1. The Victim.
"Quickly, Dean!" she pleaded through the cloth and with a muffled voice.
He was at that moment trying to get a higher shot by standing on top of the sink. He wasn't as skinny or agile as he used to be.
"Come on. Please!" she urged, "Quickly. Someone will come and this position hurts and my arms feel like they will fall out of their sockets," she pleaded from the discomfort and bordering on anxiety. The words were barely understandable, unable to pronounce full syllables with the panties stuffed into her mouth.
"OK, ok. I'm telling you, Liz, it is just another minute and I will let you down."
She was resigned to her situation. She was naked, except for a black ribbon tied around her neck. She was hanging by her cuffed wrists that were attached to the makeshift hook that Dean had fastened to the steel beam next to the small window above the urinals. Her clothes were draped over the stall of the Chinese restaurant bathroom, with its dizzying acrid scent of concentrated ammonia; the smell of raw humanity.
The scene would have been comical if it weren't for Lizzy's discomfort.
He had already filmed her from below, capturing her naked body from all angles. For the scene, Lizzy had to shave to match the drawing of the girl in the graphic novel. She hadn't been too enthusiastic about this. Dean took special care to capture this part of her body, ensuring the angles were precisely similar to those in the panels of the graphic novel. He also filmed much more footage, as it was particularly thrilling for him to see her shaved like this after having requested it numerous times.
Dean finally managed to stand on the narrow porcelain sink, positioning one foot on each of the opposite corners. He had attempted to use the boom pole, which extends in stages for high shots, to position the camera above the scene. However, it didn't recreate the scene exactly as drawn by Kurst. The corresponding photogram or panel from Kurst's latest graphic novel lay scattered on the floor, and he was striving to capture that precise scene.
Lizzy's face and body had been prepared with makeup, making it seem that she had been beaten and whipped. In her mouth, her black panties were stuffed, which made her gag every once in a while.
"Almost there, Lizzy," he said, trying to reassure her, while at the same time steadying himself with the large camera and taking shots of her from above. "Hang in there! You're doing great!"
When he finally had the perfect angle -- the one that was as close to Kurst's scene -- he started to "roll the film" (amounting to pressing the record button).
"Close your eyes and act dead," he said, in his expert director's voice. This was his main actress. Well, his only actress -- at the moment.
She did all she could to comply. This way, the ordeal would pass soon enough and he would let her down.
"Brilliant! Fucking brilliant!" he encouraged her as if it were a photo-play of a supermodel. "That's it," he continued with the theatrics. "Keep like that. Now, try and make your body go completely limp."
She complied. Anything, just anything to get over this shoot as soon as possible.
At that moment, he envisioned himself as the next Spielberg. The next Hitchcock. His utter command of the camera, of the lighting, of the scene. Yes, he felt at that moment to be at the pinnacle of his artistic abilities. "What luck," he thought. He kept on repeating in his mind, "Kurst is a genius, a fucking genius." Yeah, and his own idea of turning his works into movies, was.... well, a bit of serendipity, but, quite frankly, totally brilliant. After all, he was a professional. And, an expert on Kurst. Who else could have done this? He was of the opinion that nobody except himself.
He compared the camera angle with the graphic art from Kurst of the same scene in the photogram drawing on the floor. "Kath's body. Lizzy's body. It's really incredible," he mused out loud. Even he was amazed at how Lizzy's body -- and face -- resembled the girl in the graphic novel. It was uncanny. The Kath from earlier novels of Kurst looked a lot like Lizzy, but now she seemed to be a spitting image. A petite figure, small breasts with pointy nipples, short dark hair, gray eyes. The shape and likeness of her face. He couldn't believe his luck.
He shifted his weight slightly to gain a better angle, planning to select the best shots in post-production. However, as he adjusted his position while filming, he suddenly felt unsteady. In a catastrophic instant, the porcelain sink cracked beneath him, causing one part of it to crash to the floor and precipitate his fall.
Despite the chaos, he managed to save the camera, keeping it high, falling onto one hand before collapsing onto the floor, his body striking the ground and landing painfully on his shoulder and bumping his head. The sudden, excruciating pain overwhelmed him as he lay amid the broken rubble of the bathroom sink.
Dean lay on the floor motionless for a few moments, his brain unable to send the signals to his body to even move slightly. The blow to his head had made him dizzy. Dean passed out and lay there.
Lizzy saw the scene unfold as if it were in slow motion. Now, she was beginning to realize what had happened, and what could happen next. Her eyes widened, horrified for him and the situation. Through it all, she hung there helpless, trying in vain to scream for help through the panties that were stuffed in her mouth.
~~~~~~
Moments later, there was knocking at the bathroom door, and someone speaking in Chinese with a few broken English words; to the effect of asking if all was ok. Lizzy tried to respond, but her voice could hardly be carried through the door.
The banging stopped. Suddenly, two loud bangs hit the door; the third broke the lock and sent the door flying open. Through the door poured three large Chinese men; two waiters and the restaurant owner. Lizzy hung there mortified as they contemplated the scene in front of them. Apart from her concern for Dean on the floor, she wanted to die showing her naked body like this.
The men had expected to find the aftermath of a fight between two clients, or even the unfortunate result of a heart attack, or even someone who had choked to death on a chicken bone from the Koa Poa platter (as had happened the previous month). However, nothing prepared them for the scene that unfolded before them: a naked woman tied by her wrists, apparently having been beaten (thanks to the convincing makeup), a black ribbon choking her neck, her pussy shaved exposing her labia, and black panties stuffed into her mouth. All of this, together with her attacker unconscious on the floor, holding a camera, and what remained of their porcelain sink.
~~~~~~
After Dean recovered, Lizzy was helped down and the situation was explained. Apart from this, the damages were compensated to the tune of several hundred bucks, plus take-out, consisting of the Pu Pu Platter, white rice, and four fortune cookies. The couple made their way to the subway and took the line uptown to their apartment to tend to Dean's wounds.
~~~~~~ : ~~~~~~
2: A Few Days earlier
"I'm home," Lizzy called out as she entered the apartment.
She knew Dean would be in the "spare room," which had now become his temporary post-production studio.
"Hey," he responded loudly from the room, ensuring she could hear him.
She thought how nice it would have been if he had come out to greet her with a kiss, but she didn't hold it against him.
She walked down the hall and stopped at the entrance, peeking into the room.
"Hi honey," she said, leaning on the door frame.
He continued to focus on the screen in the darkened room, the reddish hue from the screens casting a glow on his boyish face. That boyish face still captivated her, despite the other aspects of him she wished would improve.
"How was your day, Liz?"
"Tiring," she smiled. "Just glad to be home. I thought you were going to drop by and see me at the library."
They worked near each other, with Liz at the college library and Dean at the vintage book and record shop, located just a block apart. Initially, Dean would visit Liz during breaks each day, but lately, his visits have become much less frequent.
"Couldn't," he said briefly.
"It's ok."
She walked into the room and went to stand behind him, putting her arms around him affectionately. Then, she bent down so her face was near his. He turned and pecked her on the cheek then looked back at the screens. Their relationship had become comfortable, sometimes too much so instead of the passion of previous times. She glanced at his workspace on the three large screens oriented in a U.
"How is it going?" she asked, perhaps breaking his concentration.
"I'm just editing the ending," he responded, his eyes, darting between the graphic novel pdf, and the video segment. "OK, I guess."
"I am sure it will be wonderful," she said, encouragingly.