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Apparently, after 64 hours I woke up, already blindfolded, apparently with my own white shirt; standing on my knees bound: my both hands tied with some kind of strong, large chains, looking up; my both feet tied back to my own back, and those where linked with another weird kind of strong chains, to a dog collar I had since I was 7 round my neck, and I had such a strong headache that I didn't even got to notice that I was just so near from naked, but a red coat somebody had put me on, having its buttons undone, so anyone would immediately have an invincible wish to fuck me. I could hear nothing, but the sound of the chains round my little body, and I did only get to know that two men were getting closer to my current position, talking on a weird language, not even Chinese, and I got desperate to free myself, waving the chains holding my both hands, but since I got to know that this was such as useless as lifting 100 Lbs weights with the little, young body I had, so I decided to give. I came off stage, happy, wet with perspiration and quivering with the excitement of the gig. It was almost like the old days. I took a much-needed shower and dressed in my usual jeans and a sweatshirt. The wig was packed carefully along with my stage clothes. The dress I had worn that evening would go for dry-cleaning and the whole lot would magically appear at the next venue, thanks to my assistant, Jacqui who had been with me for years. I intended to walk to the hotel, but the stage door manager shook his head. "Not a good idea, Miss Lacey. Best I get you a taxi." I understood why when travelling in the taxi. There were quite a few groups of young men along the way, carrying bottles of booze with them, shouting and yelling.Back at the hotel, I went straight to my room, poured three fingers of Vodka, added Tonic and lay down on the bed. My mind turned to the morrow, I was looking forward to the day, a day of not being Kat Lacey, but being Caitlin Laine for a day with a rather nice.
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