At least her hair was untied. Ted had found it too hard to carry her in that position. That was about the only thing Franny could be thankful for.
When the car had stopped, and the trunk lid opened, Franny was surprised to find that they had returned to the Civic Auditorium. They were in the underground parking garage, and once again appeared to be the only ones there. Not surprising, since Franny figured it was still only about 6 A.M. After the darkness of the trunk, even the dim lighting of the parking lot made Franny blink. As she tried to reorient herself, Ted reached behind her, and pulled her head painfully forward, the rope in her hair forcing her to slide forward on her stomach. The agony lasted only a second, though, as he undid the rope tied in her hair, and she relaxed her body gratefully to its full length. Ted untied her ankles while Joyce undid Madame Ulanova’s. The two women were then hauled out of the trunk, hands still bound, mouths still gagged, and marched inside. Back into the elevator, back upstairs, and into the deserted office area. This time, the two women were taken to a different room: it was evidently the office which Brenda Joyce had recently claimed as her own. There was a large desk, a bar, and on one side of the room, a window covered with a heavy velvet curtain. Even at this hour, Franny saw that no light crept in around the drape, so she presumed that the window didn’t open to the outside—if it did, though…
Her thoughts were interrupted by Ted seizing her arm again. Brenda Joyce had just sat Madame Ulanova down into a chair, and Franny expected to be placed in another, when she was dragged by the man through a door into an anteroom. He thrust the helpless girl ahead of him, and Franny stumbled to her knees as he kicked the door closed behind him.
"O.K., honey, time to get comfy." His eyes showed how much he was enjoying the horrified look on her face. Franny tried to rise to her feet, but Ted easily pushed her to her back. Lying on her bound arms hurt terribly, but Franny knew she had far worse to fear. She renewed her struggles against her bonds, testing her muscles against the tight coils of rope that held her in their inescapable embrace. Desperately, she tried to kick at the man with her unbound legs, but he just laughed and slapped them down. He moved over and knelt on her legs, his weight a crushing burden. Franny cried out into her gag, and Ted laughed, "Hey, it ain’t good until it hurts." With Ted kneeling on her, it was just too painful to try and move, so Franny lay back, panting through her nose, trying not to choke on the saliva her gagged mouth was producing at an alarming rate.
With his prey now lying still, Ted took his right hand, and began to softly caress her face. There was no tenderness in his touch: he was simply savoring her helplessness. He lifted the mass of her hair, unconfined by the gag, from the carpet and let it glide through his fingers. Franny wanted to vomit, gag or no gag, as he lowered his face to hers. She turned her head aside, and closed her eyes, but Ted was undeterred; clearly, he expected to have all the time he needed with his victim. His coarse lips brushed her cheek, and forced a tear from her eye. He licked up the tear, kissed her cheek, and ran his tongue along the groove in her skin where the gag strap bit into it. He traced a line of foul kisses along the gag strap, finally placing his open mouth over her gagged one. Even with the huge ball in her mouth, he was able to cover it, and he sucked at each of her bruised lips in turn.
"Having fun yet?" he leered at Franny. His face then left hers, and she could feel him start to run kisses down her throat. He shifted his weight, kneeling now on the floor between her legs, and forcing them farther apart. He looked into her terrified eyes, and, ever so slowly, dropped one hand toward her chest. He was taunting her with her helplessness and Franny could just feel the tip of his finger make contact with the fabric of her leotard above her breast. The other hand was slowly caressing the inside of her legs, each in turn. Revulsion overwhelmed her, and for the first time in her ordeal, Franny actually wished herself dead, rather than be taken by this animal. She couldn’t even watch to see how he intended to shame her next, when she heard the door to the anteroom open.
"Ted, there’s a problem." Brenda Joyce appeared entirely unembarrassed at interrupting her colleague in the midst of a rape attempt, and went coolly on. "My informant tells me that her boyfriend got that phone message to the police. They went to the motel, and they’ve made the rental car, but not us. So, we’re going to need another car. I rented that one under a fake name, but they might recognize my face if I went back. You’d better ditch that car, and then go get another."
