Laura is left to be exposed to the beach.

“Well, goodbye and good luck!”

The Queen walked to the ladder that went down the curtains ready to descend down onto the beach, but stopped right in front of them. She was hesitating, fidgeting her fingers, nervously shuffling her bag and drawing deep breaths. It seems that for all the stripping pranks she pulled, the Queen herself could not handle the heat. I could hear her shriek over a multitude of catcalls and whistles. I remembered how crowded the beach was and smiled. I didn’t capture her, but at least I managed to hurt her dignity somewhat. I’ll take that as a pyrrhic victory.

I noticed that she took my purse with her. Since my keys were in there, that normally would have meant that I was locked out of my car, but I had enough foresight to leave a copy inside its front left wheel. My way out of town and my spare change of clothes were still accessible. Imagine if they weren’t. I would have been left stranded on strange streets without a penny to my name. With only my hands to preserve something approaching modesty as I wandered around aimlessly trying to find a way back. What could I even do then? It was a truly mortifying thought that sent a chill down to my very soul. I managed to dodge a bullet.

I could now do nothing but hang in there. I was naked, upside down, covered in scribbles, unable to talk or move my arms, sweaty, and sticky thanks to the Tartar sauce. Needless to say I felt awful. It was hard to fathom that it could get worse …And then the curtains opened.

A barrage of camera flashes from the local newspapers immediately shot to record the grand unveiling. When they realized that I was no fish, and that the fishes were gone, there was a minute of confused silence. The beach was quite packed, the Queen wasn’t kidding when she said that this town loved its competition, half of it must have been there.

All the spectators canvassed my body with their eyes. I vainly hoped that they would close the curtains and cancel the whole event, but that was just a pipe dream. I wanted to cover myself and shout, but all I managed to do was flop in the air like a fish out of water. The silence was broken when they managed to connect the dots between the writing on my skin and the aquatic disappearance.

Half of the crowd booed at me, mostly the old fishermen, while the young ones preferred to whistle. Quite a few parents were covering the eyes of their kids and looking at me with complete disgust. A fat man in front was particularly angry, his insults surpassed the rest of the crowd in both intensity and volume. My face was fuming with embarrassment. I was filled with an overwhelming desire to fall down on to the sand and sink to the core of the Earth. As the onslaught of camera flashes from the local media returned to full swing, I swore I was going to capture the Queen and have my ****.

This wasn’t about Rena, Amanda or any of my other clients anymore, it was personal.