I know you want it.” I looked at Bill and then at the glass, and back to Bill. He smiled and nodded. “Do it, bitch! Now”.I didn’t require much...of a push. I glanced around the bar room, again, no one was looking, and grabbed the shot glass. It was still warm and his whitish semen filled the glass. Imitating the downing of a shot of liquor, I moved the glass to my lips, tilting my head back, and pouring the liquid into my mouth. “Swallow, dear”, I heard Bill say. Looking into his eyes, I did as I. It feels fake and contrived. But still, it is anecessity for me to wear in public, so I have become an expert student ofmy own face. I never imagined how much time I would spend looking at myown face, experimenting with different shades and techniques. There is askill and an art to it, for sure, and for a long time, I sort of resentedhaving to practice. But E has always insisted that I "work on my face"for at least half an hour each day. When I complained that it was boringor unnatural, she. More

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