The End of Cynthia Harder
The half-naked woman sat on the iron cot, giving no indication that she knew he was standing on the other side of the barred door. She wore only a black lace plunge bra, opera hose and satin panties. Her elbows, in the long black kidskin gloves, were crossed casually on her stockinged knee. Her feet, in shiny black pumps with six inch heels, were spread lackadaisically on the straw-covered stone floor. Her blonde hair swung down over her heavily made-up face. ...