It was a dark and ominous place, wherein a pool of flickering candlelight, a beautiful woman, stands poised, suggestively leaning against the
back of an old wooden chair, a faint smile on her lovely face as she stares out into the surrounding darkness, waiting.
Waiting, but for what? Perhaps, she’s anticipating the arrival of her lover and all the kinky erotic multi-orgasmic things he plans to do to her. Or maybe, she’s expecting the appearance of a vicious serial killer, one who intends to painfully butcher her, then use her still-warm corpse to sate all his darkly perverted sexual desires. Or perhaps, there’s a monstrous creature from the dark universe already lurking just beyond the reach of the candlelight, saliva dripping from its fangs in eager ravenous anticipation of the taste of her warm succulent flesh.
Or perhaps, all she’s waiting for is the glass of her favorite wine to finish breathing, and this dark and ominous place is the old barn on the farm in Iowa that she inherited from her grandparents. So, after a glass or three of wine and a few more delightfully wicked fantasies, she’ll take the decanter, her wine glass, and head back to the farmhouse, the one that’s cost just over two million dollars in “renovations.” Where, in the farmhouse’s master suite, an old friend awaits her arrival, her favorite vibrator, one that she made sure to put fresh batteries in before heading out to the barn.
Sometimes, a chair is just a chair, and a pinup, regardless of how shameless, is still only just a pinup...