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"Yes, his name. Don't you get it?" Alfred had the sort of mind that did cross word puzzles.
"W.E.T Quinn."
"Yes...? "
"You still don't get it? Look at the two "n's" in "Quinn" together they can be read as an "m" So you have "Wet Quim"". Alfred chuckled to himself.
All Madeline could think to say was "Alfred, that is awful." Secretly Madeline smiled and wondered to herself if names predisposes us to particular careers. The next day one of the National Papers got hold of the story and did a full spread. Madeline became worried that her adventure and involvement with Bill and his partners, Tom and Tim would become public. By the next morning Madeline was tempted to phone Bill but knew it would be foolish.
She remembered the boots she had recovered and had left in the attic for Halloween. All these reminders kept Madeline in a state of arousal and she had to masturbate immediately after Alfred left for work.
Then as quickly as the potential crisis arose it died. The coroner found the woman had died of a massive embolism in her brain.
A month later Madeline received a call from Bill at home on a sunny November morning.
"Madeline. I'm sorry I haven't called before. I wasn't sure if my lines were bugged. Just to let you know that any photos that were taken did not show faces. The police were not about to get every woman in town to strip naked to compare moles and small vanity tattoos. Also the police chief's wife would not have been too happy." Bill spoke fast, with no time for reply.
"We are planning another Friday evening for the third Friday in January. Get rid of the winter blues. Let me know if you can make it. I'll send something over for you to wear." before Madeline could answer or ask any questions Bill had hung up.
Later that evening Madeline slipped her subtle enquiry into the conversation.
"You remarked how good those blue shoes looked."
"They're Ok. Why?"
"I was thinking of going back and getting a similar pair."
"Why not? Were they expensive?"
'No. Not really."
"Go for it." Alfred shook his head in puzzlement as to why Madeline would ask him, and resumed doing his crossword.
A month later the phone rang with a voice she did not recognize.
"Where had you been on the Wednesday night when your husband was away in the summer, arriving home at six in the morning?"
The caller did not wait for an answer.
- COMMENTS
BeauReadyalmost 3 years agoMadeline, and most likely the majority of the photographed, partaking women, are like innocent, easily beguiled children delighting in the wonder of tiny flames ignited by matches. Only to find that those who have entrapped them have them now playing with fire. From light bondage leading to enticed betrayal of marriage vows, the women are quickly thrust deeper and deeper into the pit of debauchery where the once bedazzling matchstick flames have roared out of control into raging fires! Bonfires of increasing fetishism in bondage and exposure to ever-increasing numbers of men exercising domination, discipline and debasement with perverse sexual rituals of torture.
And now, even worse, it has become apparent a new fire has exploded out of control. Someone has been spying, watching, recording the comings and goings of all those vulnerable women, and appears readily prepared to extort and blackmail all of the participating women. (The stranger's phone call).
Burn baby, burn!!
