Richard looked over at the driver, who had been making discrete (or almost discrete) glances towards him since he decided to give him a lift back home.
"Sorry," the guy said. "I was just thinking of what you look like in those clothes. Really look like, I mean."
"Just keep your eyes on the road," Richard said.
A few minutes later, Richard told him to turn right and then stop at the end of the road.
"This is your place?" the driver asked. "Man, that house is huge."
"Yeah, well. I am the mayor," Richard said, getting out of the car. He was glad that he actually made it home safely. Aside from being annoyed by the driver's glances, most of the trip, he was in fear that the driver might swap with someone. But, nothing happened. The trip home was mostly uneventful. "Thanks for the ride," he told the driver, then walked up to his house as the car was driven away, probably out of town.
After ringing the doorbell, the door opened. He looked straight into the eyes of the large stocky woman who was actually his wife. She no longer wore the unflattering peasant dress he saw her wear in the limo earlier, apparently swapping it for one of her own outfits (which looked too small on her mannish body), but it was definitely the body of Natasha Piotrovsky - the woman that his wife now looked like.
"Who are you?" she asked.
"It's me. Richard."
"Richard?" she asked. Then she smiled.
When Sarah finally opened her eyes, she had no idea where she was. Wherever it was, it was dark, though. She tried to stand up, but then found that she couldn't. Something was holding her down. She squirmed, feeling the ropes that bound her arms and legs together.
Then memories of what had happened to her began flooding back into her mind. "Chris!" she yelled out in anger. "He did this to me!"
She squirmed around some more, trying to work herself out of the bindings, but it was no use. She was trapped and she wasn't going to get out any time soon. If only she had the strength of that Benitez kid.
