DEMETRIA
“Marion!” I tried to guard my face. He had lifted a camera, brought it to his face, and took a picture. I had noticed it earlier when I entered his bedroom, where a large, flat-screen TV was on the wall across from the bed. Under it was a black dresser, the camera resting on top of it.
“Relax. I won’t sell them to the blogs. It’s mine for perusal.” He grinned. He was now sitting on an ottoman. He played with the camera because I refused to strip. I’m stubborn, I know. “No need to be camera shy, Wildfire. It loves you, and you were made for it.” He flicked another photo. I rolled my eyes at his childishness, a smile tugging at my lips.
Marion stood up. It was then that I noticed the bright yellow ropes. They were on his lap at first, but now in his hand.
“What are those for?”
