Although my hands and feet had been bound while I was in the vehicle that had taken me here, they no longer were. I had looked around for a pit, not unlike the one in which Buffalo Bill from The Silence of the Lambs had kept his victims, imploring them to put the “lotion on its skin” so that he could keep his ultimate skin jacket soft. I was relieved to not find one. What I found was a giant slop sink with two empty cans of Benjamin Moore paint in it, a small bathroom with a toilet (thank God) and a full roll of toilet paper in it, and a full-sized Jenn Air refrigerator fully stocked with soda, juice, and by golly, chardonnay. I was sitting in an original Chippendale chair, having exhausted myself looking for a way out, drinking a glass of dry, oaky chardonnay from a crystal goblet that I had found in what appeared to be an original Louis XIV china cabinet. I didn’t know where I was or who had brought me here, but I did know that I was extremely pleased that I had left a deep scratch in the top of the mahogany dresser on which I had leaped, trying to find a window to break.
