0 comments/ 7759 views/ 0 favorites Profile By: ulboquet My heart grows heavy and tired. As I kneel down against the moist, unforgiving pavement, I long for my own death, my own eternal solitude. I calmly remove the knife from her once vibrant chest and notice the blood flowing from the gaping sore towards the ground. It makes a perfect homogeneous mixture together with the acidic rain water that discolors these back alleyways a nauseating green. Yes, she bled very much. We all bleed, I suppose. I tuck the knife neatly into my black overcoat and turn away from the absence of life, away towards the stream of souls. Oh, but how she was gorgeous. What a stunning vision of red, white, and gold all merging together in my eyes to form a dazzling new color altogether. I desired her greatly then, but I am tired now. I desire nothing but the end. If the rain grew as cold as my black heart, I would have cause to shudder as I solemnly march away from these gutters and into the theatre district. Here there is life, thousands of souls walking about, some holding hands with their mates, but more often than that, restless hearts that beat miserably alone. They are all the same though. There, that woman with the grey sweatshirt! Notice her smile, her attention falsely given to her husband. Yes, they all smile with a certain stupidity, a blankness in their minds that reflects upon their idiotic visage. I pity them as I pity the one who had to die, for they will never know their purpose. I have realized my purpose. I am an angel of death. I never fear nor desire nor hunger for anything of this world. I desired once before, and the cause of my temporary ignorance was blotted out from this cursed earth forever. Now I walk freely among those who desire, those who search in vain because they have not and will never find the cause of their soul's anguish: the lack of a purpose for existence. Oh, most assuredly many of them are students, eminent scholars, and businessmen, but they drown in their own misery because they conclude that vocation is purpose. In purpose only is there truth, therefore they live a lie and are ignorant. You think me a bitter man, but I simply teach the truth and lessons are learned. I give all of my chosen a purpose: to die. In that may they find comfort, in that may they find refuge for no longer are they ignorant. Yes, I will send them to their god. Oh yes, there it is, the most excellent Cafe De L'Amour. Inside are dozens of souls seeking a destiny. I quickly run my fingers through my hair and enter. My soft footsteps make no sound amidst conversation and light jazz. Ah, there she is: a slender. red-haired woman of absolute Graeco-Roman perfection. Pity, she sits alone, impatiently pouring over a novel: A Man's Search For Meaning! Yes, she is the one. As she lifts her eyes and glances casually across the masses, her radar gives me a look, first up and then down. She grins and then blushes within a few seconds apart, and I make my way toward her solitary station. Among many we are yet alone. Of course we converse, but it is of little importance. Names do not matter, life is empty. We decide to stroll along the rainy pavement, and she, with umbrella in hand, constantly glares at me in affection. We have removed ourselves from such a useless scene, no, out here is much better. The harsh reality of a dark sky overhead and the freezing rain is the only thing that assures me that I yet live. I find another dark alley and proceed forward. As is expected she succumbs to my physical form and begins to kiss me, undress right there, and fondle my body. Her laughter of ecstasy is quickly shattered as I plunge the knife into her chest. She looks up at me as she hits the pavement, confused and too weak to cry out. A blood stain crosses her lips and I remove it with my tongue. How wicked is the feeling that permeates my being, I now lust for the blood of another, no, it is desire for her body. It is of little consequence though, some bum will ravish her corpse. I calmly walk away and am almost in view of the Cafe when I hear terrifying screams surrounding me. I am further startled by a deep burning sensation in my spine. Looking back, I see a masked gunman, perhaps a gang member that has wandered into the district to seek refuge. I've been shot. There is no time to assess the damage as I make a resounding thud against the brutal pavement. I have never experienced this much feeling for anything in my entire pathetic existence, and I must admit it is a welcome experience. My heart grows even more weary, and as my breathing becomes faint and sporadic I notice one last thing: with my eyes half closed I see a puddle of thick blood that has spread out on all sides. I do bleed after all. We all bleed. Profit Margin I keep a small office on the South side. I invest in businesses and watch those I help closely, one Hardware wholesaler in particular. He had run out of traditional finance when he came to me. I helped, then, putting things in place I watched. Sure enough he was playing the same game with me as he had with the banks. Shutting him down was an option but I decided on a different path. Re-organizing my business with him to minimize the possible loses I went looking for my margin of profit. The only valuable asset he had that wasn't mortgaged was his young wife. I decided to take out a mortgage on her. Using digital photography, computer enhancements and luck a week later I had the photos I wanted. I phoned asking for my client knowing he had caught a flight East that morning. Realizing who I was his wife, Mel, tried to be helpful. I explained that there are some business matters, which