The Kiss of Death (Sequel)

Chapter 2- Romeo & Juliet

I woke up. God knows why I did, but that's what I did. Light filtered through my eyelids, a white blinding light. I knew it wasn't heaven. It definitely wasn't hell. But I would like to think that I was entering a new life outside of the one I was living now. Too bad that was far from the truth.

I mentally began to assess myself and came to the realization that nothing was out of the ordinary. My heart was beating at a normal pulse. My breathing wasn't shallow. I couldn't feel any sort of wound or opening on my body. My stomach didn't feel like it was plummeting through hell and re-entering. I was safe... for now.

I slowly peeped open one eye to see a dark mahogany wood canopy about ten feet above my head. The other eye managed to open and I blinked a few times to fully adjust to the brightness of being alive. I scrunched my fingers to find soft Egyptian sheets beneath my palms, all pure unlike the rest of me. With great precision, I sat up and found myself only clad in the lingerie I had made the mistake of wearing the night before. Cups of a black silicone lace bra stuck to my chest as well as the matching lace boy short underwear.

After what felt like an eternity of realizing that I wasn't bound to a torture device, or some ludicrous medieval machine (it's happened before), I looked around the room encompassing me. I was sitting on a California King bed clad in white sheets and velvety crème blankets. A white, see-through curtain surrounded the four poster throne, and I pushed it back to reveal the rest of an otherwise plain room. Everything was either dark mahogany or white. Two doors were on the opposite wall for what I could only assume was a closet and bathroom; double doors were to my left that looked like an escape to a hallway. And the most important feature was located on the right of me. Three beautifully crafted French balcony doors that were wide open, white curtains billowing in with the crisp autumn wind.

That's when I began to question things. I was drugged. That was a simple fact that I could stick to. I was drugged through my drink. That was a simple fact that I was ashamed of. And I was attracted to the man who drugged me through my drink. That was a complex fact that was still in the process of becoming solidified.

If this man was smart enough to lure me through two very dear things to me: Making out and drinking, then he wasn't an idiot because that's what every girl holds dear. Perhaps he was an idiot for a few other things though, and with my type of brain, I was able to list them chronologically in case I ever had the pleasure of meeting him:

A. Why wasn't I bound to the bed by steal chains?

B. Why was he stupid enough to leave open balcony doors?

C. Why put me in a nice bed when he could just kill me and then fuck me like the necrophiliac I imagine this guy to be?

D. He's a perverted pig for leaving me in lingerie with no sign of comfortable clothes in sight.

Whoever this low life was, he was going to get it up the ass and through his stomach as soon as I returned to the Lion Mansion.

I made one final scan of the room to find no apparent listening devices or motion detectors, as well as no booby traps. This was my opportunity to get the fuck out of here.

I threw back the sheets and duvets and booked it for the balcony doors. I was pleased to find a very accommodating patio set up, and not so pleased to see that I was three floors up.

It was almost like it was out of a bad Romeo and Juliet remake not starring Leonardo DiCaprio. Much to my satisfaction and chagrin, a trellis laden with ivy sat on the side of the house. Before I could take in any other surroundings of the gorgeous ornately decorated backyard, I shimmied. Suddenly I was like a cheetah climbing down a tree with prey in its jaws; or rather like a half-naked girl held hostage by a hot man who drugged her.