‘Nice try, doll’ said the masculine voice even as her inner voice whispered ‘...<i>and the Oscar does definitely <b>not</b> go to Lauren de Salle.’</i><br/><br/>Before she could even squeak in protest she found herself face down on the bed and him sitting on her ass.<br/><br/>The<i>NERVE!!!!</i><br/><br/>She bucked her hips up vigorously but stopped once she realized that he was rather enjoying that. This situation was intolerable and Lauren hoped someone would stop by the room soon, asking for her. But right that someone was taking their own sweet time because this man was comfortably straddling her ass and ...what?<i>Handcuffs???</i>Lauren raised her head ready to belt out the loudest scream of her twenty-eight years when he smashed her face back in the pillow and with an irongrip held it there. The weight of his body on her, plus the pillow in her face combined with now abject fear and she began to get dizzy. When he let her head up again she predictably opened her mouth to inhale deeply, the man held her jaw open and stuffed  in some wad and over it a bandana. She first screamed then whimpered, tears of fear and rage streaming over her face.<br/><br/><i>Oh sweet Jesus and all the Saints above</i>, she pleaded mentally,<i> I promise to stop drinking and I'll throw away my dildo, I'll even go to church at least once a month... please don't let him kill me.</i><br/><br/>Lauren was now so afraid that she felt nauseated, she just wanted to close her eyes and pretend it wasn't happening, but when he touched her ankles with the clear intent of trussing her like a Thanksgiving turkey she summoned the last of her strength and will and fought like hell. When he was done she was sore, still trussed up, gagged, and ready to cry. Instead she glared at him, he wanted her alive, that much was certain. It would have been so much easier to just shoot her.<br/><br/>Lauren lay on he motel bed, during the struggle her bikini bottom shifted and was now half wedged uncomfortably in her crack, and she could feel her bra had given up its tenuous hold on her breasts leaving the one closest to the bed exposed to the eyes of the dark haired man who had invaded her room. She was breathing hard, her chest heaving, stress filling her and a fear of what was to come next.<br/><br/>Why did the mob send him to bring her back? Why not just kill her here?  Would he rape her first?