I expect Mr. “It is part of the irony of life,” he said. He devoured her with his eyes too, his shyness not able to disguise his furtive glances at the curvy outline of her breast against the imitation silk, his memory still exquisitely tortured by her movements in the miniskirt. The psychic vibration of him thickened the air of the room as if he were already inside. Nevertheless there came a residuum of expostulations. ” He recognized the force, almost the passion, which trembled in her tone, and he at once abandoned the subject. The man lingered.
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