by S. J. Lewis
Epilogue
“Hey, Stan,” I greeted him. “Thanks for coming over.”
“Not a problem,” he answered as he stepped in out of the cold. There was six inches already on the ground and it was still snowing hard.
“How are the roads?” I asked as I shut the door.
“Not too bad yet,” he said as he took off his coat. “But I only came over because you said you had something I had to see. Why couldn’t you just scan it and e-mail it to me?”
“I had to promise not to,” I said.
“Promise who?”
“Emma.”
“Emma? What’s she got to do with it?”
“Come on,” I said. “I’ll show you.”
The package had been delivered only a little while ago, but I’d already gone through the contents several times. I spread them out across my desk. Stan just stood there, looking down at them for a long moment.
“Geez,” he said at last. He picked up one of the glossy photographs to look at it more closely. “She didn’t change her mind, and she doesn’t want us to forget her, does she?”
“How can you be sure it’s her?” I joked.
“Oh, c’mon, man, there’s no mistaking that body.” He laid the photo down. It was of Barbie’s torso, from her neck to her knees. The camera angle was just a little off center. Barbie was naked, her arms behind her, her legs parted a little. A heavy chain was padlocked around her neck. From there it ran straight down between her breasts and then back up between her legs.
The next shot covered the same stretch of gorgeous female flesh. While the chain was still locked around her neck, it must have been hanging down her back now. Lengths of thin twine were tied around both of her nipples. The ends hung down as far as her bellybutton.
The next shot showed Barbie lying face down on what looked like a bare cement floor. Her legs were frogtied with silvery duct tape, and her wrists were bound behind her with more of the same stuff. Her head was turned away from the camera, but the spill of long blonde hair identified her as surely as a portrait shot would have.
“What do you think?” I asked Stan.
“I think this girl is serious,” he said as he picked up the next photo. They were all eight-by-tens. They looked like a professional or a very good amateur had taken them. Every one had a kinky erotic impact, and not one of them showed Barbie’s face. The last one in the lot held Stan’s interest for a long time. It had been shot outdoors. Barbie was standing tied to a tree. The camera angle clearly showed the hemp rope binding her wrists behind her, cruelly tight, the curves of her flank, from shoulder to hip, enough side boob to show a swollen nipple, and a long, long leg. It also showed snow on the ground in the distance.
“I’d kinda like to call her now and tell her she’s got the gig,” I said.
“Yeah…” Stan nodded absently. “I wonder who she got to take the pictures for her.”
“Never mind that,” I said. “Whoever took those pictures, Barbie used them to make one hell of a sales pitch. I say she deserves an answer soon.”
“You’re right about that.” Stan put the last photo down on the desk, on top of all the others. He kept looking at it. His fingertip traced the outlines of Barbie’s naked flesh.
“But I have another idea,” he said, looking up at me. He was grinning.
“What’s that?”
“Why don’t we get in touch with Emma and give Barbie a message to meet us now? There’s this seedy little motel I know…”
“Wait,” I held up a hand. “There’s more.”
“More?” Stan looked interested. I took out the second set of photos. The top one was of Barbie again. It looked like a mug shot, but it was full-length and she was naked. Her arms were behind her, and she stood with her feet apart, looking at the camera expressionlessly. There was a sign hanging on the wall behind her. The title was ‘Barbie’ and the rest of it listed her vital statistics: Age, height, weight, bust, waist, hips, hair color and eye color.
“Now that’s a picture,” Stan grinned.
“I know who the photographer was,” I said.
“Oh? Who?” Stan asked. I went to the next shot. It was of Toy. She was on her hands and knees, naked, on a bare cement floor. There was an equally bare cinderblock wall behind her, painted some kind of bland beige. Her head was hanging low, her face partly obscured by her arm. She was a picture of female submission, waiting for a cock to be plunged into her anywhere. It was a good photo, but it didn’t look quite as professional as the ones of Barbie.
There was one last shot. It was of Toy, posed just like Barbie had been in her ‘mug shot’. It included a sign on the wall with her vital statistics. She looked good in the picture. It looked as if she’d been working out a little.
“Well?” I looked at Stan. “What do you think now?”
Other books by S J Lewis…
Vacation
Female Prey
The Elusive Prey
Claudia’s Surrender
Urban Prey
Tanya
Krissy
The Dark Woods & Other Bondage Stories
The Novice Prey
For a complete catalogue of Erotic Fiction…
Pink Flamingo Publications
P.O. Box 632, Richland, MI 49083, 1-877-629-0051
E-mail: [email protected]
Website: http://www.pinkflamingo.com
