BUTTON
UP, LOUISE!
Get Off the Table Mable
The Two bits is for the Beer!
By Izzy Ess of Plus Vitesse
Instead
of buttoning her blouse, Louise Sophia Delacroix, the famous sculptor’s
daughter, left a large décolleté for her own Deity to see. Dmitri didn’t seem to see it and continued on
with his best efforts at a bust of Isobel Manabí, a gorgeous young black Kenyan
woman, who had aspirations for a modeling job with him and his large
agency. Completely unabashed, Ms. Isobel
had totally disrobed and shown him everything he needed for a sculpture that
would rival one of Delacroix’ expensive nudes that were available for very
costly fees. Louise refused to give up
on Dmitri who was handsome, rich and debonair.
She hiked her skirt up to her navel and said, “Dmitri look at this! I have some golden hair to show you.” Dmitri stopped his sculpturing and turned to
see Louise’s tuft of golden hair atop her pubic bone extending down between her
thighs, a bit. He yawned and noticed her
décolleté and yawned again, not bothering to put his hand up on his mouth. Louise was desperate and pulled her nipples
out and asked, “Are these too large, my darling? They’ve been this way since I was pregnant
with my darling son, Cavendish. Come
check them out and tell me if I should have surgery to make them smaller,
pinker and much younger looking, eh?”
Dmitri didn’t show emotions, easily.
He grunted and went on with fondling the great bust of the black Kenyan,
Izzy Fabulous Manabí. “Was that a yes,
or no?” persisted Ms. Louie Come On di Headstrong. Dmitri had turned stone deaf, Louise decided,
but she noted that his groin was growing.
Now, she smiled, convinced that she had turned on her amour, the
handsome, filthy rich, successful, St. Dmitri of the Sea of Galilee. She sidled up to him and reached for his
erection and was greeted with a slap across the face. “It’s not for you, you nincompoop! It’s for Kenyans, I adore!”
Enraged,
Louise Sophia took the bust and busted it against Dmitri’s temple and killed
him instantly. He fell, headfirst,
against the concrete floor and pools of blood surrounded him. Louise was shocked by her aggression and her
homicide of just the guy she wanted.
“Now, I’ll never have him, and he could have had me free and clear!” she
mumbled as she did her buttons up and re-adjusted her short skirt to cover up. She gathered up the pieces of the Kenyan and
she crumbled them with baseball bats she found behind the bar. Then she found the garden hose and washed the
blood away. Then she threw Dmitri out
the balcony down twenty stories to the pavement down below. The thud was thundering and could be heard
above the noise of traffic that was rushing by.
A
crowd had gathered and looked up, but there was no one there to see. Louise had scooted into the art studio and
donned her Burberry posh overcoat.
Casually she walked right down the back staircase and joined the crowd
of gawkers who had gathered. Within a
minute, there were sirens heralding the EMTs and cops that were
approaching. Louise was cool and stood
her ground prepared to tell her tale of having walked a bit to cool herself on
this hot evening, and there was not a witness contradicting any of her tale,
except for Isobel who’d seen the whole thing from the changing room where she
was waiting for Dmitri to finish his art opus and to delve into her depths. She kept her story to herself intending to
confront Louise for purposes of blackmail but she was afraid of her raw
disregard of all the Ten Commandments.
She took the secret to her grave when she discovered that Louise had
died of breast cancer within the year.
The police arrested her on some suspicions but there were no charges
laid or made. Louise died in much more
deep pain than any blackmailer could have caused her.
The
other bard of Scotland and Great Britain said, the best laid schemes, etcetera. And, he was right as rain, again!
Izzy
lived to be a famous actress on the Kenyan stage and started singing, in the
end. She sang of murder, lust and
gluttony, sloth, greed and envy, anger, pride and coveting. Her records sold quite mightily around the
world and she became a star who sang just like the others, practically naked
and with frequent costume failures.
Dmitri’s
sculptures sold like hot cakes and rivaled his old mentor, Delacroix’. An old and primitive depiction of his Isobel
was auctioned off for a cool hundred fifty grand. His estate attorney kept the bulk of it and
gave a bit to feed the starving children of Nairobi, Kenya and La Grange,
Louisiana, USA.
Some
pornographic movies of Louise Sophia, showing golden fleece between her thighs
and everywhere, had surfaced later on and had a cult-like following. Her deep-throat close-ups were outstanding
and enticing. Her golden tufts were
featured in amongst the naked bodies of the orgy scenes. The royalties were merely pennies, eh?
Cavendish
had a little whirl and fling with Isobel he’d met at his own mother’s funeral. Ms. Izzy laughed at his attempts to match the
sexy times she had enjoyed with strong and potent, powerful and rich and
well-equipped Dmitri. The fling and
whirl did not last long. Cavendish
started drinking more and more; he died in the old streets of Baltimore.
THE
END
© izzy sommers, md
Welland, Canada
September 18, 2013
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