The Exchange Variation

Chapter XIV - Double Attack

Craig Wesley is so engrossed in the chart that he is holding that he does not see that the door to the storage closet ahead of him is ajar. He would think nothing of it if he were to see it. That is until he passes it, and an arm snakes out to pull him into the small alcove.

He is caught totally off-balance as the door slams shut and he feels himself pushed up against it. It is only a moment before his eyes adjust to the dim light and he grins as he finds himself face to face with a certain Dr. Marlena Evans.

Grace plants a hand on either side of Craig's head and fixes him with a come-hither smile that has him almost panting with lust.

"Hi there." Her voice is breathy and deep.

"Hi," Craig swallows, trying to get some moisture to his suddenly arid tongue. "Thanks for dropping by," she whispers as she presses herself up against him.

"Where have you been?" he murmurs as his fingers slide down over her hips.

"Just..." she sweeps her lips teasingly past his, "...kinda busy."

"Ah," his hands sweep up her back and Grace feels his fingers tangle in her thick tresses.

She's almost unprepared as he suddenly yanks on her hair, exposing her throat to his lips. She groans as he kisses her and explores the tender skin extensively with his lips and tongue. And when he finally releases her, she fights back; taking his mouth in a battle of wills that goes on for long minutes.

It is someone pushing at the door to get in that finally interrupts them and it is an excruciatingly long moment before they hear the exasperated sigh that signals defeat.

"Perhaps we should take this somewhere more... private," Craig suggests with a wicked smile.

"Somewhere that has a door that locks, maybe?" Grace straightens the blouse that she has poured herself into and runs her fingers through tangled hair.

"Did I ever tell you that you're a smart lady?" Craig smirks as he straightens his own tie.

"No," the corners of her lips flicker into a smile, "but feel free."

Grace opens the door and peers out into the corridor. It is provisionally deserted, and her high heels click on the linoleum as she steps out into the light.

~

Dry. So dry.... Water. Surely there must be some water....

Dark. Can't see. Can't move....

Please... Please, anyone. Just some water....

The man's head lolls weakly as he swallows. His throat is so dry he can barely manage it. It is like trying to swallow sandpaper every time he tries. He would open his eyes, but in the dim light, there is nothing to make out.

He is alone, as he has been every day for the last four days. Since *she* brought him here. The woman that bears Marlena's face. Marlena, but not Marlena. Of that much, he is certain. Of anything else, not so.

She brought him here and tied him to the chair with the cord she carried in her bag. A single chair a few feet away from a metal table in the middle of an empty warehouse. He should have been able to escape, but she had tied him so expertly that he had no chance. And as the days stammer by and he becomes weaker, any possible options are swiftly being obliterated.

And now, he wonders what he waits for. Marlena, or whatever she calls herself, has not returned, and he is beginning to wonder if she will at all. He doesn't understand what is happening, but as his mind loses clarity, visions come to him, simultaneously confusing and educating him.