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FROM THE CASE FILES OF KITTY WYNTER | |||
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| by Van ©2018 | ||||
| Chapter 2 |
| DRAMATIS PERSONÆ |
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OUR STORY CONTINUES |
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It had been a busy week at One Hogan Place, and next week, like all weeks, would be more of the same. ADA Kirsten Braslow was looking forward to a relaxing weekend. She'd brought some paperwork home to read, of course—Kirsten always brought some paperwork home to read—but at the moment her trial schedule was manageable, which meant due diligence required a little routine work and not frantic scrambling to respond to desperate and/or spurious defense motions.
Kirsten was in her usual at-home uniform of "casual skirt" and "informal blouse" (plus panties and bra), but as a concession to domestic sloth Kirsten was currently padding around her apartment in her bare feet. Her little sister, Nikki, the NYPD Detective, was of the opinion that her sibling didn't know how to relax. Nikki was usually found lounging around her apartment in jeans and either a tank-top, t-shirt, or sweatshirt, depending on the season, and no bra; but Kirsten felt more comfortable while dressed more formally, even when she was alone.
Yes, Kirsten was looking forward to a couple of days of relative downtime, a little work, a little recreational reading, and almost certainly a trip to her health club/gym for a workout and swim.
There was one niggling cause for concern. She'd run into Bertie Finch on the street and the charming little Brit had shared the news that Wynter & Finch Investigative Services was currently between paying jobs. That meant Kitty was also enjoying downtime, which increased the possibility that the Depraved Sexual Predator and Kirsten's Arch Nemesis might perpetrate another of her home invasion/booty-calls and have her wicked way with poor, innocent Kirsten Braslow. It had happened before. (Kirsten ignored the delicate frisson of "dread" rippling through her pussy.) And there seemed to be nothing Kirsten could do about it.
When Kirsten had arrived at her front door—her heart rate slightly elevated and her forehead glowing—she couldn't help but wonder: Would it happen tonight? She unlocked the door, entered her apartment, locked the door behind her, then reset her alarm. Of course, she knew full well that nothing she ever did in terms of hardware seemed to do her any good. No locks or alarm systems ever made, no matter how expensive and state-of-the-art, had thus far proven up to the task of keeping Kitty at bay when she was on the prowl. Kirsten had carefully, casually, very casually made her way into her bedroom and removed her clothes. No Kitty. Even when she was at her most vulnerable, standing there in her birthday suit and "totally unsuspecting", no Kitty. She'd then taken a quick shower, returned to the bedroom, and dressed. Still no Kitty.
What a... relief. Yes, Kirsten decided it was a relief. She certainly hadn't been aroused at the prospect of Kitty Wynter suddenly appearing from nowhere, tying her up, gagging her, and having her wicked way with her helpless, naked body... repeatedly... until morning... and possibly into the next day. Yes, Kirsten was... relieved.
Just then, the doorbell sounded. That couldn't possibly be Kitty, of course. Kitty never rang the bell. Kitty pounced from ambush, like the feline predator she was.
Kirsten padded to the door and looked through the peephole. There were two women waiting in the hallway. Both were smiling brunettes, and the slightly taller of the two—
Kirsten's eyes widened in glad surprise and she unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door. "Tabitha Wynter! Hello!"
Tabby's smile broadened. "Hello! It's good to finally meet, Ms. Braslow. Kitty has told me so much about you."
"Please, call me Kristen." Kirsten was still smiling, but couldn't help but wonder what, exactly, Kitty had told her little sister about their "relationship". Also, Tabitha Wynter was even more engaging and beautiful in person than she was on the big screen. Kirsten turned her smile to Tabitha's companion, who was young, possibly a teenager, and devilishly cute.
Tabby indicated the teenage companion in question with a graceful gesture. "This is Robin Fey, my good friend. She'd like to ask you a favor."
Both of Kirsten's unexpected guests were casually dressed for an urban evening, Tabitha in obviously expensive designer jeans, silk blouse, and leather jacket, Robin in a less expensive but similar ensemble of jeans, cotton blouse, and cotton jacket. Both had sling purses on their shoulders. Kirsten took a step back so her guests could enter. "Please, come in." A favor?
"Robin wants to work for Kitty," Tabby explained as she strolled into the living room.
