There was a stain of wine upon her dress. ‘I’m a soldier, missie. Lucy stole her last chance to observe Martin Chen, looking provocatively into his 257 eyes as the door was shut. She undid his zipper and pulled his shorts down his hips. With a finger crooked in his side-pocket, she measured her step with his, her senses still dizzy from the echo of the magic sounds. “I am afraid,” she said, “that he must have a skeleton key to these rooms.
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