83 She stared at his crazily erect penis, mentally comparing it to Gianfrancesco’s. Tucked under the writing-table a pair of yellow and gold Turkish slippers of a highly meretricious quality caught her eye. Clear water gave away to gray as she waded deeper, feeling her slippers on rock. Wood. Senior year started with a whimper. There’s no sense in morality, I suppose, unless you are fundamentally immoral. ‘I kissed you once, didn’t I?’ Her pulses jumped and she stared.
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