"I want to be a world class private detective," the teenager said, "like Kitty, so I need her to teach me how. How to be better. I'm already good."
Robin, Kirsten thought, smiling back at the incredibly cute youngster. It suits her.
"Yes, 'good'," Tabby purred, "and modest."
Kirsten's smile became somewhat skeptical. "You want to work for Kitty... Kitty Wynter." She turned to Kitty's sister. "And Kitty said no?"
"Kitty doesn't know yet," Tabby explained.
"She'll say no," Kirsten stated.
"Why?" Robin demanded.
"Because she's Kitty," Tabby and Kirsten said in unison.
All three laughed, then Kirsten waved at her sofa. "Please, make yourselves comfortable," she suggested, then padded into the kitchen. "Tea? Wine?" She focused her smile on Robin. "Or soda? I believe I have some diet ginger ale."
"Wine," Tabby and Robin answered in unison.
Kirsten remained focused on her younger guest.
"I'm twenty-one," Robin said. Kirsten remained focused on the youngster "Okay, I'm eighteen, but this is a home setting, so it's okay, right?"
"I'm neither your parent nor guardian," Kirsten noted, and continued smiling as she pulled a bottle of Merlot from her wine cooler. She opened it, placed it on a tray with a pair of stemmed glasses, then added a glass full of ice and a can of diet ginger ale. "We'll let the wine breathe a couple of minutes," she said as she settled into an easy chair and crossed her legs.
Robin poured soda into the glass, then took a sip. "Lawyers," she muttered, then smiled at her hostess. "Will you help me?" She batted her eyes for added effect.
"Does she know what's she's in for?" Kirsten asked Tabitha.
"Kitty?" Tabby chuckled. "No, she has no idea what she's in for."
"I meant Robin, Tabitha," Kirsten purred.
"Call me Tabby," Kitty's little sister requested.
Kirsten's smiled. "Kitty and Tabby. It fits."
Tabby and Robin exchanged dimpled smirks, then Tabby batted her eyes. "And yes, Robin knows exactly what she's in for. She knows all about Kitty's, uh, shall we say, 'hobby interests', and still wants to work for her."
"Work for her and learn from her," Robin said earnestly. "She's the best. At everything."
"I see," Kirsten purred, then poured wine into the stemmed glasses, handed the first to Tabby, then took a sip from the third. "So, you want me to put in a good word?"
"No," Tabby said, shaking her head, then sipped her wine. "Excellent," she purred.
"We have a plan," Robin said, then sipped her soda. "This is good, too."
"Thank you," Kirsten responded. "A plan?"
"Robin is going to demonstrate her suitability as a Wynter & Finch employee," Tabby added, "and you're going to help."
"Please," Robin begged, batting her eyes again.
Kirsten sipped her wine, again. "Help how?"
"I'm going to kidnap you," Robin explained, "and when Kitty finds you, she'll see how good I am."
"What?" Kirsten demanded.
"I'll help if required," Tabby said, then nodded at Robin. "She's already kidnapped me and now I'm her innocent accomplice. Stockholm Syndrome. I've got it bad."
"Real bad," Robin confirmed, also nodding.
Both of Kirsten's guests were still smiling. Kirsten, not so much.
"I'm supposed to let you two pretend to kidnap me?" Kirsten demanded.
"Yeah, pretend to kidnap you," Tabby purred. "Please? It'll drive Kitty insane."
Kirsten gazed at her guests. Driving Kitty Wynter insane was a good thing, of course, but... kidnapping? "You're going to have to be more specific before I agree to anything," Kirsten responded, then sighed. Why am I even thinking about this? Why don't I just say no? Why don't I just scream no?
Robin reached into her purse and produced a pair of steel, slightly tarnished handcuffs. "You know how Kitty collects these things?" the grinning youngster asked.
Kirsten managed a somewhat forced smile, and her heart began thumping. "I'm familiar," she drawled. Actually Kirsten was quite familiar with Kitty's growing collection of rare and antique handcuffs and manacles, having involuntarily "modeled" a pair or two on different occasions.
"Genuine double-locking, tower-style handcuffs!" Robin said proudly, dangling the cuffs. "American, They're more than 150 years old, and a gift for Kitty. Not that I'm bribing her or anything."
Kirsten swallowed, nervously. "You plan on locking Kitty Wynter in handcuffs?" she scoffed, "a little thing like you? Good luck with that."
