“Thank you,” she smiled at Susan.

“Thank you,” Susan gave her a warm smile in return, and stroked her
hand as she took the key from her. “I’ll be back soon.” She turned and
sauntered slowly away from the desk with plenty of hip sway, a
satisfied smile curling her lips. “So far, so good,” she thought.

She took the elevator to the fourth floor, and canvassed the hall in
both directions as she stepped out, figured which way the room numbers
were running, and slipped down the corridor to Francesca’s room. She
stood at the doorway, listening for conversation. Or worse. She slipped
the key into the electronic lock and cringed as it snicked open. She
slowly opened the door, stepped inside and eased it close. In the
bedroom, she could hear the muffled sounds of the television. Water was
running in the bathroom. “How predictable you are, Francesca,” she
sighed in relief.

She moved swiftly and quietly across the carpeting to the bedroom.
Jenny lay face down on the bed, hands and legs trussed behind her, a
ball gag in her mouth. Her bare back was covered with red welts. She
felt the rage start to surge, and crammed it back down. There would be
time for that later. Francesca’s penchant for ropes worked to Susan’s
advantage. She pulled out a spare set of keys from her purse, to which
was affixed a Swiss army knife. Top of the line, of course; you never
knew when you’d need something in a time of crisis.

Jenny whimpered when she saw Susan approach the bed. Susan put one
finger over her lips, and moved to her side, quickly cutting through
her bindings and removing the gag. “Your clothes,” she whispered,
“where are they?”

“Over there,” Jenny nodded toward the dresser.

“Get dressed. Quickly. We need to get out of here.” Susan whispered thickly.

Jenny had her blouse on but not buttoned and her skirt in her hand when
the water quit running. Her mouth dropped and Susan stood.

“Come on! We have to go now!”

Susan grabbed her hand and pulled her along, walking quickly through
the bedroom to the door, and out into the hallway. Jenny tried to
button her blouse as they ran down the corridor and pressed the button
for the elevator. “C’mon, come on!” she urged the machine, not
something that could bend at her will. Jenny stepped into her skirt,
zipped and buttoned it. Just as the elevator door opened, Francesca
came screaming into the hallway, dressed only in a bathrobe. Susan
flipped her off with a long elegant finger, shoved Jenny into the
elevator, and headed down to the lobby.