The physical abuse my body was receiving wasoccurring in places that didn't quite relate to what I could clearly rememberso I could pretend that it wasn't happening to me, that this wasn't really mybody. It made logical sense. The sensations that I felt tried to make methink otherwise, but I could dissociate myself enough. The problem was themental abuse. I couldn't avoid the stares. Perhaps the comments weren't aimedat me really, but at my body, but the stares got into my soul. Men were beinglecherous over me, and I could see it. Even if this body wasn't mine, Icouldn't avoid the results of having it. So I served the drinks with my eyesdown, flashing smiles where necessary and ignoring the touches. I still gottips. These guys couldn't touch the strippers unless they were next to thestage or catwalk. Me they could reach anytime, and if they wanted to cop afeel of my tits all they had to do was push a note into my cleavage.I dropped the tray down onto the bar and quickly stepped into. And I thought that I have a very small world right now, all books and papers and study, and that of that whole small world it suddenly struck me that you were the most beautiful thing there was and then this feeling started to well up inside of me and I started crying and I have to tell you... I have to tell you that I love you so much."It was two steps from the table to the bed, and I remember taking you across that great distance with my arm around your shoulders, feeling them shake as you sobbed. In those two steps my own tears rose and overfilled my eyes, my own feelings burst free. We sat there, arm in arm, crying. I turned to hug you and my cheek pressed against yours. Our tears mingled together, making a slippery contact spread across our cheeks. I tasted salt at the corner of my mouth, I started to kiss your tears away, you started to do the same for me. Our lips met as we chased each others tears, and then they met again, and again, and would not stop. We kissed as the tears.
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