My hand shakes as I try to run my eyeliner over my upper lid, resulting in a wavy line.
Fuck.
I put the eyeliner tube down and pick up some Kleenex to wipe it off, but all I do is smear the black liner everywhere. I toss the Kleenex in the sink. I’m going to have to use remover to get it off.
Instead, I grip the sink, knowing the problem isn’t with my makeup, it’s with me. I’m so nervous.
My hair is curled, and I’m wearing a simple black dress that dips down, showing off plenty of cleavage, while also hugging the curves of my stomach, waist, and hips. I feel sexy as hell in this dress, but only a man who likes plenty of curves will find me attractive. I’m not a stick-thin model. I have breasts, a waist, an ass.
Some men think that’s what they want until they see me naked, and the
