He climbed on top of her, pressing her into the couch cushions, the gown billowing around them like a cotton candy parachute. All her tender lures, inherent and acquired, had shattered themselves futilely against the reserve he had set between them. “No, not that I know of,” Michelle replied, her still eyes not meeting Lucy’s. I must obey. This time she feinted as his point came up to deflect her own, and disengaging, passed under and cut at his cheek.
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