“Bathroom,” you whisper, disappearing into the men’s room. Ah, shit. Here we go…I check myself in the mirror. My long red-brown hair is down i... softly tousled waves. My brown eyes are framed by dark brown liner and black mascara. My makeup is fairly neutral, except for my lips. Earlier tonight I’d put on a deep burgundy – almost black lipstick, with a mid-length dress that matched. I’m ready.No sooner did I enter the men’s room did I feel your hand in my hair. You curl your fingers at the nape. .. only don't be too long, Baby, eh?"It was anger more than guilt that had churned continuously inside Ken Wilson since his infidelity with Mrs. Keele, not that he hadn't felt a good measure of remorse at his spineless betrayal of his marriage vows, but the fact that the raven-haired woman had treated him as less than a serf ever since had made him realize the absolute duplicity of the evil lecheress.In his transgressive wretchedness he had unwittingly punished Jean in the chastisement of. More

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