"So, what do you do for work?" Ian asks, looking over the table at the woman sitting across from him.

Her long blonde hair is done up in loose curls, clearly the work of exhaustive upkeep. Her face is stunningly attractive, but with a sort of air-headed, perpetually merry expression. She's wearing a considerable amount of makeup, from her bright pink lips, to her rosy cheeks, to her eyes laden with dark mascara.

"Um, well, I don't know if you could call it work" Tiffany chimes in reply, twirling a lock of hair. "I, like, post pictures of myself on Instagram and stuff. I have a lot of followers, so some companies will pay me money to, like, show off their products. My friend Emily handles all of that, though. She's, like, a genius with money and business!"

The blonde takes a sip of the bright pink cocktail in front of her, leaving a trace of lip gloss on the straw.

"Oh, that's really cool" he replies. "So, is that a full-time thing? Are you in school or anything?"

She laughs and tosses her head back, sending her hair behind her shoulder. The motion causes her chest to sway side-to-side, tempting him with her ample cleavage, which is pushed up by the tight, red fabric of her body-hugging dress.

"No, I'm not in school. I mean, I went through high school, obviously. But University just wasn't, like, for me, you know?" She giggles.

No kidding, Ian thinks.

He's about to ask another question, when he feels her foot touching the inside of his leg underneath the table. He looks up and sees that she's biting her pouty lower lip enticingly, with a naughty twinkle in her bright blue eyes.

"So, um, would you want to, like, go back to my place? I could show you some of my photos..." she suggests, but her eyes are conveying another invitation entirely.

TWENTY MINUTES LATER

"Ohmygod! Ohmygod! Right there! Right fucking there!" The busty blonde cries out, thrusting her hips back to meet her lover's motions.

She's on her hands and knees on top of her mattress, her wavy hair hanging in disheveled strands alongside her face.

Ian is thrusting into her from behind, matching the rhythm of her hips, with both hands grasping her slim waist.

"Oh fuck, Tiffany..." he groans, burying himself deeply inside her again.

He glances to his right, into a large mirror mounted to the wall. In its reflection, he can witness their fierce sex from a third-person view.

He'd never considered himself to be an expert lover, but he could swear that Tiffany had already finished at least twice. Not small, quick orgasms, either. Big, body-shuddering, scream-inducing ones. And Ian couldn't help but notice that they always seemed to be timed perfectly with Tiffany's long gazes into the mirror.

"Ohfuck...Ohmygod...I'mgonna...gahhhh!" she wails, her lustful eyes meeting his in their shared reflection. Then, they roll back into her head and her thighs begin to shake in pure ecstasy, as her cries become completely unintelligible.

A minute later, they are lying next to each other, both completely and utterly spent.

"Mmmm, thanks, lover-boy..." Tiffany moans, gently stroking his chest.

Ian smiles. "The pleasure was all mine" he replies, running his fingers along her toned, slender abdomen. "Was that as good for you as it was for me?"

She bites her lip and nods. "Mmhmmm..."

He glances down and notices a small flap of flesh that appears to have separated from the rest of her skin, just underneath her collarbone.

She catches him looking and frowns. "Aw, I really thought I used enough concealer..." her voice trails off, as she prods the unusual flap with her pink-tipped fingers.

Ian laughs. "Well, I did get a bit rough towards the end there."

Tiffany giggles, sliding her fingers farther up underneath the seam of flesh.

"It's getting a bit warm under here anyway" she admits. "It's usually so breathable...we must have really heated things up."

Smiling, Ian looks on as her face begins to stretch unnaturally, pulled and tugged by the hands working their way underneath her - now obviously fake - skin. Her pink, pouty lips crumple as her delicate nose and chin both snap free. Her soft, empty cheeks jiggle as her entire face appears to scrunch in on itself grotesquely, before her entire head - bouncy hair and all - comes off with a loud, rubbery SCHLORP.

Sitting up in bed, a young brunette hefts the vacant husk of Tiffany her lap. The blonde's blank features gape widely at the ceiling, as the revealed imposter attempts to brush the mask's tangled hair into some kind of decency.

"Back so soon?" Ian teases, caressing Tiffany's soft, painted cheek.

The brunette peels a thin strip from her neck and speaks in a noticeably lower, less overtly girlish tone.

"Well, I got what I wanted, didn't I?" She replies, her eyes twinkling wickedly.

Ian laughs. "Oh, did you now?"

"Uh-huh" she says, tracing the mask's dark, mascara-laden eyes with her fingertip. "Not only was that some amazing sex, I finally figured out how I want to end the next section of my doctoral thesis!"

He brushes away a strand of wavy blonde hair that had fallen across his leg. "Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah! Being Tiffany really helps me clear my mind. You know, like turning my brain off for a while. And sometimes that's all it takes for inspiration to strike..."

Grinning, she looks down at the empty face of her alter-ego, then lifts it up and plants a kiss on its soft, supple lips.

"Thank you, sweetheart" she whispers, giggling as she tosses the mask to the side. It lands with a soft thwap, and she turns back to her grinning boyfriend.

“You know, the science shows that the male refractory period can be eliminated almost entirely by introducing a different partner…“ she purrs, pressing her still-disguised body back up against him. Her hand drifts between Ian’s legs, and she smiles when she likes what she feels. “Ooh, I see it’s true…”

As they resume, different-sounding moans begin flowing from her lips. And while she now looks like her real self, her eyes keep drifting to the discarded, hollow face lying next to them.