Rupture

The camera panned down to her black stilettos, then returned slowly up her well-formed calves, over her knees and the beginnings of her thighs, embraced her grey velvet skirt and then crept up the tight, black, v necked bodice. It paused for a moment on the curve of her breasts before returning again to her enigmatic face. Something in her eyes suggested she was not averse to this intimate familiarity.

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An artist is marooned by snow. Then his unknown past comes to haunt him when he discovers an anonymous videotape among his belongings in his cellar.

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