Robin grinned. "In the first place, I've taken karate and judo classes at the 'Y' since I was a little kid, and I'm stronger than I look. I'm also nimble and quick. And in the second place, these are for Kitty's collection, but I have no intention of locking them on her."
"That would be foolish," Tabby chuckled.
"I quite agree," Kristen said. "So, who do you intend to—"
That was as far as she got with her question before Robin pounced.
| A STUDY IN Cute | |
Chapter 2 |
Kirsten Braslow, Assistant District Attorney of New York County, was comfortably reclined on her neatly made bed.
She was also naked, bound, and gagged. And "comfortably" may have been a slight exaggeration.
Her hands were behind her back with her wrists double-locked in the pair of "tower-style" handcuffs Robin Fey intended to gift to Kitty Wynter.
Her big toes were bound together with a pink, eight-inch, plastic cable-tie. Its untrimmed free end waved and shook whenever she moved her feet.
The rest of her bonds were tight, multi-layered bands of pink duct-tape printed with the iconic "Hello Kitty" cartoon character.
Specifically, a tight, horizontal band pinned her upper arms to her sides, passing below her breasts—another pinned her forearms to her lower back, passing across her waist—others pressed her legs together, passing above and below her knees—yet another bound her ankles together—and separate sheaths of tape mummified her hands, depriving her of the use of her fingers and thumbs and effectively converting those particular extremities into pink flippers.
As for the gag, after their forcible removal by Robin, Kirsten's own panties were stuffed into her sputtering, protesting mouth. Then, Robin used duct-tape to seal her lips and keep the silky wad in place. And for added insurance, Robin used multiple overlapping layers of more tape to mummify her lower face, passing completely around her indignant head and eliminating the astronomically unlikely possibility of Kirsten working her jaws and facial muscles and dislodging the initial tape-gag.
Finally, Kirsten's long, blond hair was parted down the middle and a pair of pink ribbons used to give her girlish, juvenile twin ponytails, one sprouting from either side of her head and framing her effectively gagged, glowering face.
The significance of the Hello Kitty character printed on her duct-tape bonds was not lost on the prisoner-of-the-bed, and she knew it wouldn't be lost on her supposed rescuer, either. When Kitty saw the saccharine, juvenile, disgustingly cute cartoon cat decorating "Shyster's" bonds (Shyster being the pet name Kitty had bestowed on her "favorite ADA"), she'd be furious. Kirsten, on the other hand, was only aesthetically offended... and helpless, totally helpless. She could only hope that when she finally decided to show, Kitty wouldn't take her outrage out on her.
So, why had Kirsten acquiesced to her capture and subsequent bondage?
She hadn't.
Robin Fey's boast that she was a quick, nimble, and stronger-than-she-looked martial artist turned out not to be a boast. And she'd caught Kirsten flatfooted and stupidly unprepared ("stupidly" being Kirsten's own self critical assessment). Robin moved—and the next thing Kirsten knew she was out of her easy chair, flat on her stomach on the carpet, and Robin was cuffing her wrists behind her back—like they were now. She'd lodged immediate and repeated protests, of course, but Tabby made good on her offer to help with Kirsten's "pretend kidnapping" by joining Robin on the floor and clamping a hand over Kirsten's mouth, putting an abrupt and immediate damper on Kirsten's vociferous and escalating objections.
And then, they proceeded to strip Kirsten naked, despite her fierce, vigorous resistance, then place her in her current bondage predicament. Robin did most of the work, and after she'd stripped Kirsten of her panties and handed them to Tabby, Kitty's little sister stuffed them in their hostess' mouth, and held them there while Robin produced the first of several new, still-in-the package rolls of the insidious Hello Kitty duct-tape and first tape-gagged Kirsten's lips... then mummified her entire lower face.
After that, Tabby's role in the binding process became more passive, if you didn't count assisting her young protege by controlling Kirsten's squirming and kicking body as needed. She held Kirsten's steady, if required, but it was the youngster who actually applied the rest of Kirsten's bondage.
Oh-by-the-way, grabby hands were revealed to be something of a Wynter family trait. Why hold Kirsten by the shoulders while Robin stretched and wrapped tight bands of tape around her arms and torso when Tabby could grab her by her breasts? And why not embrace Kirsten from behind and continue clutching her breasts while Robin bound her legs together? Why not indeed? After all, Kirsten's generous boobs made such convenient handholds.