needed to be dealt with, if her husband can't then she can. Reluctantly she agrees to meet me at my office in one hour. She arrives dressed elegantly and smiling nervously. I offer her a seat and hand her several ledgers, contracts and bank statements. I don't beat around the bush, this isn't courtship its business. "Your husband has been stealing from me. You are holding the proof in your hands. Including photos of the people he has been using for his dirty tricks." These are legitimate. "I don't want my husband to go to jail, what I can do about this!" She indicates the paperwork. "Jail is a possibility, but if I do go that route I will lose substantial amounts of money. I have limited what I can lose and now I want to recover and reap the profit I feel I'm due. That's where you come in, first you can help me keep your husband in line and second you can come to work for me." This isn't poker; in poker you put all your cards on the table. "Work for you! Doing what? I don't have any skills;" to her the suggestion was laughable. "Come with me, I will explain." Rising I guide Mel through the door to a small gallery. "This is a show of my personal work. I'm looking forward to the opening. You and your husband must be here. I will explain the importance of his attendance to him personally." The first photos are innocent enough. Mel around town, the hairdresser and jewelry store; these are the only untouched photos in the show. "What is this"? She recognizes herself in the first set and as we continue realizes she is featured in all the shots in progressively more compromising poses. Her husband's guaranteed visit and his certain response is easy to calculate. "I recognize that shop but I didn't try on that dress or buy it or wear it to a hotel and who is that man apparently meeting me?" Her shock increases when I answer. "It doesn't matter, your husband will understand and take the only option he possibly could." "You can't show him these! They would destroy him and my marriage!" "These are just fun. I enjoy watching people. Now we can discuss how you can work for me." "You think I would work for you after seeing these?" "You will work for me because of these and your husband's need to steal. I intend to steal his wife from him without him knowing she's gone." Mel stands frozen, she has no way out. She belongs to me now and she still doesn't understand what that means. "Come with me we need to do some new shots." Her refusal is hollow and shortly we are in the studio. I turn on the lights and pose her in her street clothes. "Turn so your hair swings, good now turn away, look over your shoulder. Tease the camera; bend a knee to give your calf even more shape. That's beautiful, exactly what I want." The praise has its affect; I get my first tentative smile. I keep on shooting. "Open your jacket, walk towards the back wall, and turn quickly with long strides arms swinging walk towards the camera. Beautiful I love the way you walk. Your outfit is perfect. Slip the jacket off your shoulders and hold it in front, good now put the jacket back on and undo the top button of your blouse, that's better maybe better undo the next one too." Mel hesitates at this but looking down realizes she won't be exposing all that much and slowly complies. "Thank you, now turn and do the walk again, emphasize your motions and when you turn slip the jacket from your shoulders and let it slide down your arms as you walk toward me. Ah beautiful, the camera loves you, put the jacket on the chair, you'll want it again shortly." She is relieved that her jacket will be needed. "Is your blouse a shirt waist?" She shakes her head. "Good, pull it out of your skirt so we can see the hem. That's what we want; now undo the bottom buttons leave the center two done up. I want to see your navel. Is it an inney or outey?" She giggles and her hands open the blouse. "An inney, that was my wish, put your hands on your hips under your blouse so it opens to show your tummy. God that's a sweet tummy, a diamond stud in that inney could wink at a fellow if you let him see." She blushes at the comment but holds her pose. I'm aware that 10 digital cameras around the room are each recording every 5 seconds. I won't miss anything. "Lift your blouse so the lower button is centered between your breasts, that's right now open the top button so you can slip the blouse over your shoulders like you did the jacket." I continue shooting film through all of this. "Turn away, look over your shoulder, slip the blouse off your shoulders and slowly turn towards me, tease the camera. Great, you move so smoothly, it's a pleasure to photograph you. Can your bra be a made strapless?" At her nod I continue. "Put your shirt back on, now release your bra straps and push them over your shoulders. Good, now slip your blouse off your shoulders again and we'll get you with bare shoulders." I step up behind her and she tenses. I carefully take each bra strap and unhook it at the back. "Just to get rid of the lose ends. Great turn your back, take off your blouse and put the jacket back on. Don't button it, just hold it closed." I get several more shots as she changes her top and a couple as she turns towards me in her jacket. "Time for a break." I hold out my hand to guide her but Mel holds back. I point toward the coffee counter and follow. Mel is quiet, answering my questions but offering nothing in return. I have made my intentions clear but she hasn't responded yet. I pour wine, too late for coffee and anything stronger would be aggressive. Mel's coat is still unbuttoned she holds it with her left hand taking the glass with her right she sips in response to