He was getting close to the topmost of her inner thigh and she did not stop it, frozen with the thought of what to do, the feeling of lust and a desir... to feel his hands on her even though his wife is right there and a close friend. He kept staring directly into her eyes as she felt the warmth of his fingers growing closer to her now wet and awaiting little hole. Looking over at *****s wife, seeing she was not even paying attention, lost in her conversation, oblivious. Her head is jerked back. I hated to see my face in this new, permanent state. I hated my face. But I needed this. I was addicted to my own hideous reflection as much as Narcissus was addicted to his own beauty . To that came the badmouthing, and gossiping at school. Most of them weren't even bothering about pretending they were talking of something else. Whenever I entered a classroom, it was a sudden dead silence, and two dozen pair of eyes glued to me. Either that, or obvious murmuring as though I was completely deaf. More

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