Dead Sweet: A D.I. Turnbull mystery by Sally O'Brien Read Free Book Online

plastic surgeon to have the barely visible flaw corrected. Vixen spent hours naked in front of the mirror checking ankles, calves, thighs, cellulite, stomach, tits, arms, neck and face; ensuring that she never looked anything less than perfect. To ensure her public agreed with the way she looked, Vixen would constantly post selfies on public forums, inviting comments and chatting to her fans. When Paul had complained that she spent too much time speaking with the 'common folk', she would hit back with the argument that it was good PR and without the commoners they'd have nothing. This would cause Paul to grudgingly leave Vixen alone, for a short while at least; and she would enjoy hours of fawning adulation from men and woman alike that spent their hard earned money on Vixen's products and revelled in telling their friends how they were friends with her on Facebook.
    Recently Vixen had been having some not so desirable contact with a man who's name online was 'Malcolm'. Their chats at first were only fleeting and Malcolm would flatter Vixen in the same way as the rest of her fans. Malcolm had become so regular a conversationalist with Vixen that when he asked her if he could privately message her, she happily gave him her pin number for private messaging.
    Since then Malcolm had become far too personal and intimidating for Vixen's liking. He seemed to always know where she had been on any occasion; which at first Vixen had reasoned wasn't too difficult as she was in the public eye and constantly being followed by a barrage of paparazzi waiting for the money shot. Over time, however, Malcolm seemed to know much more personal things about her; times she went to bed or had a bath; what she had had delivered from the supermarket that day; all things which could only have been known if the person had been there. Vixen realised that Malcolm was not only following her online but also in the flesh. Being media savvy and not wanting to be the subject of pity or ridicule, Vixen had told no one other than Paul about her stalker. Paul had advised her to keep Malcolm happy as he was a fan and she had to keep her fans happy. Vixen had attempted to be polite whilst keeping Malcolm at arm's length, but he had taken her politeness as an invitation to become more intimate and had begun to message Vixen constantly; telling her how he wanted to look after her and how she needed to be fed something as her frame was far too skinny. The tone of his conversation became even darker when Malcolm confessed his sexual desires to Vixen; telling her how he dreamt of eating Vixen and violating her with food items.
    Vixen was contemplating Malcolm's desires as she watched a documentary on the television about obese women and their feeders. She heard Paul come through her vintage black wood and glass door and called out to him.
    "Paul, is that you?" she turned toward the open plan kitchen area. Paul walked in looking very business-like in his Paul Smith suit, hair expertly quaffed and held in place with some substance or other. He threw the keys to his Bentley on the granite work surface and turned his chocolate brown eyes in Vixen's direction.
    "Well who else would it be?" he sneered at her. "I'd like to know who else could possibly be turning up at your house at two o'clock on a Saturday afternoon."
    "Well obviously no one," Vixen shot back at him. "You don't let me see anybody unless it's for business." Vixen was very aware that it suited Paul to have total control over her life. He was very frightened that she may meet another agent or fall in love with another man, thereby losing his meal ticket in life. Vixen wished he would believe her when she told him that she would always remain loyal to the man who had catapulted her into stardom.
    "I've been thinking Paul," she said.
    "Cor fuck me, don't do that," Paul chuckled "I don't think the world is ready for you thinking Vix."
    "Ha, ha, very funny; no, seriously Paul, this guy is getting more and more