The conspirators/kidnappers then lifted their hostess/captive and transported her to her bed, Kirsten's current location. Squirming and struggling in outraged impotence, Kirsten watched as her guests tidied up, hanging her clothes from hangers and returning them to her closet, not counting her panties, of course.
Finally, Tabby and Robin strolled to the bed and gazed down at their helpless hostess. Tabby's arms were crossed under her breasts. Robin noticed Tabby's gloating manner and adopted the same pose... and the same smile.
Kirsten suspended her struggles and stared the proverbial daggers at her captors.
"Now," Tabby said, "here's the plan. Like we explained earlier, you pretend to be kidnapped. We'll see that Kitty learns that you need rescuing, and when she gets here and cuts you loose—"
"If she decides to cut you loose," Robin interrupted.
"You really do know my big sister, don't you?" Tabby purred.
Still smiling, Robin shrugged. It was adorable... and evil, in Kirsten's naked, bound, and gagged opinion.
"If she decides to cut you loose," Tabby continued. "Tell her you were attacked by a pair of masked ninjas."
"Don't tell her about me," Robin added.
"Or me," Tabby agreed. "Two anonymous, masked ninjas, neither of whom was Tabby Wynter or a short, superbly talented, and incredibly cute young lady."
"Oh!" Robin sighed, turned her head, went up on her toes, and kissed Tabby's nearest cheek (on her face). "That's nice."
"You're welcome," Tabby giggled, wiping the saliva from her cheek. "Anyway, tell her you were overpowered by a pair of big, tall, strong ninjas, a pair of unstoppable amazons."
"Wearing black ninja outfits," Robin suggested, "which is how you knew they were ninjas."
"Make up other details, if you like," Tabby added, "but I strongly suggest you keep it simple and consistent. Above all, consistent."
"This is Kitty, remember," Robin nodded. "If she decides you're lying..."
"Yeah," Tabby giggled, "she might do something terrible to you."
"Maybe even tie you up, or something," Robin giggled.
"Probably lots of 'or something'," Tabby grinned.
"Lots and lots," Robin agreed.
Kirsten continued glowering as her captors shared a giggling fit. Why should I tell Kitty anything other than exactly what happened? she thought.
"You're probably wondering why you should tell Kitty anything other than exactly what happened," Tabby purred after the giggling abated.
Such a mind reader, Kirsten fumed as she tugged on the cuffs Robin was giving to Kitty, by way of her wrists.
"I know none of this makes any sense," Robin said.
No, ya think? Kirsten mused.
"And like I said earlier," Robin continued, "I want to work for Kitty, and it's gonna happen. All of this is part of my genius plan. So, Tell Kitty you were kidnapped by ninjas, and they wanted to know where her 'new employee' is hiding."
Tabby sat on the foot of the bed. "I know." She lifted Kirsten's toe-tied and ankle-taped feet into her lap. "Tell her they tickle tortured you, but you didn't tell them anything."
"'Cause you don't know anything," Robin nodded.
Tabby extended her left index finger. "They asked you over and over... 'Where's the new employee?' 'Where's the new employee?' They were quite persistent."
Kirsten lay frozen in her bonds. Her gaze shifted from Tabby's finger, to Tabby's smiling face, to Tabby's finger, to Robin's smiling face, then back to Tabby's finger.
Tabby flexed the finger in question. "You think you can remember that, Ms. Braslow?"
Still staring at Tabby's flexing finger, Kirsten nodded. It made her twin ponytails bob and sway. She could feel them shake, which wasn't at all humiliating.
"Good," Tabby purred, then released Kirsten's feet, stood, and resumed her place next to Robin.
"Ninjas," Robin reiterated, "and they wanted to know where to find 'the new employee'."
Tabby nodded. "That's all. 'The new employee. It'll drive Kitty insane," she giggled.
Bonkers, Kirsten silently agreed.
"She has nice skin," Robin said, still smiling at the naked, bound and gagged prisoner on the bed. "And really nice boobs. I can see why Kitty likes doin' stuff to her."
"I can vouch for that," Tabby purred. "The boobs, I mean."
Robin's smile widened. "Thanks for the soda."
"And the wine," Tabby added. "Ciao!"
