” John traced his finger over the meeting point of her breast and her ribcage as they lay naked on his unmade bed. She moved her hand off of his knee, deliberately slow. The door was opened for her by a weary-looking youth in a striped jacket several sizes too large for him. Her heart was beating with quite unaccustomed vigour, her hands were hot, she was conscious of a warmth in her blood which the summer sunshine was scarcely responsible for. Given time and the right environment, and he would outgrow these defects. His gaze dropped to the black garment that covered her. We’ve deserted the posts in which we found ourselves, cut our duties, exposed ourselves to risks that may destroy any sort of social usefulness in us.
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