Anger boiled in the pit of her stomach, but she followed him into the room.  He left her alone to her thoughts and she stared down forlornly at the dress.  Its sheer material was flimsy at best, but would do wonders for her long, athletic form.  She sighed, stripped out of the waitress uniform that smelled like stale coffee and oil, and into the dress.  In the multiple mirrors she could see the perfect, perky outline of her breasts through the material, nipples erect from having touched air.  Her waist was narrow, her hips slightly wider, and only a tiny tuft of hair nicely shaped between her hairless legs.  She admired the hourglass of her backside in the mirror briefly, but admonished herself for letting down her guard.  He could be anywhere.<br/><br/>Kat didn't like this at all.  She was near to tears, and sank down at the edge of the bed with her arms twined around her midsection beneath her breasts.  How could this be true?  Any of it?  Her head was spinning with fury and with renewed grief, but there was no outlet for it.<br/><br/>Swiping a hand through her hair, she forced herself to calm, to find peace.  Being frantic was not going to get her out of this... alive.