The Juliette Society(27)

This is what Bundy does.

He buys access, relationships, patronage to people, places and things through his extensive portfolio of girls in explicit poses. To him, it’s a case of supply and demand, the logic of the market. He’s a true capitalist.

But he has far too much pride, and too large an ego, to call himself a pornographer. Bundy considers himself an artist. A fearless chronicler of sex and the single male – himself – in the modern age.

In reality, there’s a vast gulf between what Bundy thinks he is and what he really is.

A photographer by trade. A pornographer by default.

A paparazzo in theory. A sexual predator with a camera in practice.

Bundy likes to call himself an internet entrepreneur and social media engineer.

I’d lean more towards calling him a bottom-feeding hipster.

You hate him already.

Don’t.

Anna tells me Bundy has lots of great qualities. They’re just not immediately obvious. But they are there, if you look past the smirk, the leer and the extreme cynicism that colors anything and everything he does. And because he’s Anna’s friend, I want to like him too. At the same time, I’m more than aware that Bundy’s the kind of guy your mother always warned you about, the one she told you was ‘bad news’.

At least with those kind of guys, like with Bundy, there’s no pretense to be anything else. What you see is what you get. And Bundy’s certainly driven. Just possibly in all the wrong directions.

I’ll give him this. He’s great fun to be around. And you never know what’s going to happen, where you’ll end up, or with who.



We’re in a bar. One of Bundy’s haunts. The Bread and Butter, a regular corner bar named like a soup kitchen. There’s dirt on the floor, dirt on the walls, cracked vinyl seats, chipped glasses and a toilet that doesn’t flush; grime and dysfunction accumulated over years that conveys a certain authenticity to people who have none – Bundy’s kind of people, who have invaded this once-unpretentious local drinking establishment and made it their own.

The Bread and Butter is tended by a guy who’s only got a first name, Sal, a grizzled Italian-American war veteran who’s been here since the place opened and really resents the way the neighborhood’s changed, especially his bar. So Sal’s decided he would much rather insult his clientele than serve them drinks. He insults their appearance, their manners, their parents and, if that doesn’t work, suggests they’re the product of incest; anything to get a rise out of them. And these people think that’s part of the charm, which just makes him even more mad. But Sal has had to bow to the inevitable, because he’s making more money now than he’s ever done. He’s making money hand over fist, even though he doesn’t understand how because, as far as he can tell, none of these kids have a job.

Sal treats his customers like shit, but has a soft spot for Bundy. The reason why is pretty simple. Bundy gives Sal free publicity by featuring the talent he finds there on his website. In return, Sal gives him free drinks. And, I have to admit, Bundy’s really got this down to an art.

Using free drinks to score free pussy. To score free drinks. To score free pussy.

Technology being what it is, he can post the photos as content right from his camera. They go live almost the second he takes them.

This is Bundy’s philosophy.

Submit first. Ask permission later.

Because Bundy already considers the act itself informed consent. And anyway he’s going to make her a star before she’s even gotten round to wiping the come from the corners of her mouth.



Bundy says, ‘You’re not like all the other girls.’ And I know he’s spinning me a line that’s probably worked a thousand times before. But not this time.

‘How so,’ I say, ‘because my mouth is connected to my brain and not your cock?’

He pretends not to hear.

Bundy gets us both a drink, me and Anna. He gets mine wrong. I ask for orange juice. I get a Screwdriver. He thinks I wouldn’t notice.

Cute trick.

I figure he thinks, she’s drunk already. What’s the harm of one more. More will loosen her up. And he’ll make sure that the refills keep coming thick and fast. Then the photos will come out again and they won’t seem so dumb and abusive. And so it goes. The gradual wearing down. I can see it coming.

What Bundy doesn’t know is this:

I don’t drink.

And the last thing I want is to end up on his website as bait for some loser trolling the internet for jerk-off material.

He likes to think that each site expresses a different aspect of his personality, the way people wear a different pairs of glasses according to their mood. Only, like glasses, what you see is essentially what you get. The only thing that’s really different is the color of the frames. And Bundy’s personality only comes in one shade.