She runs

I couldn't take another second of her insane, predatory, but unmistakably sexy grin. I pushed her leg aside and bolted from the restaurant. I paused for a moment to check my reflection in the window glass, and sure enough, I was wearing dark lipstick with silvery flakes. I hurried to my car, trying to tell myself that my sensible flats hadn't become impractical, sexy stilettos. And they certainly weren't adorned with small, heart shaped locks.

As I fumbled through my purse for my car keys, I felt a sharp pain like someone was pulling my hair. My professionally styled hair was now a pair of perky pigtails. Another sharp pain from each nipple, and then it was gone, replaced with the feeling of cold metal. I was so busy fumbling with my blouse and bra, trying to see if I had just been pierced, that I didn't hear the clocking stride of approaching stilettos.

Her hands seized me with unearned familiarity, going straight for my breasts. "Piercings," she cried excitedly! "You're going to make the cutest slut!"

I whirled away from her, ending up facing her with my back to the car, nearly stumbling in the unfamiliar heels. I focused on meeting her gaze defiantly, trying to ignore the feeling of my tasteful diamond stud necklace shrinking into god-knows-what around my throat.

"Tell you what," she said cruelly, twirling her platinum blonde hair with her finger. "If you get down on your knees and please me, like a good little girl, maybe I'll show you some mercy. Maybe."