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You approach the double-doored armoire. It appears to be constructed in French Country style. Plain but tasteful. You reach forward and pull on one of the handles, hoping to find your clothing tucked away safely inside. No such luck. The interior, fitted with a shelf just above head level and a bar for hanging clothing, appears to be empty, except for a single paperback book, a few plastic hangers and a tattered white silk rose.

"Damn it! Shit!" you exclaim to yourself. The frustration of not finding your clothes in the armoire is distressing, but even kicking the wall to relieve your anger is out. The thought of being naked in a strange place is bad enough, breaking your foot would only make it worse. The full reality of your situation begins to sink in. You don't know where you are, or even who is responsible for abducting you. And you are starkers, buck naked, in the buff, totally and completely exposed to the eyes of... Who? To the eyes of WHO?!?! A stranger? A psycho? Or is this just one of the sick and slightly twisted pranks your friends like to pull? Maybe they're just waiting for you to start yelling and kicking up a fuss before they jump through the door, laughing hysterically as you stand there naked and looking dumbfounded.

Would they? Oh hell yes, definately! They're a pretty boisterous bunch who love nothing better than a good joke, especially when playing it on a grand scale. Just last month they dropped a poor shit-faced drunk Tony into the middle of the town's gay bar scene and drove off. He too was stripped down buck naked. Then there was the time at the lake when they blindfolded Trish, rowed her out to that tiny little island and left her there with only a tiny birthday cake candle, one match and two thin sheets of toilet paper! But did they do this to you? A strong niggle of doubt is knocking around in your head.

So that leaves the stranger or psycho options, or a combination of the two. Your anxiety begins to rise as you contemplate being at the mercy of a psycho. Being stark raving naked only makes it more frightening.

You close the armoire and walk swiftly to the bed, where you grab the quilt and throw it around your shoulders. Its not much, but at least it covers you.

You stand next to the bed contemplating your next move. You lift your right hand to your mouth and chew on your index finger while your mind rummages through your options.

You finally decide to...