Swimsuit Read Free Page B

saying, “I’m very good at this, don’t worry.”
    He finished his work, then reached his arms around and under her, lifted her towel-wrapped body, and carried her into the
     other room.
    Kim’s head lolled back as he placed her on the bed. She was aware that he was dressing her, but she didn’t assist him at all
     as he pulled a bikini bottom up her thighs. Then he tied the strap of the swimsuit top behind her back.
    The suit looked to Kim a lot like the Perry Ellis she’d been wearing toward the end of the shoot. Red with a silver sheen.
     She must have mumbled, “Perry Ellis,” because James Blond said, “It’s even better. I picked this out myself when I was in
     Saint-Tropez. I got it just for you.”
    “You don’t know me,” she said, the words pouring sideways out of her mouth.
    “Everyone knows you, honey. Kimberly McDaniels. What a beautiful name, too.” He moved her hair to one side and knotted a second
     swimsuit tie behind her neck, tied a bow, apologized if he’d pulled at her hair.
    Kim wanted to make a remark, but she forgot what she was going to say. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t scream. She could barely
     keep her eyes open. She looked into the pale gray eyes that caressed her.
    He said, “Stunning. You look so beautiful for your close-up.”
    She tried to say, “Screw you,” but the words blended together and came out as a long, tired sigh. “Scoooooooo.”

Chapter 7
    INSIDE A PRIVATE LIBRARY on the other side of the world, a man named Horst sat back in his leather-upholstered armchair and
     watched the large HD screen beside the fireplace.
    “I like the blue hands,” he said to his friend Jan, who was swirling his drink in a chunky glass. Horst turned up the volume
     with the remote.
    “It’s a nice touch,” Jan agreed. “With the swimsuit, and the skin, she is as American as apple pie. Are you quite sure you
saved
the video?”
    “Of course I did. Look now,” said Horst. “Watch now how he quiets his animal.”
    Kim was lying on her stomach. She was perfectly hog-tied, her hands behind her back and tethered to her legs, which were bent
     up at the knees. Along with the red swimsuit, she was wearing shiny black patent leather shoes with five-inch heels and slick
     red soles. They were top designer shoes, Christian Louboutin, the very best, and Horst thought they looked more like toys
     than shoes.
    Kim was pleading with the man his audience knew as “Henri.” She was sobbing softly. “Please, please untie me. I’ll play my
     role. It will be even better for you, and I’ll never tell
anyone.
”
    Horst laughed, said, “That is the truth. She will never tell anyone.”
    Jan put down his glass, then said with edgy impatience, “Horst, please roll back the video.”
    On screen, Kim said again between sobs, “I’ll never tell
anyone.
”
    “That’s good, Kim. Our secret, eh?”
    Henri’s face was transformed by the plastic mask and his digitally altered voice, but his performance was strong and his audience
     was avid. Both men leaned forward in their chairs, watched as Henri stroked Kim, rubbed her back, and murmured to her until
     she stopped whimpering.
    And then, as she seemed to go to sleep, he straddled her body, wrapping his hand in the young woman’s long, damp, yellow hair.
    He lifted her head from the flat of the bed, pulling hard enough that Kim’s back arched, and the force of the pull made her
     cry out. Possibly she saw that he’d picked up a serrated knife with his right hand.
    “Kim,” he said. “You’ll wake up soon. And if you ever remember this, it will seem like a bad dream.”
    The beautiful young woman was surprisingly quiet as Henri made the first deep cut across the back of her neck. Then, as the
     pain caught up with her—hauled her violently out of her stupor—her eyelids flew open and a curdled scream erupted from
     her painted mouth. She wrenched her body as Henri sawed and cross-sawed through her muscles,
and then the scream