FICTION

PHOTOGRAPHS

Dee Raymond

Dan Smith, the City Editor, was the first one to bring it to my atten- tion. After all, I was a defender of the antics of the current crop of rock stars, however bizarre. "What do you think of that?" he asked, shoving a copy of one of our rival papers in front of my nose.

It was a picture of one of the "glitter-rock" stars nuzzling up to a pretty redhead under the caption, "Is it a bird, or is it a bloke?"— showing that it was a feed-in from Britain. I nodded to Dan and looked back at the article I was typing that I knew Jeff Conlon was going to reject anyway.

"Have a good look," Dan's voice was just a little too eager, and so I looked. Arthur Bellamy had the long hair and touches of makeup that so many of the glitter-rock stars had. Nothing too unusual. My eyes drifted down to the caption and the words "... gives a nuzzle to transvestite Romy Pohlman in a break from his European tour...' leapt out at me.

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Now I took a good look at the woman. She was leaning over the guy's shoulder, her eyes closed, while the big star kissed her tenderly on the cheek. It was such a feminine face, small, slender nose. Her eye makeup was tremendously attractive. Her mouth was open, show- ing even white teeth surrounded by "luscious" red lips. At her ears were butterfly shaped earrings, and what could be seen of her dress showed a modern fashion with just a little of the neck open down to the edge of the photograph. She was very beautiful.

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