"Craig Shaw Gardner - Cineverse 3 - Revenge of the Fluffy Bunnies" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gardner Craig Shaw)

black leather get awfully hot in the summer? But everything was in her size, even the
boots, almost as if it had been made for her. And the accessories— those small silver
skull earrings were quite darling in their way. Then there was the whip. She flicked
the handle tentatively. The whip snapped smartly.

"CRACK*

She flipped the handle the other way.

*CRACK* snapped the whip again. She flipped her wrist back and forth. *CRACK
CRACK CRACK* It was all so easy, the snapping leather almost an extension of her
arm— like she had been handling a bullwhip all her life.

She was quite startled by the change when she looked in the full-length mirror. Part of
her wanted to back away from anything this different, this bold, but another part of
her wanted to giggle—no, she wanted to laugh out loud, long and strong—a laugh of
total triumph.

Her clothes were no longer those of the everyday housewife. These were clothes of
power.

She opened the door and stepped out to show the outfit to her Mengy.

Her man made a sound that was half gasp, half moan.

"It is you," he whispered, his face as full of wonder as a ten-year-old boy. "I never
dreamed it would be this perfect."

"Do you really think so?" Mrs G. asked. Still, she couldn't help but smile.

"That, and more so," Mengy assured her. "You are no longer Mrs. Roger Gordon, Sr.
You are now someone far better. You are"—he paused, searching for exactly the right
words—"Mother Antoinette, Mistress of Evil!"

"Really?" Mrs. G. replied, still not quite convinced. She did like the sound of the first
part of that—Mother Antoinette. But "Mistress" of Evil? Shouldn't it be "Matron of
Evil"? She had been married, after all.

Still, why should she worry about such inconsequential details when the crack of that
whip was so very satisfying?

"Yes," Menge answered throatily, his hand trembling close to her leather-clad
shoulder. "It suits you surprisingly well." His small mouth worked silently for a
moment beneath his pencil-thin mustache, as if he were having difficulty with what
he wanted to say next. "And more than that," he added at last, "Antoinette, I—"

"Menge!" the nasal and irritating voice of Doctor Dread interrupted them.

Menge snapped to attention. "Yessir!" he shouted to the wall. Mrs. G. turned to look
in the direction her man was facing, and was surprised to see a large, moving image