“I’m sorry! Mary! Are you hurt?” “No. She sensed he might try and wane on her doorstep. ” “Oh Jesus. “Are you free tomorrow? Should I call?” He asked. ” John traced his finger over the meeting point of her breast and her ribcage as they lay naked on his unmade bed. Her acrid rose perfume oil that hung in the air that smelled like a head shop, her V. Perhaps I'd better open it now. ” She glanced out of the window, and the distant trees were a froth of hard spring green and almond blossom. " "May I trust you?" cried Thames, eagerly.
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