One week later
Iris was in her room, looking at herself in the mirror above the dresser. She’d already showered and pulled her hair into an elegant bun – and now she was embarking on her recent morning routine of standing naked and comparing herself to the other women she saw daily.
Ever since she’d been a child, she’d been complimented for being slim and petite, and she’d spent her life believing that these were desirable things, things that every man wanted in his bed and every woman strove to attain in herself. But this week at Satan’s Bar had opened her eyes to beauty in ways that she’d never contemplated.
Look at Zoe: so tall and imposing, almost regal. She was a real force of nature and of womanhood: she was the manager at the tattoo place, she was a mother to a beautiful little g
