“We’re almost done, dear.” A thumb glides over your own bottom lip, gently pressing downwards. “Open that pretty mouth for me, darling.”
You promptly comply, and before you know it he’s lining your lips. His fingertips occasionally drift to your lips, stretching the flesh taut or opening your mouth wider. Then, in a few long, smooth, strokes, your lips are coated in the creamy lipstick.
He places his hands on your shoulders once he’s set the lipstick aside, admiring his handiwork. A smirk plays at his lips. “That lipstick is really your color, darling. It’ll be a shame to see it get so smeared later.”
He sees the flustered confusion on your face, quick to elaborate. “After all, someone as beautiful as you is sure to have plenty of admirers waiting around after the show. I’m sure you could go home with anyone you’d like.”