The Image Page #2

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sparse, unkempt grass with fallen leaves.

This is the perfect place.

Don't you think so?

Depends on what you want to use it for.

For the little girl, of course.

She was looking for a bathroom.

No, I don't need to go.

Why did you lie to us?

I thought you were going to

give us a little performance.

No, I was mistaken.

Don't try to fool with us.

You know it won't get you anywhere, Anne.

Anne.

You'll do it now.

Bend down lower.

Now, then.

Is our little girl going to do pee-pee?

Be sure your legs are

spread far enough apart.

That's fine.

Now lean forward a little.

You're very nice like that, you know?

Well, are you going to piss

or not, you little b*tch?

More than a week went by without

my seeing Claire or Anne again.

On the eighth day, quite by chance,

I was driving on the Quai Malaquais

and I ran into little

Anne at the book stalls.

She was alone, and that pleased me.

She pretended not to recognize me,

which hardly surprised me, I must say.

I thought of that last image I had of

our afternoon in the Bagatelle Gardens.

The girl was now speaking to the salesman.

No, we haven't got any more.

Look, I know you have what I want.

I'm going to stand here till I get it.

I don't handle that type of book.

All right, I can find it myself.

I was struck by the positive tone she

used in dealing with the bookseller.

She wanted a rare book sold

only under the counter...

Okay.

Which she asked for with confidence,

obviously sure that this

was the place to find it.

How much?

Thank you.

Hi. Remember me?

Yes, I remember you.

Hey, wait a minute.

Look, no offense.

Actually,

I didn't mean anything in particular.

What do you want? Nothing.

Just to talk to you a little.

I don't feel like talking.

I have to bring this back right away.

To Claire?

I bring things back to whomever I please.

It's none of your business. Well, have...

Have a nice day.

This encounter left me highly dissatisfied.

I spent the following days unproductively.

The weather was good, and I spent most

of my time trying to focus my attention

on an article which would

be due the following month.

But my thoughts always

returned to Claire and Anne.

I hadn't imagined that I personally

would have any power over this girl.

But it had seemed only

natural that I should enjoy

certain privileges outside

of Claire's presence,

since they had already been

granted to me so liberally

and without my even having

asked for anything.

Then, upon further reflection, I

began to wonder if I'd been granted

so much after all the other day.

I was obliged to come to

a negative conclusion.

Then I could see how wrong I had been.

I could even make fun of my own stupidity,

for the recent conduct of little Anne

suddenly appeared quite normal and obvious

to the extent that for her to

have behaved any differently

now seemed impossible.

The situation, in short, had

not been what I thought it was.

I felt annoyed and deceived.

I decided not to think about

those two girls anymore

or about the whole absurd story.

I waited for three more

days, but on the fourth...

Hello. Hello.

How've you been feeling since the last time?

Fine. And you?

Fine. And how is the health of your friend?

Which friend are you talking about?

Anne. Who do you think I meant?

Anne. Of course. I'd completely forgot.

If it's Anne you want to see, you

should have said so right away.

I can lend her to you, my

dear, with no trouble at all.

You can make love to her,

if you're in that mood.

What day would you like me to send her over?

You're joking.

I never joke about my friends.

Thanks, but I wouldn't

know how to reciprocate.

You mentioned you had some

photographs to show me.

That's true.

You can come by tomorrow around 5:00.

Come, Princess.

Right.

How nice of you to come.

Thank you.

I have a gift for you. Thanks.

Drink? Brandy, please.

Isn't this what you came to see?

In the first photo, Anne is wearing a short

black slip with nothing

underneath but her stockings

and a simple garter belt like the one I

already admired in the Bagatelle Gardens.

The second photo was a

delicious detail of the first.

In the next photo, the

girl is in the same costume

but lying down with her

shapely rear exposed.

In the next one, the girl is profile,

entirely naked with her hands

chained behind her back,

kneeling on a black-and-white

checkerboard floor.

The next was a close-up showing the skill

with which Anne was placed in bondage.

In the next photo,

Anne is handcuffed in such a way

as to keep her arms suspended over her head.

Her ankles were chained tightly,

giving an excellent view of her rear.

The position must have been

extremely uncomfortable,

even for a short period of time.

The next picture,

extremely fascinating in its horror,

Despite the somewhat romantic exaggeration,

could only be the result of a trick.

But it was done so well that

one could easily be fooled,

especially since the

contortions of the victim

I I were so convincing.

The stomach is marked in every direction

by deep lines, very clear and distinct,

more or less accented according

to how hard the whip fell.

In the next one Anne's face is

even more contorted in agony,

presumably from the pain

being inflicted upon her.

The next photograph was

a logical conclusion,

the tortured body of the girl,

apparently lifeless, is stretched out

on the black-and-white checkerboard floor.

She is wearing nothing but the

black band across her eyes.

Claire's skill as a photographer is

apparent in her loving attention to detail.

The last photo was very

different from the others.

For one thing, the body was

completely cut off by the camera.

For another, the pubic hair seemed darker.

It was obvious to me that the model

was no longer Anne but someone else.

What gave me the final proof were the dark

polished fingernails of those two hands.

I remembered that Anne left

her fingernails natural.

This last photograph

here, is this still Anne?

Claire became nervous, which was unlike her.

She got hold of herself immediately.

Who else could it be?

By the way.

You ran into Anne the other day, didn't you?

At the book stalls. She didn't

show any lack of respect, did she?

I didn't know she owed me any respect.

She does if I so desire.

I understand that you were rude to

Jean the other day at the book stalls.

Get undressed.

You're going to be whipped.

Get up, you little whore.

Go and get me the whip.

She loves it when we put her on

her knees so we can whip her.

Doesn't she?

It gets her all excited.

She's wet already, isn't she?

You see how well she's been broken in?

It's a question of training,

just like with a dog.

I only had to fondle her often

enough in this position,

and now she can no longer keep

herself from wanting to be satisfied.

Isn't that so, you little whore?

When one is about beat her, she

gets all set for her orgasm.

You'll go moist to paradigm.

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