C.K. was becoming increasingly uncomfortable and she had no safe place to put her eyes. If she looked to her left or right it would seem that she didn...��t care about the situation. If she looked up, she would look like she was about to cry or say something equally dramatic and if she looked down she would be staring face to face with a different part of Jason’s anatomy that she wasn’t, at that time, in the mood to meet. ‘Maybe later,’ rang in her ears and she couldn’t help but smile. ‘Your. She felt a little ashamed of herself as she slipped on her silk bathrobe, the water on her wet skin bleeding through the fabric. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to go out with him. She considered what kind of impact street poetry may have on her academic approach, and she couldn’t think of anything the two styles had in common, even though she knew very little about Claude’s poetry. She had never been to a poetry slam either. She had little room to judge.She checked her messages while drying. She looked at me and said now your going to be my little girl whore, I'll teach you to look like a girl, act like a girl, and want to be a girl just like yuour fucked up father. Mom put strap on high heels on my feet and led me to the bath room were she applied make up to my face, I already had long hair and she thought it would be fun to make it into pig tails. I was a small boy and Mom had complete control over me. She was still swigging her bottle of gin and gave me a look I had never seen. She was probably what my mother would have called blowsy, but I had always thought she was quite pretty. Despite her reputation as a good time girl, Sharon was a clean screw, there had never been any talk of her giving boys the clap, as they said about some girls who were known to have round heels. She was a ladies hairdresser at a shop in town but lived over on the council estate with a father who regularly gave her and her mother a good beating and so Sharon spent most of her time hanging.