain.

After a pause, I exit the changing area and enter the room where the deadly killer is lounging.

I find him on the black leather couch.

It irks me how relaxed he seems, especially when I'm such a mess because of him.

His eyes take me in, roaming from my hair to my breasts to my thighs to my feet. And back up again.

I flinch.

I might as well be fully naked with the way he's eyeing every inch of me.

Does he know how nervous he makes me when he looks at me like that? Does he enjoy seeing me tremble and squirm? Does he care or does depravity simply come naturally to him?

I clasps my hands together behind my back to keep them from shaking and to prevent my fingernails from digging into the skin of my thighs.

"Come closer." He says.

With a deep breath, I take three steps forward until I'm just a few centimeters away from his spread knees.

My teeth chatter fretfully with nerves as he slowly lifts his hand towards me. With his fingertips stretched, he skims his hand up the side of my leg feeling the mesh material of the stocking.