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Page 4


"Should we get dressed or what?"

"Absolutely not. Stay as you are."

Today is the day. I can see the pictures. All done, matted, framed and hanging somewhere south of Houston. Annie's ass from a hundred different perspectives, wide-angled, macroed, a sharp and blurry gift to humankind. It's worth the small fortune I pay these girls for this to happen, it's gotta be happening somewhere on the planet.

"These are your instructions. Hey -- listen!"


"Annie. Down on all fours."

"Why not. I love it down here."

"Dawn, I'm going to need you to do the rest. Take these."

"Hey, wait a minute!"

"Cool it, Annie. They're not meant for you."

"Don't even think about cutting my hair, Trash."

"Which hair are you referring to?"

"Ha ha."

"And it's miz Trash to you, foxy." This bitch is cruisin' for a bruisin' and is gonna get it sooner than she knows. "Dawn, take what's left of your sister's dress and cut it into ... let's see ... three or four long strips, whatever you can manage. Wait. I wannna get this. Annie you look at the floor. Dawn you just have some fun."

"It's tricky."

"When you've got those ... there ... I want you to bind your sister at the wrists and at the ankles. Lay the scissors down please. Nice and tight, without hurting her. And Annie, let your body do what feels natural. Okay? I'm not going to tell what that is. You should feel it."

"Knowing you I'm sure my ass is involved. You're in love with my ass, aren't you?"

"Me? I've got poets lining up to write odes to that ass, babe."

I'd write one myself if I had a drop of odey blood in me. Something about a pumpkin patch. Cabbages maybe. It's an exceptionally delightful gathering of flesh, any way you slice it -- I really am in love with it.

"How's it feel, Annie?"

"I feel like I'm about to be fucked from behind."

"Hate to disappoint you, but..."

"Click click click, right?"

"You think you can hold that position for a while?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"No. If it helps you can think of the fruit-seller."

"Hardy - har - har."

"Be right back."


Now where did I put the riding crop? Think, girl. I know I had it for the weekend at Jilly's. Think. Lee borrowed it once. Months ago. Shit. Dawnie, this is your big day. You and I are going to whack the hell out of Annie. But where the hell is that--


Hang on a sec.

"Trash! Doorbell."

A fresh delivery from Eighth Avenue perhaps? A gross of riding crops? That interview in Interview will be the death of me yet -- it's like half the city knows where Trash lives, breathes, eats, buys her shoes now.

"Oh. Hello, Mister Le."

"Good afternoon, Missus Trash. I have seen the motorcycle outside. My girls, they here?"

"Yes. Please come in."

"You are working now?"

"Doesn't matter. Come in."

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