POETIC JUSTICE by Joe Whatever Annie smiled as she watched Heather dance for the table, her nipples hardening in the breeze. Even with the harem veil covering her mouth, Annie could see the humiliation in her former rival's face. Not that her ridiculous harem costume covered much else. Her breasts were bare, and they bobbled proactively as she danced lasciviously to the exotic Middle Eastern music. The translucent harem pants made it clear that Heather was, indeed, a natural blonde. When the sheik asked Joe if Heather would "pleasure him," Annie nodded her consent. Why not? Heather had once been Joe’s girlfriend, but she was no longer a threat to Annie. Heather was now just a pretty little slave, locked away safe and sound in the mighty sheik's harem. Boo-hoo! Annie smiled at the poetic justice. Joe and Heather had dated for three years, but Heather had refused to sleep with him. Now she would be forced to perform like a 2 bit whore for the man she had once teased to a frazzle. Annie reckoned that, if Heather satisfied Joe’s vulgar male desires, it would relieve the pressure on her. Annie had dated Joe for 6 months, and she enjoyed using the promise of sex to tie her hapless boyfriend in knots. She had no intention of ever sleeping with him. Like dogs, men responded best when kept on short leashes. In fact, she didn't even like him very much. He was rich, and his job at the oil company allowed him to ferry her to exotic locations. But, to Annie, he was just another feckless male to use and abuse. ****************************** Joe was jovial and relaxed the next morning, and Annie knew that the once proud Heather had performed her duties well. But, when Annie produced Heather's pleading note about the "frame" that had landed her in the harem, Joe tensed. "You can't show the sheik that note!" Joe exclaimed. "She wants me to help her escape," Annie shot back. "It's against the law, isn't it? She is, after all, a SLAVE." "She'll get the whip!" Joe objected. "Really?" Annie said, barely able to conceal her excitement. "Do tell." As she watched her feckless boyfriend pack her steamer trunks, she made him describe the humiliating details of the bare bottom whippings the slave girls received. Joe weakly demanded that she destroy the note, but she just flirted with him until he agreed to "let her handle it." Annie smiled. JUSTICE would be served. The thought of her rival stretched over the whipping bench caused Annie to tingle with delight. Before giving the incriminating note to the sheik, she scribbled a farewell note to her former rival: ROSES ARE RED, AND SO IS YOUR FANNY THEY'LL WHIP YOUR ASS GOOD. LOVE, YOUR FRIEND, ANNIE "Ah, poetic justice," she giggled. She was stunned when the dogs at the airport found the bag of white powder in her carry-on luggage. As the police led Annie off to the slave market, Joe chuckled as he reflected on just how poetic justice could be. Edited by C. Lakewood