She woke up in a mostly dark, triangular room. Her bed took up the middle third of the curved back wall, and she saw it was chained with a padlock as soon as she realized she was restrained. She couldn’t sit up, and her voice was extremely weak as she croaked out a cry for help.

No help came, but a light set in the ceiling the far, narrow end clicked on, and she saw a round doorway there. Like an airlock, she realized, as it rotated open. A man was inside, and he pushed a cart out, bringing it all the way over to stop beside her bed.

“Hello,” he said, in a cheerful voice. “Would you like something for that headache?” He held up a paper cup and rattled a couple pills in it, then smiled again and poured them into his hand as he filled the cup to half with water. “I bet you’re thirsty, too.”

“I’d like something for these handcuffs,” she said grimly, raising her wrist and show him the steel cuff that locked her to the bed’s hand rail. “Am I under arrest?”

“No, you’ve been kidnapped.” he said, sounding surprised. “Don’t you remember?”

She closed her eyes and was quiet a moment, thinking. All she could remember was closing the restaurant after the best night they’d ever had, thanks to the amazing band, and then she was taking the money bags out to her car, to drop them off at the bank, and everything went black.

Wait, there was a green van parked next to her car, she remembered, and then the side door slid open… she had a very foggy memory of two strong arms grabbing her around her middle, while an extremely foul smelling cloth was pressed to her face, and then, everything went black… until she woke up on this bed, a few minutes ago.

“Are you one of my kidnappers?” she asked, sounding a little afraid. “I don’t have any money. I don’t know anyone who does, either. Nobody is going to pay for me. Please don’t kill me!”

He smiled at her. “I didn’t kidnap you, and I’m no killer, either. I’m here to take care of you. Hopefully, we can be friends. I’m sorry this happened to you, but neither one of us can change that, and it’s not either one of ours fault, either, so playing the blame-game is a waste of time for me. And you, as I’m sure you’ll realize, soon enough. You look like you have intelligence in those eyes.”

She didn’t say anything, but she gratefully took the aspirin he offered, and greedily drank all the water he poured for her. “If I give you this,” he said, filling a bottle with water and showing it to her. “Can I trust you not to drink it too fast?” It had a straw long enough for her to reach, and she nodded. He allowed her to hold it in her hand.

“Thank you,” she said, after she had drank another cup of water he poured for her. “If I can’t blame you for me being here, I see no reason we can’t be friends. Emily Blake.”

He stared at her. “You’re not Amanda Parker?” He grabbed a clipboard from the side away from her, where she couldn’t see because of the dark gray plastic sides.

“No, she’s the other manager at the Onion, the bar where I work.” A hopeful note climbed into her voice. “I’m not supposed to be here! Can you let me go?” She rattled her wrists in the cuffs. “Please? Let me go? A friend would let me out of these. A real friend would help me escape!”

“You’re not Amanda Parker, though. She was chosen because of her father’s money and certain… skills, she is said to have had. You know what she’s famous for, right?”

Emily blushed. Amanda was famous for the quality of the blowjobs she gave. Emily couldn’t attest to the quality, but she was a silent witness to the sheer amount of satisfied customers who were as free with their eyeballs as they were with their tips. What he said next got every bit of her attention.

“Are you willing to be my friend, Emily Blake?