Spurlock had not coached her on this line of conduct. And yet—such is the buoyancy of youth—within a fortnight he began his first novel, pretending to himself that it was on Ruth's account. Her back arched and she felt herself instinctively sinking into him. ‘What?’ Roding snapped, coming quickly to tower above the window seat. Even now she could trace the outline of his shape behind the left-hand curtain. He found that the skiff had been dashed against one of the buttresses of the bridge. She touched his erect penis and delicately curled her fingers around it, moving her hand back and forth slowly and gently.
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