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A Silhouette Returns

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Double Penetration

Cindy-Lou was blonde and her age hung still in the air, like the sweet scent of cocktails on the New Orleans’ night.Her eyes were crystal-blue and they’d shoot right through men like a pair of whistling bullets. No one ever took Cindy-Lou for being dumb, well, at least not without coming to regret it.Her lips were hypnotic. They were full but not the fullest. Red but not the reddest. And they were always glossy, though rarely the glossiest lips in the room. Yet, in any crowd, it was Cindy-Lou’s lips that were the most entrancing. Cindy-Lou wasn’t the kind of woman to waste too many words; not on men at least. But even though her lips were often at rest, they always seemed to be sprung with urgent possibility. Men would stare at those lips like boys fixated on flashy automobiles they could neither afford nor operate, thrilled at the prospect they might just get to see them move if they hung around for long enough.Cindy-Lou’s lips were wrapping themselves around a cigarette. She picked up her desktop-lighter and a streak of flame shot up in front of her, illuminating her face with its fierce yellow dance. Cindy-Lou drew on her cigarette, its tip burned brighter than the dim lamp on her desk. The shadows of the city night swam across her as she sat in her office listening to the hum of the bar below.That hum was a comfort to Cindy-Lou. She knew she’d be making a good dollar tonight and she hadn’t always been that lucky in life. She had been through too much to forget her many strange fortunes and how she’d struggled to endure against a whole heap of mishaps.Cindy-Lou loved these moments. She loved sitting blissfully alone in her office listening to a roomful of dollars flowing her way below, as the liquor flowed out of the bottles in the other direction. She’d always marvelled at how alcohol loosens pockets just as surely it loosens tongues. She’d have to show her face in the bar, of course. Not yet, though. And not for long. Cindy-Lou knew she was not the kind of woman who had the luxury of making herself too available. Her enticing beauty gave her the power to be a fleeting prize. She could fill a bar for a whole day just by being in a room for a few precious moments now and then, greeting some regulars by name and flashing her narcotic smile.Suddenly, Cindy-Lou’s eyes shot down through the window to a street lamp that was pooling its light on the pavement opposite her bar. A great hulk of a figure dodged away from the light and approached her building in silhouette. Her eyes gunned at that silhouette, barely believing it was there right now, after so many years, even though she always lived with the expectation of its return. Cindy-Lou knew exactly who was making for her bar and she’d have shot that man dead in the street if only her eyes were able to dispatch real bullets.Cindy-Lou heard the bar fall silent in little more than a heartbeat as the silhouette stepped inside. She knew all too keenly that, in a bar, silence can quickly get expensive. Cindy-Lou flared her nostrils in furious resignation and pulled herself real upright in her chair. She was gripped with dread, and it took nearly all of Cindy-Lou’s focus just to keep drawing on that cigarette with her customary languid, self-assurance. She’d be some fool not to be fearful when a man like the silhouette burst into her bar. But she’d be a bigger fool to let herself show it. Weakness was a drug that men of a certain kind lived by exploiting.Her office door burst open like it was hit square-on by a train. Cindy-Lou kept her cool as steadily as she held her cigarette. And the only thing moving on her cigarette was the smoke which curled gently towards the ceiling.The silhouette threw his fists onto her desk and put his snarling kocaeli escort face about three feet in front of hers. He’d likely have got closer if it wasn’t for that burning cigarette.There was a long pause. For once, Cindy-Lou spoke first.‘So, why y’bin killin’ again, Frankie?’ She knew to ask a why question rather than enquiring as to who. She equally well knew she’d not get an answer. Cindy-Lou was sure to make no effort to look Frankie in the eye.Frankie banged his enormous fists on her desk which, heavy as it was, quivered like a newborn puppy in response. Cindy-Lou could feel she had to be mighty careful. Frankie was bursting with an all-too real, murderous rage, and it was worse than ever.‘It’s been years, Frankie, ’bout seven years if I’m recallin’ it straight. I told y’last time it’be cheaper to go see the priest. And that’s sayin’ somethin’!’Frankie growled at Cindy-Lou through his bared teeth. ‘Don’t need no priest!’ He banged a fist on her desk once more. ‘Ha’ much?’ Cindy-Lou gave no answer. She’d never given him a price. She didn’t want his money. She took it as a form of control. The price needed to be an amount that hurt Frankie, at least a little. Cindy-Lou was in no position to state that price and he knew it.Frankie threw a thick roll of dollars onto Cindy-Lou’s desk and turned away, shifting the focus of his rage towards the window and out into the city. Frankie stared into the night like the kind of money he’d just pitched at Cindy-Lou meant nothing at all to him.Cindy-Lou thumbed through the corner of each dollar bill without removing them from the roll. It felt like enough money, just. She picked up a velvet ribbon from her desk and opened a drawer with one of the keys that were strung onto its length. Cindy-Lou threw the roll of dollars inside with a thud, sliding the drawer shut and locking it just as swiftly as she’d opened it up.Frankie spun his head around in Cindy-Lou’s direction, glancing to where he’d heard the drawer slam shut. It seemed he’d been expecting change after all. Cindy-Lou felt it was time for them to move. Ignoring Frankie’s hooded glare as though his face somehow wasn’t even in the room, Cindy-Lou stood up and collected her office door. It had lain rudely open to its widest point after Frankie’s intrusion. She gestured at Frankie to step though. After a pause you could’ve cut straight through like you were slicing a po’ boy, Frankie took a deep breath and moved out into the gloom of the corridor. Cindy-Lou picked up her deck of Luckies and some matches. She was sure going to need another cigarette soon.Cindy-Lou couldn’t rightly recall ascending the uppermost flight of stairs to the attic-room since Frankie was last here. She was dreading the state the room might be in. Using another key from her velvet ribbon, she unlocked the door and stepped inside.Cindy-Lou pulled on a chord hanging from the ceiling, making a lightbulb flicker at her bidding.The bulb blinked on and off, as though reluctant to be shocked from its slumber after all this time. Cindy-Lou winced. Frankie was not a man given to waiting for anyone or anything. She doubted he’d wait to let his own breath catch up. Maybe the moonlight streaming through the small roof-window would be enough for them to see by? The lightbulb fizzed and popped its last, its strobing light gave way to the cloak of darkness once again. Cindy-Lou blinked to let her eyes adjust. ‘It’s headin’ towards a full moon.’ She noted, confidently. ‘We don’t be needin’ no lightbulb.’The room was not nearly so dusty as Cindy-Lou had feared. There was a wide square column in its centre, made of wood with old steel bracings. The shackles were still there, their chains welded firmly back darıca escort onto the steel bracings of the column. Cindy-Lou looked fondly across to the old chaise longue. Now, that was the first piece of furniture she’d ever bought. It was second-hand, even way back then, but it sure was beautiful. There was a large silk cushion resting part-way along the back. A small table sat next to the chaise longue; it held a phone and an ashtray. Cindy-Lou lit up another cigarette and turned to face Frankie. Frankie wasn’t looking at the shackles, nor the chaise longue, nor the table. Yet he was certainly a man fixated, and for once this was a man not fixated on Cindy-Lou’s lips. Frankie was staring intently at a thick bullwhip that was hanging on the back wall. There were a couple of canes hanging up there too. But Frankie looked square at that bullwhip and Cindy-Lou looked square at Frankie. It occurred to Cindy-Lou that she was one of the few people who ever got to see fear on Frankie’s face. And even now, you had to know just how to spot it.‘Take off y’coat and y’shirt.’ Cindy-Lou kept her commands firm but calm, as though she was simply reminding Frankie of the inevitable. Frankie’s peacoat fell to the floor with a thud. Cindy-Lou didn’t care to ponder what was inside the pockets. Frankie tore off his tie, then grabbed at his shirt and removed it in a couple of raging swipes. He was so mad today, even by Frankie’s standards, that Cindy-Lou got to thinking she should have him in those shackles double-quick.The chains were heavier than she recalled. It was a relief to clip each shackle onto one of Frankie’s wrists, letting him take the strain. Not that it was any kind of strain for Frankie. He was bigger than ever. A little fuller and saggier in his advancing years, but those muscles were still there, lurking just beneath the surface to strike down any opponent who was dumb enough to underestimate Frankie. Not that he was all-too likely to be underestimated by anyone who saw him in his current state. His body was embossed with thick welts from many a previous whipping, giving his flesh a scaly reptilian appearance that could force an atavistic kind of panic in the uninitiated. Cindy-Lou made sure to secure the two short, thick chains that stopped Frankie’s wrists from spreading too wide. He was mad enough already but he was shortly going to get much madder. It was probable there was no one more persistently violent and murderous than Frankie in the whole of Louisiana. But truth was that over the years, Cindy-Lou had developed a grudging kind of respect for him. Well, up to a point. Nowadays, men that