my toast. She blushes at my compliments she is obviously shy. I must move slowly to avoid scaring her off. We talk of nothing, where she shops her favorite restaurant and what kind of car she likes best. When I sense her relaxing I suggest we continue with the shoot. Mel willingly steps in front of the camera and smiles her readiness and I respond. "Walk toward the camera show some cleavage, good, now turn slip your jacket off your shoulders and walk away teasing all the way. Look over your shoulder smile. Let the jacket fall off your shoulders turn your head. Let your hair fly. Fantastic! Turn towards me, don't lose eye contact bend forward and rush the camera, smile and tease. I love it!" Let the jacket fall low enough to show your bra at the back. Sexy, hold that a moment!" With a quick motion I release her bra and slide it out underneath her arm. "Hey, that wasn't a lose end!" She shivers a bit but stands still. I ignore her reprimand and continue. "Close one button on your jacket turn toward the camera and raise the hem of your skirt, show me more of your beautiful legs." Hesitantly she obeys. "A little more please those legs are so shapely the camera loves them, higher show me your thighs." She knows she can't go any higher without exposing her panties. I need a solution that will keep her going. "Grasp your skirt let it fall between your legs as you raise it around your hips, that's it modest but daring. Can you hold the skirt like that with one hand? Good, turn away; put your other hand on your rump. Pat it a little lets see how firm it is. Now slide your hand up and down your cheek, I want to imagine it's my hand. Lower; slide it lower now, that's good all the way unto your thigh. Now bring your hand back up your thigh and raise your hem at the same time. Higher, good oh your legs are good." She finds it easier to bare her backside. "Higher, I want to see those ass cheeks in all their glory." Her hand is slow but never stops as I watch white nylon panties stretched tight across beautiful full ass cheeks. "Marvelous, now stand up, let go of your skirt, don't pull it down just walk toward me, undo your jacket and hold it to show me some cleavage. Great!" "Time for a break, my voice is getting raspy. Wine anyone." Mel accepts with a smile still holding her jacket with one hand. I've never done this before. I enjoy it." Her skirt has settled a bit but she hasn't reached to pull it down into place. I can't help but smile. "We'll have some more fun in a few minutes." "You haven't taken enough photos yet." She is surprised but doesn't seem to mind the idea of continuing. I retrieve a package bought with Mel in mind. "Change into these behind that screen. You can put your skirt back in place then as well." Mel looks skeptical but takes the bag and her wine behind the screen. I watch her walk across the room, her skirt still bunched at her hips and the swing of those hips seems more than an hour ago. A moment later I hear. "You want me to wear these?" "That's the idea. Under your skirt they will help you feel sexy and tease the camera. Haven't you ever considered wearing those kinds of clothes?" If I'm right the challenge will be enough for her to go the rest of the way. "Oh, I've looked at them but could never imagine where I would wear something like this. Will this thong make me feel sexy? " I can hear Mel removing clothing. "I bet your cheeks are sweet framed in the lace of that thong. I bought it personally just for you." If I don't wipe this grin off my face she'll never come out. I'm tempted to see what the two cameras focused behind the screen have captured. "Okay, I'm ready I think." Mel steps clear of the screen, the stockings don't look much different than her others, the notable difference is that Mel hasn't buttoned her jacket. Walking with care so as not to swing the jacket open it hangs just covering her. "What are we going to do now?" "We'll just play with what we have and see what happens. Turn your back to me show the camera that your seams are straight." That gets a giggle as she relaxes and plays along. "Bend over to adjust your left stocking below the knee, good but lower, that's perfect. I can just see your stocking tops. Straighten up slowly; shift your weight to the other foot. Thank you, that was beautiful." I get smiles for compliments. "Turn around. Do you ever run your hands through your hair?" I only get a smile in response. Lifting her arms she can feel the jacket part and her breasts rise to my admiring gaze. Her nipples are firm and tall as she searches my face for approval; she risks her exposure to the greedy eye of the camera. "Wonderful, your skin is so smooth and your breasts so high and firm, the perfect size." Her face radiates with the praise as she holds the pose for a moment coming to terms with her exposure. "Cup your breasts with your hands and present them to the camera. They are beautiful I love them." Her hesitation is slight, as she becomes an active participant in her display. Her hands hold the firm flesh of her breasts as she leans forward showing the camera her charms. "Naughty, stand straight and move your hands to your hips holding your jacket back. Perfect, stand proud, you're beautiful." I keep forgetting the purpose of this shoot. "Turn away from the camera and let your jacket fall from your shoulders as you walk away. Good now turn and walk back, walk proud. I love the way you move." Her confidence is coming back and she moves the way she would if she were clothed. I straighten from the camera and stretch. Retrieving our glasses I stand beside Kim and we sip wine and relax for a moment. "I've never been this relaxed with