She stretches in bed. She is alone, enjoying the first morning she has been able to sleep-in in what seems like an eternity.
Slowly she rolls onto her side, winces and, eyes flying wide open, jumps out of bed to the mirror. Not the long mirror against the wall next to her bed; she smiles as she remembers him watching her in it. Flipping on the bathroom light she stands in the bright room, hitching down the back of her pajama pants and there it is.
Beauty. Pleasure. Pain.
The hair brush he used left a bruise.
She smiles.
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