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The little girl next to me laughed and leaned closer. She raised a tube of lipstick and pressed it to my face.Every nuance of my past assault on her was repaid three times. I fidgited, flounced, and sneezed, but before the stronger girl let me up, I was marked, hilighted, primped and dusted. I watched the mirror, dumbstruck and trapped, as my face took on unnatural colors and exaggerated lines. All in all it was a mess. My crayon drawings all looked better than my daughter's latest masterpiece. The poor results were really all my fault. If I had remained calm and still, who knows how I might have turned out? Yet for all of the nighmarish enhancement of my boyish feminity, my daughter looked extremely pleased with herself."There, you're perfect." She beamed and hugged me, careful not to rub any of her beautiful, pale skin against my face. I was free then, free to rush to the bathroom and scrub every streak off, but all I did was stand and return her hug. My daughter had returned to me. Two more questions popped up in my mind. First, I wondered why she had picked this picture. To me it hadn't stood out when we had looked at them. But apparently there was something about it that had caught Ann's attention and I wanted to know what it was.The other question was just as important. What would happen with the pictures she had taken tonight? As much as I loved Ann and as much as I wanted to see those pictures, I wanted to be sure they didn't get seen by the wrong people.But that could wait until the next day. I couldn't wait to be in her arms, though. It was that easy. I couldn't wait to be in her arms and if that entailed to kneel at her feet or serve her then I would try to do that.I don't know why but the moment she pulled back the covers to let me slip into bed and I realized that she had been waiting for me I broke out in tears. Not what I had wanted to do, not at all. I would have preferred to slip under the covers, say how much I loved her or maybe something a.
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