"Mr. Jackson, I'm not really into this kind of thing."

Your voice shaking slightly. You try to keep your cool, but your heart is racing like it's about to burst from your chest.

He laughs. "Relax, Natasha. We're just two adults enjoying a little bit of harmless fun, aren't we?" His hand moves from his cock to your shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "Or are you telling me you've never had a little...crush on someone older than you?"

"I don't think that's what this is about, Mr. Jackson," you reply, trying to keep your voice steady. You can feel the weight of his gaze on you, his hand still resting heavily on your shoulder. The image of Scarlett Johansson on the screen seems to be fading away, replaced by the very real and very intimidating presence of the man next to you.

"You knew what you was doing when you put on that costume," Mr. Jackson says, his tone more insistent. "You wanted to be noticed, didn't you? That leather hugs you in all of the right places you tease."

You feel a cold shiver run down your spine as he leans in closer, his breath hot on your neck. His hand slides down your arm, his touch electric. You look at the door, contemplating making a run for it, but his grip tightens, and you know you're trapped.

"Mr. Jackson, please," you murmur, trying to keep the panic out of your voice. "I just wanted to watch the movie, that's all."

"You did just that. You seen her naked. Now why don't you pay me back the favor?" He said as he moves his hand down to the side of your waist, his thumb grazing the edge of your costume. "Fuck you look so much like her."

You feel a knot in your stomach as Mr. Jackson's thumb brushes against your costume, the fabric clinging to your skin like a second layer of nerves. His touch is foreign, but you're paralyzed, unsure of how to navigate the situation without making things worse.

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