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Except for the lanterns and herself, Tamara didn't see anything else in the room, until her eyes focused on a pitcher and tray in the corner.Abruptly realizing how hungry and thirsty she was, she slowly raised herself up on her hands and knees and began a tortured crawl towards the food. Her whole body acted lethargically, drained, even.On the tray was a pile of local fruits, and the pitcher was full of room temperature water, still, Tamara raised it to her lips and drank greedily, her body desperately seeking to replace lost fluids.Only after the food and drink were completely gone did she realize that they may have been drugged, but did not feel any immediate effects. Strengthened by the nourishment, she was able to rise and move about the chamber. As she had suspected, the door was sealed, tugging or pushing on the stone handle had no effect. The walls of the room were smooth and bare, with no hint of a hidden entrance or route of egress.Finally she paused to examine herself. Her. "Just spending my days chained to a desk. How about you?" Bored out of my mind," Greg said. "Nothing but boring meetings during the day and a hotel room at night."Megan said, "You don't like hotels?" No," he said. "I don't."She said, "I haven't stayed in a hotel too many times. When I did, I thought it was kind of a treat."Greg laughed. "Maybe it would be," he said, "if you were on holiday. On business trips, the hotel is sort of a combination office for the busy and warehouse for the weary."Megan laughed in return. She said, "I hope you don't mind, but Amy and I had a bottle of your wine with supper."Greg laughed. "I trust," he said, "that it wasn't the 1995 Château Margaux."Megan giggled. "Oh hell no," she said, "it was a bottle of Chianti." That's OK. Go ahead and have another bottle, if you want." We just might. Do you want to speak to Amy?" I guess I'd better."Megan handed the phone to Amy. Amy chattered away for a while. Megan didn't even try to follow the conversation. She was.
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