Tuesday, October 27, 2009

An Obsessive Compulsive collector

Collector’s passions

The Collector: I have known Adolph (not his real name) for about a year, but had seen him as a spectator at my KP-Boot fights for at least a year before that. We made eye contact several times – especially when I held up one of my vanquished opponents boots - but he never approached me and I wasn’t interested in dating fight fans so it was left at that. It was only after he learned I was working for the Families in town on special assignments that required cleanup that he had his personal assistant contact me. I met him for lunch at one of Vegas’s best steak houses. He had a business proposition he wanted me to consider and it was this: for female victims who the Family had no interest in he wanted the right of first refusal of their bodies, clothing and personal effects. I told him that I had harvesting rights to all clothing and other possessions, but after I took what I wanted I would let him have first refusal of what was left, and usually there is a great deal remaining to get rid of, as long as we could agree on details so I could be assured there would be no bodies he had gotten from me ever found.

Collecting with OCD: He agreed to my terms since we both recognize I am in a unique position to provide the sorts of things he collects that are extremely difficult to get - especially relatively fresh bodies of attractive young women - so he didn’t quibble about price, the security arrangements or waste disposal needed for this sort of transaction. It’s not that I need the money; I have far more than I can ever spend if I lived like an Empress. It’s just that I hate to let something of value pass through my hands w/o making a profit. He’s happy, I’m happy and the mess is tidied up so it’s a win-win. It really is amazing the number of young blonds trying to enter the trade who end up being available on the after-market as parts. Adolph is concentrating on expanding his ballet boot collection though he started by collecting ballerina’s autographed pointe-shoes and has some pairs going back to the late 1800s. He is particularly interested in leather pointes and special orders, anything out of the ordinary on which he can exercise his Obsessive-Compulsive energies. I’ve never been around a collector with OCD before so I have to be careful not to touch anything w/o permission.

Collectors choice: After I supplied him with a particularly fine body, a lovely 18 y/o my size in butterscotch Polymorphe latex and a pair of Gepetto’s Pleasure boots who had been dead for less than five hours and who was nearly unmarked – her customer killed her by compressing her carotid arteries until her brain died from lack of oxygen - Adolph offered to show me his collection. He said I was the only person he had allowed into the vault where he keeps his most important items, the oldest and rarest in the collection. Rarity is relative so new styles and technology appear but as they are superseded their place in the contemporary portion of his collection changes. I was particularly interested to see what he had done with some of the bodies I had supplied. Several were submerged still in their latex encasement suits in large glass tubes of formalin, an aqueous solution of formaldehyde, while others had survived only as a leg in a ballet boot to show a particularly fine arch or the beautiful stitching of a the toe box on a pair of Gepettos Pleasure boots. Along side each example was the (often bloody) padding from the woman’s toes from her other foot so he could marvel at the pain she must have endured while practicing her trade while en pointe.

Being complimented: I had worn a pair of Gepetto’s Pleasure boots for the tour of his collection and he commented on how beautiful my legs and boots are which I tried to take in a positive manner and not get too creeped-out by the very real possibility that he is envious of my skill in ballet boots and hungers for my boots possibly still filled with my feet and legs in formalin filled jars as exhibits in his collection. After the tour - it was the day after I had supplied him with the fresh butterscotch Polymorphe blond I mentioned above - we had dinner in his dining room that has a huge window with an amazing view to the east overlooking the city as dusk fell and the lights of the strip blazed below us.

Dinner conversation: Over a delicious meal of a thinly sliced and very tender meat I hadn’t tasted before he asked me about my fetishes and I told him about my fascination with wearing latex and leather encasement suits previous owners had died in as well as gasmasks. But, admitted that my especial interests run to pointe shoes, ballet boots and cervical barriers. He was particularly interested in my teaching barrier contraception and dive-sex at St Lucy’s, because he has a niece who entered St Lucy’s last Fall. He said knowing she was a student of mine for contemporary sexual health made him feel more secure about her safety, because, “there are monsters out there who only see women as objects of desire”, and I wondered who he had in mind?

Adolph told me he had been a Gynecologist with a 30 year career and a practice on the Upper East Side of NYC. He had invented some special Gyn instruments and made a fortune and retired to Vegas to concentrate on building his special collections. He is an expert cook and has a commercial grade kitchen where we had begun our conversation as he prepared our dinner himself. After the meal he asked me how I liked it and what I thought of the salad and entrée. I was fascinated with the salad dressing, a ginger marmalade with tiny chunks of meat in it and the entrée, melt-in-your-mouth thin slices of a delicate meat broiled with crushed rosemary and served in a butter reduction sauce mixed with its natural juices. He seemed pleased and asked if I could identify either or both meats. I was certain I had never tried either and couldn’t identify the taste though in the salad the bits were mostly masked by the ginger. I thought the entrée tasted a bit like pork, but I was pretty certain it wasn’t. When I couldn’t guess what they were he told me. The meat in the salad dressing was the finely chopped cervix and ovaries, and the entrée was the uterus of the butterscotch Polymorphe blond. A chill ran up my spine and I gasped, but was proud that I didn’t feel the least bit nauseous.

Seconds: Actually, I asked if I could have several more slices of uterus so I could fix the taste in my mind and palate. He was delighted and as I ate he explained that the uterus of a nulliparous woman (one who hadn’t given birth) was what this recipe called for because the stretching of the uterus during pregnancy makes it very tough and only good for things like barbecue. Now there is something I’ll have to keep in mind! As we chatted about the delicate flavor of a broiled nulliparous uterus I thought he didn’t look at all like Anthony Hopkins. But then in real life sociopaths look quite normal, what ever normal means.

1 comment:

  1. I was almost wondering why you put Sir Anthony on this post, but then I saw the canibalistic part. You didn't have those genetalia with fava beans and a nice chianti, did you? Sorry, couldn't resist the "Silence of the Lambs" line.


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Powys , Wales, United Kingdom
I'm a classically trained dancer and SAB grad. A Dance Captain and go-to girl overseeing high-roller entertainment for a major casino/resort