Room with two doors

The interrogation room was small, with two doors—one in front of her and one to her left. On the wall to her right, there was a large window that went totally dark from time to time. In between, it showed some silhouettes going about—a see-through mirror from the other side, no doubt. The chair and the table were bolted to the floor.

Caldera sat bending over the table to scratch her nose. Reliefed, she sat back up and pondered her situation while waiting for the translator to arrive. Having her wrists cuffed to the table didn't bother her too much. This region didn't have a history of torture or misuse. While getting arrested had not been part of the plan, she was pretty confident that she would be back on the street within the hour. At least her cover was still intact: that was of the utmost importance!

The door in front of her opened, and a man came in. Something told her that he wasn't the interpreter she was waiting for. For a moment, he just stood there, looking down at her, smiling. Then she followed him as he walked around her to the back of the chair.
Without warning, he reached out from behind, pulling back her skirt.

"What-wait..!"

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