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.
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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