And without further ado, the kidnappers turned and left, closing the bedroom door behind them and leaving Kirsten naked, bound, and gagged on her bed... in her bedroom... naked, bound, and gagged... alone. "Mrrrf?" She assumed they also left the apartment, but couldn't confirm that she'd been abandoned to languish in Hello Kitty bondage... and wait for Kitty.
That was then. This was now. An hour later.
The bed was no longer as neatly made as it had been before. In fact, the bedspread and top sheet were decidedly rumpled. Kirsten had been squirming. Also, rolling, kicking, and twisting her tape-bound body. It had been comfort movement. She knew escape was impossible. She supposed she could roll off the bed and either squirm into the main apartment, inchworm fashion, or struggle to her feet and hop.
Plan A would be finding either a knife in the kitchen or the scissors in her home office and carefully cutting herself loose. The problem was, of course, that with her hands wrapped in Hello Kitty tape, the prospect of doing anything productive with any tool was highly questionable. And even if she succeeded, the cuffs would still be locked on her wrists.
Plan B involve hopping to the front door, somehow getting it open, then hopping out into the public hallway... where she'd eventually be discovered by one of her neighbors... naked, bound, and gagged. Again, her Hello Kitty flippers would be a problem. She wasn't sure she could open the bedroom door, much less the front door with its two deadbolt locks.
Best classify both plans as desperate measures, to be tried only when and if Kitty failed to show after a reasonable period... whatever that meant. So, all Kirsten could do was squirm on the bed... and wait.
Kirsten could also think, of course, and she did. Again, there were two options: (A) Tell Kitty everything, that her sister was a kidnapping little twerp, with grabby hands, and was keeping company with a cute but sinister teenager who wanted a job; (B) Lie, meaning pretend her attackers had been ninjas, as her real attackers had requested, and the ninjas wanted to know the whereabouts of Kitty's fictional new employee.
Kirsten went back and forth on the subject. Option A had the virtue of being true. And why shouldn't Kitty be warned that her sister was dangerously deranged and associating with shady youngsters? Option B had the danger of requiring her to lie to the notoriously gifted deductive sleuth Kitty Wynter, and who knew what Kitty would do if she decided "Shyster" was participating in a colossal prank at her expense? The thing was... (B) carried the potential of Kirsten getting something back for the numerous times Kitty had invaded her apartment, tied her up, and involuntarily (and gloriously) boinked her naked body... repeatedly... for hours!
Yes, without a doubt, the kidnapping prank (including whatever plot details Robin and Tabby were keeping to themselves) would drive Kitty insane. Kirsten was sure of it.
So... was joining the conspiracy worth the risk?
Slowly... as time passed... and before Kirsten fell asleep in her bonds... she made her decision.
| A STUDY IN Cute | |
Chapter 2 |
Bertie could tell Kitty was worried. She was focused and outwardly professional, but Bertie could tell. Hardly surprising, she thought, watching Kitty slowly, methodically search Tabby's apartment for the fourth time. It's her sister.
"I can't tell if she changed before leaving," Kitty muttered. They were currently in Tabby's walk-in closet and examining the racks and cabinets of hanging clothing and neatly arranged pairs of shoes. "All I know for sure is that somebody untied her."
Bertie opened her mouth to suggest the possibility that Tabby had, in fact, freed herself, but decided to say nothing. Anything was possible, but nobody knotted scarves like Kitty Wynter... or hitched rope... or stretched and smoothed multi-layered bands of tape... or... whatever. Also, at the moment Kitty was agitated enough.
"So, did she go voluntarily, or as a prisoner," Kitty muttered.
Bertie knew her partner was thinking aloud, so she still said nothing. Also, both cases seemed equally likely.
Just then, Bertie and Kitty's cell phones gleeped, more or less simultaneously.
Bertie unlocked her phone and found herself staring at a one word text message: "Ninjas!" There was also an emoji, a cartoon of a blond woman holding a gavel. Bertie held up her phone for Kitty to see, and found Kitty displaying her own phone for Bertie's benefit. They'd both received identical messages, and the sender was Tabitha Wynter.
"Shyster," they said in unison.
Kitty scrambled for the secret door back to their apartment/office and Bertie followed. The detectives were already more or less "geared up", so all they had to do was don the appropriate coats, set their alarm system, and lock the door behind them.
