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Is something the matter?" I stuttered and fumbled with my words.He swung a suitcase over his shoulder and dug his hand into his pocket. He looked oh s... fine in his navy blue suit."Yes. You're sitting on the sidewalk, wearing some kind of black cellophane, looking like you're a trash bag," He said nonchalantly. I raised my eyebrow and I folded my arms, the jumpsuit crinkles as I do so."I don't see why that's your problem, sir," I replied with a straight tone."Well the garbage collector's. Using alittle compact mirror that I had thrown in at the lastminute, I cleaned the scrape, applied some ointment, andcovered it with a bandage. I was surprised at what else themirror revealed: the face of a wild woman, hair tangled andsnarled, warpaint of dirt and blood smudged on my cheeks. Myeyes blazed with the lust and exhilaration of mymasturbation. I again swabbed the sweat off my body, andwashed my cunt, but I left on my warpaint. It signified thatI was free and alive and confidently. More

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