She takes a taxi.

The restaurant door closed behind her with a dull, final click. Mackenzie remained motionless, the cold night air raising goosebumps on her naked skin. The "uniform" was a mockery: the black stocking turned into an unstable loincloth and the stiff collar with the bowtie she clutched against her chest like a useless shield.

She looked toward her car, an unattainable dream. The bus stop, across the street, seemed like a public **** chamber. No. She couldn't bear the stares, the murmurs, the laughs. A taxi was her only option—a private, temporary refuge—although she knew it would be expensive and complicated without money.

She walked towards the main avenue, each step on the cold asphalt an agony. The stocking constantly slipped, forcing her to adjust it with a trembling hand. Finally, under the harsh light of a streetlamp, she raised her hand. A taxi pulled over. The window rolled down and the driver, a man in his fifties with sharp eyes and a mocking smile, scrutinized her from top to bottom.

"Well, well... Party or bachelorette party?" he asked, his voice rough from cigarettes.

Mackenzie shrank back. "I-I just need to get to Maple Street. The Azalea Apartments."

"Sure, princess. Hop in."

She slid into the back seat, feeling the cold plastic against her skin. The car smelled of tobacco and cheap disinfectant.

The trip was a torment. Her eyes never left the rearview mirror.

"Did they ditch you, honey? Or maybe it's a new style," he commented, chuckling. "You save on fabric, that's for sure."

Mackenzie didn't answer, staring fixedly out the window.

"Hey, relax. Just joking. I like... naturalness," he said, drawing out the words. "It's refreshing. Most passengers come in so covered up... but you, eh, show all your potential from the start."

Every red light was an eternity under his leering gaze. Mackenzie felt like an animal on exhibit.

Finally, the taxi stopped in front of her building. The relief was instantly crushed by reality.

"Twenty-eight fifty," the driver announced, turning to look directly at her.

"Sir, I... my purse was stolen. I don't have any money. But I live right here, I can run up and..."

The driver's smile widened, showing yellowed teeth. "Ah, I see. The classic one. 'I'll run up and be right down.' No, honey. In this taxi, you pay cash. Or... you find another way."

Mackenzie felt an emptiness in her stomach. "Another way?"

"Come on, don't be naive. A smart girl like you, dressed... like that. You know exactly what the view is worth." His gaze swept over her body as if appraising merchandise. "Show me the rest. Properly. And we'll consider the tab settled."

Horror took hold of her. But what alternative did she have? The police were unimaginable. Walking barefoot and nearly naked, even more so. With an uncontrollable tremor, with the sensation of sealing her own degradation, she slowly nodded.

With clumsy movements, she slipped off the ripped stocking. It was useless now. Then, she slowly lowered the collar and bowtie she held against her chest. She let them fall to the taxi floor. There she was, completely naked in the back seat, under the dim interior light, exposing herself unreservedly for this stranger's enjoyment. She instinctively crossed her arms, but the man shook his head.

"Ah, ah, ah. Hands to your sides. I want to see the complete merchandise. It's the price of the ride."

A hot tear rolled down her cheek, but she obeyed. She dropped her arms, showing him her breasts, her belly, everything. She remained that way for what felt like an eternity, while he watched her eagerly, satisfied.

"Very good. Very good, indeed," he murmured, biting his lower lip. "But look, pretty one, gas is expensive. And a simple look... you can get that for free on the internet these days. For a full payment, I need a... more personal service."

Mackenzie looked at him, not understanding at first. Then, the horrible comprehension dawned in her eyes.

"No... please," she whispered.

"It's that, or I call my police friends and tell them how a naked passenger tried to pay for her ride with an... indecent exhibition." His smile was now a cruel grimace. "Come on, it won't take long. And then you can go home to your apartment."

Mackenzie looked at the taxi door, then at her apartment window, so close and yet so far. She felt all resistance fading within her. She had crossed too many lines tonight. What was one more?

With a sense of emptiness and a terrifying disconnect from her own body, she leaned forward, between the front seats. The smell of tobacco and sweat was overwhelming. The driver settled into his seat, unbuckling his belt with one hand while the other guided her head toward his lap.

"That's it, pretty one," he whispered hoarsely. "A good ride deserves a good tip, doesn't it?"

Mackenzie closed her eyes, unable to bear the sight, and proceeded to perform the most humiliating act of what was already the longest and most degrading night of her life, paying with the only thing she had left: her own body.