Pulling out my compact mirror, I inspected myself carefully, a feeling of nausea growing within me as I looked anxiously into the accusing glass.And s...w me! Admittedly a rather red faced me with slightly ruffled hair but still just me.What had I expected to see? A slut of a woman with guilt written over her face? I don’t know. I certainly felt like a slut. I had just had sex in a public car park with my best friend’s husband; what else did I need to do to qualify as one?What was worse was that. "But you have to agree to trustme."I agreed, after all what choice had I?I had to put on another outfit. A long black wig and a black leatherdress, fishnets and stilettos. I already had been made up like one ofthe girls in the "Addicted to Love" video. I had to walk out as the filmdirector's girlfriend and smoke cigarettes in a womanly manner. I wasnow ready to face the world's media and pretend to be the director'sgirlfriend as she drove me home on her motorbike.I stepped out and saw the. More

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