Then she asks you if she may borrowyour blusher. You get it for her, and Cathy strokes it on my face.Meanwhile you can see that something is going on...in her head too. Asshe is making my cheeks nice and pink, she asks me if I wish my nippleswere as sensitive as hers. She looks at hers, which are standing up,and asks me if I think her nipples are a pretty color. When I agree,she takes the blusher brush, dips it into the powder, and startsstroking it on my nipples."We want to get your nipples. It’ll be up to you and them to decide if you can help them.”“I noticed a few of the cheerleaders were on your list. Were the rest of them there?” I asked and she looked down.“Yes. Some of them are the worst-off.”I opened the car door and leaned out, to throw up into the gutter. It was sickening. I pulled deep lungfuls of cold air into my lungs as I heaved my lunch onto the curb until I hurt. I spit the last of it out and pulled back into the car and tried to catch my breath. Emma looked like. More

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