date when he was to take you to the park with him."
Karen wanted to scream, tell him it all wasn't true, but everything he'd described was as it happened.
Assam looked up at her again. "So now we've established this Grant is not what he seems, Karen, perhaps you can tell me just what went on between you two?"
By now she was becoming disillusioned. Every second he was shattering her dreams. However, she wasn't going to fall into any more traps and she remained steadfastly silent. He pulled out another photo from the envelope and handed it her. She looked at it, stunned. Photographed in what looked like a zoo, two children were leaning over, throwing bread to ducks. Her Grant was stood alongside a woman in her twenties, he was holding her hand. They were all obviously together.
"I don't understand, Grant loved me, we were to be married. Maybe he was divorced from this woman and hadn't told me," she whispered, trying to clutch at straws, tears running down her cheeks.
Assam threw another photo down in front of her. "I presume the girl kissing Grant is you?"
She stared at it for some time. She'd been photographed by someone in the park next to the school. Even at her five foot eight, Grant, over six foot, meant she was on tiptoes kissing him. Karen was wearing her school uniform and she could see the reason he'd asked for the shortened skirt. In the photo Grant's hand was grasping her skirt, exposing the knickers that he'd always insisted she wore, leaving little to the imagination.
"Good photo, Karen, but not exactly school approved underclothes, where did they come from?"
She turned her head away, not wanting to look at him directly, and her voice was low. "Grant bought them for me; he said the school ones must have been designed by some deranged spinster. We both laughed so I always changed in the toilets before we met, but when I shortened my skirt I didn't realise it was that bad."
Assam leaned back and smiled, the girl was slowly falling apart. Gone now was the self-confidence, the arrogance. All her dreams of Grant wanting to marry her were gone, but Assam was close to shattering her illusions completely.
"You know it's like pulling teeth with you, Karen. We've now got a so-called boyfriend who buys you silk knickers, has you shorten the skirt and yet is content to play happy families in his flat. Oh, let's not forget he's really married and is being paid to seduce you."
Then he laid, on the desk, a number of photos. They were professionally taken and Karen looked stunning in them.
"These are nice, but expensive I would think, who took these?" Assam asked.
She picked the photos up and looked at them for a moment; then she smiled, relived he'd gone off the subject of Grant. "I won a competition, well not really a competition, more a raffle sort of thing. It was at the shopping centre and a man was handing cards out with numbers on to all the girls. You just had to check in their shop later to see if your number was in the window. The prize was a professional photo. Anyway, when we checked later one of the numbers was mine, but the photographer was so taken with me, as a photo model that is, he took more than the one."
Assam was looking at a receipt attached to the negatives. "Yes, Karen, it would seem he was, except perhaps the two hundred and fifty pounds paid to the studio might have had a little to do with you winning, besides the extra photos, don't you think?"
She frowned. "Why would anyone do that? After all, it couldn't have been Grant, he never got one?"
"Maybe it wasn't a competition? Or if it was only you in it, rather than Grant pay, it was your friend, Frank Whittle, who paid? Could it have been for him to obtain photos of you to send to potential buyers, Karen? Mind you, I'd have been surprised if the studio took these as well," he replied, at the same time pushing a number of other photos in front of her.
Her mouth dropped open. The photos were of her naked, sprawled on a bed. It left nothing
Karen wanted to scream, tell him it all wasn't true, but everything he'd described was as it happened.
Assam looked up at her again. "So now we've established this Grant is not what he seems, Karen, perhaps you can tell me just what went on between you two?"
By now she was becoming disillusioned. Every second he was shattering her dreams. However, she wasn't going to fall into any more traps and she remained steadfastly silent. He pulled out another photo from the envelope and handed it her. She looked at it, stunned. Photographed in what looked like a zoo, two children were leaning over, throwing bread to ducks. Her Grant was stood alongside a woman in her twenties, he was holding her hand. They were all obviously together.
"I don't understand, Grant loved me, we were to be married. Maybe he was divorced from this woman and hadn't told me," she whispered, trying to clutch at straws, tears running down her cheeks.
Assam threw another photo down in front of her. "I presume the girl kissing Grant is you?"
She stared at it for some time. She'd been photographed by someone in the park next to the school. Even at her five foot eight, Grant, over six foot, meant she was on tiptoes kissing him. Karen was wearing her school uniform and she could see the reason he'd asked for the shortened skirt. In the photo Grant's hand was grasping her skirt, exposing the knickers that he'd always insisted she wore, leaving little to the imagination.
"Good photo, Karen, but not exactly school approved underclothes, where did they come from?"
She turned her head away, not wanting to look at him directly, and her voice was low. "Grant bought them for me; he said the school ones must have been designed by some deranged spinster. We both laughed so I always changed in the toilets before we met, but when I shortened my skirt I didn't realise it was that bad."
Assam leaned back and smiled, the girl was slowly falling apart. Gone now was the self-confidence, the arrogance. All her dreams of Grant wanting to marry her were gone, but Assam was close to shattering her illusions completely.
"You know it's like pulling teeth with you, Karen. We've now got a so-called boyfriend who buys you silk knickers, has you shorten the skirt and yet is content to play happy families in his flat. Oh, let's not forget he's really married and is being paid to seduce you."
Then he laid, on the desk, a number of photos. They were professionally taken and Karen looked stunning in them.
"These are nice, but expensive I would think, who took these?" Assam asked.
She picked the photos up and looked at them for a moment; then she smiled, relived he'd gone off the subject of Grant. "I won a competition, well not really a competition, more a raffle sort of thing. It was at the shopping centre and a man was handing cards out with numbers on to all the girls. You just had to check in their shop later to see if your number was in the window. The prize was a professional photo. Anyway, when we checked later one of the numbers was mine, but the photographer was so taken with me, as a photo model that is, he took more than the one."
Assam was looking at a receipt attached to the negatives. "Yes, Karen, it would seem he was, except perhaps the two hundred and fifty pounds paid to the studio might have had a little to do with you winning, besides the extra photos, don't you think?"
She frowned. "Why would anyone do that? After all, it couldn't have been Grant, he never got one?"
"Maybe it wasn't a competition? Or if it was only you in it, rather than Grant pay, it was your friend, Frank Whittle, who paid? Could it have been for him to obtain photos of you to send to potential buyers, Karen? Mind you, I'd have been surprised if the studio took these as well," he replied, at the same time pushing a number of other photos in front of her.
Her mouth dropped open. The photos were of her naked, sprawled on a bed. It left nothing
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