They confronted each other, barely feet apart, neither apparently any longer aware of anyone else in the room. ‘Jacques!’ He stopped, but he did not turn. A moistened velvet touch found her tongue. Ray Plote was most certainly feeling restless, what if he had left the house for the evening? She needed to eat. ” He adjusted his glasses on his nose. There’s something—puppyish in a man’s usual attitude to women. At length, the body was brought towards him.
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