Why do I always come to these things and go home alone? she asked herself.
It was 1 am. She had been at this party for about three hours now. And every guy there seemed to already have a bimbo strapped to his hip. Talk about lame. And the guys who were single were almost instantly turned off by her slightly higher intelligent topics of conversation. "Did you hear what NASA is planning to do next year?" "Oh, no, I don't follow sports, there are more important things to watch, like politics." Why are you such a loser?
It wasn't that she wasn't pretty either. Far from it, as far as she was concerned. She was around 5' 8", with middle-of-the-back length, slightly wavy strawberry blonde hair, and big green eyes. Her face was flattering, with higher cheekbones than she thought was overly pretty, and her lips were slim, so that she only needed a hint of lipstick for color. She thought her nose was too long, but she'd been told by her friends so much that it suited her face that she wasn't self-conscious about it anymore. She was slim. Four days a week at the company gym gave her tone to her muscles, but she never wanted to be "buff". Her legs were long, her tummy flat, and her skin only slightly tanned. Tanning beds were for losers and people who wanted to die of skin cancer in her opinion, so she only got a natural tan when she was able to make an appointment at the beach. Her dress for the night was her favorite dress, her black satin halter top, which went all the way down to cover her black, strappy heels. It had two ties, one on the neck and one on the lower back. Other than that tie, the dress had no back, all the way to just below the small of her back. It was the kind of dress you couldn't wear a bra with. Not that she needed to anyway. That was her other problem. She had always worried about the size of her breasts. When she looked at herself in the mirror every morning, she wished that she could have something larger than an A cup. But she'd never get a boob job. Too expensive, and she wanted a guy to like her, not her breasts.
Another wasted night. I might as well leave. For the seventh time this month, her attempts to infiltrate the high society had failed. This was supposed to be the classiest bar in town. You needed reservations nearly a week in advance to get through the door, and they only served cocktails. So far, she'd manage to get in on her off nights by using her friend's entry tickets. After all, her friend had a man now, why did she need to go to the bar? Tonight was supposed to be some high-class party for some high-class executive at a nearby business. Most of the men were at least ten years older than her. Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing she wasn't going home with any of them. I mean, she was only 25. No need to have a man who wanted more than a good time for now. Her clock wouldn't tick until 30, and she wasn't even sure she wanted kids. She got up from the table she was at, where the obvious host had been prattling on about some amazing merger he set up 15 years ago or something, and headed for the door.
Outside, the night breeze was sweet like candy. The city was still bright, and the ocean breeze was breaking through the muggy heat that had been the afternoon. It was early fall, and the cool air from the north had yet to make its way down the coast. It felt good to feel the cool night on her shoulders. The streets were empty, most people in the bars or going home with people whose first names they would forget by morning. It felt like a good night for a walk.
Maybe she had more glasses of wine than she thought. Normally, she'd never walk home at night. Her apartment was only a few blocks away, but city life taught you that you should never be alone. Nothing had happened in the past couple weeks, and this was the "good" part of town anyway. She needed the walk to clear her head and dwell on the reasons why she was going home alone...again.
She didn't even hear him coming. All she remembered was a hand, a rag, a slightly sweet smell and taste in her mouth, then nothing.
She awoke in a bed. It surely wasn't hers. It was too big. And the room was too small. It seemed more like a guest bedroom in a large home. The bed was about a queen size, a little out of place in such a small room. The door was on the other side of the room, at the foot of the bed. There was a very plain chest of drawers on her left, right by a window.
A window! This would tell her where she was. Slowly, she began to struggle her way to her feet. Whatever it was that had knocked her out was still in effect, so it was slow going. She noticed that even if she did make it to the window, there was a cord around her ankle that tied her to one of the feet of the bed. It was this that made her wonder if...
She carefully hiked up her dress. Her underwear was still there, and she didn't feel anything uncomfortable. Whatever this person had drugged her for, it was not to rape her. She didn't know if that should make her feel better or worse.
She got to her feet. The moonlight was still streaming into the dark room from the window. As she looked out, the moon was still higher in the sky. She couldn't have been out for more than a couple hours. That would make it around three. Good. The scenery outside could be used for when she called the police...crap. Of course they would take my purse and my cell phone, you dolt. And here she had been trying to keep a level head. Whatever situation she was in, she wasn't going to get out of it that easily. She looked around. The dresser had nothing useful in it, though if she could break it or the window, she could try to cut the cord. But if she got out, then where would she go? All she saw were trees outside. She must be an hour and a half away from the city by car. And the absence of lights meant that the nearest house or road was a bit more than walking distance away.
She didn't have the chance to contemplate much more than this. The door opened to reveal a very homely looking man with the light of the hallway at his back. Obviously a recluse. Pale. Slight hump on the right shoulder. Stocky, and tall. When he spoke, it was a gravelly voice that spoke of age.
"He's ready to see you now."
Like she had an appointment. And it was spoken flatly, no hint of either humor or sadness. Just...said. But, who the hell was "he," and what did she want with her?