Part deux will reveal how our lovely redhead came to be in such a predicament.Part deux will reveal how our lovely redhead came to be in such a predicament...] "You have nice ass," he said. I was surprised to find myself blushing. I turned my face away from him in shame. I was feeling a little light-headed and more than a little scared. "I came back to check on you," he said. "It's not often that I catch a pretty thief in my bedroom. I've been wondering if I should call the police, or handle this matter myself -- in my own way." I turned my head to look at him. I wanted to see if the look in his eyes matched the steel in his voice. It did. He reached up and unhooked the chain on my collar from the hook on the door. "This isn't a good place to talk." I couldn't believe he was doing this to me -- leading me by a damn chain into his bedroom! I was getting angry now. The sheer arrogance of this man was too much to comprehend. I was dizzy with anger and fear and curiosity. Was he going to hurt me? If so, how badly? I realize now that I had only myself to blame. I knew I shouldn't have taken my editor's suggestion: Do whatever you need to do to get some good material on Mr. Arlan Jennel -- The Reclusive Artist, the most famous of all living sculptors. He didn't give interviews. He never allowed himslef to be photographed. He never ever authorized so much as a press release about himself or his work. No one knew where he came from, where he went to school, how much he earned in a year, not even his age was certain. I knew I would have to explain what I was doing in his bedroom. He had walked in on me as I was rifling through his desk like an FBI agent. He came up behind me, threw me across his huge bed and had me handcuffed before I could say, "First Amendment". He found the Minox camera in my purse and took great pleaseure in pulling out the film. He also enjoyed pulling off my clothes looking for a "wire", he said. |