As lethargic as I was I struggled again, trying to find was release from the bonds. Wait, I thought, why don't I try to twist my hands to the front like seen in the movies? Giving it a go, I shifted, twisted and after hurting my arms of a few minutes, it was to no avail, especially in the confined spaced of the pitch black cell. The next urgent matter as I stated above was my full bladder. It didn't take me long to figure out that the cell of void anything, not even a small niche to pee in. Grunt and wailing through my gag, I tried to attract the attention of the guards. That also did not work and I suspected that the cell was not only without light but the walls and doors were sound proof. No! Did that mean I have to pee in my knickers and tights/pantyhose!!! (I always wear hosiery with formal dresses especially given the footwear). I held back my urine but after ten minutes it was simply unbearable. I tried to sit up against the stone cold wall and use my cuffed hands to pull down my tights and underwear. That didn't work and for the first time in many years I peed on myself. Argh!! I thought, embarrassed even given the impossible circumstances. With the warmth of the pee, the physical assault and the whole series of events of the last few hours, sleep overcame me. I was rudely awaken with the slamming of the door and Mr. Right and another of his partners barged in. My unfortunate pissing episode left the distinct smell of urine. "Ooh, Spy is a baby. Peeing herself!" his broken English shattered the silence. Still groggy, I was again lifted up roughly and dragged out. It was much different with my cuffed hands clearly aching more, my gag turning my mouth into a parched desert and the stickiness of my damp tights and underwear creating all sorts of unpleasant feelings. I was strapped down in the same chair again and Mr. Interrogator was there, this time in more casual clothes-jeans and a rolled up shirt. On the table was a covered metallic plate with the familiar smell of bacon and eggs. "Good morning, Claire," he said, his tone much more polite that the previous night. Sniffing, he too smelt my dirtied dress and remarked, "well, wet you yourself eh? I must apologise for the accommodation; nothing like your hotel room eh?" I grunted a weak moan and he continued, "ah where are my manners," he said, slowly removing my gag-another difference from last night. "Tea? "he said, producing a steaming hot cup in front of me. I would have preferred a cool glass of water but I accepted it, him slowly tipping the cup to my mouth. "Now," he said, "to business". Before, he could continue, I cleared my throat and gave a plea, "please, you must have made a mistake. I was at the city centre the day before yesterday, and yesterday afternoon only took a short ride to the outskirts and saw nothing but desert. If I trespassed or saw something I'm not meant to, I didn't mean it intentionally. If you let me go I'll leave and never come back," I said, trying to put on puppy dog eyes. (To be continued...) 