Chapter 4: Dinner For One

Wrong on both accounts, Anna!

The young Russian produced a long-winded sigh of disappointment when that realization was her first coherent thought after waking up... Initially, she had kept her eyes closed. Afraid to find out that the 'bad dream' theory would be falsified. But that ostrich tactic didn't help much; even through closed eyes, the bright morning sun woke her up like the day before, and was evidence enough in itself that she was not in her own bedroom at home. She stared blankly at the ceiling while the harsh truth sank in.

At home, she also would never wake up THIS hungry. Indeed, Anna's belly made all kinds of funny noises. Last time she had eaten had to be almost two days ago! Just about the maximum period of time that this basic need could be disregarded.

'Basic needs'... Anna had a gut feeling that one of those other basic human needs, sex, would not be much of a problem in the immediate future. Or at least not the - amount - she would get.

But you can't live on sex alone! Surely, it didn't make sense to let her starve, Anna thought. Or did the Prince prefer anorexic sex? Maybe he was even planning to only provide her his own home-grown 'vitamins'?

The young blonde was disturbed by her own weird concoction. This was not something to make fun about! Especially not in her current situation.

She produced another deep sigh, and summoned up her courage. She got up, arranged the scarce textile a bit around her womanly curves, and entered the living room to find something to eat. Quite unexpectedly, Anna now experienced her first *positive* surprise: 'Uday's' turned out to have room service! The desk was taken up almost completely by a huge silver plate that contained an extensive collection of comestibles. Several people had to have spent quite a bit of time on it. Even just delivering it to her room should have taken a small staff of waiters. Exhausted from the busy first day, she apparently slept right through the delivery.

She sat down and checked out the contents of the plate, with an ever growing appetite. There was just too much to completely go through in detail, really. "Hmmm... That actually looks quite good..." she mumbled to herself, going with a fork through some kind of pasta with sauce and small chunks of meat. That main dish reminded her a bit of Italian. Vegetables (asparagus, onion, salad... ) were arranged in several separate bowls. Still other bowls contained a wide variety of (mostly very spicy) sauces. A matching wine was served in a luxurious glass carafe. Anna's eyes were also drawn to no less than three portions of chocolate mousse. She licked her lips. Once again, their research was very effective (did they read about her affinity for chocolate mousse in that magazine interview she did two years ago?) A selection of exotic fruits, of which she only recognised the strawberries and grapes, gave the dish the finishing touch. All this was, to say the least, quite different from the leftovers which she had anticipated she would be fed! Hardly your typical jail fare. But then, you could say a golden cage needed top-class gastronomy to match?

It looked mouth-watering, indeed. Despite everything that had happened thus far, Anna caught herself feeling some kind of appreciation. Maybe she had had the worst, she told herself, and she would be treated more like a real 'guest' from now on? But still, there was some reluctance, also. For a second - just a second - the thought of poison entered her mind. A thought she quickly discarded. It would absolutely make no sense, after all. But she could be forgiven a slight paranoia after a day like yesterday.

The hungry hostage closed her eyes and took a deep sniff. Delicious aromas spiralled up into her lovely little turned-up nose. Her stomach responded with a long-stretched growl. It was high time to fortify the inner woman!

Pushing away all reservations she had, Anna grabbed the cutlery and attacked. The tennis star let herself go like she would never allow herself under normal circumstances. She wolfed down the pasta, barely giving herself time to chew the meatballs. The little available wine was gone before she even *realized* how lavishly the cook had used his tabasco and Spanish peppers. All and everything was outrageously hot, but also finger-licking delicious, and the room filled itself with her cheerful and unbridled smacking. She was having a good feed indeed!

Between two hasty mouthfuls, she noticed a small white note between the delicacies, together with something that looked like a small pamphlet.

She licked off two fingers, picked it up, and read:

"Bon Appetit, pumpkin

Rashid"

It was written in stylish, almost calligraphic letters.

"How attentive," she remarked to herself sarcastically. "Nice try, do-gooder!"

Was that cunning pasha trying to plant the first seeds of a growing Stockholm syndrome? He was just a little *too* detestable for that to work, really. She put a finger in her mouth, made an expressive throw-up sound to illustrate her disgust, and threw the crumpled up note on the floor. She smiled to herself in the mirror; it was just a small deed of resistance, but boy, did it feel good!

Anna continued her decadent blowout. The different savory foods disappeared into the hungry prisoner at an unprecedented rate. She seemed to lack hands, how she spooned through the chocolate mousses in record tempo, swallowing the grapes in between. Not accidentally, she was known for her capacity to burn calories. Both her own, and the calories of her lovers...

After digesting the copious meal, the Russian felt much better already. Quite thirsty, also. Even more than just a bit thirsty, actually (there really hadn't been much wine in the carafe). But most of all completely energized! She let out a loud 'burp, ' picked one last strawberry, and relaxed in her seat. The strong emotions had had some time to settle down by now, and with the help of a full belly and the necessary sugars to activate her grey matter, Anna was thinking clear again. It certainly also made a difference that they were not dealing with the regular female here. Handling stress and pressure was simply part of her being!

"Where is the weak spot?" she asked herself. "Every plan or complot has a weak spot, just like every tennis opponent. This whole perverted setup is so crazy that it must be full of gaping holes!"

She looked around the room in search of a possible clue. Something to break the door open, or to force the bars in front of the windows. Or a weapon to FIGHT her way out. Yes, when her violators were gone for a while, and when she replayed the degrading scenes that she had to go through in her head, she became quite combative again. But nothing useful seemed to be available. All pieces of cutlery were plastic, for example, to make sure they would be useless weapons? If she was realistic, she had to admit to herself that, with their superior numbers, it was just plain foolish to think in that direction anyway. It worked when she did those auditions for the Bond movie. With a few well-placed Karate kicks, she had slaughtered a bunch of them. But, granted, those opponents cooperated... The hairless gorillas wouldn't. Co-opulate maybe, but not co-operate.

A way to communicate with the outside world then, instead? Anna wished the intercom system allowed for outbound connections. Sadly, it had only one button, so it looked like an intercontinental call was out of the question. It wasn't but one of her sarcastic jokes, but strangely enough the absurd idea pulled a little switch somewhere in that smart girl brain of hers.