They’ll just end up using me.” She was probably right about that. He’d known a few girls like Brenda, unattractive but they slept with boys anyw...ay, and it didn’t help their popularity. They just became known as the girls who were so desperate, they’d do anything. “Why don’t you stand up to Monica? Tell her exactly how you feel?” Brenda looked puzzled. “You mean, tell her that she’s a total slut? And she’s just … disgusting?” “She does that to you, doesn’t she? Doesn’t she say mean things to. It was a beautiful spring morning, and so I took my father’s kaya-wood Go table from the house, and sat by the carp pond, idly playing with the white shell and black slate stones, placing them in ornate patterns on the wooden Go table. I chanced to look up, and there stood an old beggar. I hadn’t heard him approach, he startled me. His head was encased in a straw cage like a beehive. He carried a big walking stick of bamboo. He was bent, with age I thought, or perhaps from the weight of the. Another click and the image scrolled down to reveal the author’s name. The author was “slave painspot.”“Retrieving the manu*********** from the publisher was not difficult,” Master Jerome began, “because all that had been submitted was a synopsis which no one except Mistress Deanna had seen.” He pointed to one of the Mistresses sitting at the table. Master Jerome coughed slightly and then said, “It might have been much more of a problem had this gone to one of the other editors, but by our. It was thick and slimy, salty even. But it wasGrace, and so, I loved it, and lapped it up.After washing my face, I went to her vanity and refreshed my makeup. Itwasn't too difficult as I recalled what I'd done earlier. I finished bycarefully reapplying a thick coating of lipstick. I was enthralled withthe act of coating my lips just so, and liked the way they glistened. Ibrushed out my hair, privately admiring how pretty I looked.I then returned to the kitchen to put dinner on the table. .