Ted reluctantly got up from the floor, looking hungrily down at his captive. "Don’t go ‘way, sweetheart. You and I aren’t through yet!" He took the car keys that Brenda Joyce handed him, and left the room. A slight moan escaped Franny’s gag as a wave of relief washed over her. Blinking back tears, she looked up at Brenda Joyce.
"Don’t look at me, honey. You’ve caused us so much trouble I’d have gladly watched him do you, and probably applauded when he was done." At the pained look that came to Franny’s eyes, the woman sighed. "No, I don’t suppose I’d have done that, but that doesn’t mean we’re pals here, or anything." She briskly strode to where Fanny lay on the floor, and flipped the girl over to her stomach, the carpet scraping her face. "Now, for God’s sake, will you please stay put this time? I have enough to worry about as it is." Franny grunted into her gag as she felt her ankles secured. As the woman moved up her legs to tie more rope about her calves and thighs, she reflected that, at least, she was making it harder for Ted to pick up where he had left off. As the woman finished, Franny gave as loud a moan as she could manage through the gag. "Now what?" snapped Joyce. "Oh. Your gag. I guess he did fasten it pretty tight." Joyce bent down, and fumbled through Franny’s disheveled hair, looking for the gag’s buckle. Finally, she found it, but Franny almost wished she hadn’t, as the only way to loosen the gag was to first pull it tightly enough to unbuckle it. She groaned, then gave a bubbling sigh as the woman refastened it more loosely. Franny lay her head on the floor, heedless of the saliva pooling on the carpet, knowing only that she could finally breathe with comfort. She lay still, breathing heavily, and after an appraising glance, Joyce left her and went back into the office. Franny lay on the floor, miserable and helpless. It had really all been too much: kidnapped, drugged, bound and gagged, nearly raped (and when Ted returned, she could probably dispense with the "nearly"); the hopelessness of her situation, exhaustion, and lack of sleep overtook her. Her eyes closed, and she surrendered to sleep.
Muscles aching, Franny forced her way back to consciousness. She had slept for hours. There was no window to see outside, but the wall clock confirmed that it was nearly 5:00 pm. What had happened? Grateful though she was that Ted hadn't returned to molest her, she was furious that she had evidently slept away hours of time alone, when she might have tried to escape, unobserved. Well, no use crying about it-- no time like the present.
A glance around the room told Franny that she wouldn't find much to help her escape here. There was nothing but a coffee table with a few magazines, and some chairs. No scissors or similarly sharp metal objects: whoever furnished this room had evidently given little consideration to the possibility that a dance instructor might one day find herself bound and gagged in here! Franny had just about decided to go through the laborious process of trying to find enough slack to free one limb, when she heard the door to the main office open, and voices in conversation. Ted was back! Chilled to the core, she desperately looked around the room to see if there was anything she might have missed-- she couldn't let him resume what he had begun! After a moment, though, she realized that the voice speaking to Brenda Joyce was not Ted's, but some other man. An ally? Only one way to find out.
With a tremendous effort, Franny forced herself to her knees; with her ankles tied to each other, balance was especially precarious. With all the strength remaining in her legs, she launched herself in an awkward hop, landing hard on her knees, and nearly toppling over. Steadied, she tried again. This time, she did pitch over on her side, but was now almost at the door to the main office. Using her shoulders to lead, she rolled herself the last few feet to the door. She thought of trying to back into it to get hold of the knob with her fingers, but that might take too long. Instead, she lay on her back, raised her feet in the air, and brought them down with a thump on the door.
The conversation in the next room paused. No turning back now-- Franny put all her weight into another pounding kick on the door. A man's voice asked, "What was that?" Franny missed Brenda Joyce's reply; she strained to hear if footsteps were approaching on the heavy carpet. She was still unsure when the door opened. She was lying with her feet toward the door, and so didn’t have a good view of the doorway. As she raised her head to look, she heard the man's voice: "What on earth?"