One quick cab ride later...
Kitty made short work of the lock protecting the door to the lobby of Kirsten's building (it wasn't her first rodeo) while Bertie kept an eye on the street. They both acted casual, knowing they were being recorded by the building's security camera. Luckily, they didn't run into any curious residents or visitors.
The front door locks and alarm system protecting Kirsten's apartment were no more of a challenge for The Great Kitty Wynter than usual... and they were in.
The apartment was quiet and dimly lit, and the door to the bedroom was closed. Weapons drawn, they made a quick, silent search of the living room, kitchen, and bathroom, confirming that no potential kidnappers or assassins were lurking in ambush... then approached the bedroom door. There, they encountered something curious, a small white envelope resting on the carpet and propped against the closed door.
Ever the professional, Kitty made a quick check for hidden tripwires or any other indication the envelope was part of a booby trap. Meanwhile, Bertie covered their backs. Satisfied that the envelope was an envelope, Kitty picked it up, unfolded the flap, and found two things inside: (1) a hideously pink greeting card; and (2) a handcuff key attached to the inside of the card with a strip of clear tape.
The card was generic, in that there was no "Happy Birthday" or other message appropriate for a specific occasion. The only thing printed on the outside were the words "Hello Kitty" and a depiction of the character in question. She (or it) was dressed as a ballet dancer in the appropriate slippers and tutu. Except for the key, the inside of the card was blank, without text or writing.
Bertie managed to stifle a dimpled smile and contain the giggle threatening to bubble up her throat.
"Shut up," Kitty growled in a whisper.
Bertie cleared her throat. Apparently, her facade of stoic, unamused professionalism hadn't quite been up to snuff.
Kitty examined the handcuff key. It was a conventional, more-or-less generic design; however, based on the patina of oxidation on its surface, was either quite old or someone had gone to great pains to make it appear so. She pocketed the key, set the card and envelope aside for a later, more thorough examination, then nodded at the bedroom door and held up three fingers.
Bertie nodded back, positioned herself against the wall with her weapon at the ready, then placed her hand on the doorknob.
Weapon also at the ready, Kitty silently mouthed the words "one"... "two"... and "three."
Bertie turned the knob and threw open the door, then followed Kitty across the threshold—"Hey!"—and nearly collided with her partner's back. Kitty pointed at the bed, Bertie took a step to the right for a clear view... and both detectives stared in wonder... or something like wonder. Lust was involved. Lust and wonder.
"Mrrrrpfh!"
Kirsten "Shyster" Braslow was lying on the bed. She was naked and bound and gagged with pink Hello Kitty duct-tape. Kitty and Bertie quickly diverted their attention from Kirsten (with understandable difficulty) and completed visually clearing the room, then stood side-by-side at the foot of the bed.
"Cable-tie," Kitty said, pointing at Kirsten's big toes.
"Hello Kitty," Bertie noted, referring to the duct-tape in general.
"Naked," Kitty added.
"MRRRF!" Kirsten protested, demanding an expedited completion of her rescue.
Kitty watched as her sometimes booty-call, sometimes playmate, writhed on the bed, seductively. Actually, Shyster's gagged expression was more angry than coy, but her squirming and wiggling were pretty damned seductive as far as Kitty was concerned.
"I'll check the closet," Bertie stated, then proceeded to do so.
Kitty nodded absently, her eyes on the squirming, mewling Shyster.
"Mrrrf!"
Bertie returned from her unsuccessful hunt for kidnappers lurking in the closet and holstered her handgun. She then reached into a special pocket sewn inside her jacket, pulled out a compact pair of bandage scissors, and slapped them in Kitty's palm. The blond Brit then sat on the bed, lifted Kirsten's upper body and cradled the captive's tape-gagged (and twin ponytail wearing) head in her lap.
Kitty leaned down and carefully sliced through the multilayered band of Hello Kitty duct-tape compressing and mummifying Shyster's lower face. With Bertie's help they slowly, carefully peeled away the tape, stretching Kirsten's lips and lower face in the process.
Tape-free (from the neck up, anyway), Kirsten turned her head to the side, spat a pair of panties from her mouth, then licked her lips, locked eyes with Kitty, and uttered a single word: "Ninjas!"
| The End of... | ||
| A STUDY IN Cute | |
Chapter 2 |
