Pretty Maids All In A Row

I found myself driving my sister to the Vanderhag’s in order to thwart any of her calf like mooning over the wine baron as I did not want the hag to catch onto their little sexual eye play, at least not until I was ready to reveal their liaison myself. For as amusing and appalling as I found their little charade, information is a valuable resource that one should never waste. I intend to keep this information under wraps at least until it serves a more useful purpose than annoying the hag with the glare of tabloid focus. While some consider gossip to be the amusement fodder for those of substandard intellect I consider gossip a useful business tool. Every closet has skeletons and I make a point to own the keys to all those closets.

In the meantime, I had my own little play to set up and was busy considering the players. As I revealed earlier there was a crop of innocent young ladies newly released back into the town after their school absence and each year this happens I enjoy choosing a dainty morsel to corrupt in every sexual, social and moral way that is possible. Considering that these little vixens are spoiled misses convinced they are entitled to everything in life, no doubt a belief fostered by obscenely indulgent parents, their petulant antics court the introduction to reality that I am only too happy to provide. I despair over an education system that perpetuates the ingrained belief of entitlement these darlings of wealth enjoy. These institutions do their charges a great disservice when it does not inform them that there is always a price to pay in life and in this town, regulation by a Dubois is the price.

I find that their bland uniformity leaves the pickings leaner each year as while shallow is not a deep pool it does appear to be a wide one. I am however, if anything, a patient, observant man, determined that one virginal miss, as yet untouched by the cruelties of the world will garner my attention and I will foster her until she is putty in my hands.

The attention of a Dubois is always exciting to the young maids who still believe in their erroneous hearts that a bad boy is just misguided and secretly is longing for reformation. While their wiser older sisters have moved on knowing that a bad boy is just bad, even when he is good, he is bad. I went down to the local café yet again and this time smiled at the young ladies while watching them giggle, a mixture of fear and curiosity. They lived in a bubble of innocence, still warm from the beliefs that the world gives a damn about their existence and their lack of disillusion was like honey in the air. The bolder ones approached me and the shy ones kept their distance but it was neither bold nor shy that I was observing, as it was the knowing look in their eyes I was looking for, the look that told me everything. I will bring Caspar along tomorrow, as the little girls never have a problem addressing his movie star good looks. Ornaments always have their uses.

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