The door flew to one side. The man who stepped through it ? and it didappear to be a man ? was perhaps six-foot-three, two-hundred-thirtypounds, weari...g commercial-grade denim overalls, a stained, full-lengthleather apron and matching mask. He stank of death and decay. A long,menacing chain saw swung from his arms in a wide figure-eight arc.It was the kind of specter that would have terrified any normal humanbeing, let alone a normal young woman. Giselle Du Mont had never beeneither. She. She couldn’t gothrough with it and had to chase her dream, find herdream, find herself. She needed time and simply left.For two years, I had no idea where she was or what shefound, or if she was even alive.When I met up with her again, she was a nude dancer ina seedy dive that had bikers as bouncers and cateredto cheap, redneck, beer drinkers who stuffed foldeddollar bills in pussy cracks. If the dancer wouldn’ttake it that way, and let him feel-up her legs and asswhile he took his. More

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