You awaken with a blindfold over your eyes and handcuffed to a bed, disorientated in the extreme. To hear the familiar sound of your front door first unlocking then opening then closing initially reassures, but as the light draft from the door's movement passes over your body, you can sense your nakedness and feel suddenly, helplessly exposed. You dare not utter a sound, for memories are lost to you and yesterday, as yesteryear, cannot be found in the recesses of your throbbing brain... you remember drugs, plenty of drugs, but when, with whom... you know not. You shudder, the handcuffs clanking against the wrought iron to which you are bound. You hear the footsteps, creeping, tentative. You remember the woman from some time ago - the notion of the temporal dimension is lost forever - and you picture her beauty, her angst and her desire. You work out she had probably nipped out to get some booze, or condoms, and become aroused. The footsteps get closer as you feel yourself get a hard on - then a scream...
Then you scream, she screams. The world spins. You feel lost. You hear the footsteps again, this time urgent, stopping, clomping away from the bedroom. The front door opens, closes, with a slam, no lock. You are still blindfolded, shackled, but now also disgusted. You have heard that scream once before. When old Mrs McKinley was startled by a mouse that ran out from behind the fridge as she was sweeping the floor. You regret the day you arranged a cleaner to come round on Monday mornings. Which means as well, you are late for work. You wrench at the handcuffs. It's no use. Your phone rings, you jiggle like a a fitting child, though unable to break free. The phone clicks onto the answering machine:

'Hello, lover boy,' you hear the voice of the women with the drugs. 'Sorry I left you all tied up, but I just had to ensure you wouldn't get chance to stop me getting the reports into the late edition.'

Oh fucking hell, you think. That fucking bitch. But what you really mean is;

Oh fucking hell, I'm a fucking idiot.

The shit will hit the fan, and the world will never quite be the same again. Perhaps.