Two Vignettes by Rajah Dodger {rdodger@hotmail.com} (c) 2009 This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Non-Commercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License (by-nc-sa). In jurisdictions where the Creative Commons license is not recognized, United States copyright and Berne Convention provisions apply; all rights reserved to Rajah Dodger except that electronic not-for-profit reproduction rights are explicitly granted with the stipulation that this authorship and permission note must remain attached. Abstract: Two brief pieces suggested by pictures Vignette 1: Window Dressing by Rajah Dodger {rdodger@hotmail.com} (c) 2009 The flashlight outlined the figure on the windowsill. "Here now," barked the policeman, "What's going on?" The figure froze halfway toward reaching for the nearby purse. "Just get down from the window and step over here, please." The command voice brooked no refusal. Leslie carefully swung around and stretched out to plant the high heels on the ground, picking up the purse with one hand. "I can explain, I was just waiting for..." Apparently the explanation wouldn't be immediately required, as the light in Leslie's eyes shook from the laughter of the policeman. "Oh, this is rich!" Low rumbling chuckles shook the uniformed outline. "A pretty little nancy-boy waiting on his date! They'll love you at the station house, oh my yes!" Leslie burned from embarrassment and frustration. He knew damn well that the gaff was positioned well; he must have been sloppy with the foundation. That would be a serious failing to explain to Mistress, but he had a greater challenge first. How was he to avoid being hauled away and missing his appointment with Her? /END (4/13/2009)/ Vignette 2: Letdown by Rajah Dodger {rdodger@hotmail.com} (c) 2009 "And what are you looking at?" The sharpness of her own voice surprised Shelly. At least the man had allowed her to take a shower with the door closed, but now she was back under his strange gaze, at once both curious and dismissive. The fluffy bathtowel wrapped around her still-moist skin seemed little protection, and she busied herself towel-drying her hair. Soon enough he would be gone. He was already fully dressed, down to his polished black shoes, as if their encounter had never taken place. Beyond him she could see the three hundred-dollar bills lying on the desk. Crumpled. /END (4/22/2009)/ Endnote: Originally published at State of Insanity (http://soi.hyperchat.com)