’ Letting Jenny do my makeup was a huge mistake. She was globbing on cherry-red lip gloss, black eyeliner, smudging it every which way, and dark eye...hadow. ‘Red lip gloss? Isn’t that a little much?’ Jenny held her finger up as if to stop my sentences from flowing. I was scared to even look at my face, especially after Monica mouthed, ‘Oh, my god…’ and cupped her hands over her mouth. Do I look like a clown? I thought. ‘What? I told you, Jen- But Jenny was smiling pleasantly. ‘What did I tell. Instinctively she moved back, but I grabbed her thick winter coat and clasped my hand over her mouth. She struggled valiantly, but she was no match for my strength and bulk, she was about five foot two inches tall, as I manhandled her into the lounge of the very, large, but old cottage on the edge of Twyford in Berkshire, UK. I threw her onto the large old fashioned sofa with wooden arms and grabbed the torn off piece of duct tape, from the top of the roll I had already placed on the arm. It. More

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