She felt his crotch through his jeans. There, hanging among Ann Veronica’s more normal clothing, was a skimpy dress of red canvas, trimmed with cheap and tawdry braid, and short—it could hardly reach below the knee. ‘Oh, peste, you make me late!’ She glared up at Roding. Ah Cum, sensing the difficulty, approached, recovered the damp handkerchief and returned it.
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