Try to persuade the old man

You feel like you've had the fight taken out of you, but you're not willing to face the consequences of winding up in jail. You sit up, not feeling sexy in the least, covering yourself with your filthy hands, you bat your eyelashes at the tattooed old man. He looks to be about 60, skinny as a stick, with fading tattoos over his arms and tufts of white hair tufting out of his tanktop.

"Please, mister," you say, "I've had a real bad day."

"Tell it to the cops," he says, picking up the receiver of an old black telephone. He doesn't dial immediately.

You realize you're in a tattoo shop. Not like a Miami Ink, this is an old place where bikers and ex-cons get tats. The walls are decorated with faded posters of tats and you see a tattoo chair and tattoo equipment. An old sign advertises "Mel's Body Art." So this must be Mel.

"Mel," you say and he blinks at you. "Please, don't call the cops. I'm not some bum. I'm a...I just graduated high school. Just turned 18. I got attacked by the bum out there."

"I don't care," says Mel, but he does hang up the telephone.

"Please," you say, standing up and trying to cover your shame. Then you reconsider. You've already been used by the most disgusting man you've ever met, there's no point hiding anything from Mel. You reveal your dirt-smeared breasts and your flat tummy down to the trimmed mound of your pussy. You put your hands on your hips and cock them to one side. "You really going to call the cops on me?"

"Hmmmm," Mel looks you over again. He squeezes his cheeks in his fingers as he studies your luscious, teenage body. "You're not a normal bum I guess, but you still trespassed. I can't just let that slide."

You stride over to him and lean against the counter beside the cash register. Your big breasts spill onto the cold countertop.

"You like blowjobs?" you ask and lick your lips.

"Ha," the old man grins. "You bet. Not from a girl who smells like a dirty diaper. There's a bathroom in back. Get yourself cleaned up, then we can talk about what you owe me for the trespassin'. Come on, I'll show you."

Mel gets up from his stool and walks through a beaded doorway and into the dimly lit back of the tattoo parlor. You pass a door where it sounds like a TV is playing porno or something on the other side and he shows you to a small, dingy bathroom with a stand-up shower. There's a dirty towel and a toilet that you don't even wnat to look in. You're pretty sure you just saw a cockroach running across the exposed pipe for the shower.

"Rinse off," says Mel. You nod and he steps out, but something has changed about his demeanor, as if you're even more on his turf now. You close the door to the bathroom. There's no lock, the shower doesn't really get hot and the pipes make a lot of noise, but it's still water and it feels good to rinse off the dumpster resiude. You also work on getting the bum's juices off of you. They seem to have gotten just about everywhere and you gargle with the water because you can still taste the dumpster dweller's putrid spunk.

You hear the door open to the bathroom and your heart leaps fearfully in your chest.

"Is that you Mel?" you ask.

"Yeah, I put something for you to wear on the sink. Put it on when you're done. I'll be waiting for you back out front."

You finish showering and emerge into the cramped bathroom. In the sink your discover an outfit that looks like it was ordered from a freaky catalog. It's a leopard print thong and a pair of alligator clips, you guess for your nipples, and a leather choker with a metal ring in front. Mel is clearly into some sort of S&M shit. You're feeling even more nervous than before.

Should you put on the outfit and go out to the front? Go out there topless and handle Mel on your own terms? Check that side room and see if you can escape there?