14/07/2015 by paulinebsc
The ‘wet t-shirt’ competition looked like a laugh, and the drinks were extremely cheap.
The group watched for a while as girls were drenched and their t-shirts removed.
‘C’mun Jeena, you’ve got great tits. You c’d win these easy.’
Jeena wasn’t sure who it was who made the suggestion (apart from the fact the voice was male), but even her close female friends encouraged her after the suggestion was made.
Jeena was proud of her large boobs.
Jeena planned to get her ‘five a day’ portions of fruit by drinking a fruit drink called ‘Daiquiri.’ In short : she was hammered.
Like most of her generation Jenna tried to be sensible on holiday. She always used sun cream and carried condoms on holiday with her, but she also liked a drink, which often made her forget the other two!
Jeena felt nervous when she reached the head of the queue of women, but the host quickly put her at ease, asking the usual inane questions about her name, and where she was from. There was a cheer when she said ‘Hampshire.’ He directed her down a ‘catwalk’ towards the stage.
Jeena had been watching the other contestants. Luckily the t-shirt she had worn tonight was short enough to reveal her tiny bikini bottom, so she swung her hips enticingly to the judges before moving onto the stage to face what the host had called ‘The Four Hose-men of the Apocalypse.’ As the water hit her she shook her long blond hair, and grinned as sexily as she could manage before pulling off the t-shirt and undoing her bikini top. She enjoyed the cheers for a while, before being ushered backstage.
At last all the girls had performed and the host moved onto the main stage.
‘And the winner of tonight’s ‘Queen of Wet Tee Shirts’ is:’ there was a drum roll that went on forever. ‘Jeena Barnard!’
She heard her friends screaming with joy and there were cameras flashing as she was crowned. Jeena downed another free drink then she was led backstage and into a waiting van. The host watched her slump against the side of the van and grinned. Andris was going to love this one.
Jeena woke to a clunking sound, something hitting metal. The noise couldn’t have been very loud, but it echoed around her headache for several minutes. She was propped up against a stone block, her arms held behind her back with handcuffs. Her eyes snapped open.
In spite of his casual clothes, Jeena recognised the host.
‘What the …’
‘Here, drink this. It’ll make you feel better. He held a glass so that she could drink it.’
Jeena started to shake her head, then decided against that as pain shot behind her eyes. She pulled back – drinking had got her into this.
‘S’okay. It’s only Alka Seltzer. It’ll help your head.’
Jeena sipped its refreshment cautiously before looking round the room. Lights surrounded her, and there was one behind a man who was chiselling a stone block. She could only see him in silhouette but his stance and movement conveyed an impression of age. The only wall she could see was stone, and the floor was stone as well.
‘Hell, I’m tied up in dungeon!’ Jeena didn’t realise that she had said that out loud until she heard both men chuckle.
‘This is your prize.’ He realised that Jeena was looking at him blankly.
‘Did you read the entry form?’
‘I was pretty drunk at the time’ she admitted, sheepishly.
‘You all were’ the host sighed. ‘Your prize was to be sculpted by the famous sculptor Andris Jansons.’
Jeena had already smelled a rat – now it reeked.
‘Never heard of him!’
‘Oh, he’s very famous in Latvia.’ The host didn’t say what for. ‘Now just stay still for a bit, he’s almost finished. Then we’ll take you back to the hotel.’
Jeena had heard in the news about East European sex slaves. Was that where Latvia was? She thought so. A tear ran down her cheek.
The host wiped it away.
‘Hey now, I promise we’ll take you back when Andris has finished.’
About an hour later she was released.
The Host lit a huge torch and Jenna saw that her earlier theory about being in a dungeon wasn’t far wrong. He showed her a row of sculptures. There were no faces, but the boobs were outlined in great detail. Some were just breasts and torsos, a few showed legs as well.
The tour finished in front of the sculptor, and she could see what he had been working on. It was her, from her neck down to her feet, life size in light grey stone.
In spite of her situation, she was pleased when the host pointed out that Andris had sculpted more of her than of any other model.
Knowing Jeena would be thirsty, the host offered her coffee, sweetened to hide the drug he put in it. Jeena drank it, gratefully.
There was a knock at the door.
‘Where did you get to last night?’
‘Go ’way’ Jeena yelled, pulling a pillow from under her head and throwing it at the door.
‘That good?’ Toni laughed and Jeena heard her footsteps retreating.
Jeena lay on the bed. Had it really happened? She thought about what to tell her friends, and realised they would never believe her story. They would probably think she was mad.
Andris looked at the clippings about him in Latvian newspapers. He was indeed famous in his homeland – for kidnapping girls and sculpting their naked bodies before returning them, unharmed. It was a brief scandal. Vince, a fan of his art, had proposed the t-shirt competition, with Vince as host, to get Andris more models. Most did not even know it happened. Andris was sorry that the girl had been upset, but art was art – and she had a beautiful body. Whistling, he hoisted his new statue into its place in his gallery and readied the next stone block.
The words were: Queen, Chisel, Model and Dungeon.