The Greatest Lie Part 9

I swallowed part of her load, and then finished her with my hand, letting the rest squirt into a puddle in her navel. To my surprise, Tran’s cum was creamy and white, just like a real guy’s. I fondled her breasts and kissed her trembling lips, allowing her to savor her pleasant flavors from my mouth and tongue. We held the kiss as I tickled her navel, with my finger dipped in the slippery pool it now contained.

"That was great," I told her.

"Great for me too," she said sleepily, as we drifted off to sleep on one another’s arms.

We overslept, showered together to save time and rushed to the studio barely ahead of our 10:00 a.m. deadline. Our wet heads and un-made faces didn’t matter, because we were immediately placed into the hands of the hair and make up department. We were waxed, tweezed, blown out, brushed, manicured, pedicured, and made up by Louise and Charles, a Vietnamese couple who had been brought in on contract from a nearby salon. They went totally nuts over Tran, whose face and skin were beautiful even by the standards of Vietnamese women, and whose body had been fashioned to the proportions of a Barbie doll. I fretted over the shortness of my hair, which had not had time to grow out to my satisfaction. "Don’t worry, hon," said Charles, as he blew back a wayward tuft of my blond mullet. "We do this every week for Pavel, and your raw material is better than anyone’s. We’ll make you delectable." And after two hours of non-stop primping, I had to admit that I looked spectacular.

Pavel had suggested that I wear colored contacts to deepen the blue of my eyes. I was blinking the second one in when I heard the door open and a strangely familiar voice intoned "Well, well, Rios, so we meet again." I was still half blinded when I felt his hands grab and squeeze my breasts. "My, my, haven’t you grown since last year: tits, that is." As my eyes cleared, I recognized the face and the voice: Miguel, my high school tormentor and rapist.