killed seemed to kill with no compunction, either before or after they struck. Heaven knew all too well that Frankie never so much as blinked between having the impulse to kill and acting upon it. But when he killed, every time so far as Cindy-Lou knew, Frankie made himself pay a price. It wasn’t enough of a price, of course, nothing ever could be. But he paid a price all the same.Cindy-Lou pulled off Frankie’s shoes and unbuckled his pants, gripping the bottom of the legs and yanking them clean off as he lay on the floor. She stood over him, being careful to stay at his back, then she placed a finger on either side of the waist of his underpants, swishing them to his ankles. Quickly but calmly, Cindy-Lou secured the shackles on his feet in much the same way she’d done on his wrists.Frankie was already starting to writhe on the floor, fighting against the chains. Cindy-Lou slowly slipped out of her neat little cocktail dress right in front of him, staying tantalisingly just beyond his reach. She arranged the dress carefully on the side of the chaise longue, gölcük escort being sure to give Frankie a full view of her fine silk-covered ass as she did so. Some men in the bar disapproved of her adopting the new fashion for cocktail dresses. Perhaps Frankie did too? She couldn’t care less. Cindy-Lou knew she had the same effect on men pretty much whatever the hell she wore.Cindy-Lou took the bullwhip from the wall and breathed in its scent.Memories of the first time came flooding back to her. Back then, she was working for Jago, who had that very-same bullwhip hanging as a decoration in his little bar, which was out by the lake. It was Jago’s habit to take off as soon as he’d cleared the bar of drinkers and locked the door, leaving Cindy-Lou to work on a little later to finish the clean-up and secure the place fully before she left.Cindy-Lou first set eyes on Frankie through the glass door of Jago’s Bar as she was finishing the clean up one night. Frankie hammered so hard on the glass that she had no idea, to this day, how it didn’t shatter into a thousand shards. Thinking she knew fully how to handle violent men, Cindy-Lou opened the door and told Frankie firmly that the bar was closed; not that it wasn’t perfectly obvious already. She could have been a fly curtain for all Frankie cared as he pushed clean past her, knocking her to the floor. Before she could get to her feet, he pulled a stool up to the bar and barked out a single-word command: ‘Rye!’Now, Cindy-Lou never had been a pushover. But she’d never been stupid either. She’d seen all kinds of men in all kinds of rages but she’d seen nothing as intense and directional as the rage that gripped Frankie that day. She knew better than to keep a man in such a rage waiting and she went straight over to pour his whiskey. Frankie was sweating, staring at the bullwhip like it had hypnotised him. Then Frankie started barking and ranting in a fashion Cindy-Lou would expect more from a dog than a man. She tried to ignore it as best she could. She re-polished glasses that she’d already buffed to a shine, and generally busied herself behind the bar far enough away from Frankie that she felt she might have at least a chance of escape if need be. But she stayed close enough to keep him clear at the edge of her view, all the same.Slowly, even though she wasn’t directing any effort towards the task, Cindy-Lou found she was starting to make sense of Frankie’s ranting. He was telling and retelling the detailed tale of a horrific murder, a murder that she came to understand had happened that very night. It quickly became obvious Frankie was the murderer. He betrayed not even an iota of guilt. Cindy-Lou was gripped by a cold chill. She wanted to be sick right there and then but fear prevented her from drawing any kind of unnecessary attention from Frankie onto her. On that night, Cindy-Lou felt sure the inside of that little bar would be the very last thing she ever saw. Cindy-Lou was just glad of every moment that Frankie kept his eyes on the bullwhip. It occurred to her that so long as he was looking at the whip, he wouldn’t be killing her. But right as she had that very thought, Frankie turned to stare straight into Cindy-Lou’s eyes.‘Y’gonna take that whip to me, or am I gonna whip you? Which it’s gonna be?’ Frankie spat the words through his gritted teeth but Cindy-Lou understood them well enough. So, that’s how it started. Frankie took his first bullwhipping tied up with ropes in Jago’s back storeroom. Cindy-Lou was smart enough to insist on the ropes. There was no knowing what such a big man in such a mad rage would do under any circumstances, much less so when he was being whipped.Cindy-Lou knew there was no point going to the police about him. Men like Frankie had an intimate understanding of what threatened them. When they saw a threat, they scared it off, bought it off, or killed it off, usually in that order of preference. Frankie would have had the authorities in his pocket long since.

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