"Myriam smiled weakly. The schizophrenia of her story made me reel — it felt like vertigo. My voice was almost a whisper. "You seriously considered ...uicide?"Her eyes focused. "Yes. I felt that my life was being taken away from me. My only weapon was self-destruction. It would rob her of her life too. And I knew she clung to life more than I did, by then. It was a wager, I guess. And she backed off."We worked out a compromise — a deal."I watched her. I really had to check myself. It all sounded. The dress was body-con tight down as far as her hipbones then flared out so it swished as she walked and I got frequent glimpses of her tiny new cream thong underwear. It was also low-cut in deep vees front and back so, as I'd already noticed in the shop, it was patently obvious she wasn't wearing a bra. Not least because the fabric clung to her small-but-perfectly formed breasts, topped with just-discernibly-puffy nipples. I only just resisted the burning desire to touch myself right there in. I assured her that I would always think of her and her "treatment" of my wound and if at all possible we may meet again state side sometime. We made a date to get together that evening after chow. After chow, I went to her lodging area and found her , we decided to check out the "entertainment" area and see what was playing on the movie, it was dark and the movie was some PG Rated adventure tale, we sat in the back and kissed and caressed, I slide my hand up her blouse and t-shirt and found she. Hollowed cheeks, gaunt frame spoke of iron control and wild helplessness, the faint taste of bile lingered at the back of her throat. Beauty was fickle, the slender frame now skeletal, ravaged by years of starvation and her skin sagged on her dejectedly, the lines that burrowed into her brow premature. Rumpled clothing, the kind that one bought in the attempt to feign wealth, in cut that nearly draped beautifully, save for the cheap cloth and subtle imperfection, clung in silent witness to the.
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