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Chapter 11

Vanessa Wilkins also known as 'Van' stood in front of the cheval-glass in her tiny bedroom, a blank expression on her face reflecting her state of mind at the moment. She didn't want to think, she was done thinking and any related action might just make her head throb. Right now the lump in her throat felt like it was choking the life out of her so she took a deep breath through her nostrils and exhaled through her mouth.

She had minimal make-up on, just the occasional talcum powder and lip gloss― she didn't want to entice him any further and appear to be trying too hard for him― which she wasn't. Yes she liked him, but prostituting herself to him she didn't like.

She was wearing a short black rubber-dress that clung to her body like a second skin with half the bodice made of lace. Her hair fell on one shoulder and she looked like she was attending a funeral–perhaps she's mourning her innocence that would soon be snatched before the night was over.

Van let out a defeated puff of breat
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