It was the thought of lying in the dark that stopped me from calling, and the scent of supposed love, and the emptiness, the loneliness, the unhappiness that was always worse after it was over. I was fumbling in the dark. When I finally made the call, he told me to come alone and to wear a skirt and blouse. No underwear. My hands shook. I shaved everything that night. Everything but my head. I shoved a chair in front of the mirror and sat in it, naked. I touched myself, my legs spread and feet resting against the wall on either side of the mirror. I investigated each fold of my pussy and cunt, then touched my fingers to my mouth, tasting myself. And I fondled my breasts, watching, playing with my nipples until they hardened. I slipped my fingers in and out of myself, the fingers of one hand in my asshole, the fingers of the other in my cunt. And all the while, I watched. I was a stranger to myself.
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