Your attempt at tomboy ending up with you looking more like Lara Croft than you'd like.
The woman towers over you. Her hands on your shoulders, steadying you. Your entire body like jello seems to still be shaking and rippling from the impact.
"Careful there, cutie pie." The voice doesn't fit the body. It sounds far too friendly, for the way she's dressed. The long black coat reminds you of dangerous figures lurking in dark alleyways.
It doesn't help that she is stronger than you. Her arms driving you back, keeping a firm grip on your shoulders. She takes you in from the crown of wild hair, down to the Dr. Martens boots.
"Are you okay?" she asks.
"Uh...huh, ma'am..." Even now, she intimidating. So calm, and self-possessed. You can picture her like a pimp....No! A madame running a brothel. You try to dislodge that idea, it's just too real. Your imagination completing the story, your body marking you out as vulnerable, and able to be manipulated and ... taken.
"Can... I go now?" you ask. Uncertain, even why you need to ask her permission.
The voice is different, but the tone and the wording horrify, and freeze you to the spot. The confidence, the arrogance turn your stomach to water, and your muscles to wet noodles.
She nods, as the realization is painted on your face, "Doc... Doctor Heller..." She just beams, with perfect white teeth hidden behind lush, full lips.
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