Bizarre story to come up with whilst swimming in the Indian Ocean I admit, but don't hold that against me!

She is in a dank smelling corridor. Hands hold both her arms, roughly. Her feet are cold and naked on what feels like concrete floor. This is not a pleasant place to be.

The day had started well enough, she had got up, fed her cat and then began her short walk to the bus stop. A woman had pulled over to ask her directions and as she'd stepped closer someone appeared from behind her and thrust her towards the car, she never made the bus.

After that had been unconsciousness. And when she had finally come round the world was still dark. She had a hood over her head and a gag tied hard around her mouth. Her clothes had been ripped from her and she had been sprayed with cold, viscious torrents of water and then roughly manhandled into a plastic, one piece suit.

Now here she was.

Violated, alone, confused and terrified.

Ruth was not having a good day.

They stop. She can hear keys in a door and then a hinge groan. She feels the heel of a hand between her shoulder blades and then she is thrust forward, her hands splay to stop her fall. She lands and feels the graze on her left hand as she hits stone. Cold, hard stone.

The door closes, the keys rattle and footsteps fade away. She is still on the floor. She sits up a little and then hears something.

Breathing.

She freezes.

She is not alone.

The breathing continues. She reaches out across the floor feeling for a wall, for something, for safety. She feels plastic, it moves.

Her hand pulls away immediately. It is a leg. Someone's leg. She holds her breath. It is a plastic type material she felt. Plastic like her suit. Another suit. Another prisoner, or a trick?

She dares to reach out again and again makes contact with the leg, it is a thick calf, a man's calf. Suddenly hands touch hers, hold her wrists. She tenses. The grasp is firm but not aggressive, the hands are bigger than hers and she is sure it is a man. She is being pulled up from the floor and now she is standing in the dark facing this unknown silent invisible figure. His hands still hold hers and as they stand there the back of his hands touch her breasts and he pulls them away quickly, releasing her. She tries to control her breathing and reaches out a hand, her fingers collide with more plastic before her and she feels the zip in the centre of his chest. She runs her hand gently up to her right until she feels his shoulder. He is a few inches taller than her. Up she continues to his neck and there she feels the same plastic fastener that is stopping the hood from being pulled from his head. Up still further to the side of his head and then gently, gently across his face, entombed in the hood. Finally she lets her hand fall away.

And now it is his turn in this bizarre introduction. His hand swings out from his side eager to avoid embarrassing her further and making sure the first thing he touches is her arm. Up his hand slides to her shoulder, her neck and then both hands are there pulling at the cable tie trying to feel some kind of give, some kind of hope that it may come loose. No. His left hand falls away and his other passes gently around the back of her head and hesitates a moment before finding her shoulder for a moment before he too lets go.

They stand, introductions over. There is silence.

Why is she here? Who is holding her? Who is this man? Are there more of them? Ruth has no answers. She hates having no answers.

Suddenly he is pushing her backwards. She is wary.

Then she feels something across the back of her legs. She stops and he moves to her side and she feels him disappear behind her. There are fingers reaching for her and he pulls at her and she sits.

Her hand reaches out and she feels hard, cold plastic, shiny and taught. Above it she feels cotton. A pillow. They are sitting on a bed, well a plastic mattress in what must be the corner of the room. He is leaning back against a wall.

Ruth does not move for a considerably time. She tries to remember to find something in all that has happened to give her a clue as to what the hell is going on.

Nothing.

Nothing.

And it is so cold and damp and she is so hungry now and thirsty.

She shivers.

A hand gropes out and trails across her thigh. It finds what it is seeking, her hand and she suddenly realises from the warmth of his hand how very cold she is. He is shuffling around on the bed and pulling her hand towards him and then she freezes once more. She hears the sound of the zip on his suit being pulled and all the time his other hand is pulling her towards him. She resists but his grip remains and insistently he tugs at her hand.

She feels the panic rise.

And then she feels his chest under her balled fist and his fingers snake through hers and flatten her palm to him and return to cover the back of her hand, as she hears once more the zipper pulled, this time to cover both their hands and she feels the warmth from him and her hand becomes less numb from the cold. And in that simple gesture she wonders if this stranger in the dark is someone she can trust.

What does anyone think?