The glare on the mirror blocks her eyes. Not her lips. There’s a small wooden box covered with Rhine stones in front of her; silvery and gleaming it...holds her most cherished possessions. Eyeliner, lipstick, masquera, and blush in every color from saffron to platinum, to black or purple.The multi-colored bits of plastic and painted wood pencils jostle and shift when she reaches in to grab a few tubes of lipstick; fuschia, yellow and purple. After a few minutes her lips are glossy and sticky. Out for a drink round town with husband, i owed his sex in a pub toilet (long story there lol), so later on Saturday night he reminded me and said he would txt if gents was empty and safe to follow him. If no txt, then I was to open my legs and give him a flash when he walks back to table. I didn’t look at my phone because a guy had started talking to me, then his friend joined in and ended up sitting next to me chatting. They were a bit drunk but and chat up lines were rather c***dish, but. “I’m sorry.” I spoke quietly.“I’m sorry too.” She whispered through her sobs.“I am so sorry, Baby. I still don’t really know what happened.”I looked at my other wives and pleaded with them.“Would someone please tell me everything that happened after I got knocked out. I don’t want to piss off anyone else. I suddenly felt so angry. But I guess that’s from my ignorance of the whole situation. I’m not angry with you three, but at everything. Life. Fate. Everything. Please, let me understand where. “Good!”“I saw Rachel at lunch,” Birgit said. “She looks sad all the time.”I was sure she did. Carla was doing that poor girl a grave disservice, and there was literally nothing I could do to change that. I wasn’t her father, and couldn’t BE her father. It wasn’t just because of Jessica, but because I felt Rachel needed to know the truth. The problem was, Carla was so convinced that she knew the truth, that nothing was going to change. I’d given up on my quest to find evidence, and wondered if I.
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