Picture the defeated look on his face.What I’m watching is sort of like that, except instead of Jesus it’s a woman, and instead of a defeated look...on her face she has a mouth full of semen. Her skin is dark brown. She’s Muslim, but instead of being completely covered, she’s naked. Disgraced. The crusty white filth is slowly dropping from her mouth onto her naked body. This poor girl, her body is half skin, half whip marks. The crisscrossed red lines on her body, they look like the American. “Thanks,” I said as the ginger returned, at which point I noticed a wedding band on her.“Um, excuse me, but are you married?” I asked her directly, already knowing the answer.“Yes, why do you ask?” she frowned out of curiosity.“Because your friend here said that he’s not dating you, but he never mentioned a husband of any kind,” I indicated the man next to her.“Really?” the woman responded, blushing more than a little.“Yes, really,” I told her, as the man near her coughed and tossed back. You know……I thought……oh shit! I’m sorry!” I was flustered and frightened.As I said this, two of the gang were standing beside my car, pissing into the bushes. As they shook them dry, I realized that I was staring at their cocks. One of them was massive, and appeared to have a tattoo on it. Catching my eye, he waved it in my direction, and laughed out loud. “Do you want a better look at The Snake?” He roared. I quickly turned away. I was feeling very vulnerable, as this gang of hard nuts. She told herself to give it time. That was how these things worked. Love that grew over time, as Ubah would say. But still the doubts ate at her mind, taunted her. Dodds words, ‘Nothing like Rachel,’ had become the newest litany among all the others that undermined her confidence, her womanhood. She drew back as she heard him saying his farewells. She snuck back to her side of the bed, grabbing her book and drawing her knees up to her chest as she leaned against the headboard and pillows. She.