After a bit she calmed down and asked me if she could take a shower. I looked at her, her eyes were so red from crying, her shirt was ripped and so wa... her bra. Her nylons were ripped from where Mike obviously dug his fingers into her trying to get at her crotch. Men, what a fucking idiot Mike is I thought. I stood up and led her back to the bathroom. I helped her remove her shirt and her bra. She had bruises on her shoulders and on her breasts where Mike had grabbed her too roughly. I had her. She waxed mylegs. I had shaved them only the week before, but she waxed themanyway. She trimmed and shaped my fingernails and put on a pretty redpolish. She painted my toenails as well, and then she went to work onmy face."You don't really need a concealer for your beard, Hon," she saidthen. "Hardly any beard left any more, is there?" Then she put onall kinds of stuff that meant nothing to me at the time--foundation,blush, different colors and powders. And lipstick. And mascara andeye. More

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