The Director Of Buenos ariesChapter 3
The director adjusted the focus on his camera. The room was stifling hot and it seemed like the white tiled walls were dripping as much sweat at the bodies of the three men and their nubile suspended prisoner. He could hear the street chatter through the skylight, but knew her screams would not travel the other way. Below in his home the director's wife continued to play the TV on full volume the dull thud coming up between his feet. The neighbours might complain but it wouldn't be about...