my husband, why am I trusting you with this?" Her question is more introspection than a question and I let it pass. I gently lift and hold her breast before reaching for her wineglass and signaling more camera work. Her eyes follow my hand but she doesn't retreat. Stepping behind the camera I take a second to admire Kim. "I am going to stop giving you instructions now. You know what I want; I want you to arrange the rest of the shoot. The blush on her cheeks is evident as she considers the direction I have been leading and the clothing she is wearing. With a tentative nod of agreement she turns to the backdrop and begins the afternoon with a request. "Do you have any music?" "Music I have. What is your preference?" I throw this over my shoulder as I turn to the stereo. "Something lively, Jazz maybe." She has pulled her jacket back into place and would almost be presentable on the street. Her smile gives her away. The music starts with an upbeat piano rift. Kim's feet find the rhythm and my film burns with the images she presents. Her dance is as provocative as the best strippers with something extra because she isn't a stripper. Her freedom and abandonment is complete. Kim is having the time of her life because she has nothing to lose. It's all gone and she has only herself left. That is what I'm catching on film, Kim without any restraints. Flashes of breast and long thigh encased in seamed stocking. The piece ends and a sultry saxs note sounds. Kim's pace slows and her jacket slips from her shoulders briefly. Then with a smile for the camera the jacket is lifted as she turns her back. A few steps into the piece she slowly she lowers the zip on her skirt. With a flutter of cloth I get shots straight out of the thirties; Black bottom without the bottom. Kim spins and I can see in her eyes she knows the clothing is only a tease nothing is hidden. As the saxs reaches a crescendo her arms spread and the jacket flies away from her. In one turn she stops facing the camera with only a thong between her and nudity. Straightening she holds a pose that says her dance is done. I snap the last frame and straighten from my camera. "You are fantastic. I've never photographed anyone as vibrant or beautiful as you." This is not butter; I've never done this before. "Is that all?" Standing proud she hides nothing and I can sense that something is required of me. "You have photos of me that will ruin my marriage. You didn't say that you would ruin me you said you would steal me? Here I am coercing this woman into a revealing photo shoot and she's putting me on the spot. My mind slowly catches up with her hormones and I realize that I need to think. Stepping away from the camera I take Kim's hand and lead her toward the wine glasses. "I think we need to move carefully from here on." "Do you think care is necessary at this point; you've seen more of me than my husband has in the last three years. I've seen his expense sheets and know that he hires what he needs wherever he is. I have no wish to favour his advances, I can't be sure of what he will bring home with him. If you are going to steal me do a proper job of it." "I can use these photos to ruin what your husband thinks he has; but I will not enjoy the favours of a woman who is attached. Maybe it sounds old fashioned but if we are to go any further you have to be free." Her stance is proud as she issues her ultimatum and I can see the mental step back as I refuse. I live my life relying on integrity and it would destroy everything I am to break one of my founding rules. "My husband won't be home until the day after tomorrow. It is two o'clock; I can be back by six." Looking at this luscious lady standing proudly naked in front of me I know I could never use the photos I have taken against her. "If you mean you're splitting with your husband and staying with me permanently then yes; but understand, only under my terms!" "What are your terms?" I can see some trepidation in her stance. "My terms. Be here at six and we will begin." Turning I reach for the stereo power button. The silence is complete as I open the door to my studio for Kim. Realizing she isn't dressed for the outdoors brings on a flurry of activity. Her skirt is quickly replaced and then her jacket. I notice the lack of a blouse and realize she is dressed much as I would dress her. We pass through the gallery and my office to the front door with my hand on her shoulder I open the door to the street and leave a kiss on her cheek for goodbye. "See you at six!" I watch as Kim makes her way to her car and suddenly I realize I have started something much larger than I had thought. If she actually returns at six I will have entered into a relationship, something new for me. Paper work and phone calls seem an unnecessary disturbance as I wait for the clock to advance on the magical six. The closer the hour hand comes to the number on the dial the more slowly it moves. I become increasingly short with my staff and curt with my clients. Finally, realizing that it will be best if I stop for the day, I instructing my staff to redirect my calls and only allow the one visitor I am waiting for. I settle in for the duration. One of my staff has noted my comment to Kim at the door and sensed the change in me. Long before the eternity of time had run out I heard a voice from the front. "Your guest has just parked out front. Shall I send her in?" "Yes, please and what are you doing here at this hour. You're supposed to be finished at five." "Just finishing up boss. I'll go as soon as your guest has properly arrived." I didn't know what 'properly arrived' meant but I appreciated the consideration.