Discipline wins out

You are sorely tempted. Something in the woman's fearful gaze makes you ache to possess her. You fight back the urge though, remembering that you're better than that. Remember who you are, Smith.

"Does, she have any clothes?" You ask the woman on the table who is now dressing herself. The sexual heat seems to have left her for the moment, and while she hasn't left the table, her posture has become guarded.

"She did before she left the shelter today." The woman in the baklava answers. "So, I take it you're not going to fuck her. What's the matter? Can't get it up?" Her eyes dart to your crotch. "No, I see that isn't the problem. You more into boys?"

"What... Ok, first off, who the hell are you, and who is she?" You shake your head, trying to clear out some of the urges. The woman on the floor has stopped sobbing, you note. That's good. One less constant sound for anybody who will be searching, SOON, to find you. You glance around the kitchen again. Darker than you'd like, but at least nobody is going to be able to approach without you noticing.

You glance towards the former rapist lying on the floor. Probably why he picked this spot. You shudder when you think about... wait... the power's off. It's only been a couple days... right? You find yourself wanting to get out of the place.

"Lea." The woman on the table remarks. "That thing on the ground there is a useless little whore. You want her, you carry her." The anger in her voice is palpable. "If you're done with me, I'll be going."

You still can't read the woman's expression behind the full face covering.

You look at the woman on the ground, whose lovely face seems slightly bruised. She's pretty, or would be if her face wasn't streaked with tears and grime. She's looking at you with that same expression of fear, but has begun to gather what little of her clothing remains about herself.

"What's your name?" You ask, more gently this time.