We have a problem...

"..And I told you to address me as 'Sir'", he continues, narrowing his eyes at me, trying to draw a response from me, with his head angled.

"Well, either way... 'sir'," I chew the word with a defiant look in my eyes, "I don't know how you get off but this girl ain't the type of girl who undresses for any old freaky 90-or-how-ever-frickin'-old you are, so he get get his wrinkly old rocks off"

Adding after a defiant pause, "Sir"

SLAP!

I am stunned when his arm shoots out with amazing speed and, catching me completely by surprise, strikes me across the face. It makes me stumble slightly and I am stung, literally (my face red) and figuratively (how dare he?) but am, for once, quite lost for words.

"When you address me, I am 'sir' and", narrowing his eyes again, "you should either mean it or", a slight smile on his lips, "at least give a better impression of doing so."

"Missy", he added. "Now", he continues, gesturing to the shift, "undress. Please"

I look across at the horrible bed and the even more horrible shift, and make no move. Despite myself, there is a tear in my eye and my cheek stings where the bastard hit me, but I bristle internally. Clenching my little fists tight, I am determined not to let this fucker 'win'.

"or do you want me to undress you?"