Too much, perhaps. 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. She threw out a hand to stop herself from cannoning into them and, losing balance, tripped over her own petticoats and fell to the carpeted floor, her hat falling off as she did so. Wood, delighted at the idea. Melusine grasped the hilt of the sword she had been carefully holding, and came out into the light. She launched into a stuffy Partita 89 and played it too fast. "It is easy to make an assertion like this," said Thames, contemptuously. She addresses you as the Flower of the Lotus, as the Resplendent Moonbeam.
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