Alone in her private mountain retreat, Jamie basks in the warmth of the fireplace as she looks out over the snow-covered mountainsides.
Once the weekend home of a mid-twentieth-century surgeon, the retreat fell into disrepair after his death in the late seventies. Discovering the location quite by accident almost a decade earlier, Jamie fell in love with the site and spent several million dollars renovating and improving the dramatic mountaintop stone mansion.
Tonight, Jamie throws another log on the fire and refills her wine glass as she watches the evening snow finally tapering off as the skies clear, revealing the bright star-filled night sky. She knows that a second storm front will arrive shortly, dumping another foot of snow across the mountains before morning.
Taking another sip of her wine, Jamie fantasizes. The thought of some ruthless psychopath staring at her from out in the snow, sending pangs of erotic exhibitionist delight coursing through her mind. Perhaps heís intent on rape, but that would be so disappointing. Why settle for mere rape when thereís a world of far more torturous delights available for his diabolic pleasure, especially when she would gladly die screaming in agony for his amusement.
Itís sad, a beautiful woman alone in an isolated mountain retreat, without a single opportunistic sadistic serial killer insight. So, on a night like tonight, I guess a sexy pinup is still just a sexy pinup. So disappointing and so profoundly sad...