You want your sweater back

You wave your hand in front of Kathy's face. She doesn't react at all. She just continues to writhe under her pinned wrists. You understand now that she really can't see you. You're torn between focusing on the beautiful topless girl and finding out why things are the way they are.

You tentatively reach out and put a hand on her cheek.

She gasps and freezes in place, petrified.

Matt looks on in confusion, stood in some kind of ready pose looking between her and the door, visibly torn between helping her and running away.

You lower your hand, running your fingers along her jaw to her neck. She's still frozen in place, following where you're touching her with her eyes. When you reach her neck she holds her breath and raises her chin.

"Please don't ... kill me," she whispers. She has misinterpreted your loving touch as a chokehold.

Rage and newfound power are still consuming you. You don't know what's driving you, yet you silently place your hand on her neck. You pause to think. With one eye on her breasts, your hand lowers along her collar to her chest. As your hand leaves her neck she lets herself breathe again. You gently hold her body against the wall, still pinning her wrists above her with your other hand.

She blinks, confused by something. Her cheek twitches and she adjusts her footing below her. Her breathing has become notably shallow. Her chest feels warm under your hand: the first warmth you've felt all day. It almost feels like she's pushing her collar into your hand. With fear still in her eyes, she looks over at Matt.

You turn to look at him. He's as confused as you both.

Her lips part slightly and her breath deepens. Fear and confusion marry in her eyes. You notice that she has stopped struggling to free her wrists from your grip.

You move your hand down to her tempting breasts. They feel so familiar and warm. Her eyes widen as you cup one of them in her hand. The warmth is beautiful. Her nipple hardens against your hand through the fabric of the bra.

She gasps and flinches from your touch. She tries to slide along the wall to move away from you, so you pull her wrists higher, reducing her freedom even more. Her arms are pulled tight above her, her ankles slightly off the ground to keep balance.

You squeeze her breast, just like you remember doing. It pushes her against the wall softly so she has nowhere to go.

To everyone's surprise, a moan escapes her lips.

"Babe?" Matt's voice sounded confused. He took a step towards you both. "What's happening?"

"I-- I--" She stammers, unable to verbalise what's happening, but you know her well enough to recognise her tone.

You take your hand from her breast. She deflates slightly from the withdrawal. Her breathing softens. You put it back on her chest. She starts breathing quickly again. You can feel her heart beating quickly.

"Oh f-f-fuck," she moans, unable to fight the pleasure coursing through her.

Matt tentatively approaches, still clutching his hurt wrist. The fear of being thrown across the room again keeps him away.

With a few fingers, you slowly draw a line downwards from her collar through the center of her breasts. Your instinct tells you to use the warmth; to let it flow between you. By the time your fingers are just below her bra, her writhing has become something else: something rhythmic and intimate.

She is still panicking, yet overwhelmed by arousal. She rocks her hips and squeezes her legs together. Her breathing constricts into breathy moans.

Your instinct tells you to resist your own urges and keep your descent slow. As your fingers reach her navel her legs part instinctively, beckoning for something between them. She balances on her toes for enough slack to part her knees. You keep moving, even slower.

"BABE!?" Matt is angry, but not sure who to be angry at. He takes a few steps closer.

Your fingers approach the top of her jeans.

"Fuck me," she speaks with the little breath she has to use. Her hips are fucking the air below her. She practically hangs from her wrists.

Matt takes another step behind you.