But I vowed that Ruth should never suffer the way I did—and do. He devoured her with his eyes too, his shyness not able to disguise his furtive glances at the curvy outline of her breast against the imitation silk, his memory still exquisitely tortured by her movements in the miniskirt. You have to come over to my house. Whatever anticipation Ann Veronica had formed of this vanished in the reality. Don’t stand gawping, man.
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