This was pure Greek Mythology. However, the rusty chain behind my back, running from my shackled wrists, over my bottom and down to the huge stone was...very real. I looked at him, his eyes roaming over my naked flesh. I was his model to be turned into bronze. He lit another foul smelling cheroot and came over to me, he was ancient like his studio, neglected and dusty, yet his hand created beauty. I felt his cold calloused fingers touch my skin as he lifted my left breast, my nipple eager for. She didn’t even know if that was his real name, or just his screen name, according to him it’s originally an Irish girls name, but his parents didn’t know that, so they named there baby boy Niamf. Anyway he could be here right now. He could be hiding behind that tree, or he could be waiting for her behind those bushes, or maybe he had been following her all along. She ran down the dune and picked up some speed. She always loved this feeling, this mix between running and falling, as if she. More

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