My fantasy begins with me walking up to where you are sitting at one of the tables, nervously looking around and occasionally checking your watch. You look so incredibly sexy that I have to catch my breath before continuing on. You look up and finally notice me walking toward you as I step into the light. On my left wrist as a plain black bead bracelet, in my right hand a red clutch matching my dress. Dangling from my ears are black bead earrings, matching the bracelet.
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I felt light-headed, seemingly not enough air. Excitement mingled with fear as I tried to move in my exquisite prison, a soundproof rectangular wooden chamber underneath the solidly built in seats of the dining area in the rear of the conversion van. Measuring twelve inches high, twenty inches wide and seventy-two inches long, it was a perfect fit. Tightly bound and heavily gagged, lying on my back, the top of my head and the bottom of my feet pressed against the ends, shoulders snug against the sides. On the outside panel, decorative gold vents at either end provided air, augmented by a small electric fan flush mounted to the right of my head.