EXTRACT FOR
Held Captive
(Miranda Birch)

Al regained consciousness he knew not where. he was lying on the floor What had happened? He had been lucky enough to get a ride with those two hot babes, and then... Had he passed out? Where was he? Where were they? 



Al got up. He looked about. The room was bare, and quite small. He tried the door. It was locked. There was only one small window, but it was too high up to reach, and barred in any case. 



It was now that a little spasm of genuine concern went through him. He couldn't be... he couldn't be back in prison? But he had served his time. And this did not look like any prison he had ever seen. 



He was both hungry and thirsty, he realised then. He felt dirty, too. He had been travelling all day, without the chance of a wash. Miserably he sat down in one corner and waited. There was really very little else he could do. 



After a while, he fell into a doze. 



Al awoke with a violent start. There two women were standing before him. Those women. The ones who had picked him up. They were still wearing their sexy leather outfits; oh yes, he remembered them alright! A smile began to appear on his face. Everything was fine. It looked like these girls were up for a bit of fun -- adult fun! 



"On your feet," ordered the blonde sharply then. What was her name? Sally. Al resented her tone. However, he was used to being ordered about, even if not by women. He got to his feet, grinning. So this one wanted to take the lead, eh? Probably went in for the `cowgirl position' in the sack, too! 



That grin and those thoughts were abruptly banished by the back-handed slap he got across the face. 



"What the hell?" he spluttered. Right, time to take change. "What's going on?" he demanded. "Why have I been locked in here?" 



"We'll ask the questions," said Heather. 



Again Al didn't like the tone, but the air of menace about the two women checked him from making any move. He looked from one to the other. They still looked hot; but somehow it seemed as though that did not come into it. 



"Where have you come from?" asked Sally. "And what are you doing wandering about in the night?" 



"I don't see why I should answer that," said Al sullenly. 



Without warning, he received a pile-driving blow in the midriff, which doubled him up, driving all the wind from him. He fell to the floor groaning. When the pain had ebbed a little, rage began to take its place. He got to his feet. His fists clenched. 



"That's... that's assault," he managed to say, still winded. "You be careful, or..." 



He never finished. Sally punched him again the same place. Al crashed to floor and doubled up. He thought he was going to be sick. This time he stayed down. 



"Get up, slob," said Heather. She kicked him none too gently in the ribs. Somehow Al managed to stagger up. Angered by her kick, he almost threw himself on her but something told him that might not altogether be a wise move. There were two of them, after all. And he certainly didn't want any more punches like that he had from Sally.