Apocalipstick by Sue Margolis

tight. Then there was the embarrassing hosiery issue. How many times had she ended up on some bloke’s sofa—having been finally divested of her trousers and knickers—starkers except for her flesh-colored M&S Knee Highs?
    In the end she decided on her purple satin A-line skirt with a matching lace-edged cardie. The skirt made her hips look big. On the other hand the cropped, low-cut cardie more than compensated because it showed off her tits and offered just a hint of midriff, which was still vaguely tanned from last summer.
    She was just about to put on her makeup when she decided to try the sample of freebie lip plump, which she’d been sent a few days ago. Of course, it was bound not to work. On the other hand, if by some miracle it did, she had to admit she rather fancied the idea of an ever so slightly fuller, more sensuous pout.
    After half an hour her lips looked no fuller, more sensuous or poutier than usual. No surprise there, then. What she hadn’t bargained for was her lips starting to go dental anesthetic numb. She tried speaking. Definite slurring. Panic rose inside her. She was due at chez Max in Highgate in less than an hour. Considering and immediately rejecting the possibility that he might have a thing for palsied women, she phoned Jess for advice.
    Jess assured her the numbness would wear off after a few minutes.
    “How d’you know?” Rebecca asked, enunciating as best she could.
    “’Cause it’ll be the same stuff I used. Take a look at the tube. Does it say ‘Luscious Lip for Lady Woman’?”
    Rebecca looked. It did. “Oh, God,” she moaned. “It’s only made in Kowea.”
    Rebecca hadn’t so much as glanced at the tube before she tried the lip plump. She’d just assumed it was a posh European or American make, along with all the other samples.
    “I knew it was a con,” Jess said, “but that manky chemist at the end of my road had it on special offer. Turned out to be totally useless, though. My labia are just as shriveled and wrinkly as they always were.”
     
    But by the time she arrived at Max’s flat there was still no improvement.
    He opened the door wearing jeans and a baggy T-shirt. He also had bare feet, which she found particularly sexy. The first thing he did was give her a hello kiss on the lips. She tried to pucker up to return the gesture, but couldn’t.
    “You OK?” he said, clearly sensing her unease.
    She decided to tell him she’d just gotten back from the dentist. “Had a fiwing this afternoon,” she said, rubbing the side of her mouth. “Stiw a bit num.”
    “Oh, I hate that. Always end up biting chunks out of my cheek when I eat.”
    As he led her down the hall toward the kitchen he asked after the cut on her head. Then he told her how beautiful she looked.
    “’hanks,” she said, blushing with pleasure and at the same time sniffing the air for signs of meat. There were hot oveny smells, but nothing that actually shouted animal.
    The kitchen was tiny, with eighties orangey pine units, beige wall tiles with dirty grouting and a bare frosted window over the stainless steel sink. The mixer tap was crusted with lime scale. It was lit by a single fluorescent strip. Rebecca was reminded of a kitchen in a slightly seedy holiday cottage somewhere like Great Yarmouth.
    “You’ll have to excuse the place,” he said. “I’ve been here a year, but I still haven’t got round to doing it up. Apart from the bedroom and bathroom, everything needs ripping out.”
    “Reawy?” she said. “I hadn’t noticed.”
    He poured her a glass of wine. She took a sip.
    “Whoops,” he said, grinning. A moment later he was dabbing wine dribble from her chin with a napkin. He did it slowly, looking into her eyes all the time. She thought he might kiss her, but he didn’t.
    She sat down on a kitchen stool and they chatted while he made salad dressing. Gradually and to her huge relief, the numbness began to wear off.
    She told him about her meeting with Wendy.
    “And you