Inside, the florescent tubes cast harsh light on the narrow desk. There were lockers, a shower stall, shelves with towels and a floor to ceiling cage with balls, flags, buckets; all manner of sports gear locked inside. “Here,” he said, leading her to the end of the desk, turning her toward it. She wanted to cry when she felt his hands on her waist, to struggle. But in the end, it proved to be too much trouble. The effort would be unbearable. And besides, this wasn't his fault. The whole thing could have been so easily avoided. Why had she been so weak? Melanie got that watery feeling inside again when he reached around and worked the button free. He pulled the zipper down over her hip and with his thumbs, shimmied the waistband down over her bum and let it drop. He tapped her shoe with his toe and she lifted first one foot and then the other so he could kick her skirt aside. She found his hand resting on her shoulder and she bent forward at the waist until her cheek lay along the. She answered his questions, but he sensed something was off. There was something about her answers and her demeanor that didn't sit just right. She seemed to be happy to be home, but still something wasn't right. He dismissed it as her being tired from the trip so once he got her home, he helped her get settled in and then he went back home so she could relax and get some much-needed sleep. The next evening, he called her when he got home from work and they talked for a couple hours on the phone. She still seemed a bit vague and mysterious about her trip and it started to concern him a bit. So on their next date he decided to ask her about it point-blank. "Elizabeth," he started, "Since you've been home I have noticed something different about you honey." "Different?" she asked. "Yeah, whenever we talk about your trip, you seem distant and vague, like you don't want to talk about it. Did something happen on your trip?" he asked. Elizabeth paused for a moment, then she began to cry..
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