Clothes Maketh The Man — Part 7.

I stood staring at the computer screen. I felt my heart pounding and I was short of breath. How could it be?

How had Devina got me dressed — so passable — and photographed me blowing a guy? Why was it I had no memory of it, and most of all, why did I look like I was enjoying it so thoroughly?

The ‘how’ of the situation was perplexing, but other questions flooded my mind. What else had I done? Why did I have no memory of the events?

I took my mind back to that thoroughly perplexing trip to San Francisco. When I thought about the way my body had ached as I flew home, things started to add up. My jaw, almost as though it had been forced open. My legs, not to mention the whole shaving thing.

Not for the first time I found myself thinking of new and interesting ways to get rid of Devina, but not before I thought of the wider implications. There were photographs floating around out there. The three in my email were disgusting, to be sure, yet in a strange way I also found them exciting. What other pics might be around, and (oh god!) who might have seen them?

Devina was friends with my sister, maybe she’d shown the pics to Jennifer. Immediately I decided I’d better phone her.

“Hello,” came her voice as she answered the phone.