I could tell the drinks were getting to her but we still went to the dance floor for a slow dance. I had my left arm around her waist and my right arm...was below her waist but not quite to her ass. She had her head on my shoulder and I started French kissing her and she closed her eyes and she didn’t notice that I slightly moved my right hand up to her lower back purposely lifting the back of her skirt and I know at least the top of her stockings were showing. I dance by the dance floor mirror. Fuming, I did. I felt her fingers inching the tape off my ass and carefully slipping the bandage off my tattoo. She stepped back and looked, then nodded in apparent satisfaction. ‘Oh, that is perfect!’ She led me over to the mirror and turned me around so I could see it. My eyes widened. I had expected something gypsy-like and exotic, an Asian letter, perhaps, or a rose or something. Instead I had the word ‘BIMBO’ printed across my left ass cheek in inch and a half tall letters, the first ‘B’. Nor was it me who ruined their reputations,” I shrugged with a grin.“That’s what they’ve been told ... many, many times. Yet still they get interviewed by the newsies and sound off about a recent ‘cure’ or reminisce about past conquests,” Herrick added.“Some are learning, though admittedly not the majority and they get good money from the newsies as well,” Vilgra admitted.“I don’t mind. I give a lot of what I earn away to charities, mostly to Cass’ medical charity and its support groups. Though. There was no way out of this.So what could I do? Anything that happened now would only break hisheart. Disappearing or telling him the truth. Walking through those doorsand showing him my phone full of his texts - his secrets, his truth.I couldn't bring myself to do it, but I couldn't not.I knew that sometimes the truth hurt. Maybe if we talked it out he wouldunderstand.Maybe he'd kill me.I walked up to the door and gently pushed it open.I felt myself bathed in a warm, glowing light.Something.