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I pictured her cunnie and nippies red from the combination of athletic cream and itching powder that I had spread there. I heard her whimpering as she tried to twist her wrists free from the wire that was wrapped around them and then hooked to a chai n leading to the ceiling.It was such a powerful image that I actually thrust myself away from the computer. My chair struck the bookcase on the other side of the room, knocking books and files everywhere.I caught my breath and formed my resolve. I wheeled my chair back to the computer and sent an email off to a friend who also lived in Montana.It took a good three hours to clean up my mess and put my files back in order. I couldn’t help but see that image of Cori. It was like it was burned into my brain. My computer beeped and I knew without looking that my friend had emailed me back.I opened the file. My friend owned a company that ran a site that catered to a particular fetish or “area of interest” depending on the person involved.. It was not long before she became a neighborhoodvigilante, secretly dispensing justice to neighborhood trouble-makers,arriving in the dark, masked and thorough.By this time, the raven haired beauty had become Jacqueline the headlibrarian by day, and Power Girl by night. The heroine outfit was boughtin jest, for a costume party she never attended--but eventually shetried it one night and was exhilarated. Later she was in the outfit whenshe captured and bound a thief, who then, lying on the floor, looked ather wide-eyed and in awe as she stood before him, feet apart, hands onhips. He gasped, and she almost had an orgasm seeing his expression,feeling sexier than she had ever thought possible.Later he told the police, the court, and anyone else who would listenabout the masked vigilante in the tight red and silver outfit. At firstthe police thought that it was someones imagination, but in time theyknew that there was a heroine out there in the night, on their side. Shecould dispense.
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